Here's the new chapter, sorry I didn't update as fast as I should've, but this one took awhile to end and I started college on Monday, so I've been busy. But don't worry, I have the next chapter started and should be up by the end of the weekend. Keep reading and reviewing.
Chapter 6-Rain Soaked Secrets
The smell of smoke and burnt wood filled the air as Tate stood a good hundred feet away from the Mustang, trying to get a better look at what had happened, and looked in front of her car. The huge tree had fallen right in front of it, going from her side of the road to the other, making it impossible for her to go any further; she'd have to back up. The smoke was so strong in the air that it clogged Tate's nose and throat, making it hard for her to breath. The rain was coming down so hard that Tate could barely make out the tree; she could only make it out due to the shafts of light coming across it from the head lights. The rain was beginning to soak her to the bone; leather clung to cotton and cotton grafted to quickly cooling skin. Tate regretted leaving the way she did and now, not being able to find her phone. Another bolt of lightning struck and Tate looked up from the road, the figure that had been there before now stood illuminated in the eerie glow.
It was as if time stopped, bathing him with light and allowed Tate to see it. It was a man around Dean's height and size wearing a heavy black leather trench coat that covered black jeans and a black shirt. His hair hung down in wet strands, each piece caressing a different part of his face; short curving bangs barely reached his dark eye brows. The glow from the lightning cast a scary shimmer across his eyes and Tate realized that the glowing gold orbs were looking back at her. Time started up again; the rain continued to pelt the skin of her face and hands, thunder chorused above her and the wind raged on and on; howling louder and keeping in cadence with the thunder.
"Tatum." The man said simply and in between two long rolls of thunder, he appeared at her side. Tate went off scrambling, her boots sliding against the asphalt as she rushed back to the Mustang's door. Rubber soles went slick against the road and a moment later, Tate lay face down on it. Pushing herself up, the taste of blood trickling into her mouth, she began to hate her curiosity and cursed herself for getting out of the car, not going with her original plan to back up and spin the car around.
"Why are you running Tatum, all I want is to speak with you." Back on her feet, she looked at the man through the slivers of light the tangled locks of hair that fell in front of her eyes provided and watched him walk closer. The rain seemed to seep into his skin, never once did a drop run down his face or jacket, the only thing that was soaked was his hair.
"Yeah well, I don't talk to strangers, get the hell away from me!" Her scream melted in with the loudest thunder clap she had heard in years and felt it shake through her; the feeling finally ending in her boots. Rushing toward the car, with the man taking several long strides behind her and catching up with her much too quickly for her liking. She dropped down low like Dean had taught her; long fingers gripping the road, one leg bent at the knee and the other fully stretched as far as she could push it, and swept it backwards, knocking the man's feet out from under him. She sprang back up just as quick as she went down and rushed back to the car that now only lay a few feet away from her.
Sliding into the front seat, she pulled down the visor and popped open the small window, a faint yellow glow filled the front seat. Blood wormed its way down out of the corner of her mouth where she had bitten down on her lip when she fell and her gum bled on the side; one of her teeth now missing a side hung from the pink skin in her mouth.
"Great, just great." She muttered as she touched it and then with a slam, the visor went back up. Flicking the wipers on, she watched as the windshield cleared itself and dropped her head onto the steering wheel, a low hiss coming from her. Reaching up, she touched a bump on her forehead and rolled her eyes.
"Oh peachy." She muttered as her fingers went from her head to the ignition, turning the keys a little too rough. The car roared to life but quickly died, panic filled her. This couldn't happen, that guy out there still and she didn't know two shits about cars; that was the one thing she always tuned out when Dean talked about the Impala or her Mustang. Cranking the keys again, she muttered something in Latin her father had taught to keep away demons and hoped that the car would turn over; but it didn't.
"Tatum please, just a moment of your time and then you can leave." A shriek, louder than the lightning that had cracked over head filled the car and Tate leapt over the front seat, hitting the back floor boards hard and pulled open the one behind the passenger's seat. A heart beat later, two steady hands wrapped around the butt of a silver and black Beretta.
"Two seconds, that's all you have. And they better be worth it or I'll blow your head off." She ground out. Her newly acquired passenger didn't blink at the sight of the gun, he just looked at her.
"Tatum, you're special."
"I've been told that before, tell me something new."
"I know your secret." Her finger inched up toward the trigger and the sound of the gun going off echoed in her ears, her eyes clamped shut and fingers wrapped around the gun so tight her knuckles were beyond white and her hands had started going cold. Opening her eyes she saw that the man was gone and no damage had been done to her car; no bullet hole through the windows or blood and that mess on her seats. He had just vanished. Sliding back into her seat, she slowly reached for the keys, the Latin escaping her lips again, and this time the car came to life and stayed that way.
"Thank you." She muttered as she back up and spun around; the nose of the car pointed in the direction for Boston. A second later she heard the familiar jingling of the ringer version of "Burning for You" by Blue Oyster Cult come from the passenger seat; Dean was calling. Reaching over with a shaky hand, she grabbed her cell phone that had decided to reappear, flipped it open and brought it to her ear.
"Hello?"
xXxXx
Dean paced the floor in front of the living room window, every so often looking out onto the dark soaked streets and hoped to see the Mustang rumbled up next to the sidewalk; but it hadn't happened yet. He had been pacing since he got off the phone with Tate nearly two hours ago, when he had finally gotten through to her and found out that she was in the car, on her way back from Maine.
"Dean, sit down. She'll be here."
"Sammy, not now."
"She had an almost three hour drive ahead of her and its raining, she'll take her time."
"It's been two hours, she'll be here." Fancy added, walking into the living room and handed Dean a cup of coffee. Fancy had closed the bar for the night, knowing she'd take a hit by not being there on a Saturday night, but this was as close to a family emergency as it could get. She dropped down on the couch next to Sam and looked at him, a smile on her pierced lips. She liked both of them; they both had this undying urge to protect and love Tate, she was lucky. They were good for her, good guys that Tate needed. She had been worried for a long time that Tate wouldn't find a guy like Dean, but as she found out earlier, Tate had found Dean almost two decades earlier.
Sam, Dean and Fancy didn't say anything for the next half hour, each doing something to fill the time until Tate showed back up. The sound of a dying down engine caught their attention, Dean was the first to look down out the window and saw the Mustang took up a parking space right outside the front doors of the hotel.
"I'm going down to get her, you stay here Sammy."
"Dean! I'm not a kid anymore!"
"Just do what I say!" With that, Dean rushed out of the hotel room and left Sam standing there fuming, his fists clenched at his sides. Dean passed up the elevator and ran down the stairs, jumping down about five steps on each flight. He made it downstairs faster than the private elevator that only ran from outside Tate's room to the lobby would have. Running through the lobby, ignoring the looks from guests, bell boys and other workers, he pushed open the large glass doors and found Tate giving the Mustang's keys to a valet.
"Tate." He called, getting her to turn around sharply. Dried blood seeped out of the corner of her mouth, a bruised colored her forehead along with cuts and scrapes on her face and from head to toe; she was drenched. Before Dean took one step, Tate launched herself at him and grabbed him around the stomach, her head resting on his chest.
"I'm so sorry Dean; I shouldn't have taken off like that." She clipped out in between sobs that not only shook her but Dean as well. Reaching down, he stroked the back of her head and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her wet hair. She was soaked, shivering and had to get inside before she got sick, but to Dean it seemed as if she wasn't ready to move yet.
Tate clenched the back of Dean's shirt and held on for she was worth, afraid that if she let go one of them would disappear. She cried into his shirt, her body shaking with every sob and felt her tears mixing in with the drops coming down from her hair. A minute later, she felt herself being pushed back and looked up at Dean; her blood shot eyes straining to every skim up to his face.
"Hey, hey, calm down. I got you, you're okay." He whispered, touching her forehead.
"Aren't you pissed off at me for the way I took off?"
"No, no, I'm not. I'm just glad you're back in one piece babe."
"Oh, yeah about that one piece thing, I broke a tooth." She said, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm.
"It's probably just a little chip, you're still pretty much in one piece. Come on, let's get inside and get you out of the rain." He told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her back into the hotel. Once in the private elevator, she again latched onto him and drew designs on the back of his shirt.
"I shouldn't have done that, taken off like that. I scared myself. I'm not good at running away anymore."
"You haven't had to run in a long time."
"And I'm always running away from you. Do you think there's something wrong with that?" She asked as she played with the charm hanging from Dean's neck.
"No, maybe, I don't know. It's just the way you deal with things." He told her as the elevator dinged, the doors slid back and they walked out, heading down the small private hall to her suite. The minute the door opened, Tate was tugged away from Dean and into Sam's arms, the long limbs almost wrapping around her twice.
"Sammy, Sam, you're making it hard for me to breathe!" She said as he let her go and smiled sheepishly at her, running a hand through his hair nervously.
"Sorry Tate."
"Its fine Sammy. Is that Fancy's jacket?" She asked, looking around Sam's tall frame.
"Yeah."
"And why is it here?" Tate asked, a smile tugging on her lips and her eye brow arched in Sam's direction.
"Because I've been worried about you, you jackass. Where the hell did you go?" Fancy asked, walking into the living room with a cup of coffee in her hand. She didn't answer her, she dropped onto the couch, wincing when her back hit the cool leather material of the chair; her whole body was bruised from when she fell. Dean sat down next to her and pulled one of her hands into his lap. Her palm was littered with scrapes and some were deep enough that there was gravel in them.
"Sam go find something to clean this up." Sam nodded, following the order his older brother gave him. Fancy came back into the living room with a blanket and draped it over Tate's shoulders.
"How come you're not fighting us? I mean, we're helping you." Dean whispered into her ear as he stroked her palms, his thumbs brushing over the cuts.
"I'm too tired to fight you." She told him, squirming around on the couch until she was under Dean's arm and flush up against his side. Tate sat there letting Sam fix her hands, Fancy hover over her getting her whatever she wanted and Dean over see everything. About an hour later, just as she began to drift to sleep, she felt Dean shaking her back awake.
"What?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Tate babe, wake up."
"Why?"
"Its time to go to bed."
"You had to wake me up to tell me that? You could've left me here or carried me into the other room."
"She has a point Dean." Fancy said, nudging Sam awake and off her shoulder.
"Shut up Fancy. Come on Tate." Dean said, helping her off the couch and onto her feet. Tate clung to Dean, standing in front of him and walking backwards, her arms wrapped around his waist.
"Behave in there kids! Sam spent forty five minutes bandaging her up!" Fancy yelled as Dean slammed the door; blocking out her and Sam's laughter.
