A/N: For those of you who read my stuff regularly, you'll know that I'm particularly inspired by music. Songs constantly inspire story lines for me and this is one of them. And if you read me regularly, you'll also notice that I have a nasty habit of breaking up and making up my poor Dean/OC. I can't help it...it's a sickness... ;) This will be in 3 parts...all are already written, so I'll be able to post them regularly!
I know I say this a lot, but this one truly would never have made it out of the gate without the patience and assistance of my dear friend, partner and beta, Mali Bear's Buddy. I had a vague idea swirling around, but it wasn't coming out the way I wanted. We talked it through and talked it through and eventually she kind of outlined it for me. I very seriously appreciate all her support and love and I'm pretty sure I couldn't make it through the day without her. My world and my writing are much better for having her friendship. Please show her some support and go read the amazing stories she's got out there!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Supernatural.
And I Wonder If I Ever Cross Your Mind
A single tear drips down onto the bar, leaving a small circle of wetness next to the half-empty glass of whiskey.
Sophia sniffles and swipes roughly at her eyes before any more tears join the one on the worn mahogany. This is not what she came here to do. She came to have a quiet drink and get away from the damn hotel room.
But she can't get away. It doesn't matter where she goes or what she does, the memories still haunt her.
~~~SPN~~~
A woman's giggle. A man's answering chuckle. The sound of water sloshing.
"Dean! Quit!" More giggling.
"Look, you're the one who insisted on a bubble bath, so I'm doin' it my way."
"But you're making a mess! You're so cleaning up all this water when we're done."
Bubbles float delicately across the room. Their pops inaudible over the sloshing and laughter.
"Now what're you doing? Dean?"
"Just gettin' you more comfortable, babe."
"I was perfectly comfortable on my end of... Mmmmm..."
A soft purr. A masculine growl.
"There, see, isn't that better?"
Giggle.
"I should have known bubbles would be some kind of turn on for you."
"Are you kidding? Anything involving you naked and wet is definitely a turn on."
"You're such a man."
A sharp breath.
"Don't ever doubt that, sweetheart..."
~~~SPN~~~
A half smile crosses her face. Dean had made her promise not to ever tell anyone he'd been in a bubble bath.
Her eyes drift to her phone, waiting patiently on the bar next to her glass. She reaches for it, but draws her hand back, wrapping it around her glass instead.
She empties the tumbler in one swallow and shivers slightly as the alcohol burns down her throat. Waving at the bartender, she waits as he pours her a refill, then takes another hit. Her eyes water, but this time it's from the booze she assures herself.
Her fingers reach for the phone again and she runs her fingers around the edge. Swiping away an errant tear with her free hand, she pulls up her contacts list and finds his name.
As she stares at it, another memory intrudes.
~~~SPN~~~
His touch is slow and teasing as he runs his fingers down between her breasts. She looks up at him, drowning in the dark green of his eyes.
It's early morning, still not light, and beautifully quiet except for their ragged breath.
His mouth finds hers and their tongues dance as they move against each other, hands caressing. Tempting. Stoking the fire between them.
He finds the cradle of her hips, lifting them as he fills her. The sense of completion makes her gasp.
Their eyes meet as he rocks into her. The connection is instant and total.
His mouth again captures hers. Tangling their fingers, he forces her hand into the pillow by her head, knuckles white with effort.
She wraps her legs around him, urging him deeper as her free hand clutches at his shoulder. She can hear his low, rough voice in her ear and she shudders, eyes dropping closed.
So close now. The waves of pleasure building and cresting, pushing them nearer and nearer to oblivion.
"Oh, God, Dean..."
~~~SPN~~~
Sophia shivers, fingers tightening uncomfortably on the phone. She shoves it away, nearly sending it to the floor.
Another mouthful of whiskey burns away the memory. But, somehow, it doesn't stop the pain. With a sigh, she pulls the phone back toward her, setting it carefully next to her nearly empty drink.
She hadn't really intended to get drunk, but the warmth suffusing her feels good. And there's got to be away to escape, even for just a few moments.
Glass now empty, she waves for another. When the bartender hesitates, she gives him a glare that would melt steel and he fills it.
Her fingers trace circles around the top of the glass. The next memory nearly makes her gasp out loud and she grits her teeth to keep the sound back.
~~~SPN~~~
"You son of a bitch!" she hisses, shoving him away. She stalks across the room to the connecting door to their room, slamming it nearly off the hinges behind her.
He's hot on her heels as she moves to the dresser, dragging her clothes out and tossing them carelessly into her bag.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" she bites. "I'm outta here. I thought you'd changed, but it's pretty clear that was a pipe dream. I must have been out of mind."
"You're leaving?" His tone is stunned, then angry. "Fine. Whatever. I thought you were done running away, but I must have been out of my mind."
She flinches, but keeps packing, her face tight. She has to get out of here. Has to get away.
Closing the bag, she catches a glimpse of his face as she turns for the door. He's trying to hide it, but his pain is palpable and she almost stops.
Almost.
As she shuts the door behind her, she hears his last words.
"If you go now, don't worry about coming back, Sophia."
~~~SPN~~~
Hand trembling, she swallows the entire glass of whiskey, coughing at the sting as it trails down her throat.
More than one tear plops on the bar this time and she chokes back a sob. She'd been so stupid. After everything they'd been through together, she'd just walked out. She's worse than he is. She ran. Left him.
And what does she have to show for it? She's sitting in a bar, drowning in a bottle of whiskey instead of kissing him. Holding him. Loving him. Damned by memories and tortured by endless pain.
She's almost called him a hundred times before tonight. But he told her not to come back. She made the decision to walk out and now she's going to have to live with it.
Wiping her eyes with the bar napkin, she takes a deep breath, trying to find control before the sadness can suck her under again.
Tightening her jaw, she raises a hand to motion for more alcohol, but freezes when the phone rings. The last name she expects to see pops up on her screen.
Dean.