- Snake Venom - (Demara One-Shot)

Dean could remember the first time it happened like it was yesterday, though it had been the better part of a month. It tasted of poison ivy and fever dreams, but at the same time was oh so sweet and blissful, like a good dream before it turned into a nightmare. Cherry lips, snake's tongue, venom so intoxicating it simply hadn't been possible to pull himself back. How could he… how could he stay away?

.

"Amara? Amara are you here?"

"Always," a voice like honey, thick and smooth, and impossibly delectable to both the bears and bees. And also, to Dean.

Passion like fire as the dark dress and oak forest eyes danced out from the shadows and straight into the warmth of his body. Hands in hair. Lips on lips. Skin on skin.

Snake venom.

Bliss.

Amara broke the kiss first, more than aware Dean would probably rather suffocate than pull away. She was unsurprised by his breathless gasps and heaving chest as his arms fell from her hair and back to his side, as if being pulled from a trance. He was undoubtedly still a little dazed.

She allowed him a moment, studying him. Calculating eyes, chin high, she watched unblinkingly until his gaze rose up to meet hers.

"I…" He began, but trailed off, the sudden tiredness of the sleepless week making his legs nearly fall out from under him.

Amara reached one hand out to steady him, wrapping it around his waist, the other reaching up to cradle his head. "Hush now, my darling," She cooed, trailing a hand along the side of his face. He instinctively leaned into her hand, his eyes fluttering closed as the feeling of her touch engulfed him.

Slowly, he lowered, dropping onto his knees as the tiredness he'd been fighting slipped out of his control. He'd been unable to sleep without her there.

"It's okay," she crooned, dropping down beside him until she sat next to him, her back pressed against the brick wall outside the bunker. "I'm here now." He slowly descended to the ground beside her, his head coming to rest in her lap as his chest swelled with this… bliss. Peace.

The tiredness overtook him, and just like the first time he'd fallen asleep in her arms, he slept soundlessly. Not a noise, not a stir. Freed from the nightmares that had plagued him before those moments.

.

As the sun began to rise outside the bunker, Amara knew it was time to relieve herself from her vigil. Stretching out her sore muscles, she carefully moved the peacefully sleeping Dean from her lap, leaving a blanket under his head so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

Leaning down, she gently pressed her lips to his. Parting was always bittersweet.

Pulling away, she felt him began to stir at the loss of her touch. "Soon, we won't be able to hide this from your brother, Dean. You can't keep this a secret for much longer. One day, soon, you're not going to be able to convince me to leave your side."

She bent down again and left a trail of soft kisses from his jawline to his collarbone. His eyes began to flutter open. "We belong together," she whispered against his neck, lips tenderly brushing his skin, and the next moment she was gone.

Dean immediately felt the shift in the air around him, eyes opening and a cold restlessness returning to his soul.

He hated himself for how much he needed her.

For how much he missed her.

He knew she was the bad guy, and he knew if Sam found out… if Cas found out… things wouldn't go well for him. They wouldn't be able to trust him.

Even now, they couldn't.

He'd never let them hurt her, and that terrified him.

Stretching, he stood up slowly, casting a glance at the orange haze of the rising sun and then turning towards the entrance of the bunker again.

"Amara…" he whispered into the crisp morning air, just the sound of her name on his lips bringing a flutter of the bliss back into his soul. Though it was temporary, and it left him feeling even colder and more alone.

Sighing and rubbing his eyes, the tiredness and irritability that came with it returning, he trudged back into the bunker.

Being with Amara was like getting high, and then her leaving was like the worst kind of hangover. It just fucking hurt. But still it would always be worth it. To feel that bliss… that peace. He would do anything.

Sam looked up at him from the main table, confused at why Dean was out in the first place, but Dean shrugged off his look and went to make a cup of coffee.

Hopefully she'd return soon.

Until then, he'd have to try and just be 'Dean.'

Not the lonely, cold, blissless, restless man he'd become.

Though he couldn't fight how much he missed her, or stop the clench of his fists or the tightening of his jaw as Sam spoke of finding a way to kill her.

How much longer could he hide it?

No-where near long enough.