Love The Way You Lie, a supernatural fanfic

She sat on the window seat watching the sunrise with the early morning rain. The ocean currents were strong and she could feel a thousand emotions as she watched them.

She was in the dusty attic, her arms circled around her curled up legs. Her eyes were tired and dry. Her mouth was parched and she hurt. She hurt from each part of her body. It was like the hurt had become a part of her.

A sound came suddenly and she gasped, closing her eyes tightly. If he was coming; things would be over quickly. Their story had reached its end. He'd either kill her or she'd jump from the window. Either way it was over.

She waited, anticipated for any sign of movement but everything around seemed still. She slowly opened her eyes only to see a single photo that had come to her feet. She slowly extended her arm towards it, fingering the glossy side of the picture.

He had his chin on her shoulder; a goofy expression of course, and she wasn't even looking at the camera. They both looked different, happier, younger, more together.

On the first page of our story, the future seems so bright.
And this thing turned out so evil, I don't know why I'm still surprised.
Even angels have their wicked schemes and you take death to new extremes.
But you'll always be my hero, even though you lost your mind.

Fresh tears fell from her eyes and she brushed them away with the sleeves of her ratty old gray sweatshirt. A light groan escaped her mouth as her sleeves touched the areas of her bruises. She sniffled, and clasped her hands over her mouth.

These were bruises he had given her. Something she had never imagined to come from him. His eyes were always so bright and happy but then things changed of course. Everything changed. She was just stupid for not realizing the first time she had gone near his younger brother.

She could still remember that afternoon when Sam had just come home from his latest hunt and had told her about him getting injured.

"Dean!" She gasped, seeing him barely make his way into the house. He collapsed quickly on the couch and she kneeled down, taking his bleeding face in her hands. Her eyes looked at Sam, searching for answers or at least reassurance.

"He needs a doctor, but he demanded I bring him home. Home to you." Sam said his throat scratchy.

She shook her head, her eyes frozen on Dean's closing eyes. "Call the doctor. Now."

The doctor had come and gone; Dean was resting now. Still on the couch when she had come out of the kitchen to see Sam huddled on the chair, his frame shaking with emotion.

"Sam," She went and stood near him, her hand placed on his shoulder. "He's going to be okay. He always is."

Sam nodded and stood from the chair, enveloping her in an innocent hug. A sibling hug she would've called it and she was sure Sam would've as well. A sibling hug that had been interpreting wrongly by the droopy eyes of the person they both loved till death.

The next few days while she had nursed Dean back to health he had always remained cold with her. Until the day he could stand using his own strength. That was when he decided to try out his strength for the first time.

He had slapped her across the face for the first time. Her bottom lip had bled in reaction to the impact and she had come up to the attic the day for the first time. Her emotions still felt raw to her from that first attack.

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn,
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts.
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry,
But that's alright because I love the way you lie, I love the way you lie.
I love the way you lie.

"I knew you were here." His voice cut through the air like the coldness of the winter wind. She shivered not wanting to turn around to face him. Reluctantly however she turned. His normally warm green eyes seemed ice cold to her now.

"I don't want this." She whispered her voice sounding alien even to her.

Now this gravel in our voices, glass is shattered from the fight.
In this tug of war, you'll always win, even when I'm right.
Cause you feed me fables from your hand,
With violet words and empty threats and it's sick that all these battles are what keeps me satisfied.

He sighed then, he stepped into the attic closing in on her. The window she sat at seemed colder somehow too. The rain fell harder, warning her.

He sat down across her on the seat. A hand reached out to touch her bruise but she inched away from his touch.

"Does it hurt?" He asked his voice light.

Her eyes flashed with anger. She had noticed him limping and knew exactly why but she didn't want to ask. She was ashamed of herself. She was ashamed of him. She was ashamed of what they had both become now.

"You don't care." She whispered.

"What?" He growled. "I don't care? Me? I don't care. Of course I don't. Why would I?"

She cringed at the way his voice was raised and she pulled herself closer to herself.

"Do you think I like this?" He asked his voice softer now.

She hesitantly looked up into his eyes, scared to see the ice again. "No."

"I don't. I hate this with us."

"I want the old days back Dean." She said keeping her voice low.

He sighed. "The days where we'd curl up in bed, with not a care in the world for anything else. The days where I'd caress your hair," he raised his hand to brush away some of her bangs. "The days where you wouldn't shudder at my touch, the days where you loved the way we fit. The days where your eyes wouldn't shy away from mine."

She frowned, his words felt piercing to her. Sure he said some sweet things and reminded her of the good times in the past, but along with that he fit in the negativity of today. The way things stood between them now.

"The days where I wouldn't have to hurt you." He said finally with a whisper. His hand was on her arm now, just centimetres away from the fresh burn mark from yesterday.

His finger lightly stroked the red area and he watched the pain reflect in her eyes. "Does it hurt?"

She looked up at him, words ready to be poured out to him like poison; venomous words that would hurt him. Instead she opted for a single. "No."

He pressed his finger down on the burn and watched her bite her bottom lip, hiding the scream that was burning in her throat.

"You're a bastard." She uttered through the pain. "You are and you know it. That's what disgusts me."

"Why are you here then?" His voice came out like a snarl. "You know why you won't leave?"

This was something she hadn't even pondered. Why didn't she leave him? He gave her pain and hurt all the time, every waking moment. Why was she here?

"Why?"

"Because you love the pain. You love knowing the limits I'd go to for you. You love the insanity I love you with."

She scoffed turning away from him, her arms pulled back.

So maybe I'm a masochist
I try to run but I don't wanna ever leave.
Till the walls are goin' up in smoke with all our memories.

Even she knew the real reason she stayed. He could see it in her red bloodshot eyes. She craved his love. She craved love, period. He knew that from the time he met her. He loved her then and he loved her now.

He still remembered the way her eyes had shone brightly when they first looked into his own. The way her lips had curved into a crooked mysterious smile. That had attracted him from the first moment.

Things weren't so bad until she had changed. She had changed into who every girl before her was. A girl who would easily sway into someone else's arms. A girl who he couldn't trust anymore. Every waking moment of his was spent wondering where she was and who she was with when she was out. And when she was around him they spent their days fighting. Useless fighting every time, all the time.

This morning, you wake, a sunray hits your face
smeared makeup as we lay in the wake of destruction
hush baby, speak softly, tell me I'll be sorry that you
pushed me into the coffee table last night so I can push you off me

He watched her slowly, not wanting to touch her again. Her face was still locked on his.

"I don't love the pain Dean."

He smirked, and watched as she lightly touched his knee. The reason for his new limp. She had pushed him away from her when he had attempted to force himself on her. Using the same lines of his from before she glanced at him. "Does it hurt?"

He growled at her touch. The touch of healing. He didn't want to be healed by her anymore. His fist clenched. He hated whenever she acting so caring now. He hated the way it all seemed fake. She was fake.

try and touch me so I can scream at you not to touch me
run out the room and I'll follow you like a lost puppy
baby, without you, I'm nothing, I'm so lost, hug me
then tell me how ugly I am, but that you'll always love me

then after that, shove me, in the aftermath of the
destructive path that we're on, two psychopaths but we
know that no matter how many knives we put in each other's backs
that we'll have each other's backs, 'cause we're that lucky

together, we move mountains, let's not make mountains out of molehills,
you hit me twice, yeah, but who's countin'
I may have hit you three times, I'm startin' to lose count

"Don't touch me." Dean said softly. His voice strained to say these words.

He looked up at her eyes, seeing the pain in her eyes. A strange pleasure came from that pain he saw.

"Don't touch you?" she frowned. He saw her hesitate before asking. "Why is this happening? What's wrong? What's wrong with us?"

"I don't know." He sighed, answering honestly.

"Dean—I think I...I should leave." She said softly in a whisper.

His eyes locked on hers and in that one moment all the good times came flooding back to the both of them. The laughs, the kisses, the memories, everything.

"What?"

"I.." she wiped away at her eyes again, making the bruise more visible.

"I've hurt you." He stated.

She sighed. "Yeah. You have."

"So it's best to go our separate ways."

"I don't want to."

This reawakened his emotions. "Then don't!" He said with a raised voice. "Don't even talk about this shit again."

"Dean. This isn't working. All we're doing is hurting each other and self-destructing as well in the process."

He slammed his hand against the wall where she was sitting, leaning against.

but together, we'll live forever, we found the youth fountain
our love is crazy, we're nuts, but I refused counselin'
this house is too huge, if you move out I'll burn all two thousand
square feet of it to the ground, ain't shit you can do about it
with you I'm in my f–kin' mind, without you, I'm out it

"You can't just leave." He said with a growl.

"I have to leave. You need to understand Dean. This is for us. This is for our future."

"How is it a future with both of us if you leave?" He asked.

"It has to be done. I don't want to hurt you anymore and I...I can't take the pain anymore either." The tears flowed from her eyes. His eyes were getting cold and he could feel it. She wasn't the girl he had fallen in love with anymore. She had complained to him that he had changed but it was her. She was the one who had changed everything.

"I don't want to have to do this Dean." She slowly stood from the window seat. "But I need to leave. It's for the best. I need to go..."

"Repeating it over and over won't help." He snarled his voice low.

She turned around then, not wanting his dejected face be the last memory of his in her heart and mind. "Good bye Dean."

"I love you, god damnit, isn't that enough for you?" He sighed loudly.

"No Dean," her voice broke. "It's not enough. It's just not enough anymore."