A/N: Part 3. I know, it's horrible leaving these cliff hangers. Now, I'm going ask for personal opinions. Next chapter. Should be it 1: Charlotte talks to Ellen and Jo. Or. 2: Skip that and go to a few months/days/weeks down the line. The choice is yours.
2006 – March
Part 3
Missouri – St Louis
He pushed the door closed as she turned the bedside lamp on and stood against it, hands in the pockets of his jeans. For several seconds they just stared at each other. Charlotte ducked her eyes an cleared her throat, "What erm, what time is it?"
"Oh, erm," he checked his watch. "A little after five."
"Right," she said.
"Okay look." Dean approached the bed and Charlotte fixed her eyes on his shoes. After a moment she forced herself to look into his face. He still looked sorry and she couldn't help the grimace to her expression. He noticed and only looked even sorrier. "I'm sorry. For whatever happened. Whatever the shifter said. I'm sorry."
"I'm fine. It's okay. You and Sam can stop asking now."
"No it's not. I'm not an idiot and I'm not blind. I can see that you're not okay so just, drop the crap."
Her mouth dropped open ever so slightly and she looked up at him. His expression had changed. He was frowning and she glared. "How about you stop guessing how I'm doing and leave me to sleep. If I say I'm fine then I'm fine."
"Uh huh," he said. "And I'm a Pastor's son. Charlotte, don't lie to me. Please."
She sighed and glared up at him. "I'm fine," she ground out. "What do you want Dean? To argue?"
He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Is that too much to ask?"
"And as I said, I'm fine. So drop it."
They stared in silence for several minutes. Dean looked pissed and Charlotte was angry. The last thing she wanted was to start an argument with Dean. To be even more angry and pissed then she already was. Mixed in with the fear and the panic that was still trying to ebb away. It was not a good mix of emotions.
His face dropped and he sunk onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. His back was to her and Charlotte let he eyes fall to her arms. The red marks were making their way through the bandages Sam had put on. Another reminder, other than the face next to her, of what had happened just a couple of hours ago. Her jaw tightened and she clenched her fists. Dean's head turned over his shoulder and he glanced at her. "What did it say anyway?"
"What?"
"The shifter."
I love you."Nothing." She shook her head. "Just a load of crap I know isn't true."
"Like?"
She looked at him, mouth partially open and sighed. "Nothing important alright? Look, it wasn't you. I know that."
"Charlotte," she hid the jump her body wanted to give at the command. The shifter had used the same tone with her to force her to look at him. "What did it say?"
"That I'm a bitch? And it turns you on?" Dean only turned his head more towards her, brows furrowed in a silent gesture to carry on. She sighed. "Erm," Love. "I'm a pain in the ass every time you see me and that sometimes," her mind worked on lying. There were things her mind were still trying to process. Maybe I should just say it. She locked eyes with him, sighed and turned away again. "Erm, some stuff about how everybody I love dies around me."I'm getting there. "How Bobby will die, you and Sam to hunting if anything."
Now Dean turned his head back to the door and she left it there. There was no need to go on and say it right? Besides, if it was true the real Dean would have said it surely? Silence enveloped itself around them awkwardly and Charlotte shifted in her seat. One thing she hated was silence. "Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"This is the part where you talk."
"Right," he turned his head back to her for a brief second, then away again. She could hear his mind working. "It said nothing else?"
He'd turned to face her, body pushed towards her and eyes in a frown. Yes. I love you. She swallowed a lump and turned her eyes away. She could still remember the way those eyes had looked at her with sadistic malice. Mocking her. Digging itself underneath her skin like a bad rash. "No."
When she flicked her eyes back up to him he was staring. A frown still adorned his face and he was staring at her, studying her face and posture. Arms tucked around knees, the cover wrapped around her waist and she was certain her face looked far from okay. She wished she knew what was going on in his mind. What he was thinking.
He flicked his eyes to her arms, her cheek, her knees and finally back to her. Part of her wanted to turn away, put her back to him. Another part wanted him to stay. She couldn't tell. Every part of her was telling her to make him go away but to let him stay. The silence pressed deeper against her skin and it made her shiver.
He opened his mouth to speak, inhaled, exhaled, closed his mouth and adverted his eyes. Then they were back and he sighed, "I wish I could say it wasn't true. That me and Sam, we're going to be around for a while. Truth is we may not be."
She rolled her eyes. "Tell me again how you're supposed to be making me feel better?"
"Shut up, I'm getting to it." There was a slight smile to his mouth and he ducked his head with curled lips. "But until that day, until the day any of us die, we'll love you like some little kid sister."
She frowned. "You think of me like a sister? That's-" she pulled a face.
"No," he said with a smirk. Now she was smiling. Definitely a step up from the shifter at least. "Of course not. I'm not into that kind of thing."
"Oh good, I was worried that you'd shack up with Sam at some point."
Dean flicked one brow up and stared at her. "Can I carry on?" She nodded and he nodded. "As I was trying to say, we're going to love you til we die. End of. But we will do our best not to die."
"That's good to know."
He narrowed his eyes with a smirk and pursed his lips. "Yeah well, you've got to promise not to die on us too you know."
She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Silence overtook the conversation again and Charlotte fixed her eyes on the clasped hands in her lap. "Dean? Do you really think I'm a bitch?"
He eyed her for several seconds before he nodded. "Yes. And I'm a dick remember?"
She chuckled. "At least we're on the same page."
"Yeah." Silence. Then he sighed. "Are we, are we going to be okay?"
Their eyes locked and she stared. Would she? Would she be okay talking to Dean? After a look-a-like had beaten her, tied her up and cut on her like nothing but a slab of meat? She sighed and noticed Dean's eyes had furrowed. His hand reached up. Fingers cupped the back of her neck as his thumb traced gentle lines over her now bruising cheek. She froze. Eyes fixed on his and mouth slightly agape in worry. "I'd never hit you," he said and withdrew his hand. "If it helps."
"Well I'd hit you any day of the week."
"I know," the corner of his mouth turned up.
She opened her mouth, eyes fixed on the opposite wall in thought. "There was one thing the shifter said that I'm curious about."
Out of the corner of her eyes she watched him become interested and worried in the same expression. "What?"
Her head titled to look at him through narrowed eyes. "You hate me."
Silence was the third party member that lingered and it made her shift in her seat. He was staring again. Then he moved. He pushed his body over the few inches that separated them. She couldn't move. She was in shock as he titled his head and gently pressed his mouth to hers. Unconsciously she closed her eyes and let herself fall into the simple touch. The beating of her heart doubled and Dean finally pulled himself away. He was still close enough that his hot breath slid over her lips and across her cheeks. "I hate you," he whispered. There was a smirk to his mouth and the smirk that started to grow on her mouth was uncontrolled.
Her heart could be felt trying to get out of her chest and she felt her breath hitch. This is Dean. Real Dean. Son of a bitch Dean who was also a dick. Then her stomach twisted. She wanted anything but the pain circling her mind and she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him back to her. Her mouth found his and it was rough and desperate. He fumbled his hands either side of her as he fell on top and she drew him in deeper.
"Dean," she whispered. He pulled his head back to frown down at her. She smirked. "I hate you." I love you.And she drew him back down. Clothes were gone and she pushed everything that happened before this point out of her mind. She could worry about that later. For now, all that mattered was physical satisfaction.
He threw his arm lazily over her body and pulled her close once they were done. She welcomed the physical contact. Welcomed the ignorance to the pain inside and forced her eyes closed to pull her into slumber.
Silver eyes stared at her in the darkness. Then they turned to green. Dean's face appeared. Smirking. Grinning. A knife appeared in the dark and Charlotte inched back. "Uh, uh," he said, taunting. "Nowhere to go. Just you and me in here." The knife sliced past and she felt hot liquid begin to drip down her chest.
"Dean," she whined. Tears were in her eyes.
He chuckled and a hand wrapped itself around her throat. She woke. Her body bolted upright and she stared into the darkness of the room. After several seconds she managed to ease the heaving of her chest and was able to turn her eyes to the real Dean next to her. He was still asleep. Snoring. A faint smirk scattered across her features for a brief moment.
Then the hand on her throat was loud in her mind and she swallowed, threw back the covers and got dressed. She had just grabbed her t-shirt when Dean stirred. "Where's the fire?"
"I'm off. Got stuff to do."
His eyes were open and he was frowning at her. "What's up?"
"I'm fine before you ask. I'll call you. And no, I'm not going straight to Bobby's."
"Charlotte, wait," he was getting out of bed and grabbing his boxers. "Let's talk about this."
"I'm fine," she ground out and she threw her shirt on, shoved her feet into her boots and yanked her jacket up into her arms. Dean was stood now and he was grabbing her arm. She jumped at the hold and he let go straight away.
"We're not cool are we?"
"We're fine. I'll call you. Tell Sam I said bye and I'll call him too." And she turned and left. She was out the door, in her car and gone up the road in two minutes. The tears were begging to be let loose and she forced them away, grabbed her phone and dialled Jo's number. "Hey Jo, is it a bad time for me to come drink your supply of alcohol?"
"Charlotte, is everything okay?"
"Yeah, I just, I just need to get away from anybody that knows anything."
"Right," Jo Harvelle let out uncertainly. "Well I'll let Mum know you're on your way."
"Thank you. I appreciate it. I really do."
"Yeah well you can start by telling me what's wrong when you get here." The younger woman didn't leave room for argument. Just hung up. Charlotte sighed and turned onto the highway.
Two hours later she was entering the Roadhouse with a frown. The two women, along with a few dwindling customers yet to leave, were waiting. Jo frowned and Ellen merely pointed to the seat opposite her with a beer waiting. "Talk," Ellen said once she was parked.
