Dean closed his eyes against the sight of watching McKenna slowly drag herself out of the car. She hadn't said a word since she'd gotten off the phone with the doctor. She hadn't even said goodbye to him when she'd hung up the phone and turned off the speakerphone. She'd simply slipped the cell back into her pocket and climbed into the car.
And this time, she drove.
Dean could still hear the doctor's last words:
"McKenna, I've been watching the samples from your last blood tests and the cancer's spreading much faster than we thought it would. I'm sorry…but you only have four to six weeks left to live…Maybe even less."
Maybe even less…
That was one month, maybe. One and a half, if she was really lucky.
None of them had noticed any great deterioration in Kenna's health. After the first initial side effects from her daily treatment had subsided, she'd been able to eat well and stay active.
Or at least as active as Sam, Dean, and Bobby would allow, anyway.
But they had all forgotten one thing: the treatment was only promised to make her comfortable. It was never meant to heal her. It was never meant to be a cure. The doctor had said that time and time again, but somehow, they had all forgotten that.
Even Kenna.
She had been doing so well. Feeling so…okay that half the time she forgot she even had cancer. Except for the one night when Dean was hurt and she'd gone too long without one of her shots, she hadn't even really felt sick.
But now…
McKenna glanced at the clock on the wall when she entered the foyer at Bobby's house. She was due for another shot and Sam was already waiting for her in the living room.
"Hey, Kenna," he said, smiling. "How'd the—"
Sam didn't even get a chance to finish as Kenna brushed passed him and headed upstairs to her room. She didn't even bother to look at him.
"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked as his brother entered the house. "What's wrong with Kenna?"
At the mention of the words "Dean", "wrong", and "Kenna", Bobby wheeled himself into the foyer and right over to Dean.
"What the hell's goin' on out here?" he demanded. Upstairs, Kenna's door slammed shut and Bobby looked up at Dean. "Boy, if you broke her heart, I swear I'll break your legs!"
Bobby was already backing up and preparing to ram his wheelchair directly into Dean's knees when he finally managed to speak up. "Bobby, wait! No, Kenna just got a call from her doctor. He says the cancer's spreading and she's only get four to six weeks left to live."
The elderly hunter instantly stilled. His hands trembled as he brought one up to cover his face.
"Maybe even less," Dean added quickly, though he didn't even know why.
"No," Bobby whispered. "My little girl…"
Sam looked at Dean, his eyes already filling up with unshed tears. He suddenly turned his back, went into the living room, and came back with Kenna's treatment kit. His foot was already on the bottom step, ready to go upstairs and administer the drug, when Dean reached out and stopped him.
"Sam," he whispered. "Can you…" Dean's chin trembled and he swiped a quivering hand down his face. "Can you let me do it, please?"
Sam looked down at Dean's outstretched hand for a long moment, hesitating to give up the syringe. This was his thing. His one, personal connection with Kenna. Dean had her heart, yes…But Sam had her health.
And friendship.
He finally looked up and gazed deep, into his older brother's eyes. They were shiny…and desperate. His shoulders dropped in defeat as he gently placed the syringe in Dean's hand and quickly reminded him how to administer the medication. Dean thanked his brother with a simple pat on the arm and headed upstairs to Kenna's room.
He found her alone, sitting up on the wide windowsill, her knees pulled up to her chest. He reached up and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with a smirk. One of the only things that were really noticeable about Kenna's illness was how cold she always was, and right now she must've had the heat in her room cranked up as high as it would go.
Dean closed the door behind him and slowly crossed the room, shedding his jacket and flannel shirt as he went. It was so warm, he would've taken off is t-shirt too if he didn't think it would freak her out.
The window was high, nearly coming up to his chest, and he couldn't help but wonder how Kenna had managed to climb onto it in the first place.
He looked out the window, following her gaze, and saw a waning billow of smoke still rising from the woods a few miles away.
McKenna finally looked away from the window and looked down at Dean. Her eyes slid over his and settled on the tiny bump beneath his t-shirt. Her hand went there and her fingers gently skidded over the cotton-covered gauze, her gaze silently asking how his stitches were.
"I'm okay," he whispered, and began to tie the tourniquet around her upper arm. He opened the little kit that Sam had given him and swiped an alcohol wipe over her the inside of her elbow. He then collected the amber liquid from the tiny vial, tapped the syringe, and inserted the needle into her vein.
Kenna grit her teeth, closed her eyes, and hissed. One small tear slid past her lashes, and for a moment, Dean wondered if he might shed a few as well. He could easily understand how she could never do this, herself, but he could never understand how Sam was able to do it for her.
Clearly, his little brother's desire to help Kenna feel better overrode his guilt about hurting her. And for that, he had Dean's utmost respect.
Only when the medication had been administered and Dean was properly discarding the used syringe the way Sam had told him to, did McKenna finally speak.
"I feel like I'm in mourning," she said, tearfully and speared her fingers through her thick hair, pushing it back, away from her face.
Dean knew the answer, but he asked the question, anyway. "For what?"
She looked down at him and watched as he finished cleaning up. "It's stupid," she whispered.
"Why?" Dean questioned, knowing she wouldn't be able to actually say what she was talking about. But he knew.
The baby.
"It's stupid, Dean," she said, again. "I mean…how can I miss something I never even had?" She sniffed and wiped away a wayward tear. "Something I might not have had at all. Heck, I don't even know yet…"
Dean looked up and watched as Kenna reached down and subconsciously ran her fingers over her stomach… Before he could stop himself, he was walking towards her, needing to get to her as fast as he possibly could.
Kenna looked up at him, knowing right away what he was going to do. Her chin trembled and tears streamed down her face. She watched his eyes settle on her quivering mouth.
"Please, don't kiss me. Please, don't kiss me. Please, don't kiss me…" she was begging, but her lips were already parting and her face was tilting up towards his.
"Please don't ki—"
Dean silenced her hollow request and his lips finally clung to hers.
Kenna's hands clung to his shoulders, hurting him at first, but then they only pulled him closer. Eventually, one even went up to his chin to hold him there. Her lips moved against his, parted slightly, and so did Dean's, but he never pushed it any further than the way they were currently adhering together.
His hands went up and gently cupped the sides of her face as he continued to kiss her. Never in his whole life had he experienced something so sweet, so whole. It was a kiss that completely overwhelmed him in its sensual nature, yet his mind never left the moment, never even came close to thinking about the bed that was so close by.
Kenna whimpered against Dean's lips, wishing that she'd never allowed this to happen, but hoping that it would never come to end. But like all good things, it had to.
Dean slowly pulled back and rested his forehead against Kenna's. She let out a long, heavy, tearful sigh. "I hate you…"
Dean smiled. "No, you don't."
Kenna laughed through her tears and gazed up at Dean. For a long moment, neither one of them said anything. But eventually, Kenna finally broke the silence.
"What do we do now?"
Her question was an open one, yet it didn't have very many answers. She was a woman living on borrowed time, and they both knew it. When Dean answered, it was mostly a lie.
And they both knew it…But somehow, neither one of them cared.
"Whatever we want, babe," he finally said, smiling. "Whatever we want."
-AAAAHHHH! That was THE hardest thing to write...EVER! I've NEVER written a kiss scene before, so I have no idea how this came out. PLEASE review!
