Sam and Becky giggle with each other sitting in the fold up chairs that are normally used as pews. It sickens you. The giggling, not the makeshift pews. Becky is that crazed fan you met at the convention all those years ago. She creeped you out then, and with that wedding band on her finger, she creeps you out a million times more. Dean is fuming and his thoughts are spiraling.
"Shouldn't she ask my permission or something?" Dean says waving his hand around for good measure.
Sam chuckles, holding his wife's hands. "You want her to ask for my hand?"
"How in the-" Dean starts.
You send him peaceful thoughts of sitting in the Impala, eating hamburgers, having vigorous sex. He stops midsentence and glances at you. You keep your eyes on Sam, trying to look oblivious. He shakes his head and continues in a lighter tone.
"How did this happen?"
Sam smiles still giddy from being married. "Short version? We met, we ate, and…and talked and fell in love. And you know, here we are."
Your eyes grow wide. Hours ago, you were contemplating having hardcore sex in the desert with this tall lug. Now he's head over heels for the borderline stalker? You groan and rub your temples. A headache is threatening your mind. This doesn't add up.
"Yeah, I guess I'm all caught up," Dean laughs nervously. "That's okay. You know what? Ignoring everything…have you forgotten the average life-span of your hookups?"
You laugh. "I'm right here."
All three of them look at you. Dean is pissed that you brought it up, and that you are disproving his point. Becky is staring daggers at you hoping you get hit by a truck the moment you walk out the door. Sam smirks lightheartedly and laughs.
"Yeah, but-" Sam starts.
His wife interjects. "But if anyone knows that, it's me! I mean, I read every book. So, open eyes, you know?" She looks at Sam. "Open eyes."
"I'm going to be sick," both you and Dean say simultaneously.
"Dean, look it's simple," Sam explains still being high off the moment. "If something goods happening, I got to jump on it now, today, period."
"Okay, Dead Poets Society," Dean says sarcastically, "Fine. No offense, but did you even make sure she's really-"
Still holding onto Sam's hand, Becky sits up straighter and nods. "Salt, holy water, everything. See?" She holds out her arm where Sam must have scraped her with iron. "Not a monster. Just the right girl for your brother."
You laugh, loudly. Almost obnoxiously loud. She cannot be serious!
"That's it," she says ignoring you.
A priest comes in with the bill and Becky snatches it saying she'll take care of it. She scurries out with the man to discuss how to pay for this sham of a marriage. There's no way this is legit. Something is going on with Sammy. Dean glares at Becky until she's out of sight. Sam stands up and stares at the both of you with a huge smile. The guys start arguing whether or not this marriage can be the real deal. Well, Dean is arguing, Sam is just sort of relaxed. Too relaxed.
"Dean, you're paranoid," Sam says still calm as can be.
"And you're in love?" Dean shrieks.
The word makes your heart skip for some reason. You can't tell if it's because you haven't heard Dean say love in a long time or because Sam might actually be in love…and not with you. You blank out everything that the boys say until Sam mentions that he and Becky are going to Delaware for the honeymoon. It makes your stomach turn thinking about her touching him.
You and Dean walk out to the car together as he dials Bobby's number. Dean leaves a message because you both know that Bobby is fighting off some vamps in Oregon, filling him in on Sam's wedding and that you both will be in Delaware trying to figure this out. You fall asleep quickly and don't budge until Dean stops in Delaware. You sit up and stretch. You see a car that says "just married" across the back. Well, at least they are easy to spot. Dean rolls his eyes and parks the car.
"Stay here," he says rather rudely.
"Get me something to drink, babe," you meant to say it sarcastically, but your voice crackles from being sleepy.
He whips his head at you and raises an eyebrow. "Babe?"
You blush. "Yeah," you try to go along with the sleepy voice. "Be quick, my Deanie Weenie."
SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. His eyes look like they are going to pop out of his head. You mind is spinning, but you just shut your eyes and act like you are half asleep. He is speechless, and haphazardly escapes the car. When he goes inside the bar, you groan loudly. Deanie Weenie? Oh, Lord. This is bad.
Dean comes out about twenty minutes later, carrying a newspaper and a beer. You pretend to be sleeping still, waiting for him to open the door. When you hear the door shut as he slides in, you pretend to wake up. He hands you the beer and newspaper without looking at you.
"Thanks," you say groggily.
"No problem…Katie." He is trying to be playful and it forces a smile on your face.
"Katie?" you ask innocently.
He laughs. "You called me Deanie Weenie."
"I did not," you sit up. "I said thanks."
"No," he shakes his head. "Before I went in. You must have been half asleep."
"Doesn't sound like something I'd say," you skim the newspaper.
He starts the car. "Yeah, okay. Does Doctor Fuck-Me ring a bell?"
You bust out laughing. How did you forget about that? At least that one was an honest mistake. You hear him laughing with you and your heart beats faster. You missed that. Once you both are calm and on the road, you ask where he's taking you.
"To a motel," he nods to the music playing. "I'm extremely tired and need to get some beauty sleep before I look like you."
You slowly turn your head, faking offense. "Excuse you? I slept like a fucking queen."
"And what does that say about you?" he smiles so wide you see his crow's-feet in the corners of his eyes.
"It says that I'm in love with an asshole," you laugh and look out the window.
Suddenly, the car is silent. You look at him and instinctively move closer to your door. He looks concerned and a little nervous. What did you say? You give him a confused look and then understand what happened. It felt so natural to say love with Dean that you didn't even realize you said it. He stops at a red light and turns his attention back on the road. You want to know what he's thinking, but he did tell you to stay out of his mind. Ugh, you hear his thoughts anyway. All he's thinking is "fuck" over and over. Well, you ruined life. Good going. Game over.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. "Force of habit."
"It's been over a year…" his voice is calmer than his thoughts.
"That's the thing. For me, it hasn't been a year." You look at your hands. "I feel like it's been a few days since I was sleeping my bed with you."
The car parks in front of the motel lobby. He sits there with you for a moment trying to think of the right thing to say. He understands how you feel, but he's not sure if he feels the same anymore. It breaks your heart. Dean gives up and goes inside to get a room. You pull out your phone and immediately attempt to text Sammy, but then you remember. He's not your Sammy anymore. Maybe that's even better though. You quickly send a text saying, "I accidentally told Dean that I love him. Not sure what to do." You add in, "Hope you and the wifey are doing good. Sorry to interfere with the honeymoon," just in case Becky decides she needs to read it too.
Dean gets back in the car and pulls around the side of the building. You grab your bags and follow him to the room. He locks the door behind you both and throws his bag on the bed. You place yours on the other bed and sit down. He lies back on his bed and closes his eyes. His mind is filled with thoughts about you. He's remembering things about the both of you and it's like a slideshow in your head.
When he first saw you, he thought you were beautiful, and not like the girls at the bar either. He could tell that you were more than a pretty face and someone he wanted to have sex with. It scared him. When he proposed to you in the bar to make you feel better about your old partner getting hitched, Dean was scared then too. He never proposed to someone before and that was a big deal to him even though it was fake. And the second time he proposed to you in the park, he was even more nervous because he actually knew you then. He remembers watching you sleep, holding your hand with his ring on it, rubbing his thumb across the metal band as you slept. Your laugh is like every song he has ever loved. You make him feel safe, loved, happy, and not alone. Losing you broke him. Losing you twice almost killed him. And this last time he almost drove the Impala off a bridge, but couldn't do it. He's scared now.
That's why he's been a dick lately. He's afraid to lose you again. A tear falls onto your lap as you silently cry, watching his memories of you. When he saw you at that museum a few days ago, all he wanted to do was kiss you, hold you, and apologize even though he didn't have anything to apologize for. You quickly run to the bathroom and slam the door behind you. This is too much to take in. He doesn't hate you. He doesn't care what you are. He's in love with you. You turn the bathtub water on to drown out the noise of your crying. You have to tell him that you can't be together. This is like when he was going to say yes to Michael and he wouldn't let you stay. Your powers will become stronger, and possibly tear apart everything near to you.
Dean knocks on the door. "Kate, are you okay?"
You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. "Yeah, all good."
"Before you get in the bath, can I use the bathroom?"
You can tell by his voice that he just wants to make sure you are okay. He doesn't have to use the bathroom. If you open that door, he will see that you are upset. He will hug you. And you will want to kiss him. For his sake, you can't do that. You quickly strip and silently get into the running bath water and pull the curtain across.
"I'm already in, but you can use the toilet if you have to," you say over the running water. "It's not locked."
The door opens and you immediately are in his head. He is debating whether or not to open the curtains or sit on the toilet to talk to you. Honestly, you'd love to have his company, but that could lead to other things. You hear the seat get put up and him start peeing. Well, a part of him had to go. You shut the water off as he's going.
"Did you want to hear me piss?" he tries being lighthearted.
You laugh. "It's one of my kinks."
He flushes the toilet and zips his pants up. "I'll remember that."
"And why is that? It's not like we are ever going to get back together…"
He clears his throat. "Well, yeah. I just…you ruined the moment."
"Because your piss was a lovely moment to begin with?" you joke.
He laughs. "Hey," he gets a little serious. "Can I ask you something?"
You try not to move or breathe too much. "Anything."
The room is silent and it burns your ears. There have been too many awkward silences with him. You move the curtain so that you can see if he is still in the room, but you keep your body covered. His eyes meet yours. His face goes from concentrated on his thoughts to worried about you.
"Were you crying?"
Shit.