Um, can I just say I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO SO SO SO MUCH! Thank you all a TON for the support. I always say how much it means, and I'm sure you're tired of reading my paragraph long pre-chapter summaries, but I really wanna convey how much all of your reviews, favorites, and follows mean! If anything seems confusing or if you wanna see some cameos or other character appearances, let me know. I'll answer what I can without giving too much away and work certain people into plots where I see fit. Also, suggestions to improve are ALWAYS welcomed. Finally, I'm so glad you guys enjoyed last chapter, since it took FOREVER! This chapter is a little one about the aftermath for Dean and Laura, since well, it's kind of a big deal for them! Let me know what y'all think! Okay, well read away! I'll have the actual action stuff up next chapter, so don't worry! I'll be posting ASAP! :P
Chapter Forty-Four:
Laura's eyes were still shut, yet the bright sunlight seemed to blind her from behind the thin veil of her eyelids. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her groggy eyes and looked out the window. The sky was a wonderful shade of blue with no visible clouds whatsoever, and the brunette couldn't help but think that having such lovely weather on a day like today was, indeed, ironic.
Then, a deep groan game from behind the psychic as a large, muscular arm, marked with a scorched handprint, wrapped itself around her.
In that blissful transition between dreams and reality, Laura had almost forgotten what had happened the last night. With Dean's warm body pressed up against hers, the young woman felt his rhythmic, peaceful breathing and steady heartbeat.
Shifting her body, the brunette turned and looked at the slumbering eldest Winchester. Shaking her head, Laura had no doubts that what they did last night was dumb.
Sure, the alcohol made it seem like a good idea in the moment, especially since they would all most likely be dead within the next 24 hours, but still… in the off chance that they did survive, what would they do? Dean was certainly not a relationship kind of guy. He was a player. She had witnessed him having sex with woman and not thinking anything of it afterwards… so what would make this time so different? Yes, maybe she did feel a connection with him, but Dean probably only thought of her as a piece of ass. Although Laura hoped this wouldn't interfere with their working together, she knew it would.
The only option was to chalk it up to a drunken mistake on both of their parts. This was no time to let a silly little one-night-stand screw with her head. They were hunters and relationships and hunting didn't mix. No, she just needed to pretend it didn't happen, cause Dean certainly would.
How could she have let this happen? Was she really that desperate and lonely to fall for him? But God, as she stared down at Dean, she couldn't help but admire him. He looked so relaxed… innocent even.
Smirking despite herself, Laura sat up, holding the thin covers over her naked body.
Looking around the room, which was decorated with various articles of clothing and undergarments carelessly cast aside, the psychic slowly rose from the bed, taking the sheet with her.
Dean let out a low moan as he rolled back over, his sleep undisturbed, whilst the vulnerable young woman quickly grabbed her clothes and slipped out of the bedroom to shower.
"Why are you so happy?" Sam eyed his oddly cheerful older brother suspiciously.
"Can't I be glad to be alive?" Dean responded, smugly sipping his coffee, replaying last night's events over and over.
"You're drunk still… aren't you?" the youngest Winchester continued to stare.
Shooting his kid brother an annoyed look from his position against the counter, Dean retorted: "Yeah, I'm hammered right before we hit the road to go gank the Devil…"
Nodding his head with a shamefaced expression, Sam surrendered as he continued to load the weapons and supplies into their bag.
"What's he so chipper about?" came Bobby Singer's surly voice as he entered the kitchen.
Looking up from his cup of coffee, Dean cried: "Oh come on!" while his brother sniggered.
Eyeing the eldest Winchester closely, Bobby poured himself a cup of coffee and wheeled himself to the kitchen table beside Sam.
"You boys ready?" Mr. Singer tried to sound as casual as possible, but the air in the room immediately became substantially thicker.
"As ready as we'll ever be," the youngest Winchester responded, forcing a small smile.
"That sounds comforting," Jo sarcastically quipped as she walked into the room with her mother.
"Everyone about ready to head out?" Ellen Harvelle adjusting the heavy bag she had over her right shoulder.
"Waitin' on Cas to finish tunin' into Angel FM," Dean responded.
"Well, we'll be packin' the car then. We got a long drive ahead of us," Mrs. Harvelle excused herself whilst Jo lingered behind.
Glancing at the eldest Winchester, who appeared to be daydreaming, the petite blonde fixed her coffee beside him. After a little while of his taking no notice of her, Jo cleared her throat: "Sleep well?"
Train of thought broken, Dean shifted uncomfortably. Did everyone know?
"Ugh, yeah. Sure. You?" he rushed his response, earning himself a suspicious look from the young woman.
"Fine… considering…" she added, propping herself up on the counter beside the eldest Winchester.
While he nodded morosely, he soon perked up as his attention was diverted to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. In her usual get-up of gray skinny jeans, black boots, a form-fitted white tee, and gray cardigan, the still dripping brunette rushed into the room, bag thrown over her shoulder.
"Sorry," she apologized to the room breathlessly, opening the fridge and grabbing an apple.
"You slept late," Bobby said, looking at the oddly well-rested young woman.
"Yeah, I guess I was more tired than I thought," she bit into the crisp fruit, avoiding Dean's steady gaze.
"Looks like you finally got a good night's sleep, too," Mr. Singer observed, while Jo and Sam's eyes darted between the now awkward psychic and the still staring eldest Winchester.
"Ugh, yeah, I did," she smiled, as she pulled out a travel mug from the cabinet.
"No nightmares?" Sam inquired, still glancing between Laura and his older brother.
"Nope," she responded, and then spoke to both Jo and Dean, "Excuse me."
As both hunters parted, Dean continued to drink his coffee as a small smirk spread across his face.
"Wonder why… did you do something different last night? You know, to de-stress?" the eldest Winchester asked slyly.
Laura continued to fix her coffee whilst everyone stared after her. Putting the cap on, she turned, looked him dead in the face, and replied flatly: "Nothing I can think of."
Making a face, the eldest Winchester turned his attention to the swirls of steam coming from his mug.
With one last look between the brunette and Dean, Jo Harvelle announced she was going to go outside and finish packing the car with her mother.
"Wait up, I gotta pack mine too," Laura announced, grabbing her keys off the counter.
"Whoa, slow your roll," Dean said, ripping the keys out of her delicate hands. "You're ridin' in the Impala."
"What? Why?" she asked with furrowed eyebrows, clearly becoming a bit agitated.
"We're all stickin' together," he responded simply.
Laughing lightly, Laura reached for her keys again, but Dean shoved them into his pocket.
"Nope."
"You're kidding… he's kidding right?" she looked to Bobby, Sam, and Jo.
Jo simply rolled her eyes and stalked out of the house whilst Sam avoided the brunette's irritated looks.
"I think it's a good idea," Bobby spoke tentatively. He knew Laura. He knew that she would hate the idea of being shoved in the back seat of someone else's car. She was a woman of independence and being kept under the Winchester's close watch was definitely not something she would appreciate.
"What's the big deal if I take the Mustang?" she folded her arms in annoyance.
"What if something happens and we all get separated? Me and Dean would be together, so would Jo, Ellen, and Cas, but you'd be left with no one to back you up," Sam explained rationally, zipping up his bag and rising from his chair.
"In case you two have forgotten, I've…" she began to argue some more, but Dean cut her off.
"Been hunting alone for a while… we get it," he said with a tone of boredom. "You're still comin' with us. So either come nicely or I'll throw you over my shoulder and make you. Your choice," he grinned.
Glaring up at him, Laura looked at both Bobby and Sam for assistance one last time. When she realized that no help was going to be given, the pouty brunette huffed and walked towards the door, grabbing her red scarf on the way out.
"She took it well," Dean raised his eyebrows.
Sam chuckled a bit while Bobby wheeled himself out onto the porch.
Examining his brother closely, Sam voiced the question that was nagging him all morning: "What happened last night?"
"What?" the eldest Winchester appeared a bit jumpier than usual. Looking at Sam's expectant face, Dean added: "Nothin'. Why?"
"Oh come on, man. You're smilin' more than a kid on Christmas…"
"No I'm not," he denied it, gathering his things rather than paying attention to his kid brother's annoying stares.
"He does seem rather blithe this morning," Castiel said, entering the kitchen.
Throwing his arms up in exasperation, Dean shook his head: "This is gettin' ridiculous."
Smirking, Sam asked the angel: "Heard anything new?"
"No," Castiel appeared a bit uneasy. "It's quiet."
"Sounds promising," Dean muttered, as he and his brother exchanged nervous glances.
Then, the familiar honk of the Harvelle's station wagon was heard from outside.
"Guess it's time to head out," the eldest Winchester stated the obvious, feeling relieved he avoided his baby brother's interrogation.
Walking out into the chilly morning air, the three men separated. Opening the dew-covered trunk, Dean took the bag from Sam while watching the psychic speaking with a clearly anxious Bobby Singer.
Catching his brother's gaze, Sam decided to keep his mouth shut this time and sat shotgun.
After she embraced the bearded hunter, the brunette pecked him on the cheek and rushed down the porch. Dumping her bag into the trunk, she continued to avoid Dean's intense stares, and as she turned to hop into the back seat, the eldest Winchester spoke.
"You gotta promise me somethin'."
"Dean, we're not having this conversation," she spoke firmly.
"No, you need to hear it. I don't know how crazy it's gonna get today or how fast, so I need your word now," he persisted.
Looking up at his determined and zealous face, Laura knew he was not going to give up, so for the sake of time, she gave in.
"All right, what?" she sighed.
"This thing's probably a trap… and ugh, if this goes south… well… I want you to get out," his green eyes probed hers.
"Dean, I'm not gonna leave you guys behind if shit hits…" Laura began to fight him.
"No. When I tell you to run, run," he cut her off. "You take the Impala and get out of there without lookin' back. Understand me?" the eldest Winchester's tone was firm, but the look he was giving her was almost beseeching.
Gazing up at him, she couldn't understand why, after all this time he still felt the need to treat her like some unprepared civilian that needed protection. They were taking on the Devil, for God's sakes! Laura was growing stronger with each passing day. They needed her, and if Dean thought she would just run away, he was seriously mistaken.
"Promise me, Laura," he demanded, never breaking eye contact with the brunette as he slammed the trunk shut.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she hoped her words would pacify him enough to let it alone.
Gazing down at her rosy cheeks from the chilly early morning air, Dean smirked weakly: "All right. Now let's go gank this son of bitch."
Returning his faint grin, Laura nodded her head, tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and hopped into the Impala.
Staring back at the South Dakota home, the '67 Chevy rumbled as Dean turned the ignition off. Waving one last time at Bobby from the back window, Laura's stomach knotted as the black muscle car pulled down the driveway. This was it. This was moment they had been waiting for. Now all that was left to do was to actually kill the Devil. How hard could that be, right?
