Don't own Supernatural, but I wish I did!

PART 1

It was so dark out.

I couldn't see very well either.

I blinked, hard, trying to clear the haze out of my vision. It wasn't until I wiped my hands over my eyes that I realized the haze was blood and not the lack of light making it hard to see.

Blood.

I'm bloody.

I'm bleeding...

I surveyed my surroundings the best I could, shivering from the cold. I could see my own breath clinging to the air in front of my face as I tried once more to remember anything other than my boyfriend's face as he squeezed his hands around my throat.

Where was I?

I could only hear out of one of my ears, and from the sounds I was hearing I had to be in the middle of nowhere.

The thought terrified me.

The shivering brought my thoughts back down to earth, and I realized then that I was missing more than just my ride home. My engagement ring was lying on the ground about a foot away from me, clinging forlornly in the bright moonlight. The white dress I was wearing fell off of one shoulder as I tentatively reached for the ring. I saw that more than one of my freshly manicured nails were broken and jagged, a testament to how hard I'd fought off my attacker.

I felt my lower lip tremble as I palmed the ring, turning it over and over in front of me like it could stop time and reverse it.

There was only one logical reason he'd have left me out here like this; to die. The temperature was near frigid, past freezing, and if the way my lanky knees were knocking together was any indication, I was close to frozen solid.

I decided then and there that if I was going to brave my way through the wilderness it was time to do it. I had to get my blood pumping, I needed some type of warmth if I was going to stave off hypothermia.

Slowly, I grabbed onto a tree branch that was hanging dangerously close to my face, and tried to stand.

I cried out instantly at the sharp pain in my side, clutching it briefly only to pull my hand away bloody. I started to cry then, tugging on that fucking branch like a life line until I was standing upright. I bent at the waist slightly to ease the ache in my side, but it only hurt worse when I took my first step forward.

That's when I realized I was missing one of my shoes. Kicking off the other one, I treaded slowly through the snow covered ground. There wasn't a lot of snow yet; it wasn't late enough in the season for real snow. My long auburn hair hung well past my waist in a riot of curls; I could feel leaves scratching against the exposed skin of my back. The leaves brought back the memory of Chris's calloused hands bruising my tender skin, and I shuddered.

What if he's still here?

My blue eyes fell to my surroundings then as I limped onward, with nothing but the sound of the snow crunching softly beneath my feet to accompany me. There was nothing; at least, it seemed as if the dense forestry around me stretched for miles and miles.

I'm afraid of the dark.

I was afraid of the dark; always had been.

The darkness that surrounded me, illuminated only by the brief and fleeting moonlight, scared the hell out of me.

As I trekked forward, without any destination in mind, I wondered what Chris was doing. If he thought I was dead; obviously, when he'd beaten me to a bloody pulp, he had that ending in his own mind.

Not like this is the first time he's ever laid his hands on me.

Flashes of our past fights crashed into my head and I shook it to try and clear them from behind my eyes; now was not the time. What I needed to do now, was find shelter from the cold for the night, and hope like hell someone would find me before I bled to death.

Between stumbling over tree roots and my own two feet, I numbed myself internally against the emotionally crippling pain I was feeling.

Mama always told me to watch the quiet ones.

Mama had been fucking right.

South Dakota was beautiful this time of year, and I knew I was still in my homeland; I could smell it.

Over the river and through the woods...

As I took a careful step down onto a rock, my foot caught on a root in the ground and

I pitched forward, landing face first into small ravine that was as cold as Chris's heart.

I sucked in a breath at the unexpected cold and knew then and there that my timeline had just decreased by hours.

Shivering, teeth chattering so hard they I could have danced to the sound, I limped in the direction I'd been heading. My dress felt like it weighed five hundred pounds, and my feet felt like bricks were tied to the heels. Every step felt like it took me three hours, but in reality, only seconds passed me by.

The dense forestry eventually opened up into a small clearing, and the small clearing housed a quaint cabin.

This is where I would have loved to settle down.

What excited me though, was the small stack of smoke leaking from the top of the chimney, signaling the presence of another human.

With a newfound rush of adrenaline, I tripped onto the sprawling back porch and crawled towards the grainy door in front of me. So close, so close.

I slammed one fist against the door.

One, two, three.

I palmed the cold, hard wood beneath me as I fell face first onto the very porch I hoped would lead to my safety.

My fist moved in time with my slowing heart rate...

One, two, three.

One...two...three...

One...two...

Three...

The door opened, and scuffed work boots met my bleary gaze. I could barely keep my eyes open at this point, but the heady scent of cinnamon met my nose. I took a deep breath, tried to fight off the overwhelming urge to sleep, and blinked up at the man who hurriedly took me into his arms. When my eyes met his, there was something off about him. The overbearing black in his eyes registered in my mind before I fell asleep completely, but what really caught my eye was how devastatingly handsome he was.

Beautiful..

"I got ya, baby. You're gonna be alright," I heard a gruff voice whisper into my ear.

In the circle of this strangers strong arms, I felt safer than I had in a very, very, long time.

My mistake.

I opened my eyes slowly; if I did it any faster, the room would continue to spin, and I knew that I would be sick. The nausea crawling up the back of my throat was like nothing I'd ever felt before. I literally felt like I was dying, but the sounds funneling in through the only ear that worked, my right one, told me I was very much alive.

I heard birds chirping, and the steady sound of a thunk, thunk, thwack!

Sucking in a deep breath to keep myself from screaming, I slowly clawed at the blankets to assist myself in sitting up. Once I was facing the direction I needed to be, forwards, I took a look around the cabin I was now occupying. My long hair felt sticky and gritty as my fingers wove through it, tugging it around myself like a blanket. Shakily I stood, my bruised knees still knocking together. I moved towards the thunking sound quietly. Slowly, my feet began to work they way they were supposed to, and I made my way towards a large bay window.

The land around me was still green, beautiful, enchanting; this little cabin is what all the princess movies were made of. Rolling hills and giant trees flocked with birds singing and chirping. The sun was high in the sky, telling me it was early afternoon. Beyond the rolling hills I could just barely make out the ravine I'd mistakenly fallen into, and it was crashing into the shore line rhythmically. Gently, I raised one shaking hand to the cool paned glass window and pressed my palm against the hard surface.

Memories; they're a beautiful, painful, fucked up mess aren't they?

For instance, I could see Chris's face the first time he ever told me he loved me. So earnest, so sweet, so utterly false. That memory was linked to another one, a darker one; the first time he hit me.

It was Valentine's Day three years ago.

I'd accidentally spilled red wine on the carpet.

Needless to say, he hadn't been too happy.

The memories from yesterday, at least I think it was yesterday, were still fuzzy...

Yet they slowly faded as my eyes discovered where the steady thunk was coming from.

A man, shirtless and sweaty, was chopping wood and tossing it into a growing pile behind him.

I watched him run a hand through his disheveled hair, and his muscles glistened under the streaming sunlight, drawing my attention to the perfect body he had. Tucked into tight dark denim jeans, his muscular thighs were straining against the thin material. I swallowed audibly, trying not to stare, but it occurred to me that I could have gotten stuck in a remote cabin with a worse looking specimen of man...

No!

Men are pigs, sweetheart.

Remember that.

I dropped my hand from the glass, stepping back into the shadows, hoping like hell I was well enough to make my way back to town. Something about that man outside, the one that had lifted me into his arms so gently last night...well, I knew I would fall for him.

I couldn't risk it.

Taking one look around the perfect, storybook cabin, I headed for the only door I could find; the one that would lead me right to him.

I took a deep breath, ignoring the throb of my entire body, and turned the knob. The door opened soundlessly, and the sight of my own blood staining the sun-bleached wood made me blanch. I pressed a palm to my lips in an effort to keep the cries from escaping.

Not here, not now.

I stepped out into the sunlight and blinked furiously at the invading light. My toes were slowly warming against the wood, the first real thing I'd felt in a long time. My blue eyes found the man who'd been busy chopping wood a moment ago, but now?

Now he was staring right at me, his nostrils flaring in a way that made me take a step back.

"Hi," I breathed shakily.

I tried not to be frightened of the man who was easily a foot taller than me and almost as wide, but he was definitely a force to be reckoned with. He rose to his full height and took his foot from the stump he was leaning on. He tossed the axe into the ground beside him with expert precision and started walking towards me.

As he neared, I tried to step back, but the door had closed behind me and I found myself pressed against it. When he was at the edge of the stairs he stopped walking, and I realized then that his eyes were a gorgeous shade of jade green.

Not black.

They aren't black, Rosalie.

"How ya feelin', baby? Better today?," He asked me.

I internally warmed at the way he called me baby, like I was special; like I was his.

"I- My name is Rosalie. Rosalie Martin. What's your name?," I murmured.

He was so perfectly sculpted, from his jawline to his lush lips, that I was having a hard time concentrating.

"What if I don't wanna tell ya my name...Rosalie?"

The way he said my name, like it was something sexy, sent shivers down my spine.

"Perhaps I should be leaving," I said quickly. I understood then, by the steely look in his eyes, that I was completely at his mercy. I had barely enough strength left in me to scream for help, which no one would hear, let alone fight off yet another attacker in the span of forty-eight hours.

Obviously sensing my unease he held his hands up in front of him.

"Dean. My name is Dean Winchester. I ain't gonna lay a hand on ya unless ya ask me to, baby. Relax."

There it was again-baby.

Some women would hate that pet name associated with them.

Some women would cringe.

Me?

Well, being that my previous pet names consisted of bitch, whore, cunt, and a myriad of other not-so-sweet things...I practically melted.

"Thank you for taking me into your home, Dean. I would have died of hypothermia had had you not answered your door," I said softly.

His head canted to the side, and for the barest of seconds his eyes were that same lifeless black from last night.

Within a blink they were green again.

He gestured to my side, which was still aching something fierce.

"That stab wound was killin' ya first. What happened to ya last night?"

I felt my eyes well up with tears as I opened my mouth to tell him the truth; that my fiance had finally done what mama always warned me about.

Yet no sound came out of my mouth.

I didn't want Dean to know how weak I was. For some reason, I didn't want this strong, gorgeous man to know just how weak I'd become. The idea of him knowing just how sad and pathetic I really was, had me wincing.

"I fell."

His eyebrows hit his hairline and he chuckled.

"Onto a knife? Come on sweetheart, who stabbed you?"

His tone held no room for argument, something I was all too familiar with.

"It was an accident," I said firmly. He watched me silently for a moment.

"Fine. Tell me when you're ready. How are ya feelin'? Are you hungry?," He asked, taking a step forward.

I stepped back so quickly my back hit the door behind me, hard, and I hissed at the pain it caused. He tsked under his breath and gently pried me away from the door, shaking his head in annoyance.

"I told ya I wouldn't hurt ya; let me see," He said softly.

Before I could push him away, which I still wasn't sure I wanted to do, Dean had my dress yanked up around my waist as he probed at what looked like a freshly cleaned wound. I wanted to pull away from him, I wanted to tell him not to look at my body, that all the bruises and cuts were hideous and he should look away.

Instead, like the coward I was, I froze.

"I tended to this last night, it didn't look too bad. Whoever stabbed ya wanted you to suffer, wanted ya to bleed out slowly," Dean commented.

I closed my eyes as his fingers ghosted across my skin. Slowly, gently, sweetly; which was an obvious direct contrast to the man doing the touching at the moment.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you hungry, baby?"

His gruff voice held me stationery as I slowly met his gaze.

At that moment, with his hands on my body in broad daylight, with his mouth so close and his eyes so earnest...I wanted to kiss him.

"Ye-yes," I stuttered.

His green eyes held the promise of more, of something unmistakeable; but I ignored it.

"Let's get ya fed, then."