Title: Consequences.
Pairing: Lisa/Deanna, past Deanna/Castiel.
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 6.
Words: Too many. Way too many.
Warnings: Mentions main character death. The C word. OCs. Homosexuality of the lesbian kind. Violence. WIP. Mentions of non-con and torture.
Summary: Post Swan Song: as a Winchester gives birth, history tries to repeat itself. Always-a-girl!Dean.
I'm guessing you guys weren't so hot on the last chapter, then. Well. Lets hope this one suits your tastes more.
Deanna crossed her ankles as she shoved her cell back into her jeans, tilting her head backwards, the cold night air kissing her cheeks. Freakin' estate agents.
She was finally making some progress on selling Lisa's house. Deanna was gonna have to re-paint the hall, and setting foot in that fucking house was pretty high on the list of things she 'would literally rather kiss God's ass then do' so it was fair to say Deanna was a little pissed off.
Standing in a parking lot, waiting for an ambush to show up, did little to improve her mood. Gabriel was thinning the demon herd, and probably traumatizing random people, but Deanna wasn't about to get too choked up about that. A disturbing number of people had mistaken her for a hooker, and been promptly told to go screw themselves if they wanted it so badly.
Deanna moved around her beloved Impala, and perched herself on the hood, letting her senses run wild as she had done the night Gabriel decided to show up for the first time since being iced by the devil. She crossed her legs, and closed her eyes.
Deanna trusted her senses enough to let the calm, still night lull her into a calmer frame of mind, away from demons and estate agents, and, really, she wasn't all too sure there was that much of a difference there. It wasn't long before her forced peace was shattered like fragile glass when her mind wrapped around Lisa's death, and refused to let go.
The memory sent shockwaves of rage through her body, and her muscles became tant. Deanna rolled her shoulders backwards, and impatiently considered grabbing a beer from the motel room before she hulked out.
Distantly, her sharp senses picked up on the sounds of the TV in their room. Sure, Ben, after an hour of bribes, agreed not to wait with her, but that didn't mean he was gonna sleep through it.
The near silence was disturbed by the sound of high heels, clicking on the ground, getting closer. Deanna's head snapped to the side, and her eyes flew open. Her hand slid up her thigh as her gaze settled on the smirking woman from the diner.
Shocker,
Deanna thought sarcastically, subtly drawing Ruby's knife from her waistband.
Meg's new host was pretty; long, dark hair, rosy cheeked, normal height. The kind of girl Deanna would have gone for in a bar if she'd been showing a little more cleavage. Meg prowled forward, a seductive sway to her long, pale limbs, eyelashes fluttering prettily.
"You didn't show up." Meg said, pouting playfully. "Guess you got smarter. I heard pregnancy killed brain cells, not revived them."
Deanna bit her tongue on a thousand retorts, and waited until Meg was standing in front of her baby before sliding down the hood, trailing a hand down the smooth metal, silently apologizing for letting that demon scum anywhere near her. Her actions were smooth, and something dark and admiring flashed through Meg's eyes when Deanna got to her feet.
Meg's new body was shorter then her, and the demon peered up at her coyly. "Cat got your tongue?" she asked teasing.
Deanna flickered her eyes over Meg's form, and allowed her distaste to show on her face, the corner of her lips curling. "I liked you better blonde."
Meg's smile turned nasty, dipping downwards. "I liked my last body better," she purred, licking her lips.
Deanna's temper snapped, and her hand shot out, quicker than the demon's suddenly alarmed eyes could process, curling around Meg's windpipe, crushing. Deanna's eyes glinted darkly as she slowly pulled Meg towards her, steadily increasing her pressure. Her neck bent towards Meg's, close enough to kiss.
The darkness in Meg's eyes twisted, and changed into a sick delight as if she honestly thought Deanna would breach those last inches. If Meg wanted to tango with a Winchester, she was a couple of years too late.
As if hearing her thoughts, Meg smirked. "Thought Little Brother was the one hot for demons?" her voice was sharp and raspy, throat struggling for breath inside Deanna's hand.
With a snarl of rage, Deanna pushed Ruby's knife back into her waistband, and violently twisted that hand in Meg's hair, tightening her grip on the demon's neck, and viciously slamming her face down into her knee.
Meg let out a short, muffled scream of pain as her meatsuit's nose broke, and blood stained the knee of Deanna's pants. The scream trailed off into a choked, pained laugh as Deanna slammed her down on the Impala's hood.
Blood gushed into Meg's mouth, staining her white teeth as her body twitched in sick amusement, panting harshly through the pain.
"Oh, sweetheart," Deanna sneered, pinning one of Meg's hands down, reaching for the knife, "Sam may have been into demons, but he still didn't want you, bitch."
Meg stopped laughing abruptly, her face twisting in fury. Her other hand flew forward, and tangled into Deanna's tank top, yanking her forward, ripping several hairs out in the process.
"Your archangel's busy." Her teeth flashed in a snarl, and Deanna's instincts gave a sudden scream of warning.
Deanna ripped Ruby's knife out of her waistband, and sliced backwards blindly, tearing through thin air, and then flesh; the throat. There was a choked gurgle from behind her, blood spraying onto the back of her jacket, and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Deanna hoped to hell the throat she'd just slit had been demon, and not some misguided bystander.
Meg stared over her shoulder, looking faintly surprised until Deanna drove her elbow into the demon's face. Meg grunted in pain, head jerking to the side as her leg curled around the back of Deanna's thigh, and pulled. Her knees smashed into her car, and the muscles in the back of her legs buckled violently in surprise.
Deanna stumbled backwards automatically.
"Nice aim," Meg gasped roughly, and lunged forward, smashing her fist into Deanna's cheek. Deanna staggered backwards, tasting iron in her mouth as her cheek throbbed painfully, toughly spitting a mouthful of blood onto the other demon's corpse.
Where the hell was Gabriel?
"You done talking?" Deanna demanded. She kicked out, slamming her boot into Meg's vulnerable stomach, choking the demon's retort off, and sending her crashing to the floor.
Apparently, the back-up didn't like that.
Footsteps pounded across the parking lot, and four other demons rushed towards Deanna; two men, two woman, four sets of inky black eyes from four different directions. Deanna didn't allow herself to take in any details as she glanced at the charging demons, and braced herself.
One of the women reached her first, and Deanna smashed her fist into the demon's nose, knocking her to the ground. There was a flash of movement in the corner of her eye, and she jerked her other elbow into the other woman's face as she tried to sneak up on her.
The female demon cried out in pain as Deanna twisted, kicking her upper thigh with enough force to send her crashing to the floor; her cry of pain turned into a scream. An arm grabbed hers, and a fist flew for her face, but Deanna was quicker; blocking the man's fist, grabbing his lapels and ruthlessly slicing his throat.
There was a gurgle, a flash of light, and more blood flowing onto her leather jacket.
One down, four to go. Goddamnit, she hated her life.
Meg was still on the floor when the other man reached her, and she helpfully attempted to trip Deanna, a low laugh rising in her throat as the man and Deanna briefly exchanged blows. The demons weren't very well trained, which actually pissed Deanna off slightly. One false start and a punch to the balls later, the other guy was on the floor.
Meg tried to trip her one last time as the man fell, but Deanna wasn't fucking around here, so she landed heavily on Meg's leg. Something shattered, and Meg howled in pain. "You bitch!"
The first woman-short red hair, and tanned skin- lurched to her feet, but a quick swipe of Deanna's leg knocked her back down. The demon let out a sound vaguely akin to a kicked puppy when she hit the floor; a sound that promptly turned into a scream when Deanna stomped on her stomach.
The redhead curled up on the side, clutching her stomach, breath harsh and ragged.
The male-middle age, balding brown hair- demon snarled in rage, and staggered to his feet, rushing at her. Deanna dodged the first hit, and threw a punch of her own, which the man caught. He twisted her wrist viciously, and punched her in the face. Deanna recoiled, her arms slipping from his grasp as she fell against the side of her car, dazed by the blow, her jaw throbbing in pain.
Her vision wavered for a moment, and Ruby's knife almost slipped out of her sweating palms. She gripped the roof of her car to keep standing as the man advanced forward and the woman followed on his heels. The woman's eyes were dark with bloodthrist.
In the background, Deanna heard Meg let out a pissed, pained laugh as she clutched at her leg. The redheaded demon staggered unsteadily to her feet, watching Deanna.
Deanna blew several strands of hair out of her face, and reminded herself that she'd dealt with shit like this before as she braced herself against her car with both of her hands, pressing the flat of the knife against the roof, hoping to hell that she didn't scratch her baby's paintwork. She used the roof as leverage, grunting slightly with effort, and kicked out with both of her legs once the two demons were close enough.
Her kicks sent the two demons staggering backwards; the man staggered left, and the woman stumbled right. Deanna lunged forward, slashing out at the man, seeing him as the more dangerous one, and hit her mark perfectly; the throat. Light flashed for the third time that night as another soul was destroyed.
Blood gushed from the body's neck as it fell, showering her face with the liquid; hot and wet and such a large part of her life as nuts as that sounded. The remaining demon actually capable of staying on her feet for longer then five seconds- for fuck's sake- used her distraction against her by grabbing her shoulders, yanking her backwards with a howl of fury.
Deanna stumbled, tripping over her feet, crashing into the woman's chest and iron grip. The demon's hands slid down her arms, and gripped her by the elbows, pulling her arms back and tight enough that Deanna couldn't shake her off.
"Drop the knife," the demon snarled in her ear. Deanna barked out a laugh. The redheaded woman moved forward, circling them once, moving to stand in front of Deanna.
The other woman's grip became vice-like, her nails digging into Deanna's arms, bruising and breaking the skin, spilling her blood. Deanna contained her flinch, and sneered at the redheaded demon.
"Drop the knife, or I'll break your arm!"
"Oh, like you wouldn't anyway." Deanna snarled back, gritting her teeth in pain. The redheaded demon smiled at her, the action was deeply unpleasant. The redhead's fist crashing into her stomach was even less pleasant.
Deanna gasped and grunted in pain, shock waves of pain rippling through her. She doubled over with a choked curse as Ruby's knife slipped out of her hand, hitting the floor with a loud defeated clatter. "Son of a bitch!"
Meg laughed, strained. "You kissed your angel with that mouth?"
Deanna's blood boiled with fury as the redheaded demon balled her fist again, and reared backwards with an ugly smile. Deftly, Deanna twisted her leg between the woman's and yanked, sending the demon crashing to the floor with a yelp, her nails raising welts down Deanna's arms as she fell.
Deanna surged forward, grabbing the powerful blow intended for her gut, and introduced the redheaded demon to her right hook. The demon flew backwards with a split lip and a short panicked scream, falling against the Impala. A flash of raw fury struck Deanna's heart at the sight of a demon anywhere near her precious car; she snarled, hauling the demon off the Impala.
Out of the corner of her eye, Deanna spotted fear on Meg's face, and she hurled the redhead down on her shattered leg, elicting another howl of pain. That should distract her from smoking out, Deanna thought. She turned sharply on her heel, and smashed her foot into the other demon's jaw as it struggled to scramble backwards, away from her.
The demon let out a choked noise of fear and pain as Deanna grabbed Ruby's knife from the floor, and stabbed downwards with enough force to hurt her hand, and rip through the woman's breastbone.
Deanna ripped the knife from the demon's chest, and turned to face Meg and the redhead, stalking forward with blood staining her face and clothes, a dark look in her eyes, gripping the knife with intent.
The other demon died quickly, soaking Ruby's knife in another coat of blood. Deanna hauled her off of Meg, and knelt down beside the black-eyed bitch. Dark, ugly rage compressed her chest, soaring through her blood, and Deanna's smile contained a feral fury in it. Her green eyes looked sour and poisonous as she looked Meg over, her lip curling over her teeth, barely restrained violence in the tense set to her shoulders.
"What the hell happened to you?" Meg demanded breathlessly, staring at her with eyes wide from disbelief and no small amount of terror. Her face was tight with pain, and there was no playfully mocking in her expression.
Strangely, Deanna thought back to that day, years in a previous future, and Cas' hollow eyes and broken smile.
"Life," she smiled coldly, mind flipping to Lisa, the doting mother and witty woman. "It's been real, Meg, but I gotta say-you were really startin' to become drag," and she drove the knife into Meg's chest, inches below the heart.
Meg's eyes went wide, and she gasped, choking on her own blood, staring at Deanna in disbelief. And fear.
"I've been wanting to do that since the say I laid eyes on your smug face," Deanna told her, rage boiling under her every word, lingering in her clenched jaw.
Red light flashed as whatever the fuck Meg had in the place of a soul was destroyed, and Deanna watched until every last spark had died out, leaving only a body behind.
Deanna stood up slowly, aching, bloodstained, in a parking lot full of dead bodies beside a motel where everyone was smart enough not to open the door if they heard screaming, and she felt... pretty goddamn awesome.
Meg had been a near-constant pain in her ass since she'd fetched Sam from Stanford, and it was great to finally be free from that. Lisa's killer was dead, and that felt even better. The bloodthirsty voice in her gut, screaming for revenge, was sated. For now.
And she'd rid the world of a couple of demons in the process. Which would have been pretty impressive with her and Sam, but on her own? And all at the same time? Awesome. She deserved a shrine or somethin'.
Deanna took a few moments to bask in her pride, and catch her breath, rolling her sweaty shoulders, struggling to ignore the lingering pain in her gut. She was gonna be black and blue for a couple of weeks. Crap. Considering how hard that dumb bitch had hit her, she'd be lucky to come out without some good ol' fashioned internal bleeding.
"That was...actually pretty impressive, Dee," an irritatingly familiar voice said, and, okay, seriously, no one should honestly be stupid enough to sneak up on her after that kind of fight, so Deanna didn't feel too bad when the knife flew out of her hand and tore through the air.
Gabriel caught it without looking up from the six bodies.
Deanna's good mood was swiftly replaced by anger. "Where the hell were you?" she demanded roughly.
"Something came up." Gabriel said, looking up at her. Deanna's snarl died in her throat as she caught something...off in his usual smug expression.
Deanna narrowed her eyes, and took stock of him with a flicker of her eyes. There was nothing outwardly different about him, except perhaps a weary slope to his shoulder, but considering this was the million or so year old former archangel, and current Trickster, the small sign of distress was practically inconsolable sobbing, shaking a fist at the sky, and screaming 'WHY?'
"Shit," Deanna cursed heatedly, stepping over a body to get a better look at him. "What the hell happened?"
A faintly surprised expression passed over his face. "Small battle back home," Gabriel said, shoulders tensing uncomfortably under her stare. "Castiel is fine," he said as concern crossed her face.
"Well, good." Deanna stated, a note of relief hidden in her voice. She glanced around the parking lot uncomfortably, before adding, "What about, uh, you?"
Gabriel's eyes widened, and his false smile stretched into a genuine grin. "Dee-Dee, I didn't know you cared!"
"You grow on people. It's kinda weird," Deanna said, playing at unaffected and unashamed of her reluctant, growing fondness for the annoying son of a bitch. "Like a strange, toxic mold. You'll probably be the death of me, too."
"Nah." Gabriel shrugged with his mouth as much as his shoulders. "It gets...kinda dull after the first few times."
Deanna resisted the urge to shoot him, and looked back down at Meg's body. Some part of her was unable to believe the bitch was really dead; the only person who'd 'died' more times than Meg was her.
It was funny how even Meg had been shocked by the change in her. Deanna felt a spark of fury at herself. Between the seals and Lucifer, she'd never really taken the time to deal with the shit that went on down in the ground- and, honestly, it wasn't really a can of worms she was all too willing to open- but, now, she couldn't stop thinking of it.
Gabriel moved to her side, peering down at the bodies, lingering on none in particular. "I caught the end of the fight," he told her, and nodded at the female demon. Not the redhead. "When you were bumping her off the mortal coil."
"Gee," she spat sarcastically. "Thanks for your help."
"You seemed to be doing fine on your own."
"What's your point?"
Gabriel gazed at her. "They were untrained."
"Yeah." Deanna nodded, her mouth twisting into a frown. "I noticed."
"But not that untrained," he nodded at the gaping hole in the demon's chest. Deanna's arm ached faintly, remembering the force she'd used to create that hole.
Deanna knew what he was eluding, too; the whole freaky-DNA- mutation deal. She was still pretty unsure of how to feel about that. On some level, it pissed her off that she might not be entirely human by the time she kissed her ass goodbye. On another, she was glad Cas- and Mary- had had such a large effect on her; made her feel less like a tool for actually giving a shit about him.
"How far is this thing going to stretch?"
There hadn't been time for this conversation before, when she'd thought her friends were pulling a Brady on her. She was still pretty staggered by the whole Crowley thing. Demons were demons, but Crowley had just seemed smarter than that.
"No idea," Gabriel said in such a cheery way that Deanna almost punched him again. "This has never happened before, remember, Dee-Dee?"
He snapped his long, tanned fingers. The parking lot was cleared of any blood, and the bodies disappeared. The drying blood on Deanna's face disappeared, and her skin tingled slightly from the feel of his...grace brushing up against her. Like a house cat or somethin'.
"Yeah, I remember." she said absently, staring at where Meg's body had been. Ruby's knife was clean in her hands. It was like it'd never happened, which was...unsettling. "So, where'd you send 'em?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Mexico," as he said this, he glanced upwards, his mouth drawing down in irritation, but Deanna caught his eyes flashing briefly in concern.
"Hearing voices?" Deanna quipped, cocking an eyebrow. She shoved her hands in her pockets, and turned towards the motel. "I'll kiss Mary goodnight for you."
Years ago, that would have been sarcastic instead of an actual promise. Behind her, Gabriel cursed lightly under his breath, and disappeared with the sound of flapping wings. She slipped the knife back into her waistband before she unlocked the door, and stepped over the salt line.
Ben was sprawling on his bed with Mary on his chest. He was snoring. Deanna paused in the doorway, caught between the desire to tease him about it or tiredly curl up with them. She closed the door behind her, and settled for taking a picture to blackmail Ben with when he was older.
Teenagers, she remembered, were fucking annoying.
Deanna switched off the TV, and got changed for bed, hiding Ruby's knife under her pillow. She wasn't surprised when, a couple of hours later, Ben crawled into bed with her, burying his face into her shoulder, hugging her tightly.
"Dead?" he whispered into the night.
Deanna grunted in confirmation, released her grip on Ruby's knife, and wrapped her arms around the kid protectively, and dozed back to sleep.
Deanna's dark blond hair whipped around her face as she contemplated Lisa's house, shifting Mary's squirming form in her arms. It was a nice day, sunny and clear. It was Monday, exactly a week after Lisa's death. The house had been sold, along with most of the other things in the house. They'd be leaving town soon.
Deanna ignored the unexpected pang in her stomach as she turned that thought over. As if hearing her thoughts, Ben shifted at her side, gaze fixed on his home, clutching one of his many photo albums in his arms.
Deanna leaned back slightly, pressing the small of her back into the Impala.
"I broke that window," Ben said suddenly, lifting his hand, and pointing at the college dude's house. At the broken window, Deanna noticed with a jolt of surprise.
Hadn't the demon mentioned a broken window before she'd kicked its ass?
"I heard...things, from the car, and I couldn't stay there while you got your ass kicked." Ben glanced at her briefly. "I couldn't leave Mary, in case..." he cut himself off, returning his gaze to the house. "Somebody would come over and complain. They'd find Mary."
"That's a decent plan," Deanna said, her gaze lingering on the kid's messy hair. Ben didn't look at her, so she turned her eyes back to the house. "Flawless, if only half those kids weren't demons."
"Yeah," Ben said with a quiet bitterness, causing her to look at him.
Deanna's first rule regarding emotions was if you couldn't see and/or kill 'em, they didn't exist. Her second rule was, no matter how much Sammy whines, never talk about the shit that makes you mad until you were way over it. Winchesters solved their problems with rock salt and their fists, not girly-emotional crap.
But she was gettin' sick of Ben's suffering. Crying kids always screwed with her head, but she was used to Ben being...kinda like her. Witty and awesome.
"So," Deanna cleared her throat uncomfortably.
Ben looked away from the house, and up at her. His eyes were sad and brown. They reminded her of Sammy so much that she had to look away before she drove herself nuts.
"So...you, uh, wanna talk about it now?"
Ben swallowed, and shook his head silently.
While Ben was busy not responding, a blue car pulled up beside her Impala. The door opened, and Ozzie's towering form got out of the driver's seat, slamming the door shut beside him. He began walking over to them while Brian stumbled out of the other door, and quickly gained on his older friend.
"Hey," Ozzie said, ruffling Ben's hair, trying and failing to kiss Deanna's cheek. He pouted at her briefly before leaning down to press his lips to Mary's pretty pink cheeks. "Hi," he added in a gentler tone, voice muffled by her daughter's skin.
Brian reached them as Ozzie straightened up, reaching out to squeeze Deanna's wrist. Deanna glared at him, and he let go with an apologetic wince, brushing his finger across Mary's cheek as he moved around them, standing beside Ben.
"How are you?" Brian asked quietly.
"Feel like shit," Ben replied in a blunt, depressed tone.
Brian blinked in surprise, and turned his gaze to Deanna. "Is he allowed to swear?" he demanded, outraged.
"Don't swear," Deanna responded flatly.
Brian frowned at her.
"What?" Deanna snapped sharply."You want me to punish the kid right now?"
Brian looked away sheepishly, eyes landing on the house, and he murmured, "Sorry."
Deanna shook her head. "It's fine," she said tensely.
Ozzie cleared his throat, and clapped a hand down on her shoulder. "So, you ready?"
Ben nodded quietly. Brian looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure about this," he said. "Isn't it property damage?"
"Not until it belongs to someone else," Ozzie said, his tone ringing with faint reassurance.
This didn't seem to calm Brian's nerves, but he sucked it up with a single glance at Ben.
"Okay. Now that that's out of the way, time for some property damage." Deanna flashed Brian a smirk as the college student let out a quiet groan. Together, the four- well, five- walked over to the front deck outside Lisa's house.
Ozzie took Mary from her arms, and smiled down at the infant. Brian peered over the taller man's shoulder, and made a face at the baby. Ozzie cooed down at her, sloppy and noisy. Deanna caught Ben's eye, and rolled her eyes. The kid's lips quirked up in a faint, tentative smile.
Deanna jammed a hand into her pocket, and pulled out her silver penknife. She held it out to Ben with a nod. Ben took it from her hands, his fingers shaking slightly as he moved under the deck. Deanna drew her lighter out of her pocket, and crouched beside him, making sure to keep the burning flame far away from the wood.
Ben wasn't ready to part with his mom's ashes, and it seemed wrong that the old place wasn't marked somehow by what had happened. Her dad had done the same thing with their old house before leaving town. Deanna hoped it wouldn't become too much of a tradition; she wanted to see her kids grow up.
Ozzie and Brian continued to coo down at her daughter, earning soft, gurgling sounds. Ben flipped the pocketknife open, and began to carve into the bottom of the deck, where Deanna had once spent hours drawing chalk protections into. Where they had been erased by a clumsy kid, a few doors away.
But Deanna wasn't going to track the kid down, and beat some sense into him because college kids were fucking dumb, and if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop. And she didn't kill people.
A couple of minutes later, Ben crawled back out, and slapped the closed penknife into her palm. Deanna rose, stuffing the knife and lighter back into her pocket, pulling the kid back to his feet with her free hand. He didn't weigh a lot, so it was pretty easy.
Ben shifted closer to her, staring at the house where he had grown up, where his sister had been born, where his mother had died. His hand gripped hers for a moment before he could look away from the house, away from her, re-directing his gaze to the grass with an uncomfortable swallow.
Deanna ruffled his hair, letting her hand rest on his skull for a few moment until the slump to his shoulder disappeared. A gust of window blew her hair into her face as she turned back to Ozzie and Brian.
Feeling her gaze, they looked up from Mary. Their adoring eyes faltered, and their smiles retreated.
"Time to say goodbye, huh?" Ozzie murmured, his voice unusually quiet and serious. Brian gripped Mary's fist, eyes glinting in despair. Brian was one sob away from growing a womb. Christ, even Sammy would have drawn the line there.
Deanna noted the flippancy in her thoughts. Oh, boy. She was able to joke about it now without wanting to wrestle a wendigo. Progress, she wondered, or a whole new level of 'dead inside'?
"Seems so," Deanna said neutrally, walking around them, striding across the lawn to her car.
It wasn't that she wouldn't...miss them. She wasn't a complete jerk, but she'd never been comfortable with goodbyes. God knows she'd had her fair share whenever they'd stuck around for long enough for her to give a crap.
"Call as soon as you get there?" Brian asked, falling into step beside her, his steps hurried.
"Yeah, sure."
"Promise?"
"Yeah. Pinkie swear and everything."
Bizarrely, despite the sarcasm in her tone, Deanna was actually considering calling.
"Pass her over," Ben said to Ozzie behind her. Deanna glanced back to see Ben was stretch upwards, peering at Mary with distracted brown eyes. "I'll get her into her car seat."
"Oh. Sure." Ozzie bent down, and transferred Mary into Ben's arms. His movements were always wary whenever he handed her baby to someone else, but they were slower then ever, reluctant. He stopped to kiss her forehead when she was safely settled in Ben's arms.
Ozzie was frowning at the floor when Ben moved past them. Brian opened the back door for the kid. Sadness passed over Ozzie's face. Deanna looked away with a knot of regret in her throat.
As Brian bent down to look in on Ben as he buckled Mary in, Ozzie stepped closer to her. "I'm going to miss you, Dean."
"More like miss seeing my hot body every day," Deanna joked uncomfortably.
Ozzie let out a slight puff of laughter, and stepped closer. "I don't care if you don't hug back, you crazy red-neck."
Deanna stood still as Ozzie leaned forward, and wrapped his arms around her stiff form, crushing her to his chest like she was some dumb broad in one of those old movies. His arms squeezed around her ribs, and then slid down her back, grabbing her ass.
Deanna jerked forward in surprise; her hands moving up to grip his shoulders painfully tight. Her knee bent upwards, brushing his crotch for one long, threatening moment before dropping back down.
"Stupid bastard," she grumbled.
Ozzie laughed against her ear, hot breath puffing over her face. "Look, Dean, you're finally hugging me back."
"So, uh. Tell me, Ozzie. Is your life flashing before your eyes?"
"A bit," Ozzie admitted, and his hands released her ass. "But it was totally worth it." He stepped back, grinning playfully at her.
"You always were an ass man," Deanna commented.
"No," he smirked, looking her over slowly. "Just yours."
"Thanks, Ozzie," Deanna said ironically. "That's real classy."
They'd said worse to each other during work hours, sharing smirks and comparing notches. Deanna had never had a friend like Ozzie before. Or like Brian. It was easier, somehow.
When she and Cas had been just friends, it'd always been so serious and charged with sexual tension. The world was ending, and they'd always been so different, but they'd understood each other better then she and Sammy had since her death by hellhounds.
"What's a little tactlessness between friends?"
"I don't know," Deanna said. "A busted up face, maybe?"
Ozzie laughed slightly, looking away.
There was a brief exchange of hugs between the four of them, and Deanna's nerves were pretty high-strung by the time it was through.
Sure, she liked Ozzie and Brian, but she just wasn't used to people being so close. Hugging wasn't her thing, never had been. It was too vulnerable, too closed in, too close to the neck. Her hunting instincts had been given a rude awakening over the last few days, and they were paranoid from disuse.
"We're going to miss you all so much," Brian murmured into her neck. Deanna forced herself to pat his back, pulling away. She punched his shoulder affectionately, and saw him wince slightly from the force.
"I'll call," she swore, and honestly meant it. "We'll come visit sometime."
Brian looked at her uncertainly as he backed off of her. He smiled, looking relieved when he realized she was being serious. "Good."
The Impala's door slammed shut, and Ben grimaced at her, mouthing an apology in the back seat. Deanna held her tongue, frowning back. Her poor baby. She really needed to install some proper appreciation for the old girl in the kid's head before he did her serious damage.
Ozzie cackled quietly, backing away, and climbing into his car. "See ya on the flipside, Dean!"
Brian met her gaze for a moment before turning back to Ozzie's car.
"Bye Deanna," he said, and climbed into the car.
As Ozzie's car drove off, and a hand stuck out of the window, waving at her. Deanna opened the Impala's door. Her neck pricked suddenly, and she looked up. The college kid stared at her, wide-eyed and pale, from his doorway.
Deanna caught his gaze, and gave him a long, hard look. He scurried back inside, slamming the door behind him. For a moment, Deanna considered going after him. She stopped herself, and climbed into the car.
The door closed behind her, the keys went in, and the Impala purred beautifully. The tension between Deanna's shoulder blades eased as the radio switched on. She rolled the windows down, and popped the glove box.
Her dad's journal rested amongst a bed of her tapes. Deanna reached in, and grabbed it.
"Here," she caught Ben's attention, and passed it to him.
"What is this?"
"A hunting journal," she answered. "My dad's. It'll have everything you need to know in there. Kinda like the Book of Shadows."
Lisa had liked that stupid show- Charmed or something- and Deanna collected old pop-culture like those nerds in her old high school collected stamps.
"Try not to have nightmares."
Ben smiled, quick and wryly. He flipped the journal open, and began to read.
Deanna turned her gaze back to the long, open road, and began to drive away from her former home, leaving no trace of herself behind.
Except for memories and that little house that had once been a home, with the name Lisa Braeden branded into a wooden deck in her child's shaky scrawl.