Ok, this chapter references a story I wrote called The Final Cut (cause I'm that much of a narcissist, lol). You don't really need to read it; the chapter kind of explains what happens but I say go and read it if you haven't (If you haven't noticed I am a narcissist). Oh yeah; I've posted another story- a one shot called Choices

Chapter Seven

Sam had been tailing Karl Brown for the last few days before the full moon and was now certain he was the werewolf. Now all he had to do was wait for night to fall so he could put a silver bullet through his heart.

Night fell and Sam was still waiting. It was freezing cold outside and he was not having much fun. He had been sat outside Karl's house for the last two hours and so far he hadn't seen or heard anything. He tapped his feet and hummed to himself before wrapping his coat tightly around him in a vain attempt to keep himself warm. It didn't work. Just as he was about to give up he heard a pained scream coming from the house. Pulling out his gun; he hurried to the house, kicked down the door and came face to face with a growling and drooling werewolf.

"Crap."

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"Are you okay?" Emma asked a very preoccupied Dean.

"Huh? Yeah I'm fine. I'm just worried about Sam."

Dean had invited Emma over for the third time this week. With Sam out tailing Karl at all hours of the day and night it was good to have a little company. Mostly they just sat around and talked; Dean had learned a great deal about Emma. He found out that she was from Ohio originally, she worked as a shop assistant and that she would have loved to go to college but she really couldn't afford it. He found out that her favourite colour was yellow and she had a serious chocolate addiction. But he had never spoken about himself. He didn't feel the need to; he was content with just listening to her talk. They hadn't kissed since the first night though; which didn't bother Dean as much as he thought it would. He was so used to pulling a girl, sleeping with her and leaving that it actually felt weird to get to know someone first. It was weird but good weird.

"Why are you worried? I'm sure he can take care of himself, whatever he's doing."

"I know but he's my little brother and I can worry about him if I want."

"I'm sure he's fine. Where is he anyway? Still out looking for that dog?"

"Yeah, it's a bitch to find," Dean grinned.

"How are you anyway? Is your chest feeling better?"

"Yeah it is. I can walk more than a few feet without losing my breath now. It's still bruised to hell though."

"Could I take a look?" She asked, smiling coyly.

"Sure you can," he replied before she gently lifted the t-shirt over his head. She gasped at what she saw; his chest was a horrendous shade of blue and purple; with the scar from where the chest tube had been was still covered with a bandage. "Looks disgusting don't it?"

"Yeah it does," she admitted.

"Doesn't feel too pretty either," he smiled.

Emma reached out and touched the bruising but Dean didn't flinch; he shivered slightly at the contact but he didn't tell her to stop. She moved her hand up his chest, being careful not to hurt him and stopped when she reached his neck. She placed both hands around his neck, pulled him in close and tenderly kissed him on the lips. It was gentle at first but it soon increased in intensity when Dean deepened the kiss; caressing her lips with his and running his tongue along her mouth in order to gain access. He fastened his hands on her waist and pulled her onto his lap before running them over her back; pulling her shirt from the waistband of her jeans so he could feel her soft skin, the roughness of the plaster cast encasing his right arm sent shivers down her spine. She moaned at his touch and broke the kiss so she could explore the rest of his body.

She kissed every part of his face, taking time to take in every line and every freckle; she couldn't deny that he was one of the most handsome men she had ever met. After she had spent long enough on his face; she pressed small kisses along his jaw line and down to his throat. His arms were now around her neck and she noticed something that she had not before. His left arm was covered in scars. She pulled away from him, wanting to know how he had got them.

"Those scars," she said pointing at them, "how did you get them?"

"Oh," he stared at them for a moment, like he had forgotten they were there. "It's a long story," he tried to dodge her question, not wanting to tell her it was the result of a vindictive ghost who tried to get him to kill himself. That would be great for their relationship.

"Did you try to kill yourself?" She asked.

"Not intentionally," he tried to joke but it fell flat.

"Then what happened?"

"I was going through a bad time, my dad had just died."

"And cutting helped you cope?"

"Yeah," he went along with the lie; it was easier than telling the truth.

"How long did it go on for?"

"Not long. Sam made me talk and after that I didn't feel the need to do it anymore," okay, so in reality Sam had destroyed the corpse of the spirit who had been making him do it in the first place but she didn't need to know that.

"I don't know you, do I?" Emma realised for the first time since meeting him she had no clue who he was. He had told her nothing about himself.

"What do you mean? We've spent nearly every night this week together," Dean was confused now.

"But I don't know you. We've been talking and I nearly slept with you just now but I know nothing about you. Your dad died and you were carving slices out of your arm and I didn't know that."

"So? It was a while ago, I'd completely forgotten about it before you brought it up. I really don't see what it has to do with anything."

"Of course you don't, you're a guy. All you care about is getting whatever you want."

"Emma, that's not what this is about. I just don't see how my past should have anything to do with our relationship."

"It does though. All I know about you is that you have a brother, a car and no fixed address. We've been talking but it's always been about me. I told you everything about me and you've told me nothing about you. I can't do this," she said exasperatedly; standing up, she grabbed her coat. "I just can't."

"Emma, please don't go. You wanna talk? Fine we'll talk, I'll tell you anything you wanna know," Dean stood up wanting to stop her from leaving.

"Dean, I'm leaving now."

"I like you, Emma," he admitted; which caused her to stop and turn to face him.

"It's not enough," she told him before walking out the door and closed it behind her. Dean flopped back down onto the bed before groaning in pain.

"Damn it."