I took a deep sniff as I took another step forward. A cold breeze blew, abnormal for this time of year, and I pulled my arms tighter around myself. Despite crying into Sam for two hours, I can't sleep a wink. I don't even feel all that tired. Just… spent. My body is exhausted, and my mind is exhausted, but I'm so keyed up and I can't stop thinking, shuffling through my mental index card box for the proper reaction to this specific situation.
I came up with absolutely nothing – a life of slaying and forgetting and training didn't prepare me for my boyfriend selling his soul to save his brother. At least he had done it for a good cause – is that what I should focus on? No, no, messing with death and fate is a cosmically bad, literally and figuratively. There is nothing in my mind that can redeem Dean. He's… he's like the dust on the bottom of the list of people I respect. I anti-respect them.
I know there's a real word for it, but I'm lucky my thoughts are in form of articulate. Disrespect. That's it. God, I wish I could sleep. Ex-boyfriend. That word suddenly hit me too. Dean wasn't my boyfriend anymore, he's an ex. Just when I was getting used to having a boyfriend again.
Maybe it's not bad luck – maybe I'm just cursed. That would make sense – a hex, or something. For the amusement of a wiccan somewhere, as opposed to a God. Maybe Dean killed the wrong bad guy; maybe I killed the wrong bad guy.
Occasionally I try and think about other things – Phantom; television; gas prices. It never really works. When you get that kind of bomb dropped on you, it's hard not to relate it to everything else that happens. Like suddenly that certain bomb is the nucleus of life.
Next to me I heard a 'tsk, tsk, tsk,' followed by the voice that'll probably always make my heart stop, "You know, Carrie, when you walk by me like that, I sometimes think we could still work it out."
I froze before turning, my eyes colliding with my other ex-boyfriend's, "What are you doing here?"
"You know, I'm just very surprised at you, Carrie. Very sloppy work. Very sloppy."
"How did you find us," I asked, my heart beat increasing as I felt my senses sharpening in preparation for a fight.
And at that question, Azazel's lips twitched up into a smirk, "You think you're safe here? You think demons aren't looking everywhere for your precious little Dean and Sammy? You and your little roomies are on every demons most wanted list, and demons don't take very kindly to ex-generals and one hell-bent murderer."
My jaw hardened, "Dean is not a murderer."
I don't know what that's the part that got my blood boiling. I don't care about Dean anymore, at all. Well, I do, but I shouldn't let it show unless I'm saving his ass. Maybe when he doesn't only have a month left he'll open his frickin' eyes and realize how big of a bastard he is, and then pigs will come flying out of his ass.
Azazel sucked in a breath, leaning casually against a tree as a car sped by, his headlights forcing his eyes to turn gold momentarily, "I don't know if that's what you want to be worried about right now."
My brow furrowed and, for lack of better defense, I questioned, "Huh?"
"Well, I mean, I found you in just a few minutes of trying; what makes you think another demon can't find Dean just as easily?"
My eyes widened as what Azazel said quickly sunk in and I turned back to the motel, certain of Dean's impending doom. After all, he was under contract, and demons are out there who can apparently find him as easy as snapping their fingers. It didn't occur to me why Azazel was warning me my b… Dean was being attacked. I just knew I had to save him. God damn it, I'm not losing him twice in one night. God damn it all.
Breath was… not an issue. Air didn't matter; all that mattered was that I'm three times as far from the motel as I thought I was. If I hadn't made a point not to turn, I would've assumed I took a wrong turn and just given up and broken down.
Crazily enough, as I ran, it was like my little Dean/Carrie life flashed before my eyes. The beach, the fireworks, the drive-in movie theatre. Oh God, not twice in one night. Please, Lord, I know you tend to not pity me in any way, since that's just not so fun, but God, please, not twice in one night.
The motel couldn't have been any farther, it seemed. And by the time I got there, my throat burned and my heart felt like it was straining to break out of my skin. It was ridiculous, especially since I still jogged often enough that running shouldn't feel like it's a dream and my legs are dipped in cement.
I didn't have a key, a fact my mind screamed at me as I nearly tumbled down the walkway outside of our motel. I hadn't figured that I'd be coming back tonight; my eyes were already tearing up at the image of Dean's body, bloody and torn and tortured by a demon because I'd walked too far that night. Oh God, not twice. Any other time, but not tonight, not twice.
With an unnervingly defeated feeling, I twisted and turned at the doorknob, pushing and pulling at the door. Oh God, not twice. I turned, then, throwing myself against the door half-heartedly, sobs escaping my body like hiccups. Swallowing back the tears momentarily, I took a running started at the door, cracking the lock and throwing the door open.
Sam had fallen asleep in the car, and I half-expected the room to be empty and torn to shreds. But it was… it was just like I left it. Decently organized, three suitcases lined up underneath the TV, and Dean sleeping quietly in the bed farthest from the door.
Well, not quietly sleeping, not anymore. The moment the door cracked open he shot up in bed, automatically grabbing his gun from under his pillow and pointing it at me. I held up my hands in defense, only able to spit out a breathy, cracking whisper, "Dean, Dean, don't shoot. It's me."
Slowly, Dean stood, trying to get an advantage before lowering his gun, his voice hard and confused, "Carden?"
I let out a small sob – Carden. He called me Carden. He's going to be alright. Oh thank God. Another small sob escaped before I hopped across the first bed, theoretically Sam's bed, and landed with my arms clutching around Dean's neck. God help me, I just can't bring myself to lose him.
Desperate, and ignoring the feeling of Dean's gun as it fell to the floor, miraculously not going off, I buried my head into the crevice of his neck and breathing deeply, "I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone. I'm scared, Dean. I've just got to save you, Dean. I can't lose you; not you too."
His arms tense, Dean tried to figure out what to do. Come on, Dean, I begged, You did it before. You need it too, I swear. Slowly, Dean wrapped his arms around my lower back, his thumb slowly tracing the circle before he slowly let his head rest on mine, sandwiching me. It was comfortable, but it was comforting, if that makes sense. Dean was all around me, enveloping me, and he was alive. It was one of those moments that nothing else mattered.
"Shh," Dean finally muttered, his stubble brushing against my temple as he nodded, "Its fine. We'll be fine; we… you'll make it. You always make it; you're a fighter, Carden. My gloves are just worn o-"
"Don't," I said, pulling away far enough to look at him. And somewhere in me, something snapped, I'm not losing him. Not tonight – it's too soon. I sniffed as I tried to meet Dean's eyes, hazel and questioning, "Please, just, don't."
For a moment, Dean's eyes took on a confused glare in the lacking-light of the motel room before he seemed to realize that I didn't want this to be how we break up, how we leave each other. "I'm sorry."
I never thought I'd live to see the day Dean Winchester seriously apologized to me. Then again, I never thought I'd see the day I'd cry for Dean Winchester.
But mid my listing of all the firsts of the night, Dean finally acted on his suspicions, leaning down and pressing his lips into mine. There was a spark between us, and I weaved my hands hopefully through his hair. Forget being a slut and having honor – his life's too short for that.
I moaned into his mouth as he slipped his tongue carefully between my lips; another first of the night. Yeah, I'm pretty bitchy, but I only did it to be sure Dean wouldn't think he could just leave me after he was finished.
Hesitantly, Dean back up, his knees collapsing against the bed and I willingly fell into his lap. I could tell he was shocked, but I also knew for a fact he wouldn't question it. Thank Lord for that – we don't even have time for second thoughts anymore.
The next morning, I was horrified to find I was waking up alone. Much like last night, images of Dean being dragged out of the hotel room by an army of demons, screaming my name as I slept soundly through, ran through my head, and I would've fallen over if I was standing up.
Of course, a second later, the sound of the shower filled my ears, and I was assured that Dean had lived through the night. One down, another thirty years worth to go. Because honestly, I don't care what Dean wants - I will save him. Sam can help me, or he cannot. Neither of them can stop me – I've got sources outside of them and my books.
It was at the moment that my resolution was the strongest that, assumingly, Sam opened the door from outside and made his way into the motel room and cracked his neck, groaning. I probably should've woken him up and told him it was alright to come in.
The weight shifted on the bed, and then Sam shook my leg, "Carrie? Carrie?"
I peeked open an eye before pulling the sheet up to my neck, as opposed to tucked under my arm pits, and sat up. "Yeah?"
"Were you serious last night? About saving Dean?"
I nodded immediately, "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
Sam sighed, smiling in relief, "Okay, good. Cause I have some information for us."
I nodded as Sam held me a hand-written file, "Where did you get this?"
"Places," Sam responded cryptically, before continuing, "I have someone working on it already, but I think if you put some of your resources into it, we can get more information on it. Do you have someone?"
I nodded, reaching carefully out towards the bedside table and grabbing my cell phone, "Yeah, yeah."
"Great, have them dig up everything they can on the demon 'Astaroth,' and how to kill demons."
I nodded, already dialing and holding the speaker away from my mouth, "Who do you have working on it?"
Of course, at that moment, before Sam could answer, the school's receptionist picked up, "Hello, Princess Flower's Shop, Katrina spe-"
"This is Carden Adair," I replied forcefully, "I need to be put through to Research Specialist 34892. It's urgent."
"You have your own Researcher," Sam questioned, and I nodded at him as I awaited the woman to answer her phone. Every Research Specialist has five Slayer/Watcher pairings, and are pretty much really, really huge nerds.
"Carden?"
"Yeah, it's me. Unicorn made of chocolate." Sam raised an eyebrow, his mouth gaping at my words. 'Password' I mouthed at him, before continuing, "I need some research done."
"Case file says you're off duty 'til further notice."
"Consider this a personal favor," I responded easily. "I need to know everything there is to know about the demon Astaroth and on killing demons."
"You know how to kill d-"
"No, not vanquishing demons or exorcising them, killing them. Get it?"
"Yeah," the woman responded, sounding put out.
"Thanks; call me when you have something."
"Deadline?"
"Within two weeks," I responded. Sure, I have a month, but researchers are never on time.
At that moment, I opened my mouth to question Sam more intensely about the information in my hands, but of course Dean simultaneously walked out of the bathroom, water dripping down his chest and disappearing into his towel. Both speechless and realizing that I probably shouldn't talk about this in front of Dean, I slipped the folder under my pillow, smiling innocently. This might get tricky.
