A/N:
Okay,So I have a confession to make... this is the last chapter... this is where this story ends. If you are sensitive you may wanna get the tiissues out! LOL
ANNNDDD! DICLAMIER: I DONT OWN THE BONJOVI SONG USED INT THIS FIC.
Yes ladies, I have the Bonjovi moment! happy Dances
Anyways, This chapter is full of angst and drama and NO! lol. There is two really beautiful songs, one called "One Moment More" By Mindy Smith and the other called "Hold On." by Sarah McLachlan. They kinda set the mood for this chapter... awesome songs so you might wanna take a listen! ALSO! if you really wanna go all out to make this chapter work, Listen to "Here With You" by Saliva, its Dean and NAomi's wedding song if you remember! LOL
Right, Here is where the biggest ever thanks goes out to my darling Camlann for being the most wonderful person on this planet and getting this sorted for me! This chapter really is her doing, She took my ideas and my really crappy chapter and helped me change it into this monster, so i think she deserves a lot of credit for that! hugs
Also, a really huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed and alerted and favourited! Thanks for taking the time to do that and taking the time to stick this out to the end!
I'm tearing up right about now, so I'm gonna let the chapter do the talking and I'll have a little ranodm say at the bottom!
enjoy!
Sweet Forget-me-nots and Second Thoughts.
Naomi opened her eyes – not actually remembering closing them - to find herself kneeling on the floor, the body Lilith had been possessing lying deathly still on the floor, as Dean crouched over her protectively, and Sam lay unmoving in the middle of the circle.
Is it over? she wondered, frantically running her fingers over Dean's body, looking for injuries. With a slight groan, Dean lifted his head and gazed into Naomi's eyes as he slowly moved back to give her room .
As if in answer to the silent question she could see in his eyes, the same question that was mirrored in his own gaze, she nodded, allowing him to quickly scan her for injuries before she pushed him towards Sam's still form. She watched him stagger to his feet and make his way over to Sam, John's constant training no doubt ringing in his ears as with a snarl of frustration, he paused long enough to cast a quick glance at the woman's body.
"I think she's dead, Dean." If the bullet in the chest is anything to go by. "Check on Sam. Hurry," she urged, worried by Sam's stillness.
"Sam, come on, wake up," Dean said, falling to his knees beside his younger brother. As she awkwardly began to climb to her feet, a sense of relief filled her as she caught sight of Sam stirring. He let out a soft groan and Dean reached out a hand to help him, only to recoil in horror when Sam stood suddenly. Oh God, no! she thought as Sam faced them, his usual emotion filled face was completely blank, gazing back at them with eyes as black as night.
"Sammy?" Her bottom lip trembled as she breathed out the word, but Sam simply seemed to look straight through her before running out of the motel room and into the darkness. They watched him disappear, both of them frozen in place for a long moment before Dean dropped his eyes back to the place Sam had lay.
How do I fix this? I can't fix this, she thought, dying a little inside at the look of sheer loss on Dean's face, a look that she caught only a glimpse of before he shut down, replacing it with a mask of cold, unfeeling resolve.
"Pack our stuff and find us a new motel while I take care of this—call me when you find one," he spoke, his voice calm and emotionless. It was an order, and Naomi knew better than to argue with him. She watched Dean out if the corner of her eye as he cleared up the mess left by Lilith and periodically helped her put some things into the duffel bags, all without a word. Naomi had to fight back tears when Dean kissed her on the side of the head as he grabbed the bags to put them in her car.
"He could be anywhere, so be careful. Alright?" Dean's voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, his internal struggle with the turn of events etched over his face despite his attempts to push it aside.
"Of course I will—you, too." Naomi didn't bother to hide the tremor in her voice, and this time, she didn't bother to hold back her tears, sobbing violently against Dean when he pulled her closer to him.
"Come on, Mimi. I need you to go now. Sam's out there somewhere, and we have to get this done. You know how to pour the salt lines, don't you?" Dean ran his hands up and down her arms swallowing hard when she nodded against his chest. "Good. Now, go on. I need you gone, so that I know you're safe." But that wasn't the only reason, she knew. He needed her gone so that she wouldn't see him fall apart. He didn't say the words, but she knew it to be true, all the same. Because that's how Dean was. Only this time, Sam wasn't here to help him, to make it better. So the words he didn't say lingered there, and while she wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and hold him, she knew he wouldn't let her. Not now.
"Okay, just…don't take too long," Naomi told him softly, her eyes pleading with him to hurry. She needed Dean right now, and she knew for a fact he needed her, too.
"I won't. Call me." He kissed her head again, opening the door to allow her to get into the car.
He's in shock, Naomi reasoned as she drove through the half deserted streets of the town. And why the hell wouldn't he be? Seriously. Sam's gone. And what did that bitch mean, that Dean would still be gone? Where was Dean going? Where was Dean right now? Sammy's gone. Where is Sam? Naomi felt the tears run down her cheeks.
We should have known better than to be happy. She slammed her hands on the steering wheel as she stopped at the traffic light. She knew of a motel just outside of town, near to the little spot they had gotten married, a place close by where Dean could possibly let out any emotions he was feeling. Naomi rested her head on her arms and let out a shaky breath. God damn it! She cursed and hit the steering wheel again. Why can't things just go right for once, for Dean? God.
Naomi was unsure whether to cry or laugh when her son began another ferocious bout of kicking and moving. He wanted his daddy. He needed his daddy. And Naomi needed her Dean. Pulling away from the lights, Naomi flicked on the radio, a habitual action when she was behind the wheel or in the passenger seat of a car, and let out a few more tears at the song that began to play. Singing along softly to her wedding song, Naomi pulled into the parking lot of the motel.
"Come on, Junior, give mom a break, would you?" Naomi pleaded as her unborn son began another bout of kicking. "Daddy will be here soon, I promise." Who am I even trying to convince, him or me? Naomi scanned the area quickly before pushing open the door to the car, shoving the flask of holy water from the seat into her purse before climbing out and hurrying inside the motel office. The bell above the door chimed when Naomi walked through, and an older woman- maybe mid fifties- came to the front.
"Can I help you, darlin'?" she asked sweetly.
"Do you have any rooms available?" Can you stop time and give me eternity with my husband?
"Sure we do, sweetie. King or two queens?" The old woman smiled brightly at her.
"Tw… a king, please." Naomi dropped her gaze to the desk, fighting back tears once again. They wouldn't be needing another bed. Sam was gone, for the time being at least, and she wasn't entirely sure if they could get him back this time.
"Sure thing. Would you like a room on the bottom floor?" the little old woman asked, indicating Naomi's very obviously pregnant figure.
"Yes, thank you." Naomi placed a protective hand over her stomach and handed the woman the credit card that was in her back pocket, lowering her gaze to her hand again.
"Winchester, huh?"
Naomi's eyes left her left hand and looked up at the man now peering over the woman's shoulder, his eyes scanning her card before looking up at her.
"Um…yes," she replied hesitantly. Shit, why did I have to hand over the new card?! Should I reach for the holy water now...or later?
"My son served in the Marines with a guy named Winchester." The guy smiled at her as he took the card back from his wife and handed it to Naomi.
"I wouldn't know—it would have been on my husband's side." Naomi tried her best to smile as 'soon to be dead husband' rattled around in her head.
"Well, enjoy your stay, Mrs. Winchester." The woman smiled as she handed her the key.
"I will," Naomi said truthfully. She wasn't planning on wasting these last few days with her Dean.
The air enveloped her when she stepped outside of the little office, the neon sign casting shadows over the darkened parking lot. Naomi looked back into the office, her heart clenching painfully as she watched the old man and woman talk about something before he hugged her tightly.
Why can't I have that with Dean? Why are we the ones to suffer? Naomi rubbed her eyes, weariness and emotion making her lids feels heavy. Taking out her cell, she punched in his number, the task so familiar to her that it hardly even registered as conscious thought anymore. But a second later, Naomi bit down on her lip to stop herself from sobbing as his cell phone rang once before going straight to voice mail. She knew he had pressed the End button, making it readily apparent that he didn't want to talk right now. Knowing he wouldn't check his voice mail, she fought back the tears in her eyes and sent him a text instead.
"Hey Dean, Mystic Nights motel. Five minute walk from our wedding spot. you'll see it. Love you. Hurry up, okay?"
She didn't know what he was doing with the old woman's body, and she didn't want to know what he was doing. All she wanted was to wake up from the nightmare. With another quick scan of the parking lot, Naomi quickly walked over to her car and pulled the door open, half expecting to see Sam waiting there when she climbed inside. Looking at the room number on the key chain, she pulled out of the parking space and headed for the remote corner of the little motel, for once thankful to be far away and isolated from the rest of the world.
Grabbing the necessary bags from the trunk, Naomi took them into the room, one no different than any other they'd stayed in over the years: peeling paint, stained ceiling, threadbare carpet, and furniture that looked like it'd seen better days. The only thing that was different was the king-sized bed in the middle of the room in place of the usual two queens. And there're no salt lines at the door or along the window sill. Shit! Naomi dumped the bags on the bed and searched though them, looking for the salt.
Twenty minutes later, and it was done: every room, every window, every door, and every crack in the wall salted, the salt put away, the blinds drawn, and the light left on so Dean would know which room to go to. The next part came as easy as breathing, something she'd watched the boys do so many times: 9mm in the bedside cabinet drawer and the large Bowie knife under the pillow. Dean will exchange that when he gets home, for the little one he keeps on his forearm, all because I managed to nick my arm on the Bowie that time.
Naomi sighed and made her way to her green and white polka dot weekend bag and pulled out some pajamas. As she walked into the bathroom, Naomi heard the door click open and then close again. A small, sad smile graced her features as she started to undress, knowing fully well Dean would come to her when he was ready. She didn't bother to close the door—it was just him and her now. No Sammy, just Naomi and Dean. And baby, Naomi thought fondly, smiling as Junior kicked again. Stopping to listen to the movement in the other room, Naomi worked out that she had enough time for a shower before he came in.
She was proven right when Dean walked into the bathroom right as she pulled her nightgown over her head, her dampened hair sitting just on her shoulders when she freed it from the confines of the collar. She locked eyes with him in the mirror, barely concealing a gasp at the pain she saw in his green orbs. Dean didn't say anything, but then, he really didn't have to. Stepping out of his way so he could access the sink, she watched brokenheartedly as he turned the water on, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and his eyes glued to the mixture of blood and dirt slowly vanishing down the drain.
Naomi let a single tear fall down her cheek as she reached out for the soap, her hand covering it before his could. You're not in this alone, Dean. This isn't just your problem. As she took his larger hand in her smaller one, Naomi didn't know whether to feel relief that he submitted to her desire to be there for him or to feel disheartened that he was broken enough to let her help. Gently lathering the soap into his calloused palm, Naomi risked a glance at him, silently begging him to look at her, to face her, to let her in.
But Dean's eyes remained downcast, his defensive posture making it more than obvious that he wouldn't welcome conversation, nor would he offer it. All of which was making this job a whole lot more difficult than it had to be. Please, baby, let me help you…I need you to let me help you. Naomi ran his hand under the tap, the water washing away all traces of dirt and blood, leaving nothing but clear running water. Taking the towel off of the rack Naomi carefully dried Dean's hand off, raising it to her lips and placing a tender kiss against his knuckles. She repeated the same process with the other hand, only this time placing a kiss in his palm as she gazed up at him expectantly, wanting him to look back at her, to say something. Sighing softly when he remained silent and distant, she pushed his coat off of his shoulders before taking his hands into hers and leading him into the bedroom.
She guided him to the bed, sitting him down gently, growing slightly more relieved when he scooted back so he was laying on his side, his arm stretched out in invitation for her. Finally. Smiling softly at him, she crawled up the bed and lay on her side facing him. Dean's lips grazed her forehead ever so gently, his breath warm on her cheek as she settled in closer to him, her hand slipping under the material of his shirt to rest on the smooth expanse of skin underneath, her fingers gently caressing the warm flesh. For as long as she could remember, touch had been the only guaranteed way to calm Dean down. Any kind of skin-on-skin contact worked—a gentle touch, sex, a sparring session with Sam.
Sam, always fucking Sam.
Her eyes finding Dean's again, she leaned forward to place a kiss against his lips, half smiling at the way he nestled more closely against her, his eyes slipping closed. Naomi fought against the pull of sleep, wanting nothing more than to stay awake and watch over him. But her body had other ideas, and so with another gentle kiss to his lips, she finally gave in and let sleep claim her.
When Dean was certain that Naomi was asleep, he opened his eyes again. He wasn't ready to sleep. He couldn't sleep. It was all too weird for him to walk into the room and see only one bed. She did do a good job with the salt lines…I guess I never gave her much of a chance 'cause Sammy was always here to do it for her. Naomi sighed softly in her sleep, pulling Dean's attention back to her and away from any thoughts he was about to have of Sam and the lack of Sam's presence in the room: no snoring, no random wake-ups in the middle of the night from dreams, no typing on the laptop or reading by flashlight—there was perfect silence, and perfect stillness, just two audible heartbeats in the room. She looked so peaceful when she slept, her eyelashes curling against her cheekbones, lips settled in a soft pout, her hair fanned across the pillow. Just watching her sleep stirred all kinds of memories in Dean's mind, days of staying in bed until he was too hungry to play, nights cuddled up watching the snow fall outside and some action flick on the TV, hours spent mocking horror films and watching her hide behind her hands or snuggle into his shoulder. The one memory though, the one thing that hurt the most was all the different memories of her fixing things merging together into the one big memory of her always being there to help him, to save him. Pity she couldn't do that now.
Dean felt a tear begin to well up in his eyes, a single teardrop for every word he couldn't say to her, a single teardrop for every word he wouldn't get the chance to say to her, a single teardrop for all the times he wouldn't be there to dry hers, and, God, did it hurt. Knowing that soon she wouldn't have anyone to protect her against the evil that was out there, that his son would have no one to protect him either, ate at his insides, causing his heart to clench painfully. Biting back tears, he eased himself out of her arms and slid off of the bed, careful not to wake her. He glanced around the room, looking for something, his eyes settling on her green bag. Looking back at her curled up in the bed, he stopped to cover her with a blanket before continuing over to the bag, taking out the notepad and pen he knew she always kept there. He was going to tell her everything one way or another.
Sam, no! Sam, please leave him alone! Sammy, come on, you're better than this! No Sammy..
"Sam!" Naomi yelled, sitting upright in the bed, the blanket falling from her shoulders, her hands running along Dean's side of the bed only to find it cold and empty.
"Dean!" she yelled, panic tightening her throat when there was no reply, her eyes searching desperately for him, but the motel room remained bathed in perfect darkness. "DEAN!" she screamed again, fighting against the covers that tangled around her legs. "Dean!" This time it was more of a broken sob, still met with no reply. "Dean." It emerged in a choked whisper, as she curled up into the mattress, an overwhelming sense of loss filling her.
Dean's gone.
She sobbed harder, not registering the two strong arms that pulled her up, the soft skin of his chest, or the echo of his familiar heartbeat as Dean held her to him.
"Naomi, I'm here—I'm here, baby. It was just a nightmare, just a bad dream. Come on, princess, calm down," he whispered against her hair, his hand running up and down her back as he pressed kisses into her hair.
"Dean," she sobbed again, and he held her closer to him, rocking her gently in his arms.
"I'm right here, Mimi—I gotcha, it's alright, come on, it's alright." His hand left her back as he shifted her away to cup her jaw, forcing her eyes to meet his. "See, I'm here. Right here, with you," he assured her. She hiccupped once, and Dean smirked at her. "Tell you what—next time I go to take a leak, I'll wake you up so you don't miss me that much, okay?" he joked with her. He had to joke with her, because if he didn't…Hell, if that's what a trip to the bathroom does to her, what will she be like when I'm gone for good? This is killing me to watch her like this so god forbid if I decide to let the game face slip. I cant expect her to deal with this shit with Sam and watch me fall apart too. I gotta keep smiling just a few more hours, pretend that my little brother going dark side and the fact that my wife and son are being left exposed to all the ugly sons of bitches that I ever hunted or didn't know existed to hunt. The mask was back in place as he gazed at her, the years of practice of hiding emotions coming in handy at this moment in time.
Naomi's hand wrapped around his amulet, causing him to smile slightly down at her, and when her body shook with another hiccup, he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his throat.
"Yeah, I know—I'm just so damn irresistible," he said with a playful grin, trying to coax a smile out of her, or at the very least, settle her nerves a bit.
"Asshole," she swore, but there was no heat behind it, however, and she pressed a kiss against his chest, the thrum of his heartbeat under her lips.
"Yeah, yeah— but I'm a lovable asshole," he laughed. "Come on, back to bed now," he said softly, an idea to which she shook her head in protest. "Naomi. Come on sweetheart, I'll be right here with you I promise," he said as he cupped her face in his hands, rubbing her cheeks soothingly with the pad of his thumbs.
"Not tired," she protested vehemently.Her eyes silently begged him not to pursue the issue further, and with a sigh, Dean pulled her down with him as he lay down. She couldn't dream that again. She simply couldn't run that risk.
"You went after Lilith without telling me—why?" Dean asked into he silence, he could tell Naomi was startled a little by the question, it must have come out of the blue to her, but for him, it was in his head and he needed answers.
"I wanted to help Sam, and I didn't realize she held the contract. Because if I'd known, she would be dead...well before now, anyway," she whispered.
"But why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked again, and Naomi looked up at him.
"Cause, it didn't seem all that important. She told me about Ruby, that she could bring Sam back. I was only trying to help, Dean." Naomi let her gaze drop back to the floor, and Dean sighed again, tilting her face to meet his.
"No more lies." I know she's not lying exactly, but there's something she's holding back.
"I'm not lying, Dean, she just... she told me...stuff." Naomi visibly shuddered at the thought and Dean subconsciously pulled her close to him, trying to protect her from whatever it was she had been exposed to.
"What did she say, sweetheart?" Dean pressed a kiss into her hair. I have all night for this discussion.
"She told me about Jess, and your mom, and why she chose to let me live."
"You don't have to talk about it anymore, if you don't want to."
"She wanted me to live because she had planned for Sam to die...and well, she knew that if both Sam and I were gone, you'd follow us pretty damn fast. But if I lived, you'd tough it out for me. You'd suffer...for me. And when she told me that, Dean...I didn't want to tell you because...it scared me, Dean." Naomi let more tears fall, and Dean wiped them away, letting her rest back against his chest.
"It's okay, Mimi—I'm here, alright? We're safe, and we're gonna make every second count, okay?" He felt her nod against his chest and felt that she deserved to know the little something he was holding back... no more lies... his own voice resounded in his head.
"I didn't want this, you know," he whispered into the stillness of the room, and he could sense Naomi's confusion, feeling her brow furrow in confusion as he absent-mindedly smoothed her hair back from her forehead.
"Didn't want what?"
"For it to be this way...I guess I figured we'd find a way out of it in the end. But I want you to know—I don't regret what I've done," he confessed and Naomi raised her eyes to meet Dean's.
"With me or with Sam?" Dean's earlier conversation playing on her mind.
"Sam. And you. I don't regret anything that I've ever done with you. I mean, sure, I regret some things that I haven't done, but there's nothing I can do about that now," he said with a shrug, growing increasingly uncomfortable as he sensed how close he was to talking about things he never intended to talk about. You're treading on dangerous ground, dude—pull back.
"You would still sacrifice yourself for Sam, knowing that things would end up this way—with him a demon and you still dying?" Naomi was utterly perplexed with that fact. Dean moved his gaze from hers to the ceiling. "You really would, wouldn't you?" A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, and she leaned back down onto his chest.
"Yes."
Her bottom lip trembled with the effort it took to keep the tears back, and she let her eyes slide closed to keep the tears from falling. Without seeming to realize it, she drifted off to sleep again, completely missing Dean's warm tear on her head and his brokenly whispered words.
"I'm sorry."
Blinking open languid eyes against the bright daylight that poured in through the window, Naomi sighed against the warmth of Dean's chest, his strong, steady heartbeat and even breathing putting her slightly at ease. Pushing herself up, she smiled at how innocent he looked when he was asleep, as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. She couldn't help but smirk at the slight lines at the corners of his eyes. You're getting wrinkles, babe. She smirked and gently traced her fingers over his face, his cheeks, his lips, his jaw. She loved everything about him: his annoying as hell smirk, his expressive green eyes, his soft pouty lips.
He hasn't changed, she thought as she watched him breathe. Granted, he's gotten older, but nothing about him has really changed at all. His eyes are still the same shining green ones that captivated me in the library all those years ago, those lips are still the exact same lips that kissed me on that miserably rainy day in Mississippi, the day Sam left for Stanford. Letting her eyes and hands roam lower, Naomi could barely resist the temptation to kiss every line that marred his golden brown skin. She had always hated the fact that there was another scar every time he came back home to her. Usually he was a fast healer and very rarely scarred, but that he had scars from wounds that were too deep to heal completely hurt her. Leaning down and pressing a kiss to the small scar just about his navel, Naomi smirked when his abdomen twitched under her lips.
"Morning," she smirked against his stomach, giggling when he reached down to pull her up, his hand cupping her jaw and bringing her lips to his.
"Afternoon, actually," his sleep roughened voice growled as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.
"What? We slept that long?" Naomi asked, genuinely shocked at the length of time she had slept.
"Yeah, unless three in the morning is really light outside." Dean shrugged nonchalantly, and a pang of fear shot through Naomi's body. He had forty-eight hours at midnight, which means he has roughly thirty-three now. I'm losing him, and there's nothing I can do about it. She desperately fought back the tears and kissed Dean back with all the love she felt for him, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding him to her, remembering him all over again.
"Come on, Mimi," he groaned, "I gotta get showered—I stink. But hey, once I get out of the shower, we'll go get breakfast or lunch, brunch, whatever the hell it's called..."Dean trailed off as he plastered his trademark smirk on his face, "and what do you say we bring it back here, and then have some fun, huh?" He grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows, and she laughed, fingers tracing down his arms as he sat up.
"Can't you just stay here?" Don't leave me, Dean.
"We gotta eat, babe." I'll be back, his eyes seemed to tell her, but with time running out, her fear was stronger than his guarantee.
"But we can call for some Chinese or something" Please don't leave me.
"You actually want to eat Chinese or pizza?" Beneath the seemingly mundane question, she could hear the underlying promise, his silent vow: I swear I won't leave you.
"Yeah." No, not really…I just don't wanna let you go.
"Baby, you've never been able to stomach Chinese, much less now when you have a baby inside you, and you don't like pizza," he pointed out, a sceptical look on his face. But at the obviously pitiful look on her face, he relented with a sigh. "Tell you what, we can shower together and then we'll go to that little diner and get food. How does that sound?" See, I won't leave you, I promise.
"Okay." Whatever, baby, just stay with me.
"Come on then, I'm starving."Always.
Dean stood from the bed and extended his hand to her, holding her hand delicately in his as he led the way to the bathroom.
Dean pocketed the key as he watched Naomi watch the cars, the black metal glittering in the sun. His Impala and her Mustang, the two things that had started their relationship – well, the two things that were really just the one: their love of classic cars. Dean grinned at Naomi smile, and the fear finally began to creep up on him, the thought that he would never see her smile again causing a profound ache in his chest. Shoving that thought to the back of his mind before it could take hold, he snuck up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Can we get food, now?" he asked, his voice vibrating through her back.
"For the love of God, Dean, you have to stop doing that to me!" Naomi gasped placing a hand over her heart as she turned into him, ready to smack him only to smile at the sheer look of fun on Dean's face, opting to kiss him instead. "Fine, we can go," she stated and walked over to the Impala. Dean stopped for a second, allowing her to keep going as he scanned the perimeter. Still no sign of Sam, I honestly thought he would have shown by now. He's ditched his cell at any rate, and Bobby hasn't seen him either. When Naomi turned back to him and grinned, Dean plastered on the smirk for her benefit.She's trying so hard to make things okay…I've failed Sammy, but I won't let her down, too.
"We're taking my car?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow when Naomi stopped at the passenger-side door of his other girl.
"Yeah, if you think I'm letting you drive my car, you have another thought coming," Naomi replied with a smirk, pulling at the Impala's handle until Dean finally unlocked the door and let her climb in.
"So did you decide what you want to eat? My personal choice is anything that doesn't involve you hurling," Dean said as he backed out of the parking spot.
"You are such a thoughtful guy, Dean!" Naomi grinned, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Let's just go to the diner a few blocks from here," Naomi replied to his question absently as she rummaged through his cassette collection for something she actually liked.
"What?" Dean asked when Naomi gave an annoyed sigh.
"Why can't you like my music?" Naomi asked, pushing the box back onto the floor and slouching in her seat with a disgruntled sigh.
"I think the actual question is 'why don't you like good music?'" Dean smirked at her, and Naomi scowled, glaring at the current AC/DC track that was blasting out of the speakers. Taking pity on her, Dean leaned over her and opened the glove compartment, fingers wrapping around a cassette and smiling when he pulled it out and shut the glove compartment, all while watching the road. Popping AC/DC out and putting the cassette in, he waited patiently for Naomi's scowl to smooth out and a smile to grace her features. It didn't take long—soon Naomi was not only smiling to the song that filtered through the car, but she was also singing along softly to Bon Jovi's "Thank You for Loving Me."
"Lock the doors, we'll leave the world outside. All I've got to give to you, are these five words when I thank you for loving me: for being my eyes when I couldn't see, for parting my lips, when I couldn't breathe. Thank you for loving me, thank you for loving me." Naomi sang along and intertwined her fingers with Dean's as she snuggled up to him.
Yeah, Dean thought, Bon Jovi rocks. On occasion.
"Dude, could she be any more obvious?" Naomi asked, clearly irritated by the busty blond waitress who was currently swaggering away from their table after practically throwing herself at Dean.
"Don't be so hard on her—she can't help it that I'm devilishly handsome," he said with a smirk.
"Yeah, but she should realize you're married. I mean, you're wearing..." Naomi trailed off as she spotted the unadorned ring finger of his left hand, her eyes falling away to gaze down at her plate. "There's an innocent explanation for that, huh?" she asked as a watery smile spread across her face. Dean's eyes look anywhere but at her as he dropped his left hand into his lap. "It doesn't matter." She managed a small shrug and picked up her knife and fork.
"Naomi, I--"
"No, Dean—I said it's okay. Guy like you doesn't wear a wedding ring, right?" She smiled at him, the tears and hurt shining from her eyes, and Dean let out a sigh as he picked up his fork, suddenly not very hungry, which was a first in itself. He couldn't help feeling guilty that he was still managing to hurt her.
How can everything go so wrong in the space of a few minutes? he wondered as the waitress came back and stopped at their table.
"Can I get you anything else?" her sickly sweet voice sang, and Dean winced at the devastated expression on Naomi's face.
"No, we're good, thanks," he said, glancing at Naomi questioningly, his heart sinking as he saw the simple question burning in her eyes. Are we?"
"Well, if you think of anything, don't hesitate to call me over!" she said again, and Dean nodded, giving her a polite smile as he dismissed her from his mind and turned back to Naomi. But she wasn't looking at him, her gaze on the waitress instead, her expression suddenly unreadable.
"Go ahead and sleep with her if you want to." Dean's head snapped up from his plate to look at her, confusion and worry filling him. Naomi's voice didn't sound like her own, the words just seeming to have exploded out of her, and to Dean, it looked as though she hadn't really meant to speak.
"What?" he asked and Naomi looked back at him.
"Go sleep with her if you want." she repeated again, her voice still sounding odd to Dean's ears. "You're not doing a very good job of pretending you don't want her." Naomi let out a shaky breath and stood up. "I'll see you back at the motel. If you make it back," she said, her voice beginning to falter. They both knew how big an if that was. It didn't take a genius to know that she wasn't just talking about that night. She was talking about the future. Which is looking pretty damn bleak right about now.
"Naomi!" Dean called after her, but she just kept walking, leaving Dean sitting there feeling like a fucking idiot as he yelled after her, the whole diner taking interest even as the blond waitress who started the whole damn mess came over and sat heavily on his chair, as though it was the perfect opportunity. Thanks a lot, bitch.
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" a playful gleam lit up her scheming eyes, and Dean glared up at her.
"Yeah, how about you get the hell off my chair so I can go get my wife back?"
He didn't even have to think about where she would be. It was pure instinct. Dean drove the Impala back to the motel and walked back around to their wedding spot. He couldn't help the pain he felt at seeing her sitting there, her body shaking with sobs, know that he was the one that had done this to her. Not that he'd meant to. He slowly walked around to where she was and stopped a few paces behind her watching as she sat on the grass, wiping the fallen tears from her cheeks. He watched her play with her own wedding band, spinning it around her finger as she rocked herself back and forward, trying to ease the pain and stop herself from crying, no doubt. As he hesitated, she angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks, but the more she wiped them away, the more seemed to fall. "God damn it, Dean," she yelled into the open space, dragging her fingers through her hair and gripping onto it.
Please. Not now. This can't happen, now. We don't have time.
Letting out a soft sigh Dean moved forward and sat beside her, not saying anything however.
"What're you doing here? I mean, I know I'm not enough, but I thought Blondie would keep you occupied for a few hours at least," Naomi spat out in between hurt, angry sobs, and from the shuddering sighs, Dean could tell she was trying desperately to stop crying, angry at herself as much as she was angry at Dean. His chest tightened at the pain emanating from her, wishing he could make it easy on her, that he could make her hate him, hate him so much that she wouldn't hurt so badly when he was gone. But he couldn't do it. He needed her too much.
"Naomi," he whispered, "listen to me…nothing happened between me and her, and I as sure as hell didn't want anything to happen. When I said "I love you" and "til death do us part," I fucking meant every word," he said harshly, wincing when the words emerged so harshly. But he needed her to believe him, needed her to know that he needed her as much as she needed him. "What part of that did you not understand?" he said forcefully, gazing back at her with growing desperation.
"All of it," she whispered, so quietly that Dean wasn't sure what she had said.
"What did you say?" he asked, his voice softer this time.
"I said all of it." Her bottom lip trembled as she turned to look at him. "Why did you marry me, Dean? I mean...why now? You've had ten years to do it, and you chose now—why? I need to know."
"Cause I wasn't gonna have another ten years to do it," he told her, feeling the press of time weighing even more heavily on him as he thought of all the years he'd wasted, years that he could have spent with her as his wife if he'd only gotten over his fear of commitment a long time ago.
"And it was only for three days, right? It would only be three days," she said, her eyes falling to the ground as her words registered in his ears.
"Naomi, I'm trying to understand here, but you've gotta help me out here—what are you getting at?"
"Did you marry me because you thought that's what I wanted?" she asked, the silent tears falling from her face cutting Dean deeper than any knife ever could have.
"Naomi, that's-"
"A yes?"
Dean blinked back his own tears when the familiar look of hurt passed her features and she smiled at him.
"No, it's a no. A hell no. I married you because I love you and because I wanted to. It was my idea, remember? I planned the whole thing—you weren't all that interested in the details, remember?" Dean said evenly. "Look, where is all this coming from?"
"Oh, Dean, who are we trying to kid here?" she asked him, leaning forward to wipe the single tear that rolled down her cheek. "You like your women, you like your drink, you love your hunt, your car, your Sammy—I don't fit in anywhere. I know that…I guess I always have. But I wanted this to work, and I love you too damn much to walk away and I'm sorry that I forced your hand," she explained sadly, and Dean shook his head, cupping her jaw and forcing her to look at him, wanting to make damn sure she heard him.
"You're wrong. Sure, I flirt—most men do—but I sure as hell don't mean anything by it, not with them. I love my woman—singular, not plural. So seriously, where is all this coming from? It can't just be that damn waitress," he said, raising his eyebrows questioningly, and it was Naomi's turn to shake her head.
"It's from the past few weeks...especially the past few nights." She allowed him to come closer to her. "You told me you wanted me to move on—after everything that we've been through, you just wanted me to move on. Then you told me you would do it all again, even if things with Sammy had still turned out the same. And well...in the diner...you weren't wearing your wedding ring. We've only been married three days."
Dean looked away and exhaled slowly.
"I'm sorry, but...I can't wear it," he bit out past the lump in his throat when he looked at her again.
"Why? Allergic to gold? It doesn't fit right? What?" Please don't make me say it.
"No, none of that. It's fine." he whispered, relieved when she allowed him to take her into his arms. C'mon, baby, just let it go.
"But you can't wear it?" She was clearly confused, and Dean frowned against her hair. Fuck. She's gonna make me say it.
"It hurts to wear it," he confessed, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her, but knowing he was likely only fuelling her curiosity.
"Is it too tight?" she asked, frowning in concern as she looked down at his hand.
"It hurts to look at it every day," he murmured, finally giving up on trying to keep it from her any longer. "Every time I move my hand, I see it there and I think about how much I'm losing, and about how much it kills me to know that what I've done is hurting you...So I took it off. Well, kinda." Dean shifted Naomi's weight and pulled the cord of his amulet out of his shirt, the gold wedding band gleaming next to the familiar amulet that Sam had bestowed upon him long ago.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Naomi whispered against his shoulder, her face flushing with embarrassment.
"Don't worry about it, Mimi—these things happen," he said graciously. "But you can make it up to me," he said, thinking of quite a few ways she could do just that, most of them not involving clothes. That's right, baby—I'm not above taking advantage of a situation. Especially if it gets me hot sex with my girl. She looked up at him with a familiar expression, the one she used when she was expecting to respond to his devilish smirk. But he didn't smirk, smiling down at her affectionately instead as the ache in his heart faded away, replaced by a peaceful serenity that Dean didn't often feel. She answered his smile with her own and he slowly closed his eyes and placed a kiss on her forehead and one on the tip of her nose before moving on to her lips, licking away the salty taste of tears as he kissed her passionately, his hand cradling her head to hers.
It's gonna be okay.
Dean pulled her closer to him as they walked slowly back to the motel, laughing and joking. This is as normal as I'm ever gonna get…Maybe I should be pissed that its come this late, but what is it that they say...better late then never. Yeah, that's it. And as clichéd as it is, I'm glad it's with her.
"You know what I think? I think that, deep down, you secretly like chick flick moments," Naomi announced, seemingly completely in tune with her other half, as the rounded the corner to the motel, and Dean pulled back, giving her an incredulous look.
"Are you kidding me?" he laughed, pulling her back into him again. And God, why can she always do that!?
"Well you've had quite a few girl-moments over the past few days—I was beginning to worry," Naomi told him, obviously trying to be serious but failing miserably as a grin made its way on to her face.
"Hey! For your information, my 'girl-moments,' as you call them, were not my fault," he retorted with a smirk.
"Oh really?" Naomi matched his smirk with one of her own. "And what would that be?"
"You see, there's this girl—best looking woman I've ever seen, like, ever—and she makes me laugh. She's just all around awesome. But she always wants to have these girl-moments, and what can I say? I just can't tell her no," he said, pulling Naomi as close to him as possible.
"She sounds like a nice girl, do I know her?" Naomi's smile widened.
"I dunno, maybe…her name's Angelina Jolie—ever heard of her?" Dean smirked, and Naomi punched him on the arm.
"Ass." She pushed away from him playfully, laughing when he pulled her back against him.
"But she has nothing on my wife, the mother of my son. You might know her." Dean's voice rumbled in her ear, his breath warm on her cheek.
"I dunno, I might."
"I'll introduce you." Dean's lips caressed her earlobe, and Naomi shivered.
"Don't do this to me now," she pleaded as they stopped at the motel room door.
"Why?"
"Cause I don't wanna fall asleep, that's why," she said truthfully, letting her head fall against the door.
"Naomi."
"Dean."
"Naomi."
"Dean."
"Oh for God's sake, I need to open the door, and you need to sleep."
"Do not," Naomi protested, forcing back a yawn as she leaned her head back on Dean's shoulder.
"Yeah, you do, babe—come on." Dean nudged her inside ahead of him, securing the door behind him as she sat down on the bed, trying desperately to hide a yawn with her hand. With an amused smile, Dean took one of his shirts from his duffel and handed it to her. "Go on," he told her, nodding in the direction of the bathroom, and with a roll of her eyes, Naomi grudgingly did as she was told, walking into the bathroom and slipping off her clothes.
Dean sat down on the bed and rubbed his hand down his face. God, I need more time. I just need a chance to teach her everything she needs to know. He had to teach her. He had to show her how to defend herself until she could call Bobby for help. But she can't memorize everything. Dean stood up and walked over to his duffel, taking out both his and his dad's journals before he sat back down on the bed, staring at the almost identical covers for a long moment. Better get started if I'm gonna leave her with enough to keep her safe.
"Dean?" Naomi asked as she walked towards the bed, tucking one long leg underneath her as she sat next to him.
"You don't wanna sleep, and I want to keep you safe, so we're gonna compromise."
Naomi sighed but nodded, obviously willing to humor him, even if she didn't want to, as long as it meant she didn't have to sleep. And Dean couldn't bring himself to try and convince her otherwise. Not when he needed every moment he had left. I'm sorry, baby, but we've gotta make every minute count.
24 Hours to go
Naomi had given up hours ago and had fallen asleep, but Dean had ruthlessly pushed away the need for sleep, shifting his attention to numbering the pages of the journals and making a table of contents page for each. How can I sleep knowing she won't be safe? Dean glanced at the clock and sighed. This whole thing's gone south. Sammy was supposed to be here to help her through this, to make things okay when I'm gone but no, I still manage to screw that up and now he's God knows where, doing God knows what. I just need Naomi to be okay when I'm gone, but she's not ready for this. And hell, I'm no expert, but stress can't be good for her orthe baby. Dean looked at Naomi, curled up under the comforter in his shirt, which remained too big for her no matter how much weight she claimed to have put on. Seeing her there reminded him of all the times when he'd go to her after a hunt and find her clad in one of his shirts, lying awake in the darkness, listening for him. Waiting for him. Who will she wait on now? Dean thought sadly as he watched her turn towards him in her sleep.
20 Hours to go
Naomi woke with a start, her heart pounding as though it would erupt from her chest. It was the same nightmare again, the same outcome, only this time, when she woke crying out for Dean, he was there right away, cradling her, kissing away the demons from her dreams. She had clung helplessly to him, no longer crying because there were no more tears left to cry. All that was left to do was to just hold him to her, to lay down with him and let him reassure her that it was okay, that he was here as she listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat and silently pleaded with it never to stop. The baby seemed in on the act, too, kicking until Dean laid his hand over her stomach whispering soft, desperate words and murmuring promises that he couldn't keep, delivering false hope to the baby he'd never see, until at last, the baby stilled, and Naomi succumbed to the need for sleep that she kept trying so desperately to fight.
16 hours to go
Both Winchesters were awake. Dean made Naomi go over everything again, obviously more than aware that time was whittling down fast. It was as though something inside him was fueling him, Naomi thought, compelling him to show her everything he could. She knew the truth, though: time was running out, and he only had sixteen hours left to teach her how to protect herself. So here they were, reviewing everything again:holy water, salt, iron rounds, wrought iron rounds, silver bullets, salt-filled shotgun shells, Latin rituals, protection symbols, sigils, and traps. More weapons. More bullets. More guns. More rituals. More Latin. More tears. More kissing. More reassuring words. The cycle repeated, over and over again, swirling around and around in her head. It was slowly killing her, watching him suffer like this, trying to make sure she'd be protected when he was gone. He's always thinking of someone else, never himself, never his own pain. God, Dean. More tears. More of all but the one thing she wanted the most: Dean.
12 Hours to go
Naomi watched Dean shift restlessly in his sleep again, tossing and turning long after he'd finally given in to the need for sleep. She tried in vain to concentrate on her drawings, her multitude of colored fabric swatches, anything other than the painful truth. Dean's going to die soon. I'm going to be alone. Our son is never going to know his daddy. He's never going to know how lucky he was to have a dad like Dean. Naomi gave up and walked over to the bed, crawling in behind him, wrapping her arms around him, her lips close to his ear to breathe nonsensical and meaningless words into his ear, words that glossed over the real fact that this was precious seconds lost. Just like Dean had done earlier with their son, she was doing now, singing old songs like his mother would have done, trying to relax him into a peaceful sleep, and her efforts were rewarded when he stopped fidgeting in her arms and settled into the peaceful sleep that had previously eluded him. Even when he was resting, she kept up her pretty words, begging him not to leave her, pleading with whatever god was up there to let her keep him, but if she couldn't, to at least make sure that he was well cared for and well loved. Because Dean deserved to find some measure of peace, of happiness.
8 hours to go
This was the most ordinary moment they had shared in the past few hours—no demons, no deals, no weapons, no tears, no rituals. Just them, them and the memories they shared. Their memories, memories that were made to be looked back on, maybe not this early but to be looked back on all the same. Different states, different years, different stages of their relationship. Hunts gone wrong, arguments, making up, late night calls for a multitude of reasons. Just small talk, trying desperately to make things easier, knowing that someone will remember all those things too, someone who will understand the sacrifice and accept that it was worth it. Someone who will look back fondly on the times shared and the memories created, on a life lost and a chapter ended, only for a new one to begin. The flicker of hope remains that someone will remember and not forget.
4 hours to go
Small talk. Planning a future that wouldn't have Dean in it. And as hard as it was for him, he fought back the sense of loss that was beginning to envelop him, because this wasn't about him. It was about his son: what Naomi would call him, what type of school he would go to, how he should be told about Dean, when he should be told about Dean, when he should drive a car, whether he should be told about hunting, and whether he should be given the choice to follow in his father's footsteps. Dean knew Naomi. He knew she wanted him to be a part of their son's life, regardless of whether he would be there or not. He was the baby's father. She gazed up at him, her eyes holding everything she wanted to say, but couldn't. I love you.
Dean's eyes suddenly became unguarded, and she allowed the corners of her lips to quirk into a small smile at the sentiment she sensed in his gaze: I love you too.
It was there, and she saw it. Then he kissed her. God, it feels like the first time.
Her silent tears dripped down onto his chest as he eased her on top of him, his fingers weaving through her hair. And even though he didn't say a word, Naomi realized he didn't have to. Because even though he didn't have much time left, he still had enough to show her all the things he couldn't say.
30 minutes to go
Dean smiled softly as he watched her sleep. It was better this way, somehow easier than having her watch him walk out the door. They'd agreed that he would take the Impala and go alone, and that she would call Bobby when she woke up. Bobby would deal with the messy stuff—all she would have to do is make sure his corpse was torched. But then again, Bobby could deal with that, too. Her real job was to look after herself and the baby.Easing himself off the bed and over to his duffel, he got dressed and took the envelopes he had hidden in the side pocket, staring down at them for a long moment before he slowly took his amulet off and removed his ring from it then slipped the amulet into the first envelope, the one addressed to his son. Running his fingers over the golden band, he sighed, fighting back the tears and placing the metal into the envelope before closing the it and turning to look at the for lettered word written as neatly as possible on the front: "Mimi." Swallowing back the tears, he made his way over to her sleeping form, placing the letters into her hand and kissing her on the lips.
"You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and don't you ever forget that. I love you—always have, always will. Take care of my baby. Both of 'em." He kissed her again and straightened, smiling down at her before he turned and walked away, completely missing the tear that rolled down her cheek.
Naomi waited, listening for the soft rumble of the Impala's engine fade before letting her tears take over, sobbing violently on the bed. A banging sound came from the door, but Naomi just lay there, trying to quieten down so maybe whoever it was would just go away and leave her the hell alone.
"Naomi, I know you're in there, open the god-damned door!" the voice came from the other side of the door and Naomi sat up, wiping at her eyes as confusion spread over her face. "Hurry the fuck up, princess—we don't exactly have a lot of time!" the voice came again, and Naomi all but ran to the door, jerking it open to reveal the blond-haired, black-eyed demon. "Finally—took you long enough!"
"What the hell are you doing here, Ruby?" Naomi asked furiously.
"Naomi, we don't have time for this," she said with a sneer. "And if you're through wasting my time, we can still save your dumbass husband."
"What!?" Naomi yelled, hurriedly rushing back into the room to pull on her blue jeans and a top. "How?" she asked as she struggled with her tennis shoes.
"Lilith's plan could still go off without a hitch if we don't do something fast."
"She's dead, Ruby."
"But Sam's not."
Dean climbed out of the Impala and sat on the hood, glancing down at his watch one last time. Five minutes, he thought. Wonder if Naomi's awake. He shuddered at the thought before he caught sight of movement, his eyes immediately focusing on the figure walking towards him.
"Sam?" he asked, fear creeping like needles through his veins. Just when I was beginning to think I'd never see the kid again, and he appears minutes before I'm supposed to die—how ironic. Guess I'll get my last goodbye after all, huh?
"Hey, Dean." And there was that dimpled Sammy smile, the one that got Sam everything he wanted from Dean.
"You here to take my soul?" Dean asked straightening up, bracing himself, readying himself.
"No, Dean. You're not going to hell. Thankfully." Sam added the last part so quietly that Dean wasn't sure if he had actually said it.
"Then...what?" Dean raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued as to where Sam was going with this.
"You have your destiny, and I have mine."
"DEAN!" The blood-curdling scream brought Dean spinning around, his eyes widening in horror.
"Naomi?" What the hell is she doing here? She can't be here, now! I'm out of time!
"DEAN, NO!" Naomi screamed again, breaking into a run. Dean turned back around to face Sam just in time to feel a sharp excruciating pain erupt in his chest, then nothing as Sam caught him and lowered him to the ground.
"I'm so sorry, big brother. It's in the glove compartment," he whispered against Dean's cheek, his tears silently falling hitting the leather of his big brother's jacket. Dean's eyes widened when Sam looked back at him. Shit Sammy, what's happened to you? Why did you let her do this to you goddammit? Dean spotted Naomi running towards him, and fear as intense at the pain throbbing in his chest was suddenly duelling for his attention. Don't hurt her! Please don't hurt her, Sammy! But the words wouldn't come out, despite Dean's desperate attempts to plead with his little brother. Why…can't I… … Naomi?
Naomi reached them, shoving Sam away as she dropped to her knees and pulled Dean to her, holding him as still as possible as flashing lights and sirens began to echo in the distance. Distantly, Dean was aware that Sam was running in the other direction as Ruby gave chase. But he couldn't seem to find the energy to protest.
"Naomi," he managed in a choked whisper, the burning pressure on his chest making it increasingly difficult to breathe, to speak. Too much...gotta…make…it..go…
"Come on, Dean, come on, you can do this," he heard her saying, her voice soothing him, willing him through this, trying desperately not to look at the hilt of the Bowie knife sticking out of Dean's chest. "Come on, baby, fight this—fight for me, fight for Junior, yeah?" she whispered, placing his hand on her bump, her hand on his, her eyes leaving his for a mere second, but long enough for Dean to pull the blade out on a scream.
"NO!" Naomi sobbed, her hand pressing against his chest, the blood seeping through her fingers.
"I'll…always…fight for…you," he grit out, and Naomi looked at him, her beautiful blue eyes seeming to waver as he struggled to focus on her.
"Hold on, Dean, help will be here. Please, I need you!" she yelled, leaning into his touch when his hand came up to cup her cheek.
"Always," he whispered again, this time a little less coherent than the first. "Don't..." he began, pausing to swallow back the blood that was beginning to pool in his mouth. "Don't hate…Sammy. Please," he forced out, the blood beginning to trickle from his mouth.
"I won't, but you'd better stick around to make sure I don't." She tried to laugh and be serious all at once, the tears that fell wiped away by Dean's gentle touch.
"Won't leave you...ever," he said on a ragged gasp, struggling to stay, to say everything he wanted to say, to hold on just a little longer.
"Dean, come on, fight for me," she pleaded, leaning down to place a kiss on his lips after she wiped away the blood.
"Always," he said again, the words a mere mumble this time, a cold feeling starting to overtake him, even as Naomi began to sob on his chest, begging him to stay as her tears mingled with his blood.
I'm sorry.
And as his hands dropped from her face, and his eyes slipped shut, she knew it was too late.
PLEASE DONT HATE ME! I ahve an idea for a sequel if you guys are interested and I would do it for you I promise! LOL So what did you think? Hope you guys dont mind i took the BonJovi moment and made it totally Dean/Naomi... I apologise if you did.
Anyways, Thanks again! I love you all!
K
xox