Chapter Nine

Erika walked down the stairs taking measured breaths, hoping Burke wouldn't be able to see her heart stampeding in her chest. If she was lucky, he wouldn't notice the flush in her cheeks, either. The last thing she needed was a pissing match between Dean and the sheriff. She hadn't heard the doorbell again, and hoped in the worst way that Burke had assumed she was asleep and decided to check back later.

Much to her surprise, she found Sam chatting amiably with Burke in the front parlor. Unless her ears deceived her, they were talking about football. Putting her initial shock aside, she entered the room.

"Erika," Burke said, standing. Sam followed suit, giving her a brief nod as she walked through the entryway. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"A little shaky still," she said honestly. "I can't quite get her out of my head."

Burke nodded his head sympathetically as they all took a seat. "That's perfectly normal."

"So I've heard," she said. "Thanks for coming out here this morning, Burke. I apologize for running off on you like that, but I just wanted to get away from the whole mess."

He smiled. "Oh, I can't say I blame you."

"Thank you just the same," she said. "It's early yet. Is there something I can get you, Burke? Coffee, anything?"

"Coffee sounds just fine," he said, watching Erika get up to leave. He was secretly thrilled that Simon what's-his-name hadn't been with her.

"I'm sorry, son," he said, turning to Sam. "I didn't quite catch your name."

"Sam," he answered, digging for the last name Erika had told him that morning. "Sam Wright."

"Oh, that's right," Burke said. "That other fellow is your brother."

"Yes, sir," Sam said.

"Where is he this morning?" he asked, torn between the man's desire for him to have fallen off a cliff and the cop's desire for a witness to be available for questioning.

"Upstairs," Sam answered. Burke was thrilled when he nodded at the stairway that led away from Erika's bedroom. "He's probably getting dressed."

"Well, I'd be much obliged if you could go collect him," he said, his tone pleasant but leaving little room for argument. "I need to ask him a few questions about what happened last night."

Sam nodded. "Sure. I'll be right back, then."

"Take your time," Burke said to his back before getting up to follow Erika in to the kitchen. He found her measuring out coffee grounds into a filter.

"You sure you're fine, Erika?" he asked her, seeing the slight tremble in her hand. "If this is still hard for you, we can work out some other time."

Tempting, she thought, but felt a little guilty that the reason she wanted the rain check was so she could go upstairs and work off a little frustration with Dean.

"Oh, it's okay," she said, flipping the switch that would brew the coffee. "Better now while the memory's fresh."

"All right then," he said. "Just let me know if it gets to be too much."

She smiled warmly at his concern. "I will. Thank you."

"It's brave of you to go through all this," Burke said, placing his hand lightly over hers. "Especially considering your history."

Erika immediately steeled, pulling her hand out from under his. "This has nothing to do with the skeletons in my closet, Burke Spinner," she said, quiet and cold. "Don't bring them into this."

"Now, Erika, you know I didn't mean anything by it," he said honestly.

"I do know that," she said. "Which is why you're still here."

Burke took the hint seriously. "Yes ma'am."

"Where do you want me start?"

"Just walk me through it," he said, pulling a small book and a pen out of his pocket. "Anything you can remember."

"I left the house a little after six yesterday evening," she began, feeling a little deceitful because she knew whatever she told him wouldn't solve the murders. "It took me the usual thirty minutes or so to get back into town and I stopped by the library to see if Simon and Sam were still there. I'd forgotten that it closed at six, so I figured they'd already head back to the house. I'd left them dinner and note telling them where I'd gone, so I thought my bases were covered and I headed over to the school.

"There was a faculty meeting that morning, and I was in a rush to leave so I forgot some folders I'd been meaning to take home with me for the weekend. I have a new student that needs some extra attention so I was going to work on her lesson plans for the next week. Do some progress reports, things like that."

She took a deep breath. "When I got there I noticed that Shelley's car was in the parking lot. She had been taking care of some office work this morning while we were all in the meeting, so I figured she was doing the same thing I was. I unlocked the back door—yes, it was locked—and was planning to go down the hall to tell her I was in the building when Simon caught up with me. While we were talking, I, uh, forgot to go down to the office and find Shelley.

"We were in my classroom for about twenty minutes or so. We couldn't have been in the building more than thirty. When I got the things I needed I locked my classroom door behind me and went back through the front of the building, meaning to see if she was still here. The light was on in the office, so I figured she was. We walked in and didn't really see anything at first. A trash can had been knocked over, and I followed Simon to the desk. That's when we saw her," she said, letting out a long breath. "She was, uh, lying behind the desk."

"That's good. What did you do then?" Burke asked, writing continually in the little notebook.

"I had to sit down," she said. "I'm really sorry if I messed up your crime scene in any way, but I couldn't get my legs under me."

"Don't worry about that," he answered. "We can separate you out from the evidence at the crime scene without it being compromised."

She smiled, grateful. "I sat down for a minute and Simon told me we needed to call the cops. I called you right then. We walked outside and waited for you there."

"What did I miss?" Dean said, walking into the kitchen and fixing his eyes on Burke almost immediately. "Morning, Sheriff."

"Morning," he answered, watching the man swagger in. The animosity that he'd set to simmer the night before boiled over.

"Sorry I couldn't come down earlier," he said, and looked at Erika. "I was wrapped up in something."

She could have decked him when she watched Burke's face grow hard and red as brick. She should have known Dean wouldn't be able to help antagonizing the man; it was too easy, and natural, for him and Burke would be all too willing to rise to the occasion. She made a mental note to smack him later.

"I was just telling Burke about last night," she said quickly, unwilling to mediate a brawl in her kitchen. "I'm sure he'll want your story about now, as I've finished giving him mine."

"Take a seat, Simon," he said. "We'll get down to business."

"Yes, sir," he said, sitting next to Erika who faced him with a stare that could have killed him where he sat. He gave her a puzzled look but turned back to Burke.

"I don't know what I can tell you that Erika hasn't already."

"You can start by telling me why you saw fit to follow Erika to the school when she'd already told you where she'd gone," he said, launching directly into what felt like an interrogation.

Dean shifted in his chair but didn't look away. "She'd left her purse on the table. I figured I'd catch her before she needed it."

"Erika didn't mention anything about leaving a purse," Burke countered.

"No, Burke, he's right," Erika said. "I'd forgotten it and figured that if I managed to get back to the house without getting pulled over I could live with it."

"Right," he said, but was obviously convinced of nothing. "How did you get into the school?"

"It was unlocked," he said easily. He'd actually picked the lock.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said, frustrated. "I'm sure. Why?"

"We found evidence that there had been some instances of tampering with the locks," he said with a small gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Dean saw the look, recognized it, and figured the sheriff was dead set on railroading him.

"Well, it wasn't me," Dean said and Burke seemed to dismiss the line of questioning.

"Did you go find Erika as soon as you were in the building?"

"Yeah," he said, knowing exactly where the conversation was going. The bastard was looking for a scapegoat. "I caught up with her in the hallway in front of her room."

"Did you stay in the classroom with her the whole time?"

"Yeah," he said, starting to get pissed off. "I wasn't just going to leave her there while some maniac's killing people."

Burke eyed him. "Of course not. About how long were you in the room?"

"No more than fifteen or twenty minutes," Dean replied.

"What happened after the two of you left the classroom?" the sheriff asked, looking for the smallest detail that would throw his story off.

"We went to the office and found the secretary on the floor," he answered and shifted his eyes to his side.

"Did you check to see if the victim was deceased," Burke asking, throwing Dean for only a moment.

"No," he said. "I knew."

"How did you know?" Burke needled. "She could have just been injured."

"But she wasn't," Dean said clearly. His tone of voice left little room for argument.

Burke eyed him, but stood slowly. "I think we're finished here," he said, turning to Erika. "But I'm going to need you to be available if I have any more questions."

"Of course," she said. "You know where to find me."

"That I do," he said and turned to Dean. "Don't leave town."

"Not planning on it," Dean said and fixed his eyes on the sheriff's. "Not any time soon."

Erika felt the challenge in the air and couldn't help but scoff at both their egos. The testosterone in the air was gagging her.

"Have a nice afternoon, Burke," she said, watching Sam walk through the door. "Sam will be happy to show you out."

"Thanks for your time," he said and followed a bewildered looking Sam to the front door. "Your brother always so cagey?"

"Yeah," Sam said, laughing a little to take the man off his guard. "He doesn't really mean to be, he's just a jerk."

At this, Burke laughed. "Some people are. You have a nice day, now, Sam."

"You, too, Sheriff," Sam replied, closing the door behind him. He heard raised voices behind him and started back to the kitchen, wondering if Dean had managed to piss somebody else off that morning. He walked in to find Erika at her stove, working furiously, and Dean sitting where he'd left him at the kitchen table.

"Come on, I said I was sorry," Dean said as Sam walked through the door.

"Oh, like hell you are," Erika quickly countered. "You just couldn't resist baiting him."

"He doesn't know what's going on," Dean said. "He has no frigging clue so he's looking for somebody to take the blame."

"And you're more than ready to let him," Erika said. "What happens if he looks you up? He'll know you lied about your name, which would only serve to make him more suspicious. And what happens if he runs your prints? He'll find out about you and Sam being alive."

Dean cocked his head. "Who told you about that?"

"I did," Sam said, speaking for the first time since he'd walked in. He did his best not to wither under the intensity of Dean's stare.

"I thought she needed to know," he readily defended.

Dean glared but said nothing. Sam walked silently from the room, sensing that this was better left to his brother and Erika. It appeared that he'd already more than done his part.

"Which I do," Erika said, shoving a plate in front of him with less grace and hospitality than she'd done previously. "What happens if he'd asked me your name while you weren't there? I would have given him your real one without a second thought and you would have been up a damn creek without a paddle."

"I had it covered," Dean defended, ignoring the food she'd thrown in front of him.

"Oh, of course you did," she said, throwing her hands in the air and walking away. "And since you've got it so well covered, you've managed to piss off the one person who can best screw you both over."

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked from his chair, watching her pile dishes loudly in the sink.

"It means that Burke is going to look you up anyway," she said, turning to face him with more anger than he would have expected. "He's going to look you both up and figure out that he's not who you say you are. He's not Kojak, Dean, but he's not an idiot."

"That's debatable," he muttered only to receive a furious look from Erika.

"You know what?" she said, throwing a dish rag on the counter. "Fine. Make your jokes. Tonight you're burning the damn corpse and you'll be gone. If you're not going to worry then why the hell should I?"

She walked quickly from the room, leaving Dean sitting at the table with an intense scowl on his face. She stormed out the back door, letting it slam, and headed for the garage. She was going to speed down old dirt roads until she'd worked off her mad.

She panicked for a split second when the car wasn't in her parking spot, only to remember that it was currently sitting in the parking lot of the school. Cursing under her breath, she stood in the middle of the yard tapping her foot. She now had the choice of asking Dean for a ride to go get it or walking the twenty or so miles into town. Swallowing her pride and what remained of her righteous anger, she headed back to the house.

Dean was exactly where she left him, working his way through the messily prepared breakfast she'd shoved under his nose minutes before. He looked up at her warily when she came through the swinging doors, unsure if she would yell some more or take a swing. He settled for staring at her, his mouth safely shut. He figured she'd say or do what she wanted regardless of any clumsy or mildly sincere apologies he managed to throw her way.

"I need a ride," she said. "My car is still at the school."

He eyed her. "Promise not to kill me if I agree?"

She fought the smirk curling up the corner of her mouth.

"I'll think about it," she said, and was relieved when Dean stood from the table and grabbed his keys.

"I'll let you drive if you accept my apology," he said, dangling the keys in front of her face. Better than an olive branch, he thought when he saw the fire in her eyes replaced by thrill.

"I'll think about it," she said but grabbed the keys quickly from his fingers.

--

It was a mistake, Dean thought as he clung to the handles on the door for dear life. He knew it was a bad idea when he offered, and instead went against his better judgment. He watched as Erika wove around tight corners and gunned it over hills, all the while doing at least eighty. If he lived through it, he vowed to never let her touch his car ever again. Ever.

"Jesus!" he swore when a slow-moving pickup truck pulled out in front of them. He braced himself for impact only to feel inertia pull him violently against his door. Through barely open eyelids, he saw Erika pull quickly to the left and avoid the truck. Once clear of the obstacle, she gunned it again and sent him back against the seat.

Erika howled and cheered beside him, laughing in a manner he could have sworn was nothing short of maniacal. She groaned along with the vibrant roar of the engine and Dean tightened his grip, doubtful that he would ever have the chance to get out of the car in one piece. He shifted his eyed to see her face flushed and eyes wild, staring at the road ahead with steely determination and what he feared was challenge. He marveled that a woman who labeled everything in her kitchen could have a reckless streak a mile wide.

When they pulled into the school parking lot, Dean had to fight to keep himself from falling to his knees and kissing the asphalt. Instead, he climbed out of the passenger seat and pressed his lips to the car's roof.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said, running his hands over the cool metal. "I didn't know she was going to do that. It'll never happen again, I swear."

"The hell it won't," she said, walking around to the passenger's side of the car and grabbing Dean by the collar of his shirt. She pulled him into a scorching kiss that sent every ounce of blood rushing south. It was all teeth and tongue and uncontrollable fire that had thunder roaring in his ears. Air was a dim memory when she pulled away from him, leaving him dazed and aroused.

"Jesus Christ," he finally said, panting and struggling to clear his head. "Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

"I'm still plenty mad," she said, running her tongue over a slightly swollen bottom lip. Dean's heart rate hit the roof, broke through it, and kept right on racing. "I just plan on working off the rest of it," she said, leaving enough ambiguity in her statement to have Dean staring after her. He watched her twirl her keys in her hand as she walked away from him, hips swinging from side to side in a manner he'd never seen her use.

"You're racing me back," she called over her shoulder and he fought to get his breathing back to normal. She climbed into the car and turned the engine over, waiting for him to do the same.

"She's trying to kill me," he said but circled the car and took his seat behind the steering wheel. He'd barely turned the key when he watched her fishtail out of the parking lot in her cherry red Firebird. He let out a shaky breath and wondered what would happen if he beat her.

--

He never got the chance to find out. Erika had left the Impala, shocked, in her dust before she was two miles out on the road that led to her house. She contemplated slowing down to let him catch up before pressing her gas pedal down to the floor and feeling the car lurch forward. Def Leppard pounded in her ears at deafening volumes, urging her to go faster. She eagerly agreed, going airborne for a few seconds over the top of a hill before landing with a thud that rattled the car.

When she whirled through the gates of the house, a heavy weight settled quickly in the pit of her stomach that she understood immediately and took the time to enjoy. She so rarely experienced the pure, unadulterated lust that currently penetrated her system and had almost forgotten what it felt like. She savored the sensations as though they would be her last.

The Impala followed her through the gate seconds later, with an annoyed-looking Dean at the wheel. She drove around to the back of the house, where a five-car garage waited patiently for the signal from her remote control to open the door. Speeding in, she barely missed the garage door scraping the car when she threw the car into park and killed the engine. She took a deep breath and climbed out of the car to watch Dean pull in next to her.

"You're out of your damn mind," he said, slamming the door behind him. The look on Erika's face had him almost backpedaling, convinced it was rage. He'd never expected her temper to be so powerful. Or long-lasting, for that matter. "What did I do now?"

She answered with a look that said very clearly, Come get me. Her black hair curled wildly around her face and the green-gray eyes that he'd found fascinating days before were now feral and menacing. A distinct flush had formed itself along her cheekbones and Dean swallowed when longing, hot and primal, kicked him hard in the gut. He didn't think he'd ever seen a woman he wanted more. He vowed that moment to never tell her that he'd let her win.

Dean pulled her against him without another word, his mouth seizing hers in a flurry of movement. Erika clung to him for dear life, just as terrified of what would happen to her if she gave in as what would happen to her if she didn't. His hands on her back brought her closer to him, but the contact wasn't nearly enough. Wanting her was warring with something else in his brain, and he couldn't figure out what it was. He was getting what he wanted, wasn't he? He'd convinced himself that this could be just like any other girl he'd talked into bed with him, despite knowing deep down that it wasn't true.

When he felt her breath rattle in her chest, Dean realized with a start that it wasn't just lust that had his brain dazed over—it was genuine affection. The frantic pounding of his heart came just as much from his need for her as the feel of her against his body. He cared about her, and suddenly realization disappeared in the face of intimidation. The idea that he could care for a woman again, really care, hadn't occurred to him. With that came the possibility that Erika cared, too. That sudden epiphany in mind, he pulled away from her and started out of the garage.

"Dean?" Erika finally managed to call after finding her breath again. "Dean?" She jogged after him and stopped a few feet behind him when he paused. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice rough as gravel. "I'm fine."

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked, suddenly overwhelmingly self-conscious. She was surprised to realize she'd thought it, much less said the words aloud.

"What? No! Jesus," he said, rubbing his hand over his face. "No, of course not."

"Then what's wrong?" she asked. "I know, I was… uh, overzealous. I just—it's kind of how I work off steam." She laughed bitterly. "What you must think of me. I can't imagine."

"No, it's not you," he said, fighting the unbearable desire to touch her. Distracted and uncomfortable, he almost found himself finishing the biggest line in history. "It's… it's not you."

"Then what is it?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Dean saw her walls go up faster than he could have predicted. He'd forgotten in the midst of all his pining that she had been through hell, too—she had walls and defenses of her own.

"I can't do this to you," he said, fixing her with a stare she could have sworn looked sorrowful. The sight confused her endlessly. "I won't do this to you."

"Do what to me?" she asked. "I came on to you first."

"No, it's not that," he said, trying to find the words he knew wouldn't make a damn bit of difference to her in the long run. "It's not just that."

"Ambiguity isn't becoming, Dean," she said, growing impatient as she fought to retrieve the pieces of her dignity. "Get on with it."

"You're not just a good time for me, Erika," he said, refusing to look away from her. "Maybe I am to you, but I don't care. I'm not going to start something that I'm not going to be able to finish."

Erika scoffed angrily. "Oh, God, spare me. If you didn't want me, that's all you had to say. I don't need your concern."

She started to walk away and Dean caught her arm. She had almost reared back to hit him before she saw the look in his eyes. She knew devastating remorse when she saw it.

"Don't go," Dean pleaded before clearing his throat. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" she said, yanking her arm away from him. "You're not making a hell of a lot of sense today if you haven't noticed by now."

"Yeah, I have. I just don't know what to say that won't piss you off," he admitted. "Words are Sam's thing, not mine."

"You don't say," she said sarcastically and watched him take the blow in stride. He fixed her with a stare, looking her straight in the eye.

"Get mad at me all you want. I do want you," he said, bitter laughter rising up from his throat. "I want you more than you can imagine. That's the point. I need you more than I should."

Erika stared, completely thrown off by the new direction their conversation was taking. "I'm not pissed off yet," she said in a calmer tone she believed she was capable of.

"I told you last night that a good time was all I could ever be to you," he continued. "Well, you're more than that to me. I thought that if I put myself on the line, it wasn't a big deal. I was the one to have to deal with it, but I refuse to drag you with me."

She studied him, trying to gauge the truth of his words. She wasn't sure how she felt about him quite yet, and wondered if there was more to Dean than an impressive libido and a cocky smile. Even if there was, he was making quite an effort to keep it from her. Knowing it was the most she could do for her damaged ego, she forced her lips into a tight line and turned her chin up to face him.

"If this is your decision, then this is your decision—even if I don't quite understand it." She looked up at him. "And I know you're not going to tell me why, so I think this is where I take my cue."

She turned away from him and Dean knew he couldn't go after her again. He watched her walk away, wondering if he would ever be able to look her in the eye after that. As much as he hated himself for it, his cowardice was going to keep her whole. If he let himself get caught up in her—the same way he had Cassie years before—it was going to hurt her even more than it would him. He would be gone, in Hell, and she would be left mourning the loss of another.

Dean's jaw clenched. Erika in mind, he was more convinced that his decision was the right one.

Please review! Thanks so much!

-Alyssa