Dean's life could've been written in skin. Well, in a way it was.
One of the only concrete memories he had of his mother: lying with his head on her shoulder while she rocked him in the rocking chair and watching the skin around her eye crinkle when she smiled.
All the times he'd touched his baby brother's skin, rubbed shampoo into his scalp, ripped bandaids off his toddler skin when Sam had been too scared, blown kisses on scraped knees cause that makes it better Sammy.
The first time he put his dad's leather jacket on, another skin outside his own, shrugged it on like a stretched-out talisman and went to get his brother.
After he hit a certain age he'd talk to girls and see things written in their skin: the flush of want and the shallow heave of heightened breath and the slight whitening of skin around tensed knuckles. And then their skin against his, sweat and sex and pleasure, but in the end still something separating him from them.
With Sam he shared a single skin so that their senses flowed towards each other: trapped within each others pain, bound into each others wellness, the laughter of either one like a shared frisson between them. In the end words are a poor substitute for the unspoken knowledge of common skin. While they shared the same skin, and family blood running through their veins, they were both very different. They had different standards, different memories. Dean's thoughts were more complex, in a way he thought harder than Sam, The first thought that entered his mind before every decision was Sammy. How would this effect Sam? Would he be okay with it? In mornings out of habitual practice, he always checked the salt lines under the motel door, this morning they were untouched. So he turned around and saw his slumbering brother, Long and lanky, but completely solid in his tangled form. Dean knew if he dropped his gun on the ground loudly enough, that Sam would scramble up and draw his. He laughs at the thought but insists on silently waking him after his trip to the restroom. Dean walked to his duffel of things and pulled out his clothes for the day along with some toiletries for the shower. Just a simple action that most people would do without fretting, But Dean glanced around his shoulder every few seconds, making sure the monsters were still under the bed where they should be.
And as he lightly stepped into the bathroom, being sure not to wake Sammy, Dean set his apparel on the counter top, belt clacking against the sink to which he winced, then mumbled quietly,"I hope Sam didn't hear that."
Bellaire, Kansas.
She smelled like danger, and danger smelled like gasoline. She walked down the hall with dignity, the flashing red lights made her look angrier than she already was. The blaring sirens that bounced off the walls hurt her ears, but strengthened her pride. Rayne came to a four way intersection in the dark walls of her captors home, the bright light clearly meant exit, right? There were footsteps behind her, not too far away, She quickly made her way left towards the light. Rayne could barely feel her feet hit the floor as she ran down the bland colored hallway, she ran past windows looking into an office that thankfully wasn't occupied. Hope filled her limbs and fear was tossed on the back burner, a door! She had never been so happy to see an ordinary glass door, the sun shined through so brilliantly. Rayne started running faster now, she was ten feet away, five, one, her hands slammed on the bar latch so hard it stung. The air was no longer stuffy, her lungs were completely filled with joyous, pure air, Her feet didn't stop running, although she wasn't sure where to go. The door slammed somewhere twenty feet back behind her, Rayne heard his yelling cries, "You have no idea what you're messing with. You think you're being a hero, but you're just being a fool!" Her captor screamed, Rayne looked around at her possibilities, The pavement? He could run her over with his great big truck, She could run around the building? But then she'd be caught for sure by one of his goons. So Rayne took for the woods, the skies were smokey gray, it would be pouring rain out soon. If she was under the cover of the trees, She knew it would be okay. Rayne's scrub pants caught on her foot and she began to stumble forward, falling on her knees. She could see in between her knees as she fell, her captor was gaining on her. She scrambled to her feet in the biggest hurry of her life, the tree line was only a few feet away. "Rayne!" He taunted, She turned at the mention of her name, "If you know whats good for you, You'll stay right there Baby girl." Her stomach twisted in knots, If she stayed right here he'd kill her, he'd drag Rayne inside by her hair and tie her down to the bed again. The men would stand there and laugh again, So no, she would not be staying there any longer.
The woods were tricky, Rayne was weaving in and out of trees, jumping over rocks, anything she could do to escape him. His taunts echoed through the trees and past her, she tried not to listen, running scared. The forest was blanketed in dead leaves, they crunched and mushed under her toes while she ran, she stampers through a small stream, it seemed to be that Rayne was higher up than she thought she was. Her path took a quick tilt downward, now she was struggling to stay on her feet as she slid past trees, and over took branches under her feet. The ground finally started to even out, under her was thick limestone. Rayne giggled with joy, her new found freedom made her back into her old self. She hadn't seen the forest for three years too long, but her glee ended when she saw her captor a top of the hill she had just slid down. "I thought we were having fun." He feigned sadness, Rayne's chest felt like it was going to burst from panic. Her feet took off across the ground as if they had a mind of their own. Tears started pouring down her cheeks, hope slowly started to drain from her mind. The darkness crept back into her thoughts, the trees were thinning, which meant less cover or civilization. One of those weren't good. Her path came to an abrupt stop, the stone led down into a canyon around 30 feet deep. The river was roaring and splashing off the walls. She was stuck.
"Rayne, I know what you're thinking." She turned to see Gage, Her captor, covered in dead leaves and mud. "Don't do it." His grin encouraged Rayne more, he came closer to her. She stepped back, her foot slipping dangerously close to the edge.
At least she'd be remembered this way.