Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Author's Note: Don't know where this is going, if anywhere. First Supernatural Fanfic.
His one and only secret
He'd say she tastes like heaven if he believed in it. Yet her touch sets him on fire. He doesn't care to remember how it started, when and where are lost to him. He knows he's not supposed to feel like this. Not for her. His one and only secret.
Her skin is smooth under his calloused hands, pale and cool, awash with moonlight. He doesn't have to see her, every inch is burned into his memory, but that doesn't stop him from watching her move beneath him. Her dark eyes meet his, the light of the moon reflecting briefly in hers before she brings her lips to his. Her mouth is warm and he looses himself in her, allows himself for the shortest of moments, to feel, and not think.
He knows he can never tell his brother about his secret, just as he could never and did never tell his father. He doesn't want to think about how they would react, how they would look at him differently, disappointed. He doesn't want to think about it but he does. He always does. He wants to be strong, unmoving, impassive; the perfect hunter for his father, for his family. Deep down he knows he'll never be that person, but the façade continues, as he knows it will. It has too, for the sake of what's left of his family. For his brother.
She is watching him, aware of the battle being waged behind her lover's eyes. In his heart and in his soul. Her hands caress his skin, while she waits for him to return to her. She belongs to him, as they are both very much aware, but she wonders how much of him belongs to her. He sees her now, kisses her and smiles a real smile; an occasion that he knows is becoming more and more rare. He wants to tell her things, things he's sure she wants to hear, but the barriers seem to numerous. Does she know about his deal? His death sentence? He wants to believe she doesn't but he's seen the subtle changes tonight, and he knows that she knows. He wishes he could stay with her forever, how does he tell her that? He's not sure how.
She knows about the deal he made to save his brother, and that he has exactly eighteen days to live. She doesn't want to think about that, about losing him. His embrace tightens and she can see the things he can not say reflecting in his green eyes. Despair, sorrow, longing, and for her, adoration.
He looks at the woman beneath him, quiet and strong, and wonders what life would have been like with her in it. Sometimes he thinks that his brother would understand, or at least accept his lover. He wonders if Bobby knows. After all, had it not been for Bobby, he never would have seen her, not for what she truly is.
Her skin is flushed, warming to his touch, an effect he loves. He thrusts harder and she clings to him, her legs wrapped around his waist. The small growl she lets out makes him quiver. His body is slick with sweat, the room thick with the scent of their sex. He shakes when he feels the sharpness of her canines on his skin, on his neck, where his pulse is closest to the surface. She nips, quickly soothing the skin with her tongue. His pace picks up and she knows he's close. He is the only one who has ever really known her, who will ever really know her. She doesn't want to lose him, she can't, and her sanity can't afford it.
When he finally gets his release she's right there with him, breath ragged and heart pounding. He lies beside her, sated and exhausted. She curls up next to him, laying her head on his chest above his heart. She likes to listen to the steady beat; she finds it comforting. She loves their brief times together; for once she doesn't have to be the strong one, safe in her lovers embrace. How often does she long for a normal life, where they could be together?
He listens to her breathing, calmed by her presence, knowing this is the last time he'll be with her. So desperately he wants to hold her and never let go, stay with her forever and eternity. Maybe it's this melancholy night, or the nearness of his death, but the sudden urge to tell her things, to tell her everything, is unbearable. He holds her closer, whispering her name. She's up, resting on her elbow, looking into his eyes, kissing his lips. She can feel his turmoil reverberating through his body.
"I don't want to leave you" he whispers, "I never want to leave you."
"I know, and I don't want you to go." her voice is hushed.
"I wish things were different….I wish I had more time." His eyes are raw with emotion, he has more to say, she can see it in his face. He takes her hand in his, holding it to his cheek, kissing her wrist. She promised herself she wouldn't cry but a single tear escapes regardless. When she looks back into his eyes, she can see his tears, threatening to overcome his resolve.
"I love you; I have for a long time. I'm not going to stop." His voice is barely a whisper and her heart breaks to hear the words she's longed for.
"I love you, Dean Winchester. I have for a long time and I'm not going to stop." He smiles at her words, a vow he never thought he'd hear. He holds her close, knowing he'll have to go, but for this moment he belongs to her and her to him. His one and only secret.
Sam watches as his brother says goodbye to the woman at the motel door. He knows he shouldn't have followed him but can't help himself. He wonders how long it's been this girl, how long has his brother been in love? He hides in the shadows of the trees, watching them exchange goodbyes, sees his brother wipe away tears on her ashen skin.
His brother gets in the Impala, backs away from the motel and drives to the road. Sam can see the sheen of tears on his brother's face and is shocked. A moment later his brother is gone and the woman is walking across the empty parking lot. As she nears his hiding space, Sam can see just how pale she is, and when she looks in his direction and meets his eyes, he sees the light reflected unnaturally in her dark eyes. She stops a few feet away from him, acknowledging his presence with a silent stare.
"If you don't hurry, he'll get back before you do." Her voice is quiet and soft, not like he imagined. He can see her sharp canines when she talks, not like anything they've come across before. He understands now why his brother never mentioned her before, why he hid her. Sam stares a moment longer before rushing to get back to the motel where his brother left him asleep hours ago.
Sam never mentioned what he saw that night eighteen days ago. His brother had returned and gone straight to bed. And now they wait at the Crossroads, Dean's year is up and he's holding up his end of the bargain. Sam watches as Dean scans the darkness around them; maybe he's looking for the demon that has come to claim his soul. Maybe he's looking for her.
Dean wonders if she is near, did she leave that night. He wishes he could see her one last time but he wants to be strong for this. Wants to be the perfect hunter and brother and go willing into hell to save his family, just like his father before him. His disguise intact, he waits for his death. Bobby stands at his side, a stone, offering his silent support.
A noise to his left brings him out of his reverie. He turns, expecting the demon, surprised to see his lover standing before him. She takes a hesitant step towards him, wondering if she should be here or not. Sam watches, noticing the recognition pass over Bobby's face. He doesn't understand but remains quiet for his brother's sake.
Dean walks to her, taking her in his arms, glad to see her one last time. She kisses him gently, savouring his taste, committing it to memory. She stands at his side, strong only for him, as she dies inside, and they wait for the demon that holds his soul.