AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I know some of you hate me for the way I ended last chapter (I KNOW SARA DOES!) buuut...
you'll hate me more now.
This chapter is dark and a little sad. I may or may not had tears in my eyes. This one really focuses on B/D's thoughts and feelings throughly.
Enjoy!
She wasn't sure what to say - or do - when Dean's words hit her ears. The brunette just stood there, almost numbly. She had admitted it to Sam and he had told her he knew Dean felt for her... but hearing it now; the older Winchester standing in front of her, at her very doorstep... it scared her. Brooke couldn't work out any words as she stared up at him, and then down at their hands.
The feeling of Dean's fingers wrapped around her's; ever so softly... it made her want to kiss him. Passionately, endearingly. Not driven by hatred and lust. But driven by care and love. She wanted to smile and say those words back. Cry a little, happily, and end up in his arms. Asleep and dreaming peacefully.
But it was already too late. Dean had dropped her hands with a long sigh; hanging his head in shame. As he looked back to the brunette, he managed a sad, forced smile. "I get it... I'm sorry, Brooke," he whispered and just took something out of his pocket, sliding the envelope into her fingers. Inside, his heart ached as their fingers brushed briefly; but he didn't let it show. Dean just turned around and headed back to the Impala, without another word.
Watching him as he sped off in the car, Brooke felt herself choke up as her eyes stared at the winding road he had disappeared behind before her eyes darted towards the envelope in her hands. She bit her lip as she slowly opened it. A ticket laid inside, and even through the blurry tears, Brooke made out the words 'FROM: TREE HILL, NC, TO: LAWRENCE, KS' As she read the words in a mere whisper, the sobs kept traveling up her throat and escaping; tears streaming down her cheeks endlessly. She tried to keep them at bay but she couldn't.
Brooke Davis had just let Dean Winchester - the one man she truly loved - slip away in a matter of minutes. And once again, she hated herself for it. She hated how pathetic and weak she was. Her knees weakened as she walked into her house and the door shut behind her; the brunette's frail body slumping onto the floor with shaking cries. Brooke's hand clasped over her mouth to hold back the sound of her pitiful sobs; she couldn't stand to hear them. This couldn't be real. It was all a dream. Just a really shitty dream. She'd wake up the next day and she'd be with Dean. Bantering and at each other's throats; but it couldn't be as worse as losing him forever. She knew it was all just a silly thought to calm herself for the minute. Brooke knew she'd be in the exact some position tomorrow. Lonesome and regretting.
But at least it wouldn't last for long, right?
Dean poured himself another shot and quickly drank it. His eyes were averted to the table as he let the liquid slide down his throat; tasteless and the usual stinging.. not so stinging.
The only thing Dean could feel right now was numb sorrow, in his heart. He knew he shouldn't have done that. Brooke Davis didn't love him. Why would she? Dean had blamed her and pushed her away so many times when she tried to apologize and make things right. She shouldn't love an asshole like him. Dean didn't deserve her. Brooke deserved a family; wonderful kids and a charming husband.
A charming husband who wouldn't be him.
Downing another shot, Dean stared at the wood; his eye squinting in thought. His hand grasped the glass tightly as the thoughts pondered and raced throughout his mind. Maybe Brooke would take the tickets... maybe she would be there. Waiting for him. Maybe she'd be there, ready to tell him those three words he desperately needed to hear from her lips. She didn't reply... yes, that's bad; but at least she didn't say 'I don't love you'. So, maybe there was hope for them? Maybe she just needed some time to think it all over?
Dean hoped that was the case, and that at 11am tomorrow morning; Brooke Davis would be waiting there, at the train station - bags packed and that dimpled smile planted on her lips. Those kissable lips that he wanted to claim his; lovingly. They could move on with their lives and forget about the past. Focus on the present and soon enough, they're future.
Maybe it was just the heartache that was putting Dean in such a ... romantic mood. Usually, it'd be Sam to act like this. All lovey-dovey and hopeful. Maybe Brooke had an effect on Dean; maybe she had started to change him and his ways...
Because Dean knew he loved this stunning, strong, and brave brunette. The girl who set up fierce walls and wouldn't let anyone tear them. Dean was the same, and Brooke had been able to knock his down. It was just a matter of time until she'd let him do the same. They'd both drop those heavy walls and trust each other completely; like in this chick flick movies Dean hated. But with Brooke... He'd be Romeo, Prince Charming, Prince Eric... any romantic, handsome, and charming character from those movies. He'd be all those for her. Dean had to smirk to himself as he thought about that; Sammy would definitely be proud; the Fairy Tale boy himself.
Dean pushed back the chair and sighed, his eyelids drooping a little. As he walked to the cheap bed and collapsed on the mattress, two things were on his mind and nothing else; Brooke and the train station.
She would be waiting for him.
She had to be.
As he started to fall into a light sleep, he remembered the first time he felt something for Brooke, the first time he kissed her.. before she made the deal.
"So, hot-shot, how does it feel to have a girl beat your ass at pool?" Brooke Davis, 18, asked with a wink. Dean had been 25 at the time and he saw Brooke at her house; she wasn't looking too happy. He knew that she was having a fight with her boyfriend and the blonde friend of her's; and he always knew there was problems with her family. So, feeling a little bad, he decided to take her out... to a bar nonetheless. She looked the right age to be drinking and he knew she had a fake ID.
Smirking a little, Dean met her eyes evenly as the brunette toyed with the cue stick. "Surprised that," Dean chuckled as he looked at her, "Brookie likes to shoot pool."
Brooke smiled, her dimples showing as she took a sip of her beer. "Mmm, I love beating boys at pool."
He took a step over to her and laughed as she raised her glass before clinking his against her's. "Bottom's up. Now, Miss Davis, let's see how can really win this game."
The brunette smirked. "My pleasure. Watch and learn."
The night dragged on and soon enough, Brooke had successfully beat him at pool; and she was getting a kick out of it. She had teased him as they ordered more beer and they goofed off; just talking about random things and laughing. For the first time in a while, both Dean and Brooke felt at ease and having fun.
Brooke turned towards him in the bar stool with a soft smile, her hazel eyes happy. "Thank you, Dean, for tonight. I really needed it."
Dean gave his own smile and flicked his wrist to wave it off. "Nah, no thanks needed. I was just doing a friend a favor," he said, and as he looked down at the beautiful brunette in front of him; he felt his eyes darting to her lips. Dean had the sudden urge to kiss her but he leaned back in his seat and just took another drink from his beer.
"Don't think I didn't see that," Brooke whispered in her raspy voice. A smirk played upon her lips as she studied him. "I saw you looking at my lips."
Dean pretended to think and shrugged. "I... uh, I don't know what you mean."
She laughed and pulled his head towards her's. "Just kiss me, you fool."
And he did.
Her lips were warm against his; they tasted like beer and apple pie, obviously from what she just ate; but he could also taste the cinnamon lipgloss she was wearing. Dean set his hand on her cheek and the other on her hip, but he didn't push for anything. She deepened the kiss by inviting his tongue in but that was all.
He took her home after a while and she kissed his cheek with a smile, thanking him again. As he walked home, he felt happy and reviled.
When they saw each other again; nothing happened. They never forget but they just ignored it and went on with being bickering best friends.
The morning sun cracked through the curtains and awoke Dean, who shot out of bed immediately. His eyes frantically landed on the clock and he blew out a sigh of relief as he saw the time. Exactly 10 o'clock. Dean had an hour to get ready and it suited him just fine. He had already wrote a note for Sam and packed his bags. All he needed to do was get showered and dressed, eat something quick on the way to train station, and wait for Brooke. He'd be there around 10:50 at the latest.
Hopping in the shower, he had to smile a little. Maybe today was the day. He had to believe that. Mary had always said 'Angels are watching over you' and her other cheesy, but motherly, cliches. And she had said if you just believed in something so much, and loved and cherished it, you'd get what you wanted. Dean Winchester loved and cherished Brooke. He knew that now. He believed in her whole-heartedly. That's all he needed.
Brooke Davis, his Impala, and pie, of course.
Dean was soon out of the house and on the road, his music blasted. He was singing along happily - to some rock love song he couldn't name - and a smile lit his face as he grabbed a quick burger and soda at the nearest drive-through. His fingers tapped along the wheel as he busily sped towards the train station; the time reading 10:43. Seven minutes, and in exactly seven; he would be there.
As he pulled up and smiled to himself, he dug out his ticket and his bags. A smile was on his face as he waited patiently - 10:55 - for Brooke, tapping the ticket on his free hand. He saw the happy couples; some young and wild; some middle-aged with a kid or two, and then some, old and wrinkled but happy and alive.
He wondered if him and Brooke would end up like that - 10:58 - when they were in their fifties; sixties. Wrinkled and withered (though Dean cringed at the thought of him with gray hair and skin like a prune); but happily married. Maybe some kids and grandchildren.
11:09.
Dean was lost in thought that the final warning for the train departure scared the shit out of him; he almost jumped. As he caught the tail-end of the announcement, his eyes raked the crowd for that stunning brunette.
She had to be there.
Dean moved through the crowd to look for her better. He saw many look-a-likes and apologized as he mistaked a few; but he didn't give up.
11:12.
He had three minutes and he picked up his pace as Dean desperately searched for her. She wouldn't just leave him like this, right? She'd at least tell him she was sorry and return the ticket. Brooke wasn't a selfish person not to. So, she had to be somewhere in the crowd. He pushed through the people and ignored all the rude remarks he got. Brooke was the only thing on his mind. The only thing that mattered. Brooke Penelope Davis.
His everything.
11:15.
Dean felt his heart shatter as he reached the end of the crowd and saw the train leaving. She didn't come... Dean took a long breath, blinking away the small tears he felt form. He dropped the envelope in the nearest wastebasket and hauled his bags back to his car. As he sat in the seat, he slumped against it and allowed himself to cry softly for a few, long minutes. After cleaning up his face and switching on the radio, Dean started to drive to Brooke's house; eyes determined.
Determined to know why she didn't arrive, 11am sharp, at the train station.
The house was quiet and dark as Dean pulled up and he bit his lip with slight worry until he saw her car parked there. Breathing a sigh, he climbed out of the car and walked up to the door. He was about to rap his knuckles on the door before he saw it was opened a crack.
Now, Dean was seriously worried. He quietly pried it open; luckily with no sound at all, and stepped in. All the lights were turned off and it was eerily silent in the house. Taking a few more steps inside, he studied the hallway and saw a dim light - a candle, he figured - shine through the closed door. Guessing she was asleep, or maybe just relaxing; Dean walked towards the bedroom and opened it.
There Brooke Davis was. And so was a shirtless man, his arms around her as they slept.
"You bitch!" He shouted and wasn't surprised to see the man smirk; awake the moment he walked in; as if excepting Dean. Brooke, on the other hand, jumped as she heard him and her head snapped up from the pillow. Her eyes immediately filled with guilt, regret, and tears.
"Dean.." She started but he cut her off quickly, glaring at her with such hatred... it made her wince; the same anger her father used to give her.
"Don't!" Dean growled with rage, starting to pace around the room to ignore the sight of them. "You're just a whore; a broken down daddy's little daughter, Brooke. That's all you are! I am human, Brooke. I have a heart and I loved you. I did. Every time I threaten to leave you or call you a bitch or a slut, you don't do anything. You don't even hate me! You didn't even have the decency to call me up and apologize and decline the train ticket! Brooke, you're twenty-two! You can make your own damn decisions! Why do you always have to listen to your parents? You gave up your company, you sold my dad, and now, you won't even talk to me! You keep lying and betraying me and Sam! I'm sick of it! Does love exist for you?"
The brunette flinched, but she knew she deserved every stinging word. She'd given him her word but she didn't stick to it. Instead, while she should've been there, at the train station, her bags packed . She should have been there to hug him and kiss him and tell him she loved him. But instead, she was in bed with another man.
Dean scoffed as he finally looked at her; the brunette had her head hung and her eyes closed. "You won't even fucking look at me!" He hissed loudly as he turned to exit, slamming the bedroom door and then the front as he left. Brooke had hurried out of the bed to watch the Impala race off, tears springing from her eyes.
And the man in the bed just got up, his eyes flashing yellow. "It's time, sugar."
Ignoring the ringing of his cell that went off, once again, Dean angrily stormed out of the car and into the motel room. His eyes flared with rage as he grabbed the nearest liqour bottle and started to chug it. He needed to be drunk and numb. Like Bobby had told him - a saying by the old man's father, "Just 'cause it kills your liver don't mean it ain't medicine."
He downed the half-full bottle within seconds and went searching for another as Sam walked in the motel, worry on his face. He bit his lip as he saw Dean and cleared his throat to get his brother to turn around. As Dean did, he took a long breath before speaking. "Dean... Brooke made a deal. To bring John back, in exchange for her own life."
As the words reached Dean's ears, he dropped the bottle in his hand and didn't even flinch as it smashed. That's why she didn't show, that's why some perv was in her bed... and didn't look twice when he entered. Dean didn't even say another word to Sam, just grabbed his keys and hastily sped off.
He needed to get to Brooke in time.
He got there within fifteen minutes and raced inside. "Brooke?" he called, worry thick in his voice and concern and hurt evident in his hazel irises.
Nothing.
Complete silence.
Dean hurried to the bedroom and saw both Brooke and the man gone.
All that was left of her was her clothes, scattered on the floor.
