*Hi! This is another one-shot with my OC, Aria Redford. Please check out her other stories! The story takes place during Season 5 of Supernatural. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks and enjoy!*
It wasn't a question. No second thought, just reaction. Instinct kicks in, Dean's plan forgotten, and I jump out from my hiding spot, tackling the teenage boy kneeled in front of the demon. I crash to the concrete floor of the abandoned fishing warehouse, my sawed of shotgun falling from my hands, calling for the brother's. The explosion of shotgun shells ring out in the large building, letting me know Sam and Dean are no longer hiding and have also abandoned the original plan. I shove the trembling boy away from me, rolling to my back in time to miss a boot to the ribs. But the close call was a lucky one as the six foot tall meat suit rips me up from the ground and tosses me ten feet into the air, crashing into old fish netting.
The mildew smell attacks my senses as I groan, muttering under my breath, "They never fucking fight fair." My body protests during my struggle to free myself from the now tangled netting, the demon stalking towards me with anger rolling off of him in waves,
"You hunters just don't know when to let things be." Brown eyes flicker to an obsidian black, sending a shiver down my spine. I've been fighting demons for over a decade now and those eyes still scare the crap out of me.
"I think we're just helping you guys with a better way of living. Slicing people's throats to make a phone call? That's just not sanitary."
My sarcasm is lost on the demon as he tears me out of the entanglement, massive hands wrapped around my windpipe. I kick my feet wildly, tears welling up in my eyes as I gasp for air, clawing desperately at the muscle rippled arms. He tosses me again, the concrete ground greeting me with a hard welcome as I struggle to catch my breath.
"Not so funny now, are you?" the demon cracks, lips pulled into an unimpressed grin.
"Not when you start choking me," I breathe out, glancing at my shotgun a few feet away.
Plan C.
The demon snarls, reaching for me as I reach for my flask of holy water inside of my jacket. His hands grip my hair and I fling the water into his face. The skin burns, steam rising as he lets out a sharp cry. I make a break for it, sprinting as fast as I can for my weapon. I snatch it up, pumping it just as the demon recovers. He stares me down, my gaze trained down the iron sights.
A chuckle leaves him, his gaze traveling behind me, "You should watch your back."
My eyes go wide and I duck, missing a plank of wood to the head. I roll to my back, firing the rock salt into the demon behind me. I pump the shotgun again, the boy's names on my lips just as another shotgun fires. Dean rounds the corner, shooting the same demon I did before he stabs it with the demon knife. The skin flashes a glowing orange before returning to normal. I catch his green stare quickly before he's moving to finish the last demon. But it smokes out, the black cloud disappearing into a nearby vent as the body crumples to the ground lifeless. I fall back, a sigh of relief fleeing me.
"Aria!" Sam calls, racing to me. I sit up with a weak smile, taking his offered hand as he pulls me to my feet. Dean's by the meat suit of the demon that escaped, checking for signs of life, but there are none. It's always like that. These pit dwelling fuckers just use people, riding them as hard as they want because it's 'fun.'
"I'm good," I answer, knowing the question was on the tip of the youngest brother's tongue. Hazel eyes sag in relief as he pats my shoulder, turning to his brother. But Dean's already moving to the exit of the building, shoulders set, voice tight with controlled anger,
"Let's go." An inaudible sigh falls from me.
You are fucked.
I follow behind Sam, preparing for the argument that's about to ensue.
"Is the kid, okay?"
Sam glances back at me with a quick nod, "Yeah. He ran into us, and we sent him on his way. I'm sure the cops will be here soon enough."
I nod; a swell of pride in my chest. Sure, what I did was dangerous. It put the boy's lives in harm's way and mine. Those two demons could have easily killed me and I have no idea how many demons Sam and Dean faced. But they were about to sacrifice the kid. I wasn't going to stand by and watch that when I could stop them. The job was grab a demon for questioning, but not at the cost of a young boy's life. There are other demons out there. We'll just find another.
He can't be that mad at you. We didn't know there was a hostage. He would have revised the plan otherwise.
Dean is pissed though. Three years with these boys, living day in and day out with them, has made me an expert. But whether Dean's pissed that a demon got away or that I didn't follow the plan, I don't know.
He's already in the Impala, the engine idling when Sam and I walk out. I climb into the backseat, looking into the rearview mirror expecting to find harsh emerald eyes staring back me. Dean's gaze is trained straight ahead, refusing to meet mine. The air in the car is thick with tension and it continues to grow. Dean's knuckles are white as he clutches the steering wheel. Sam clears his throat and turns on the radio, only for Dean to shut it off a second later. An inaudible sigh slips past my lips and I stare out the window, watching the town past by as we head for our motel room.
Dean's like a shaken up bottle of pop, the pressure building and building until it explodes. I know what I did was right. It was reckless, I know that. Impulsive? Yes. Stupid? Of course. But we saved a life and walked out mostly unscathed with the exception of a couple of bumps and bruises.
We pull into the parking lot and Dean's out of the car before either Sam or I can reach for the door handle. I jump out and follow the eldest brother to our room. The door is left wide open and when I step in, Dean's got my bag sitting on the table as he tosses a few of my clothes into it.
"What the hell are you doing?" I bark, grabbing my duffel from him.
"You're not hunting anymore."
I snort, dropping my bag to the floor, "Why because you say so?" His green eyes are aflame, jaw twitching.
"Yes, because I say so," he snaps, exercising his control over the building rage inside of him. Sam stands in the doorway, watching the two of us quietly, ready to jump in if need be. I step to Dean, holding that fiery gaze that is a shade or two of green lighter than mine.
"You don't tell me what to do, Winchester. Understood? I made a decision back there and because of that decision a teenage boy gets to go back home to his family tonight."
My skin tingles with my outrage, holding my ground against the eldest brother. Dean and I are like two dogs defending their territory, neither willing to back down. But the tides turn, the cap on Dean's anger exploding, freeing his wrath,
"You could have died! Sam and I could have died! Do you understand that?" He barks with violence in his tone. I've seen Dean pissed, really pissed. This though? This is a whole new level.
"But we didn't!" I snap back, refusing to give in.
"I don't care! I'm tired of people dying around me! Dying for us! And you were the reason why I almost lost two of the closest people to me tonight! You, Aria! You, because of your fucking impulsiveness!" He grabs my shoulders, shaking me and I shove him back, chest heaving as my fists clench tight at my sides.
The comment hits home, my demons clawing at their cage doors, screaming to be let free and consume me. Sam jumps in the middle, hand out to keep Dean back,
"Hey, hey, calm down, both of you."
I ignore him, looking right at his brother with cold eyes, "You're right, Dean. Thanks for reminding me that everyone dies around me. Sorry, that I saved that kid's life because I know what it's like to have demon's take away every piece of family you have. I figured you of all people you would understand that."
The memories come, flashes of their faces flooding the forefront of my mind. But I let the rage inside consume that pain and fuel the fire in my veins. Those light green eyes fall, Dean's shoulders slumping as the realization of his words hit him,
"Aria, that's not what I meant."
I shake my head, turning my back on both brothers as I head for the door. He doesn't get to say those words and then feel sorry. That was a low blow.
"Aria, where are you going?" Sam tries, worry and concern lacing his words.
"To fuck my anger out!" I yell, slamming the motel door shut.
I walk fast, putting some distance between the boys and me in case they decide to follow. The brisk night air cools the fire in my blood as I walk around the town aimlessly. It's not long before my feet carry me to the local bar in town. The place is decently packed, and I scan the crowd before sitting at the bar.
"What can I get you?"
"Jameson, double," I answer, not really paying attention to the bartender as my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. Sam's name lights up the screen and I ignore it. My glass of whisky arrives and I down it in one gulp, letting the soft burn ease my tense muscles. I toss a few bucks on the counter, paying for the one I just drank and the next few I'm going to order. The bartender looks at the money, his thick brows coming together in confusion. "Just keep them coming," I answer for him. He shrugs his shoulders and fills my glass. Alcohol is the best for drowning your memories. Sex would be good to, but as I scan over the patrons, the liquor seems like the best remedy.
"You almost got two of the people closest to me killed tonight!"
Neither I nor the Winchesters have a good track record of keeping the people around us alive. They all die. It's a sick joke that the world plays on us. But we never, ever, blame each other for it because somewhere under all of our self-loathing, we know it's out of our control.
He was scared. He's still getting over Jo.
I down the rest of my drink, watching as the bartender fills it up again with the amber liquid. My chest is tight, a lump settling in my throat at the thought off my late friend. It wasn't Dean's fault, but he stills blames himself. If I was closer to him when that hellhound dragged him down I would have done the same thing as Jo, but she was closer. She just reacted, protecting her friend, the guy she loved but never got to admit it to. I swallow around the lump, finishing the new glass in one go again.
Stop thinking about the dead.
But I can't because what Dean said is right. I'm impulsive. I do things without thinking them through, and in this field of work that can work for you or against you. It's gotten me hurt before, the brothers too, but it's also saved a lot of lives.
People say things they don't mean. You of all people know that best.
I know what Dean said wasn't meant to hurt me. He's scared. We're losing the battle against Lucifer and all our friends are dying on us. His family is growing smaller and smaller the longer this war goes on. Sam, Bobby, and I are the only family he has left. If we die, any one of us, I don't think he'll be able to pull himself back together.
The whisky goes down smoothly every time until the room starts to spin. I lean heavily into the bar, letting out a heavy sigh while my thoughts spin around and around. Any anger I had towards Dean has long since dried up. He acted the same way I would have. Death is more painful than any kind of torture there is. Watching people you love, people you care for slip away, is the most agonizing pain in the world. It never really heals, not like other wounds can. You can go for months and not feel a damn thing and the next you can be knocked on your ass by the overwhelming pain that floods your system. That's what death does to you. People become a part of you and when they leave this world they rip that part out, leaving a gaping hole.
Warm hands brush hair from my face and I sit up quickly, making the room spin. "Easy, A. I got you," Sam soothes, his soft voice against my ear.
My shoulders slump, a wide smile finding my lips as I look up at the giant of a man. "Hey, Sammy," I slur while he helps me off the stool. He holds me tight to his side as we leave the bar. The Impala sits out front, the streetlight standing over it, spotlighting its sleekness. "Baby," I coo, running my hands over the glossy black paint before Sam helps me into the passenger seat with a snicker. "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing, A. I just didn't realize you loved the Impala as much as Dean."
"Why wouldn't I? She's so pretty…" I mumble, running my hand over the dashboard. The classic rumbles to life with a soft purr, Sam pulling out of the spot and onto the black paved road. I glance at my friend, my thoughts at the bar drifting back to me through the fog of alcohol.
"Sam, I'm sorry."
He steals a look my way before turning his attention back to the road. "What for?"
"For almost getting you killed."
His jaw clenches, his throat doing that weird bobbing thing when he gets upset, "That's not your fault. You didn't almost get me killed or Dean."
"Okay," I sigh. "But I'm still sorry." Sam doesn't seem to like that answer because his body remains tense, brows scrunched together, thinking too hard. "Don't be mad, Sammy," I plead, sliding across the bench seat so that I'm right next to him.
"I'm not mad, Aria," he huffs, stealing a glance at me. "And what are you doing?"
I curl my legs under me and lean into him, ignoring his question, "I miss your hugs."
"How much did you drink?"
"I don't know." The youngest Winchester shakes his head, wrapping an arm around me to pull me close.
"Is this good?" he asks.
I nod, letting a huge smile grace my lips as I snuggle closer to him. The fog of whisky is welcomed, letting me drift along in a cloud of carelessness. "I love you, Sam."
A soft breath escapes him, "I love you too, Aria." The motel sign comes into view, its light up letters all glowing except for one. Sam parks the car and shuts Baby off. "You know that Dean loves you too, right? That what he said earlier, he didn't mean it."
I look up at him from my spot curled against his side, noticing some scruff on his chin. "Yup, I know," popping my p loudly. "You don't have to ask, Sammy. I'll love you guys no matter what."
A tender smile spreads over his face before he kisses the top of my head, his body more relaxed with my reassurance. We spend a few more minutes sitting in the Impala, letting the silence wrap around us. The three of us are all we got. We'll always forgive each other because family is family. They are there through the good and the bad, and the only ones that will be there when all hell breaks loose.
I doze off, Sam giving me a quick shake to wake me,
"Come on, short stack."
I manage a harmless punch to his leg, drawing a soft laugh from him as he pulls away and steps out of the car. Without grace, I stumble out, Sam catching me and helping me to our room.
Dean's lying on the bed farthest from the door, head propped up by two pillows with his arms crossed as he watches TV. He sits up as the door opens, regret etched into his worn features when his eyes land on mine.
"Aria-" he starts, moving to get off the bed. The words die in his throat as I fall into his lap, slinging my arms around his neck in a tight hug. Dean's muscles are coiled tight before slumping in relief, his arms wrapping around me with a soft squeeze.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles against the side of my head.
I shake my head, resting my cheek on his shoulder, "You don't need to be sorry."
He pulls away, holding me in front of him so that he can look me in the eye, "No, what I said-"
"Was right," I interrupt, grabbing both sides of his face.
"Aria…" Those strong hands grip my wrists pulling my hands away as I let out a long whisky filled breath.
"Deeeaann," I moan, tired of going back and forth as I drop my head to his shoulder lazily. "You're apologizing for doing the same thing I would have done. Can you just shut up and give me a hug?" He releases my wrists and gingerly wraps me in his comforting embrace. "Thank you," I mumble into his neck.
Alcohol has a funny way of bringing everything into perspective. These boys are my family, always, no matter what. They came into my life and reminded me what it meant to be loved again. They are my light. We have an understanding between one another that no one else does. Words can be said and fists can be thrown, but at the end of the day we'll be standing side by side.
"Come on," Dean mutters as he unwraps his arms from me, moving to sit up against the headboard. He pats the spot next to him and I kick my boots off, crawling over the mattress to lie next to him. I lift his arm up, draping it over my shoulders and laying my head on his chest. Some action movie plays on the small TV screen, but my eyes are fluttering with sleep. A long yawn flies from me as I snuggle closer to the oldest brother,
"I love you, guys." Dean rubs my arm, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head,
"We love you too, A."