I'm going to hell. I have no idea what came over me, but holy crap, I'm jealous of my own freaking character. Oh, well. I can hope that I get sent to alternate-universe hell and Dean's real and he's the one who gets to torture me with his perky nipples. Doesn't he say that he has perky nipples in an episode? I can't remember. I think it's the pilot. Do you know how long it took me to realize the Woman in White was Sarah Shahi? I laughed so hard at my stupid self. Anywho, enjoy my pretties.
Required Pain-In-The-Ass Disclaimer: Everything from episode 2x11 (Playthings) belongs to Eric Kripke and his absolutely excellent band of minions... I mean writers. The lyrics are from the song Walking on Air by Kerli. Yes, that's the same band that sang the last title. You should listen to this one, too. It's creepy but so good!
There's a little creepy house in a little creepy place
Little creepy town in a little creepy world
Little creepy girl with her little creepy face
Saying funny things that you have never heard
Do you know what it's all about?
Are you brave enough to figure out?
Know that you could set your world on fire
If you're strong enough to leave your doubts
"Sam, will you freaking sit still?"
Tawny pulls the comb and scissors in her hands away, trying not to slap Sam. He's needed a haircut for weeks and now that Sam's finally agreed to take a little down-time, Tawny's taken the chance gratefully. An hour ago she'd practically forced Sam to take a shower so she could reshape his shaggy mane. Now he's sitting in a chair in his boxers, water adorning his chest. Dean desperately needs a trim, too, but Tawny's not sure she's going to have the patience to deal with him after this. Sam shifts again, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.
"It tickles!" he protests, and Tawny bats his hand away.
"It's gonna tickle, but if you keep moving it's gonna be uneven and piss me off and I'm going to shave your head in your sleep," she threatens, running the comb down the back of his head to smooth out the chocolate brown locks. She loves his floppy hair too much to actually cut it all off, but if the fear of a shaved head keeps Sam from moving around too much, fine. She's trimming a section at the base of his skull when he moves his shoulders slightly, causing her to cut at a drastic angle.
"God-dammit, Sam! I am not above tying your twitchy ass to this fucking chair!" she practically yells, and a sharp pain shoots through her temple. She'd gotten out of the hospital a month ago and the concussion is almost healed, but she's still limited in what she can handle. Sam settles again, looking down in guilt.
"Sorry," he mutters, lacing his fingers. "I promise I'll stop moving."
He keeps his promise and Tawny finally finishes trimming his hair, ruffling it back into its usual part before circling him and putting a hand under his chin. "Close your eyes," she says softly, lifting his face toward to ceiling, and Sam obeys without question. She trims the front of his hair carefully, squinting to make sure it's even. When she's satisfied she leans back.
"Done, babe," she says softly, running her fingers through the front of his hair, and Sam opens his eyes. He stands and walks over to the mirror over the dresser, running his hands through his hair. He grins. "That's so much better. I don't look homeless anymore."
Tawny stares at him for a moment. "Sam… You are homeless," she says bluntly. She's afraid the comment is a little too harsh, but Sam just grins and walks over to her.
"Thanks, Tawny," he says. He presses a kiss to her forehead, careful to avoid the bruise that's just starting to disappear, but is still a sickly yellow-green color. He moves to grab the broom and dustpan Tawny took out while he was in the shower, but she shakes her head.
"Don't bother," she says. "I still have another victim."
As if on cue, the bathroom door opens and Dean walks out, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
"Dude," he says to Sam, pulling a face as he crosses the room. "Put some clothes on."
Sam rolls his eyes. "Says the one in just a towel."
Dean grins. "Tawny thinks it's sexy. Right?" He flexes his muscles, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes, but can't help noticing a drop of water roll down one side of his stomach, following the v-cut of muscle leading down into the towel.
"Sit," she instructs, pointing him to the chair. She doesn't bother combing through his hair, just starts cutting the top by sight. She's been cutting Sam and Dean's hair for so long she could probably do it in her sleep. She's reaching for the electric clippers Dean keeps when Sam walks over, fully clothed.
"I'm gonna go get a pizza. I'll be back in thirty," he says, pulling on his jacket. He kisses Tawny's cheek quickly before heading out the door.
"He's affectionate," Dean says nonchalantly, but Tawny hears the edge in his voice.
"He loves me. You gonna do something about it?" she snaps, and when Dean falls into silence, she turns on the clippers, trimming the back of his hair quietly. A minute or so later she's done and she swipes at Dean's shoulders, but the wet hair sticks to his freckled skin. "Dammit," she mutters, looking around for something to wipe the hair away with, but she finds nothing. Dean seems to know what she's doing, though, because he stands and pulls the towel from around his waist. He offers it to Tawny, who takes it and gently wipes his shoulders clean.
"Done?" he asks, and Tawny nods, grabbing the comb and scissors in one hand as she raises the other to the row of stitches along her hairline, closing her eyes. Luckily Gordon hit her on the opposite side of her part, so, as long as she keeps her hair flipped to that side, no one will see the scar that's sure to form. She hears Dean step closer to her and he puts a hand on her hip.
"You okay, baby?" he asks cautiously, and when Tawny looks at him he's watching her with wide eyes. The green orbs are full of concern, and Tawny can't help but feel guilty for putting him through this. She knows what it's like to see the person you love in a hospital bed, and she prays to God that neither of them will ever have to go through that again, even though it's a primary job hazard.
"I'm fine, just a little headache," she reassures, but the concern doesn't leave Dean's face.
"Go lay down," Dead says, but Tawny shakes her head.
"I've gotta clean this up."
She reaches for the broom but Dean grabs her wrist. "I'll get it, you go rest. Doctor's orders," he repeats. Yeah, and the doctor also expects me in his office tomorrow morning, but I'm three hundred miles away, she thinks, but she doesn't say it, only hands Dean the comb and scissors before skirting around the circle of hair to get to the edge of the bed she and Dean were sharing. She slips out of her tank top and jeans, reaching for the shirt Dean tossed aside before his shower and she pulls it over her head carefully. She inhales when her face is completely covered, taking in the intermingled smells of Old Spice and leather and gunpowder and sweat that is so exclusively Dean. When she finally pops her head out she catches Dean watching her. She smirks at him and he blushes just enough that Tawny can tell.
"You missed some over there," Tawny says, pointing at a general spot at the foot of Sam's bed, grinning in satisfaction as Dean turns, bending slightly at the waist to look for the hair Tawny supposedly sees. His back is dreamily muscled and Tawny watches as each one ripples beneath his lightly tanned skin as he moves. She follows the curve of his spine with her eyes until it reaches the end, and she stares at his perfect ass. His olive skin tone makes even that skin look tanned, even though Tawny knows it's never seen sunlight. Well, except for that time in Dallas when Sam dared him to go skinny dipping in the motel swimming pool. She hadn't thought about that in a long time.
"Tawny, I don't see any – hey, are you staring at my ass?"
Tawny's so lost in thought she doesn't notice Dean has turned around until he speaks, one eyebrow raised at her suspiciously. Her face suddenly feels hot and she blushes, turning her attention to the sheets, lifting them up and slipping between them.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she mutters, turning her back to him and closing her eyes. She hears him shuffling around and the bed dips. Her body tilts until her hip bumps something solid, and when she peeks open on eye she sees Dean's grinning down at her, his hip right against hers.
"You were so checkin' me out, weren't you?" he jests, and Tawny sighs, mildly annoyed at his persistence.
"Fine, I was checking you out," she admits. She rolls onto her back and he puts a hand on her flat stomach. "Knew it," he murmurs as he leans over her to kiss the tip of her nose. He kisses each of her cheeks before finally pressing a kiss to her lips. His tongue has just slipped into her mouth when the door opens and Sam walks in. They both look at him and he stares back, suddenly realizing that Dean is naked. His mouth twists in disgust and he raises an arm over his eyes, shielding himself from further torture.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Dean! Put on some fucking clothes, dickhead!"
When Tawny wakes up she's in bed alone. After Dean had gotten dressed and they'd eaten, he'd curled up behind her, holding her until she fell asleep. She picks up her phone to see that she'd slept soundly through the night and it was almost ten. Tawny sits up and rubs her eyes before looking over at Sam, who's sitting at the kitchen counter in front of his laptop with his phone against his ear. The door opens and Dean walks in, carrying three cups of coffee and a paper bag.
"Okay. Thanks, Ellen," Sam says before hanging up. Dean sets the bag down on the coffee table before turning to Sam.
"What'd she have to say?" he asks, grinning at Tawny as she climbed out of bed and made her way to him, groggily wiping at her eyes. Dean sets the coffees on the counter by Sam before holding out an arm, letting Tawny tuck herself into it and bury her face in his jacket.
"She's got nothin'," Sam says, setting the phone down. "Me, I've been checking every database I can think of, federal, state and local. No one's heard anything about Ava. She just – into thin air, you know?"
There's a short pause where Dean presses a kiss to the crown of Tawny's head and she turns, looking at Sam. He's got that lost puppy look again, and Tawny can't help but want to hug him. Fuckin' giant has to go and be all cute and pathetic-looking at the worst times.
"What about you?" he asks, looking at Dean hopefully as Dean reaches out with his free hand to pop the lid off of a cup. He picks it up and looks at it, handing it to Tawny when he sees its light with cream. Tawny sips at it, trying not to burn her mouth, but she does anyways. Dean grabs a second cup and looks at Sam.
"No, same as before. Sorry, man," he says, taking a swig. Sam takes the third cup and twists at the lid.
"Ellen did have one thing," Sam says hesitantly, looking between them. Dean hummed his interest, looking at Sam curiously.
"Uh, a hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut – two freak accidents in the past three weeks."
Dean raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, what's that have to do with Ava?" he asks, confused. Tawny pulls away and grabs the bag Dean brought in, grinning when she sees that its full of muffins. She grabs a blueberry one, picking at it as Sam speaks.
"It's a job," Sam says obviously as Dean walks over and sets his cellphone on the bedside table. He looks back at Sam as he continues. "I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub, then a few days ago, a guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete 180, which isn't exactly normal, you know?"
Dean nods, shrugging off his jacket, and watches Tawny for a second as she picks a blueberry out of the muffin. She sticks the pad of her thumb in her mouth and sucks on it, raising her eyebrows at Dean. He grins and Sam continues.
"I don't know, Dean – it might be nothing, but I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out.
"You did?" Dean asks. Sam gets out a quiet "Yeah" as Dean sits on the edge of the bed. Tawny joins him, handing him the uneaten half of her muffin. He takes it in silence, looking up at Sam.
"You seem surprised," Sam says, shaking his head.
"Well, yeah," Dean says. "It's just, you know… not the patented Sam Winchester way, is it?"
Sam raises his eyebrows and shifts uncomfortably. "What way is that?"
"Just figured after Ava there'd be, you know, more angst and droopy music and staring out the rainy windows," Dean says. Tawny can't help but grin. That definitely sounded more like Sam, but Sam just stares at Dean with raised eyebrows. "I'll shut up now," Dean says, sliding a hand over Tawny's bare knee before turning to lean up against the headboard. She scoots up next to him, once again settling against his side, safely tucked under his arm.
"Look," Sam says, and there's more of the classic sweet-innocent-Sam-is-blaming-himself-for-something-he-has-no-control-over softness to his voice. "I'm the one that told her to go back home." He stands, walking over to them. "Now her fiancé's dead, and some demon has taken her off to God knows where, you know?" He circles the bed, looking down at them, and Tawny's got that conflicted 'Do I comfort Sam in front of Dean?' feeling in her chest.
"We've been looking for a month now, and we got nothing" he says, and he sits on the other bed, frowning. "So I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not gonna let other people die, either. We gotta save as many people as we can."
Dean nods softly, his lips pressed to Tawny's temple in thought.
"Wow," he finally says, pulling away. "That attitude is just way too healthy for me. I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you." Sam just grins.
"That's what you get for making me see your naked ass."
"Hey," Dean says, offended. "Tawny was totally checking out my naked ass before you cock-blocked, cock-block. So it's your own damn fault for not making sure you weren't about to cock-block." He pauses, grinning down at Tawny expecting approval, but she just rolls her eyes.
"Alright," Dean says, caving. "Call Ellen. Tell her we'll take it."
"Dude, this is sweet."
Tawny looks at Dean, her eyes wide.
"Dean, this place is like a mini Overlook Hotel," she says, closing the car door and staring up at the Pierpont Inn. Dean looks at her, excitement brightening his eyes.
"I know!" he exclaims. He sounds like a little kid. "I never get to work jobs like this."
"Like what?" Sam asks, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.
"Old-school haunted houses," Dean says like it's obvious. "You know – fog, secret passageways, sissy British accents."
"Ghosts of creepy-ass little girls that want you to stay and play with them forever and ever and ever," Tawny adds quietly, hitching her own bag up higher on her shoulder as she follows them. If Dean hears her, he pretends not to and continues.
"Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside," he finishes, chuckling. "Mmm, Daphne – love her. Hey, Tawny." He turns and she pulls her eyes away from the inn. "You think if I found you a wig you could –" he starts, but Tawny cuts him off.
"Dean, I would rather screw Dick Clark," she says, climbing the steps to the front door, ignoring Dean's disappointed frown. She glances down at an urn and a flash of red catches her eye.
"Hey, wait a second," she says, and Sam and Dean pause, turning towards her. She leans in closer, looking at the symbol that jumped out at her. "Guys, I'm not so sure haunted's the problem."
"What d'you mean?" Dean asks, walking down to stand next to her. Tawny places her finger under a small 'x' with small red dots on each point and one in the middle of the cross carved into the side of the urn.
"You see this pattern here? It's a quincunx – a five-spot. It's used for hoodoo spell work," Tawny explains, looking up at Dean. He raises his eyebrows. "How does it work?"
"You fill the urn with Bloodweed and it becomes a powerful charm to ward off enemies. Only I don't see any Bloodweed." She glances around just to be sure, but she doesn't spot any.
"Don't you think this place is a little too, uh, white-meat for hoodoo?" Dean asks, and Tawny looks at him and shrugs. "Stranger things have happened, Dean," she says, patting his arm as she walks up to the door. Inside it's just as creepy as outside, if not more. All of the decorations scream Hey I could be a possible cursed object! and Tawny hopes she doesn't have to assume any of them are.
Before the door closes a woman walks into the lobby and Tawny smiles at her. She appears to be in her mid- to late-thirties, and she's sharply dressed in a pin skirt and matching sweater. Dean speaks up first.
"Hi. We'd, uh, like a room for a couple of nights."
A little girl suddenly bursts into the room and rushes past them, giggling, and Tawny grins.
"Hey!" the woman yells, and looks up at them apologetically. "Sorry about that."
"No problem," Tawny says, smiling. "We were all that age once. It's fine."
The woman nods before speaking.
"Well, congratulations. You could be some of our final guests."
Dean and Tawny look at each other.
"Well, that sounds vaguely ominous," Dean chuckles, grinning at Sam.
"Oh, no. I'm sorry," the woman says desperately. "I mean we're closing at the end of the month. Let me guess, you're here antiquing?" She looks pointedly at Tawny, who nods when Dean bumps her with his elbow.
"Yeah – I love antiquing. They hate it though, since I always drag them with me," Tawny says lightly, smiling. "How'd you know?"
"Oh, you just look the type," she replies politely, and Tawny shoots Dean a sideways glance. "So, a single and a king for the newly-weds?" She leans down to pull out a guest log and looks between them, specifically Dean and Tawny.
"Oh – We aren't married," Tawny says a little too quickly, pointing between her and Dean. The woman looks surprised and then glances at Sam. "No, uh, we're together," Tawny says, looking at Dean, "but we're not married." She moves closer to him to reiterate what she said and he grabs her hand.
"Not yet, anyway," Dean says, and for a moment Tawny isn't sure if he's just playing the part or if he's serious. Before Tawny can wonder for too long, Dean looks back at the woman and tells her two rooms are fine.
"Speaking of antiques," Sam says, stepping up to the counter. "You have a really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?"
She looks up from the receipt she's writing out and shakes her head. "I have no idea. It's been there forever," she says, handing Dean back his card. "Here you go, Mr. Mahogoff." She rings the bell and Tawny finds it slightly odd, considering there's really no one around to hear it. She turns and grabs two keys, handing one to Dean and one to Sam. "You'll be staying in rooms 236 and 237. Sherwin, could you show them to their rooms?"
Tawny turns to see an older man walking towards them and realizes there actually was someone around to hear the bell.
"Let me guess—" he says, looking at Tawny. "An antiquer?"
Tawny has to admit she's a bit surprised when a third man dies that night. She expected something to happen during their stay, but a death is way beyond what she could have imagined. Well, not way beyond, but still. It doesn't surprise her that it's yet another person associated with the close of the inn, though. When they're done talking to Susan, she and Dean immediately go to Sam's room to talk to him about it, but Tawny knows from the distinct smell of whiskey that they aren't going to get very far into a discussion. She isn't shocked that Dean doesn't pick up on the smell; Bobby drinks so often that she's acquired a knack for picking it up, no matter how small the amount. Dean grabs the key from the door, walking into the room after Tawny and shutting the door. Sam's slumped in a chair, his glazed eyes aimed at the window.
"There's been another one," Dean says, walking over to the bed. "Some guy just hung himself in his room."
"Yeah, I saw," Sam mutters. Dean starts rummaging through the duffle he keeps his weapons in.
"We gotta figure this out and fast. What did you find out about Granny?"
"You're bossy."
Dean stops and turns his head to look at Sam.
"What?" he asks, unsure of Sam's statement. Tawny just stands behind the chair Sam's in, shaking her head and shrugging when Dean's eyes flick up to hers. Sam holdings his arms out, looking at Dean like it was the most obvious thing in the word
"You're bossy," he repeats, and Tawny walks around the chair and puts a hand on his shoulder and yeap… He is wasted. He drops his hands and looks Dean up and down. "You're short." And now he's giggling. This twenty- three year old, six-foot-four man-in-every-sense-of-the-word is giggling like a school girl. Dean looks back at Tawny, his eyebrows raised, and Tawny sees the moment of realization. It only takes a fraction of a second but Tawny's tuned in to Dean enough that she can see it.
"Are you drunk?" Dean asks, almost quietly.
"Yeah," Sam says, raising his arms again. "So? …Stupid."
Dean turns and Tawny follows his gaze, finally noticing the almost-empty whiskey bottle on the night table, then Dean turns back to Sam.
"Dude, what are you thinking?" Dean scolds, sounding uncannily like Tawny. "We're workin' a case."
Tawny watches as Sam shifts uncomfortably and notices his eyes are misty, and not just from the alcohol. Awesome. First Dean has a complete meltdown on the side of some highway and now Sam's decided to have a crisis while they're in quite possibly the creepiest inn in the US.
"That guy that hung himself – I couldn't save him."
Dean moves to speak but Tawny shakes her head. The last thing Sam needs is for Dean to go into his macho big brother mode, which he still does sometimes. Dean doesn't mean to; it's like a tick, one that usually leaves Sam a little messed up for days.
"Sammy, you couldn't have done anything," Tawny says, walking up and threading a hand through Sam's hair. He turns his face up to her, tears in his eyes. Even if Sam is drunk and has no idea what he's saying, it still hurts Tawny to see him like this.
"That's an excuse, Tawny. I should have found a way to save him," he babbles. "I should have saved Ava, too."
Suddenly Tawny knows exactly what this is about, and it has nothing to do with the man who hung himself or even Ava. It's him. He wants Dean to save him. He wants Tawny to save him. Suddenly Tawny's chest constricts and she drops to her knees beside Sam, the hand in his hair sliding down to cup his cheek.
"Oh, Sammy," she breathes, cursing herself for the crack of emotion in her voice. She cannot lose it. Not right now. "Sammy," she repeats, and thankfully her voice is smooth "You can't save everyone, sweetheart."
It's a term she saves for moments like this. She doesn't care if it bothers Dean, or makes him jealous. All she cares about it making Sam better. It's been her self-appointed job since they were five, even if Sam is the older one. But instead of soothing him it only angers him.
"No, Tawny, you don't understand, alright?" he says, slamming his hand down on the table next to him. Tawny stands, looking at him in confusion and almost-fear. She's never seen him like this.
"The more people I save, the more I can change," he continues, leaning forward. Dean moves around Tawny, staring at his brother.
"Change what?" Dean asks, and Sam leans further forward.
"My destiny, Dean."
Dean looks at Tawny with an annoyed expression and she isn't positive it's completely because of Sam, and he moves to help Sam out of the chair.
"Alright, time for bed. C'mon, Sasquatch." Dean pulls Sam up by the shoulder and Tawny stands at the edge of the bed, watching them warily.
"I need you to watch out for me," Sam says.
"Yeah, I always do," Dean answers, turning him around. Sam starts to fight him a little.
"No. No, no, no. You have to watch out for me… Alright?" Sam turns, unsteady on his feet, and looks at Tawny.
"You, too, Tawny," he adds, trying to look between them, but his eyes don't seem to be working properly, so he settles on talking to Dean. "And if I ever turn into something that I'm not… you have to kill me."
Tawny stops breathing. Sam hasn't mentioned what Dean said in Montana at all since it happened. The last month has gone by without that fight ever coming up, and Tawny hasn't been sure if she should try to get at least Sam to talk about it, and now she's regretting her choice not to. She can't imagine what kind of hell he's been putting himself through, and, in his own mind, what's driven him to this. She can understand somewhat how Dean feels. For the past twenty-one years Sam's been the most important thing in her life, topping Dean and even Bobby. In fact, when it comes right down to it, Dean maybe, maybe, ties Sam for first priority since they've become a couple. Maybe. So, the pain of possibly losing Sam is fathomable for Tawny. But, selfishly, she's never thought about how it affects Sam. She's suddenly aware that he doesn't fear for his own life, and he's not asking Dean to spare him no matter what. He's asking Dean to spare others. The ones Sam might hurt.
Tawny's lungs start to burn and she comes to her senses, sucking in a deep breath.
"Sam," Dean sighs, looking away, but Sam insists.
"Dean, dad told you to do it. You have to," he says, grabbing Dean's shoulders. Dean stares at him for a moment.
"Yeah, well, dad's an ass," he says, and Sam looks at him in confusion. "He never should have said anything. I mean, you don't do that. You – you don't lay that kinda crap on your kids." Tawny's starting to think with Dean's sudden blathering she may be the only clear minded one in the room.
"No, he was right to say it," Sam defends, and Tawny's shocked. This is the one thing Sam should never excuse, but he is. "Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"
"Yeah, well, I'm not dying. Tawny sure as hell isn't dying," Dean says, looking at Tawny briefly. She doesn't meet his eyes, only looks up at Sam. "And neither are you. Come on, sit down." Dean grabs a fistful of Sam's shirt, pushing him to the edge of the bed. Sam sits, still begging.
"No, please, Dean," Sam implores. "You're the only one who can do it. Promise."
"Don't ask that of me," Dean says, and she can hear the sting in his voice.
"Dean, please. You have to promise me."
They stare at each other for a few seconds, Sam almost whimpering, Dean trying not to let his poker face slip, and Dean cups either side of Sam's neck.
"I promise," he finally says.
"Thanks," Sam breaths, reaching up to press his palms to Dean's cheeks. "Thank you."
Dean is finally able to get Sam on his back and Sam looks up at Tawny pathetically, so she sinks down next to him, half laying, half sitting against the cold bars at the head of the bed. Sam rolls, burying his face in Tawny's belly, wrapping an arm around her to hold on desperately. Tawny looks at Dean, who's sitting on the other bed in the room. He doesn't look at her, only at his little brother who he might have to put a bullet hole in. Dean rubs a palm over his face and finally looks up at Tawny.
"You stayin' here?" he asks quietly, and Tawny nods.
"You know, you—" he starts, but he looks away, either too emotionally drained or too confused to start another fight. He gets up and walks to the door, and Tawny calls out when he gets to it.
"Dean?" she says tentatively, and he pauses for a minute before turning to look at her.
"Dean, I love you," she whispers, but Dean doesn't reciprocate. The words he throws at her sting like salt on on an open wound.
"Are you sure about that?"
He walks out, closing the door behind him, and Tawny's left hurt and confused.
It's 1:30 when Sam finally lets Tawny move, and she somehow manages to get him out of his clothes except for his boxers and an undershirt. The last two hours have been some of the worst of her life. Dean's words hurt like hell. Tawny loves him so much more than he realizes, so much more than she's ever told him. In her defense, she's tried a couple times, but Dean has his sly ways of getting her to forget about a confession until they're lying tangled in the sheets on the brink of sleep. As Tawny kisses Sam's forehead and turns out the light she decides she'll do it Dean's way.
She makes sure the door is locked before closing it behind her and stepping across the hall to lightly knock on the door to the room she's sharing with Dean. She hears some shuffling behind it and it opens a fraction of an inch. Dean looks at her before swinging it wide, revealing he's only wearing a pair of snug black boxer-briefs, then closes it once Tawny has gotten all the way in. He doesn't speak as he turns the lock, and he doesn't even glance at her as he goes back over to the bed and climbs in. He's still upset. Good. This will work to her advantage.
She quickly strips, tossing her clothes in a pile by the desk before crossing the room. She goes to the side of the bed Dean's stretched out on and pulls back the sheet. He opens his eyes when she starts to climb in.
"Tawny, what the fuck are –"
The rest of the sentence is muffled against Tawny's palm as she straddles his waist.
"Okay, Dean," she says, glad her voice sounds so thick from drifting in and out of sleep in Sam's room. He likes it when her voice is thick and she can feel a distinct twitch between her thighs.
"I know you don't like talking," she continues, leaning a forearm against the pillow under his head so she can lean down until her bare chest is lying flat against his. His green eyes narrow and she can feel him trying to protest against her mouth, but she keeps talking. "I really don't want to talk, so we're gonna skip the whole I'm-sorry-you're-sorry-everybody's-sorry bullshit and you're going to fuck me so hard I can't walk comfortably tomorrow, understand?"
By now his eyes are wide and she can feel him half-hard pressing up into her folds through the layer of fabric between them. She grinds her hips down hard when he doesn't move and he moans against her hand, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. She leans down so her mouth is next to his ear and whispers "I asked you a question, Dean" before sucking the lobe into her mouth. She scrapes her teeth against the soft skin as she pulls away and she feels Dean nodding, his breath coming in quick, short bursts. Tawny lets her hand fall away from Dean's mouth as she moves her own to the soft skin behind Dean's ear. It's paper-thin and super sensitive, so she sucks a few bruises into it as her hand drifts down Dean's throat and chest, resting just under his right nipple. She runs the pad of her thumb over it, moaning when his hands grasp desperately at her ass.
She pulls back and peppers kisses along his stubbled jaw and left cheek, letting her lips barely brush against his before she moves to the other cheek to press more kisses along his jaw. Dean tries to turn his head and Tawny lets him, catching his lips midway with her own, and licks at the seam of his lips. He parts them and tightens his grip on her rear so much Tawny lets out a strangled moan and she's sure there will be bruises the size and shape of Dean's hand tomorrow but right now she doesn't car because he bucks his hips up into her fleshy folds, his erection full and hard and scorching hot between her legs smearing her own juices across the front of his boxers. He pulls away and rolls his hips again, this time pushing down on her hips to grind hard against her.
"Fuck," Dean gasps and Tawny leans down, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth. When she lets it go with a wet pop it's all puffy and bruised and Tawny can't resist leaning down to lick at it. Dean slides an arm up around her waist and rolls before dipping his head down to the crook of her neck. Tawny moans, her hands finding his hair as he smudges open mouthed, lapping kisses to her neck. When he gets down to her collar bone he sucks, exhales, and sucks again, pulling away and grinning at his mark.
"Dean," she whimpers, but he presses two fingers to her lips and shushes her, so she sucks them into all the way into her mouth and Dean moans, rolling is hips down into her wet folds. The only piece of cloth between them is soaked from Dean's sweaty skin, and suddenly Tawny's sick of the foreplay.
"Fuck me, Dean," she murmurs, pulling him down for a kiss. "Fuck me hard."
Dean wastes no time and he moves out from between Tawny's legs. She's confused at first, but when he grips her hips and tries to roll her onto her stomach, she complies.
"Get on your knees," Dean says, and the growl that might come across as predatory to others sends a jolt of pleasure between Tawny's legs. She does so and Dean grabs her hips, pushing her up to the headboard and grabbing her wrists to guide her hands to the top of it. She feels the bed move some and suddenly Dean's pressed up against her back, his chest damp with sweat, his dick leaking pre-come onto the fold between her ass and thigh. He slides an arm around Tawny's waist, pulling her out so that she's bent slightly forward, and he slips two fingers into her folds, quickly finding her pleasure-center. Dean massages the little nub with his fingers as he uses his other hand to guide his dripping head into her channel, burying himself deep. He drops his head onto the curve of her shoulder, grasping her hip with the same hand as he starts to thrust into her.
Dean picks up a quick pace, slamming into her hard enough to make the bed shake, and Tawny rolls back, meeting each one with a moan. The fingers between Tawny's legs start to rub smaller, faster circles and soon she's coming, her walls clenching hard around Dean. He thrusts hard a few more times and then he's coming, too, painting her insides with his hot seed.
"Oh, fuck, Dean," Tawny gasps, leaning her head back and pressing her forehead to the side of his throat as the tendrils of orgasm leave her quivering. Dean pulls out of her and slowly lowers them to the bed, pulling Tawny to him so he was curled behind her, one arm under her neck, the other gripping her waist. Tawny tucks her bottom arm under the pillow and laces the fingers on her other hand with Dean's.
"I really do love you, you know," Tawny says more than asks. She feels Dean shift behind her, sliding the arm under her neck out a bit to prop himself up over her. Tawny rolls on her back to look into Dean's eyes. They're gorgeous in the low light, a ring of dark mossy green around large, black pupils.
"I know," Dean whispers, dragging the knuckles of his free hand down her cheek and around her chin. He takes it between his thumb and forefinger, leaning down to kiss her softly.
"I love you, too."
Tawny looks up at him for a moment before he leans down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Go to sleep," he murmurs against the skin there, and he snuggles up behind her once again, and it isn't long after Tawny closes her eyes that she's asleep.
When Tawny finds out that Maggie isn't one of Susan's daughters but is, in fact, an "imaginary friend", she nearly cries. She can handle a lot of things. Vampires, werewolves, Tulpas, hell, she was even able to push past her fear of bugs and kill an Anansi in Arizona once, but two things that she didn't even pretend to like were dolls and ghosts of creepy little girls. She'd already had to face one of those fear yesterday, so learning that her second greatest fear is also present nearly sends Tawny over the edge.
"One?" Sam asks, dumbfounded.
"I though Tyler had a sister named Maggie?" Dean adds. Susan looks between the three of them.
"Maggie's imaginary."
Tawny looks at Dean and hangs her head. She just hopes she can keep it together long enough to get rid of the little bitch without running from the house screaming like a pansy.
"Where's Tyler?" Sam asks. Susan stands and leaves the room, and the three of them are running by the time they get to the stairs. Susan opens the door to their private quarters and when Tawny sees the dolls lying on the floor in pieces she knows Maggie's pissed and someone has to pay.
Susan shouts that Tyler isn't in any of the other rooms and comes out. Sam stops her.
"Susan, tell us what you know about Maggie."
"Uh, not much. Tyler's been talking about her since mom got sick," she says.
"Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?"
"Uh, no…" Susan says, looking between Sam and Dean and Tawny desperately.
"Think, think – somebody that could have lived here, might have passed away," Dean urges, and Susan looks at Tawny in horror.
"My God – my mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."
"Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?" Tawny asks.
"Yeah, she drowned in the pool."
The pool seems to be miles away but Tawny know they get there in less than a minute, and Tyler is standing on the wrong side of the railing. Susan calls out to her and Tyler turns around, but then she's gone and Tawny knows they only have a minute, maybe a minute and a half.
"Is there another entrance?" Dean asks when they realize the glass isn't going to break. Susan looks at him.
"Yeah, around back," she says, and she and Dean go to it while Sam and Tawny continue beating on the glass door. Rose had been good at protecting her family, but she'd made a vital mistake when she neglected passing on the secret of the urns.
"The urn!" Tawny yells suddenly, spinning to see an urn sitting a foot away. She pulls the dead plants out of it and pick it up, slamming it against the glass nine, ten, eleven times before it shatters and Sam pushes his way through. He's headed for the railing when Tawny yells out "No, Sam! You're too tall!" and she makes it to a run before vaulting herself over the railing.
When she hits the water its freezing and she's wrapped in plastic and her boots are heavy but she sees Tyler floating limply in the water and forgets all of that as she propels her body towards the girl. Seconds seem like hours as she glides through the water, and as soon as she has Tyler in her arms she kicks off of the floor of the pool, breaking the surface. She flips her hair out of her face in time to see Sam wading towards her.
"She's not breathing!" Tawny calls, and she hears a sob from Susan.
Sam reaches Tawny and takes Tyler from her, his long legs propelling him through the water fast than hers are, and lays her down on the wet tile. He puts a hand to her chest and gently starts pushing down and everyone is holding their breath while they wait. Finally Tyler coughs and water spews from her mouth and she takes a deep breath and Tawny can finally do the same.
"Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?"
Tyler looks around before looking back at Sam and shakes her head. "No, she's gone." Tyler buries her face in Susan's chest and Tawny looks at Sam as Susan picks up Tyler and carries her away.
"You alright, Gigantor?" Tawny asks softly. Sam looks down at her.
"You saved her life," he says monotonously, looking back to where Tyler was just lying. Guilt washes over her and she looks at Dean, remembering everything that was said last night. Sam wants to make things right before they go wrong, and Tawny just took an opportunity away from him.
"Sam," she suddenly says, turning towards him and putting a hand on his forearm. He looks at her and she takes a breath.
"Sam, you control who you are. No one else has that power. I mean, everyone has some good and some evil in them, and they get to decide which impulses to act on. You're a hero, Sam. You're my hero, and nothing you ever do will make me love you any less."
By the time she's finished she's crying and Sam has tears in his eyes. He pulls her into a bone crushing hug and Tawny looks over at Dean, whose smile tells her they're okay, this is okay. After a minute, though, Dean has to open his mouth.
"Alright, this is beautiful and all, but ya'll are kinda making me wanna puke."