A/N – I think this may be the chapter everyone is waiting for. Enjoy! *special note at the bottom*

Chapter song: Poison & Wine – The Civil Wars


Chapter 9

You only know what I want you to. I know everything you don't want me to.

"Yeah. Thanks, Bobby." Dean frowned and hung up the phone.

Bella looked at Dean expectantly, her voice unusually soft for her. "He didn't know what was in the box. Did he?"

She wasn't scared or worried about what they'd find. It was the fact that Dean confirmed her suspicions earlier. He was going to die and he didn't care. Their whole conversation was stuck on repeat in her mind from the time he uttered those words to when they set foot in the storage unit. They were previously occupied with the matter at hand, but the time Dean had taken on the phone was all Bella needed. The firmness in his words, the disgusting truth he believed turned Bella's stomach sour. The world's a better place without me in it.

Despite the fact that Dean had a raging case of alpha maleness, he saved countless lives everyday. That was worth something. He was worth something dammit. How could he just willingly throw his life away. He might have sacrificed his life for his brother, but at what cost? If his conversation with Bobby that she eavesdropped on was any indication, the Sam that came back was different...and not in a good way.

Waving a piece of paper in his hand, Dean smiled. "No, but they should've blocked out their license plate before they parked in front of the security camera."

They got in the car and Dean started her up. He drove down the street toward a little diner in the center of town. "Let's grab some coffee and see if they happen to drive by. We know they're local."

Bella made herself comfortable in the booth while she waited for Dean to get back from the men's room. The waitress had already come over with menus and two mugs of coffee. Bringing the mug to her mouth, blowing on the steaming liquid, she watched Dean over the top of the cup. She took in his lean form as he strode over to their table. His faded jeans hugged his muscular thighs and the button down shirt he wore stretched tightly across his upper body. Averting her eyes, she looked down at the ground and watched his strong, confident steps in his logging boots. She scowled at her coffee. How could something so trivial as a pair boots make her tingle? Her body responded to him; she couldn't deny that. Luckily the flush in her face could easily be masked by the piping hot coffee she was drinking. She was sure countless women's bodies responded to Dean. Why should she be any different?

Because that part of you died a long time ago, the voice of reason explained.

She wasn't a nun. She was a woman with needs, so she had scratched the itch on several occasions, but it held none of the promise she had hoped it would. Hands that didn't feel right on her body, not cold enough. Eyes that weren't gold. Greedy, hungry lips instead of hesitant ones as they kissed her. Once Bella got over the fact that he was never coming back, that was something they would never have, she gave in to the physical pleasure. It soothed the ache for a while and Bella would return to her work with new fervor, drowning her pain and any memories that threatened to spill. Once that gnawing pang came back, she'd usually find someone to take home for the night and then repeat the whole thing all over again.

As Bella watched Dean pause by the counter, eyes lingering over the display case of pies and licking his lips, she felt her heart start to race. It wasn't just her body responding to Dean. It was her. This wasn't just some carnal need to get laid. She was feeling something. Dean had ignited a fire that burned so bright within her, there wasn't a damn thing that could quell it.

It was almost as if Dean knew the effect he had on her because he walked over to her with a cocky smirk on his face. He knew he could never really have her, and maybe getting her all riled up was just pouring salt in the wound, but he'd be damned if her pink cheeks and fiery eyes didn't give him a raging hard-on. Dean approached the table and their eyes locked. He swallowed thickly as he looked at her and realized those eyes weren't burning with the hostility he'd become accustomed to. No, her eyes darkened with desire. Just as quickly as it flashed there, it was gone, and Bella looked past Dean, over his shoulder, spewing coffee from her mouth.

Dean looked down at his soaked shirt. What an insufferable bitch. He took a handful of napkins and started to pat himself dry.

Scowling, he said, "Was that really necessary?"

Bella shot up from the booth and ran over to the window. "Connecticut. Last three digits eight-eight-zero."

Fishing in his pocket, Dean threw down a few loose dollars and followed after Bella who was already out the door and racing toward the Impala. He slid into the front seat and started the engine.

"Which way?" he asked. When she didn't respond, he turned to look at her and saw a cell phone firmly planted to her ear."I doubt Sam or Bobby can tell us where he's headed."

She narrowed her eyes at him and continued her phone conversation. "Yes. That's right. Eight-eight-zero." Bella reached into her bag and pulled out a pen, biting off the cap as she nodded, listening to the person on the other end of the line. With the cap in her mouth, she smiled widely and leaned over, scribbling an address on the back of a fast food bag. "Thanks, Tom. You're the best. I owe you a drink next time I'm visiting."

Dean continued to stare at her. "Whadya got?" He tried to hide the tick in his jaw when she said his name and that she'd owe him a drink the next time she was visiting. Who the fuck was Tom and why was she going to visit him?

Bella held up the scrap piece of paper victoriously. "Just an address."

They drove down the road and pulled into a residential development. The lawns were perfectly manicured, the houses larger than average.

Dean pursed his lips, slowing the car down in front of a massive three-story colonial house. "Not exactly petty thief material."

Opening the door and getting out, Bella braced herself against the side of the Impala. She brought her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the warm, summer sun. "Maybe he got rich stealing things from people like your dad."

"Or maybe Tom got it wrong." Dean smiled smugly. Tom was probably just some turd trying to impress Bella so he could get in her pants.

Dean's words brought her back to her time at the Academy and her blood started to boil, for Tom, for herself, for the taunting they endured at the hands of their peers. She pursed her lips, letting the spiteful way Dean talked about Tom roll around in her head for a minute. Was that jealousy? Tiny Tom was no one to be jealous of. He got that nickname at the Academy from some of the jarhead rejects. Tom couldn't help his slight stature. At four foot eleven, he was lucky to reach Bella's shoulders...and that was on a good day with his hair spiked and gelled. It didn't mean he was any less of a cop. The kid was a computer genius. He could hack into someone's computer and find anything he wanted to about him. He could also put whatever information he wanted to on their hard drive, remotely. He and Bella may or may not have had a few good laughs when Jerry Sinclair turned on his laptop and got bombarded with gay porn.

Bella shook her head and smiled to herself. Dean didn't seem like the type to get jealous. She'd be lying if she said the thought of Dean being jealous of someone for their relationship with her didn't excite her. A few careful steps down the walkway Bella noticed darker red spots standing out from the bricks. It was subtle but her keen eye picked up on it. Dean followed her line of sight and reached into his coat, pulling out his gun.

"Let's not go in there guns blazing..." Bella eyed the Colt 1911 .45 that Dean held in his hand "...although that is a nice..." she gave his whole body a once over, lingering just below the waist, "...gun." She tried to objectify him, but it backfired when she eyed the noticeable bulge in his pants. Snapping her eyes back to his, she stuttered, "Th...th...the engraved barrel and pearl grips are a bit much though, don't you think? Doesn't really scream low profile." Her lips twisted into a smirk.

Dean tried to glare at her, but she knew her guns and that was hot as hell. They stood at the front door and Bella knocked firmly. Shuffling could be heard and some added effort as the suspect made their way to the door.

The door swung open and a tall, well-built man stood leaning against the door frame. You could tell he was favoring one leg as he put all the weight on that side. He certainly didn't look like a criminal. He was clean-shaven, revealing deep set dimples and cleft chin. His dark hair was cropped close to his head and the way his black T-shirt stretched across his massive chest, Bella guessed him for military, not a criminal.

"Can I help you?" he asked, a genuine smile on his face, sparkling blue eyes resting on her brown ones.

The British accent caught Bella off guard. As she floundered for words, Dean let out a gruff cough and stepped forward. "Wayne Carlson?"

"Yes?" He finally tore his eyes away from Bella and stared at Dean. "Do I know you?"

Chuckling darkly, Dean said, "Obviously not since you were dumb enough to break into my old man's storage unit."

Before the words left his mouth, Wayne was making a run for it. He couldn't actually run with his injured leg. It was more of a hobble. Dean pushed his way through the door and Bella ran after them. Wayne winced as he scrambled away and moved the wrong way. He instantly fell to the marble floor and cried out, holding his upper thigh, blood soaking his jeans and pouring through his fingers.

Dean loomed over him, peering down with a snarl. "Serves you right for stealing something that doesn't belong to you. Where's the box?"

Bella knelt to the floor, looking over Wayne's leg. "Dean, he's bleeding out." She pulled out a switchblade and started to cut away his jeans. "When he tried to run the buckshot must have nicked the femoral artery."

Looking around for anything that could be used as an immediate tourniquet, she came up empty handed. Bella shrugged off her leather jacket and brought the knife to her mid-section, cutting her tight, white shirt just above her belly button. Both men's eyes flew to her naked midriff. Dean swallowed thickly while Wayne squeezed his eyes shut and winced.

"Are you a doctor?" he managed through the pain.

Bella smiled warmly, trying to distract him as she tied the scrap of fabric around his leg as tight as she could. "No, but I play one on television."

He mustered a laugh but his breathing was starting to regulate now that the blood loss had been controlled.

Dean bent down and gripped the collar of Wayne's shirt. "I really don't care whether you bleed out or not. Where's the box?"

Wayne's eyes traveled to the glass table sitting in front of a deep red velvet couch. Letting go of him forcefully, his head almost smashing against the floor if it weren't for Bella catching it, Dean rushed over to the table and scooped up the box. He stalked back over to Bella and Wayne, cradling the box protectively.

"You open it?" he seethed.

Wayne tried to sit up so he could explain himself, but Bella held him down gently. He offered her a weak smile. "N...n..no. I don't even know what it is."

"Then why'd you take it?" Dean was in his face again.

Bella turned to him and growled. "He needs medical attention. We got the box. We can question him later."

"I needed the money," Wayne answered softly, looking away ashamed.

Laughing, Dean said, "Maybe you should have thought about that before you started living beyond your means."

Wayne didn't even bother answering him. Instead, he looked to Bella, wanting desperately for her to understand. "It wasn't for me. My mum and dad moved to the States a couple of years ago. He died a few months ago, and I came here to help Mum sort out his affairs while I was on leave. I didn't realize what a mess he left. She was going to lose the house. I...I tried everything and then there was a mysterious message on the answering machine. Someone was willing to pay off the debt if I brought them that box."

Bella and Dean exchanged a serious look. "Who?" Dean spat.

Wayne struggled to lift his head. "I. Don't. Know."

"Come on, Bella. We're through here." Dean started to stalk toward the door.

Pausing by the end table, Bella picked up the portable phone resting on it. "9-1-1 what's your emergency?" She gave Wayne a sad look before she left the phone off the hook.

Dean stood by the trunk of the Impala, carefully placing the box inside. Bella came up behind him.

"Don't you want to know what was in it?" she asked.

"Listen, sweetheart, when you've been at this as long as I have, you never want to know..."

She shook her head. "So that's it? We bring it back and we're done with the case?"

"Normally, yeah. But something doesn't seem right with Wayne's story. Who knew about my dad's storage unit? We're going to stick around and see how this pans out."

~o~

Bobby was able to shed some light on the turn of events. A few years back, John was hunting with another hunter named Gordon. According to John, Gordon was a bit of a loose canon, and that was saying something coming from him. John didn't exactly think things through himself. Gordon was after the vampire that turned his sister. It was a vengeance kill, something John knew a lot about. The thing was it was a suicide mission, and John wouldn't let him walk into the nest. The vampires got away and Gordon was bitter. He was out for blood, but this time it was John's. Since John had been M.I.A. Gordon decided to do something even better. He'd undo all the good John had done over the years. What better way than to reintroduce all those cursed objects into the world, starting with the unlucky rabbit's foot.

It was already nightfall by the time they got the story from Bobby and they left the hospital. Bella had insisted on telling Wayne the truth. He really was innocent in all this and deserved that much. Since it had been a long day, and an even longer ride, Dean wasn't exactly anxious to start the trek back to Bobby's. They decided to stop at a hole in the wall motel. Lucky for them the motel had a bar attached to it.

Dean was already several beers in. Bella had kept up with him, and when the shots of whiskey came out, he raised his glass to her and smiled.

"Well, you survived this case. Maybe you can handle yourself after all."

They tossed the shots back and Bella sucked at her teeth as she set the glass back down at the bar. The corner of her mouth turned up and she lowered her voice. "You have no idea what I can handle."

Dean felt his dick twitch in his pants. "Shouldn't talk like that, sweetheart," he mumbled under his breath.

She looked up at him with one eye shut, feeling the effects of the alcohol. "What?"

Rolling his eyes, Dean took another swig of his beer. "Nothing. One thing you'll have to learn is you can't save everyone."

Steadying herself at the bar, she gripped the edge and stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Even if he was talking about himself, Dean had the perfect scapegoat. "That Wayne guy...he got what was coming to him."

"Do you even listen to yourself? He was innocent."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Aww, isn't that sweet. Sticking up for lover boy."

"What?" Bella's eyes rounded, her surprise written all over her face.

"You really didn't notice he had the hots for you?"

Her face twisted in confusion. "Is this the booze or your alpha male talking?"

"Guess it really was my lucky day, Bella." Dean did his best to mock Wayne's British accent.

Bella huffed. "The guy almost died and there was a rabbit's foot in the box. He was making a joke."

"He was hitting on you," Dean stated flatly.

"He wasn't." She took a sip of her drink, hoping Dean would just drop it.

Dean's eyes widened. "You really had no idea." His mind quickly wandered to Bella's encounter with Casey. He felt himself stiffening at the possibility and his face split into a goofy grin. "Holy shit! You're a lesbian."

Bella started choking. "What? No! Why would you..." It started to click into place. Dean saw her hit on Casey. To him it looked like she was trying to take her home when in reality she was setting herself up for failure. She wasn't a lesbian. She just knew she couldn't have what she really wanted. Rejection from Casey was a lot easier to swallow than rejection from Dean.

Shaking her head, Bella let out a nervous laugh and changed the subject. "So did you want Wayne to die because he was hitting on me or because you think he deserved it?"

"He tried to steal from my dad. Imagine what would have happened if he actually touched the rabbit's foot!"

Bella stared at him incredulously. "He was a victim of circumstance."

Dean let out a dark laugh. "I can tell you a few things about being a victim of circumstance, sweetheart."

Bella hopped down off the bar stool and faced him. "Is that your excuse for being such an asshole all the time?"

Dean stood up as well, her head barely meeting his chest. "You think you know me so well. Got me figured out. You only know what I want you to."

Despite the inches he had on her, she straightened her back and flexed her jaw. "I know everything you don't want me to."

He took a step closer, their lips barely touching. "And what's that?" His words were barely a whisper but the warmth fanned over her face and traveled down her spine as she shuddered.

She let out a shaky breath. "You were dealt a shitty hand. You know what? We all were...you, Sam, me, my father, your father..." Her eyes started to well up with tears and a few slipped down her cheek.

Dean ached to brush them away. His hand reached out on its own volition, but Bella reared back.

"You're a fighter, Dean. At least you were. What happened? You brought Sam back but he's not the same? So what? You just give up? You stop fighting? Stop trying? Because there's no point? Because dying...has to be better than this hell on earth?"

The truth of her words punched him in the gut. He brought a fist to his mouth, choking on the emotion. She had him pegged, but that wasn't what affected him. The rawness as she spoke told him all he needed to know. She was speaking from experience. Before he had a chance to think things through, he was grabbing her by the hips, pulling her into him and crashing his lips against her so fiercely she almost couldn't breathe.

Instinct took over and she wrapped her arms around his neck, even the air separating them too much. She gripped him harder, hoisting herself up with her legs and twining them around his waist. Dean moaned as their kiss deepened, her tongue swirling in his mouth. He grabbed a handful of her hair, pushing his body into hers as he stumbled out the door of the bar and down the hall in search of their room. She was still hanging off him like a damn spider monkey, but he didn't care. He palmed her ass for a better grip, holding all her weight with one arm, as he shoved his free hand in his pocket for the room key. His lips traveled down her neck as he slammed her back against the door. She let out a throaty moan as he deftly unlocked the door while his mouth was buried in her cleavage.

The door swung open with their weight pressed against it, and Bella clawed at his back to keep from falling. Dean let out a growl and attacked her neck again, then her lips, kicking the door shut behind him.


E/N – And now, my friends, we're really going to get into M-rated material. I'd love to know what you think...especially the progression of Dean and Bella's relationship, their feelings... all that good stuff. Oh and guess what, there's a trailer for Hell's Bells on my YouTube channel. Check it out! I can't post the link so just go to YouTube and type: Hell's Bells - Supernatural/Twilight fanfic - Dean/Bella