A/N: This chapter has ended up going in a totally different direction than I originally intended (hence the change in the number of projected chapters for this series). I would love to hear your responses as always!
TW: Description of a panic attack in beginning, and consensual physical banter at the end which may trigger SA survivors.
"
I could have been your pillar, could have been your door
I could have stayed beside you, could have stayed for more
I could have been your statue, could have been your friend
A whole long lifetime could have been the end
"
After the incident, Dawn storms out of the building – fists bunched, shoulders tight, a face of stone. She does not see the brothers that night, instead asking for a food delivery via her angel captors.
Sitting on the floor of her kitchenette, mindlessly spooning rice into her mouth, shame begins to freeze her stomach. Her throat constricts while she swallows. Her eyes start to sting, but Dawn cannot tell if it is from choking or from the pain of realising the gravity of her actions.
I hit Dean. I lashed out at Dean. Dean is my friend.
Was your friend.
Was. I've made sure to screw that up royally.
It's been a lost cause from the beginning. What's been most surprising, and disappointing, is your own ignorance and stupid hope.
Why did I do it?
Because you're no good for anyone. You deserve to be alone. You're a bomb waiting to go off. A worthless, violent, waste of–
Dawn elbows the cabinet behind her, an ache shooting up her arm. It interrupts her spiralling thoughts, but the shame lingers.
Her knuckles sting, the middle bruised red and swelling where it crumpled sheet metal, and where it smacked across Dean's face.
She brings her knees up to her nose, breathing in deeply and letting out a guttural scream barely deadened. A distant shuffle is audible, reminding her the window is open and there are angels about.
Suddenly, she craves privacy, her chest ripping apart with the frustration at being cornered. She could leave, but where would she go?
All at once she feels so small, her insecurities screaming in her head, concentrated within a tiny being. She feels hot, she feels sweaty, but it is freezing outside. She can hardly breathe.
Dawn stands abruptly and throws the bowl of food across the room with a yell. Rice and beans spray in its trajectory, smacking off the door and falling silently on the carpeted floor. She watches where the fork careens… and jumps with a fright.
Castiel has materialised in the room.
Clutching her heaving chest, legs shaking from shock, Dawn huffs; "Fucking hell. Please, for the love of God, Castiel, I really need you to knock…"
Her throats is thick, a sob erupting unexpectedly. A warm trail drips down her cheek from escaping tears. She had been so preoccupied with silencing her mind she had not noticed she was ready to cry.
She steps back, leaning on the kitchen sink, clutching the bench. She breathes in shakily, holds it.
"I… I came to…" Castiel is taking in the scene incredulously. "Your hand, I assumed it would need healing…"
The shame burns in her stomach, harsher now with the added embarrassment of being observed. She feels like a child throwing a tantrum, the angel a parent coming to scold her.
"I'm sorry, I'll clean it up." She manages, trying to repress more sobs, cringing at how petulant she sounds. Cringing at how small the problem seems in the grand scheme of things. Cringing at the bright lights, the chilling air on her neck. "Oh god…"
She drops her head into her hands, totally overwhelmed. Silent sobs erupt and heave her shoulders. The more she tries to stop them, the harder the heaves come, so she stops trying.
They start to slow.
She takes her hands away from her face, the light of the room blurring her vision. She feels a weight on her shoulder, strangely comforting.
She turns to see Castiel's blue eyes surveying her with concern. "Is everything okay, Dawn?"
"Yeah, I'm f-" Cut off by the hiccup of a final sob. "-Fine."
He takes his hand off her shoulder. "I don't believe you."
He looks at her expectantly, but her focus is elsewhere, ahead of her. Dazed and disconnected, the shame simmering now instead of bubbling over.
Castiel frowns and lifts her swollen hand gingerly. His touch snaps her attention to him, as if she momentarily forgot he was in the room.
"Wh-" It is an effort to form the simplest of sounds, so she immediately surrenders and relaxes her wrist. She feels the warmth of his healing light wash over her throbbing knuckles, pain ebbing away.
She smiles a little, the scene reminiscent of the night she was attacked. That time, though, her hand was cut because of someone else's actions…
"I'm sorry," she finds herself whispering.
Castiel lets go of her hand – good as new. "Why are you apologising?"
"I was just an idiot before," she rubs her face to remove any stray tears. "I couldn't control myself. And now you've had to come here to fix my own mistake."
"I didn't have to," he squints at her, surveying for any other areas that require healing. "But I assumed you may be distraught after Dean explained the incident, and that you would therefore require assistance."
She smiles weakly. "Am I that predictable?"
"There tends to be a pattern to your behaviour, yes."
She sighs.
"It's the same for most humans, don't worry." He steps away, satisfied that, physically, she appears healthy.
"How's Dean?"
"As dismissive and foolhardy as ever."
Dawn smiles at the hint of fondness in Castiel's tone. "He still willing to be trained by me?"
"He doesn't have a choice, but yes. I believe so."
She looks at her hands, thoughts of tomorrow whirring in her mind.
Castiel tilts his head, concern lining his face. "For what it's worth, although I don't have the details of the situation, I don't believe you would act like this unjustly. I'm sure Dean provoked you in such a way-"
"Thanks, Castiel, I appreciate you making excuses for me, but this is something I need to learn to control." She speaks quietly, turning to look at him. "I know you're up to your eyes in problems on a celestial scale, what with Inias doing your chores for you. You're a busy angel."
Not missing the resentment in her tone, he looks at her with an intensity that averts her eye. "It is… regrettable."
She chooses to ignore the sound of genuine remorse in his voice, staring hard at her feet.
After a moment, he asks, "Is there anything more I can do for you?"
She follows his eye to the mess of food on the carpet. "I can deal with that…" Her voice is odd – distant and gentle. "But I wouldn't mind you taking me back to simpler times. Before all of this Armageddon business… Before the Pit, and the war and-"
"I can't-"
"Just a figure of speech." There is a finality in her tone.
In her periphery, he hesitates – then nods and disappears.
The silence that follows is oppressive. Leftover white noise from her panic attack rings in her skull.
Simpler times.
10th June, 2001 – Vancouver, Washington (Washington State University Campus)
Dawn's eyes darted from the book in front of her to the watch on her wrist as it inched closer to 1pm. Her eyes were heavy after several hours of squinting at the tiny text in yet another of a series of massive almanacs her professor had lent her for research.
It did not help that Regina's chair leg was squeaking as she rocked it back and forth.
"Dude, I'm starving." Regina clutched dramatically at her stomach. "Let's bounce?"
"Just lemme finish this sentence…" Dawn chewed on her pen lid.
Regina smirked, slipping her hand under the front cover of the volume, and flicking it up so it fell shut with a thump.
"What the fuck, Reggie?!" Dawn punched her playfully in the shoulder. "Bitch."
"Oh, snap! So, food…. Now?" She mocked praying hands at Dawn as she stood up to leave. "Come on, the others will already be there, you know that."
Regina had a strawberry blonde bob that sat in delicate waves. She had a huge smile she flashed at Dawn now, making her hazel eyes shine mischievously at her roommate.
"I'll meet you there, just give me five seconds." Dawn, grinning, started to gather her things. "Oh, and give Bev a kiss from me."
Regina winked at her. "Don't have to tell me twice."
She was right – the others were already there. A young man with a mop of dark hair and square-framed glasses sat opposite a pale woman with feathered bangs and long, brown hair, smudged eyeliner accentuating her grey-blue eyes. The table was one of many long, wooden seats in the student common area.
Regina bent down to give the woman, Beverly, a kiss on the cheek.
"That's from Dawn, and this-" She pecked her lips. "-is from me."
"Yuck, guys." The young man, Quentin, rolled his eyes. He had a posh English accent.
"Take a chill pill." She barked back.
"I do hate it when you do that." Beverly spoke with a quiet, husky voice and a lisp. "You know how I feel about P-D-A."
Regina smirked and grabbed a stray fry from a basket in front of her. "There's no one around, it's fine."
Quentin grimaced. "Don't I count?"
Dawn trudged her way over from the entrance and dropped with a thud next to Quentin. "'Sup, Q, what's the 411?"
"Same old. Study is absolutely whipping my bum."
"Reg and I were going to have a study sesh at ours later if you wanna join?" She grabbed a chip of her own.
"Well… I might. It depends." He smirked.
"Depends on what?" Reggie eyed him suspiciously.
"He's got a date." Bev supplied.
"As if!" Dawn kicked him under the table. "Who's the lucky guy?"
Q shrugged. "That's for me to know and you to find out. I'm not spilling any details."
"How on earth did you find someone who's 'out' in this place is what I'm wondering…" Bev shook her head incredulously.
He nodded. "Well, yes, that is the problem… He's not technically 'out' yet."
Reggie sighed. "Poor bastard."
"Well, just pop on over afterwards if you feel like it." Dawn beamed at Q who smiled shyly back. "I'm gonna want all the juicy details!"
Bev looked pointedly behind them as some freshman walked in.
"I'm gonna get some nosh." Reggie announced. "Coming, Dawn?"
"No, duh." She stood, fishing for cash in her back pocket. "You guys want anything?"
"I think we could do with a fill up." Q gestured to the empty chip basket.
Dawn wakes groggy, a fitful sleep weighing down her eyeballs. It had been so deliciously easy to sink into nostalgic reverie, she had not noticed that she had fallen asleep. The memory of forgotten friendships pumps an ache through her chest, the distant pining for youth and academics… All that encapsulated 'simpler times'.
Not that they seemed that way in the moment.
As she pats dry the red nest of her hair, she maintains eye contact with herself in the fogging mirror. The shame remains from earlier, but it is a whisper tugging on her heart now compared to the beast it had been, eating her alive.
She is resolute, replaying different ways to apologise to Dean in her mind as she makes herself presentable for the day ahead.
She rinses a glass in the kitchenette, and a thought strikes her as her stomach rumbles.
"Casti- or, uh, maybe Inias actually?" She turns so she can see the whole room to avoid being shocked by unexpected drop-ins. "It's not an emergency."
A flap of wings accompanies the arrival of Inias.
"Hey, I need money." She states.
He raises an eyebrow. "For?"
"Food, dumbass," she rolls her eyes. "Nothing's free in this climate."
"Right. I'll see what I can do." He is bristled by her insolence. "For the time being, I believe the Winchesters are in the diner."
The thought of seeing Dean, despite her rehearsed apology, chills Dawn's stomach slightly.
"Right, thanks."
"Is that all?" Inias speaks in that angelic, bored tone.
She nods, and he is gone.
By the time Dawn reaches the diner, Sam has already left. Dean sits in a brooding silence when she joins him.
She cannot look him in the eye, instead awkwardly twiddling her thumbs. Her stomach grumbling becomes too loud to ignore.
"Sorry to ask, but they still haven't hooked me up with any cash…" She tries to keep a distance in her voice. "And I don't have any food in my room."
Dean fishes in his wallet for a note. "It's no problem."
"Thanks, Dean." She scrapes her chair back. "You want anything?"
"I could do with a fill up." He taps his empty coffee mug.
"Sure thing."
He catches her eye and smiles at her. She cannot help but smile back.
It was a bit of a walk from the student common area to the cafeteria, but it was a pleasant day. Dawn revelled in the fresh air after being hunched over in the library breathing in dust from old manuscripts.
"Q's man is oh-so-mysterious." Reggie was a sucker for gossip.
"Let's hope he has more luck with this guy than the last." Dawn kicked at a stray leaf on the path.
"It's not like he has many options. He probably feels like he has to grab onto whoever says he's available." She smiled as a group of students passed them.
"Easy for you to say, Reg. You and Bev seem like you're set for life."
Reggie pretended to shiver. "Oh god, don't even go there. If Bev hears you talking about long-term shit, she'll run for the hills!"
They giggled at each other.
"Hi, ladies," a gruff, male voice halted their conversation.
They turned to see two men, one with short, spiked hair in an over-sized leather jacket, and the other taller, younger, with a loose bowl-cut.
The younger guy avoided their eye, looking around at the campus. Leather jacket was more direct with his eye contact, smirking as he looked at them up and down.
Dawn regretted wearing a mid-drift.
"Sorry to interrupt your day, but we were hoping to ask you a couple of questions."
Dawn flicks Dean his change off her thumb as she sits. He catches the coins instinctively, his daydreaming shattered.
They share a smile again, making eye contact for half-a-second too long and looking away from each other at the same time.
"Dean-"
"Dawn-"
They laugh at each other, going to speak at the same time.
"I just wanted to-"
"About yesterday-"
They cringe at each other.
"You go." Dawn offers him the coffee pot.
"Thanks," he acquiesces. "Yeah, about yesterday… I was being kind of a dick."
"Since when does Dean Winchester admit he's wrong?" She teases.
He shrugs, avoiding her eye.
"Thank you. I wanted to say sorry too. I shouldn't have lost my cool like that…" She looks at her hands.
"It's okay. I was kind of asking for it."
They smile at each other.
A comfortable silence settles between them.
Dean laughs at something he is thinking about when Dawn's food arrives.
"Remember when we used to fight without trying to kill each other?"
"Simpler times, right?" She shovels egg into her mouth.
"No shit."
"I'm Dean Strummer, this is Sam Jones, we're reporters for the local paper." Dean flashed a grin at Dawn. "We're interviewing people about the recent deaths on campus."
"You guys are reporters?" Regina shook her head at Sam. "What are you, eighteen?"
"Interns." Sam supplied.
"Getting the door knocker privileges?" Dawn enquired, crossing her arms over her stomach self-consciously.
"The what now?" Dean asked.
Sam elbowed him. "Yeah, just sucks, but somebody's gotta do it."
Dawn eyed Dean suspiciously. "You don't know the term? As in, following up with families and loved ones after deaths or traumatic events?"
"Yeah, right," He rolled his eyes. "I guess I fell asleep in my journo-vocab class."
"Yeah. Right." Her frown deepened.
"What do you know about the deaths?" Dean's voice faltered a little at her cold stare. The charming smile and boyish persona he continued to maintain only increased her distrust of him.
"Just that they were professors." Reggie supplied, friendlier than her roommate. "Died in their offices. Dedicated to the cause I guess."
"The cause?" Sam asked.
"You know, or," Reggie grinned. "I guess you don't yet. But with academics, if you get swallowed up in it, it kinda becomes your life."
Sam nodded. "Right."
"Dawn and I are post grads, we know all about it." She nudged her, but Dawn's rigid posture did not budge.
"What are you studying?" Sam tried.
"Physics." Reggie smiled.
"Anthro." Dawn said.
"Wait, post-grad?" Dean grinned. "How old are you guys? If you don't mind me asking."
"Does this have anything to do with your article?" Dawn asked.
She felt Reggie's hand on her arm. "Dude, chill. I'm twenty-six and Dawn is twenty-five. The professors were from the biology department and nursing so we didn't know them. Our friends do computer science, and fine arts so we have no contact with that side of the campus."
"And philosophy." Dawn interrupted.
Reggie pursed her lips. "Oh, yeah. And philosophy."
"Could you point me in the direction of some of the buildings that these deaths occurred in?" Sam's smile seemed genuine compared to his brother's. Reggie grinned back.
"Sure thing!"
Dawn made to follow her friend, but Dean halted her with a hand on her shoulder. "Just a second, I have to ask some more routine questions.
She rolled her eyes as Reggie rounded a corner with Sam. She shrugged his hand off her. "Fine."
"Do you have a problem with authority?" He asked the question with a grin.
"Excuse me?"
"You just seem very reluctant to help us out."
She could not help but laugh. "I'm more caught up on the idea that you're a figure of 'authority'. How old are you if you don't mind me asking?"
He shrugged. "How long is a piece of strong?"
"Dude, get bent." She made to leave. "Whatever happened to quid pro quo…"
"I'm twenty-two."
"Gnarly." She raised an eyebrow expectantly. "And why did you decide to ask Reg and I the questions?"
"'Cause you're cute." He chuckled endearingly.
"That's what I thought. You think you're all that. But those professors died really horribly – it pisses me off seeing you flaunt their death as a way to pick up chicks."
"Hey, I care!" He said, unconvincingly. "I just gotta do my job, too."
"Whatever."
"So – did you notice anything strange going on around the time of the deaths?"
"Strange how?"
He sighed, figuring it was best to get the weird stuff over with quickly. "Like, people acting out of the ordinary? Weird rumours going around?"
She frowned. "Uh, no?"
"You ever feel any cold spots on campus? Maybe lights flickering? Smell anything weird, like rotten eggs?"
"…No?" She looked at him incredulously, more and more taken aback with each question. "These are some whacked routine questions."
"Thanks for humouring me."
"What did you say the name of the paper is?" She let her hands drop by her sides.
"Uh… Washington Times."
"Right. I guess we'll look out for the article." She turned to leave.
"Can I mention how your hair really 'fires up' in the sun?" He winked at her.
She scoffed. "If that's the best you can come up with, I'm not surprised you're still an intern."
"How about, 'ringlets of amber melting down your face'?" He seemed proud of himself.
"You're so full of shit, dude." She was relieved as she caught sight of Sam and Reggie walking back towards them. "Listen, we've got places to be, so…"
"Right. Well, if you hear anything or you think of anything else, let me know." He handed her a slip of paper with a phone number on it. "Or if you just wanna chat. I'm new to the area and will be sticking around for a few days."
She pocketed the number with a hint of disgust. "Dope."
Dean gave her a final wink before turning to meet up with his brother.
"Keep it real, Sam!" Reggie called after them. "What a cool kid."
"Sounds like you got the better one."
They started on their walk again.
"He wants to go to college, was asking me all these questions about Washington State."
"Yeah. Reg, I don't think they were journo interns."
"Doesn't really add up, does it?" She chuckled. "Did I see him give you his number?"
"Yeah, what a jerk." She laughed despite herself.
"You gonna call?"
"No way, I've got Pete to worry about."
"Oh yeah, right." Reggie's voice hardened and she rolled her eyes. Dawn did not notice.
"And besides, you should have heard some of the bizarro questions he was asking!"
"Sam was pretty evasive himself. Was asking about the personal lives of the victims, as if I'd know anything."
"God, I need a coffee…" Dawn massaged her temples as they neared the cafeteria entrance.
Dean gulps as he faces himself in the training clothes again, hoping it he will get used to it quickly this time.
Dawn stretches, hugging her torso to her legs and then straightening only to keel into a bend back. She lifts her legs, pushing herself into a full handstand.
"You're just showing off at this point." He cannot help but sound impressed.
"Gotta make sure I still got it." She grins at him, face red as the blood rushes into her cheeks. She falls gracefully back onto her feet. "Do you remember what we did yesterday?"
"I may need a refresher," he admits, walking onto the mat with her. "I wasn't really in the best mindset."
She shrugs. "Show me your stance."
He obeys, shuffling his feet shoulder width apart and then moving one back a little. He brings his hands up around his face.
"And show me a jab and hook." She scrutinises his movement.
He punches forward and the swings around with his other hand.
"Yeah, that's fine," she approaches him. "Just need to bring this closer to you."
He does not even hesitate when she moves his elbow closer to his ribs. She experiments by changing the position of his fist slightly, and still, he obeys without fussing.
"Excellent, let's move onto something new."
The day goes smoothly this time with Dean listening attentively to Dawn's instruction, and her patience remaining intact. They train for several hours, not registering them as they roll by.
The switch from morning to afternoon does not show in the fluorescent-lit space. It is only when Dean's stomach growls loudly after a snap kick that they pause.
The switch from afternoon to night and the decision to stop for the day occurs similarly.
As they leave the building, Dawn punches Dean playfully in his arm.
"Isn't it so much easier when you actually listen to me?"
"I just didn't want to get punched so hard I saw stars again." He admitted, rubbing his arm.
She smiles at his acknowledgement of her strength.
They cross the various gravel tracks behind the building, nearing the Winchester's motel room.
"So, meet you at the diner same time tomorrow?" Dean asks, fishing his key from his pocket.
"Sounds like a plan." She smiles.
Dawn was not paying attention to the anxiety of excitement she felt whenever she found herself en route to the diner in the mornings. She was not acknowledging how, whenever she made Dean smile, it felt like a win, nor the fact that it made her smile too. She was not paying attention to the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or how his teeth seemed inexplicably pearly for someone that ate such bad food and drunk so much coffee.
She was certainly not enjoying, nor did she spend any time ruminating, on the fact that he trusted her to shift him into the right forms when they were training. She did not feel a tingle when she touched his arm or hand or leg to adjust his position, nor a tightness in her chest when they invaded each other's personal space going through a drill.
Her feelings towards Dean Winchester were completely neutral, and entirely friendly. It was easy to keep them that way for the sake of their professional relationship. They did not make her secretly hope that each day would bring no new developments around the Seal so she could stay longer and spend more time with him. They did not bother her, they did not keep her up at night, they did not cause her anguish or shame.
That is, until their fourth training session.
"This is good to learn properly," she walks towards Dean on the mat. "Especially if you have a knife handy. There's a few different ways you can do it, but we'll start with using one hand and your shoulder."
He squares up nervously. "How soft is this mat do you think?"
"Big tough guy like you will be fine with a couple of bruises, right?" She winks at him.
"Right…" He silently compiles an inventory of scratches, bruises, and strange joint pops he has endured so far during their training.
"It goes like this, and you can try and defend it if you want to get an understanding."
She steps towards him, grabs the arm he raises to stop her, twists into his torso and reaches under the arm to his shoulder with her other hand. She leans into him, lifts him and flips him over her back in a fluid motion.
He hits the mat with a thump and a grunt. "Fug-"
"You can do it by grabbing the other person's shirt near the defensive arm as well, and on either side of the body."
He nods, groaning as he pulls himself up.
"Make sure they don't have something to stick in you with their other hand when you do it – could be signing your own death certificate because you lean into them to get momentum. If they've got a knife or something, you're handing over access to your shoulder and back."
He straightens, cracking his neck. "Got it. Disarm first."
"Do you want to try it? It's like this…" Dawn repeats the movements slowly, explaining the steps to Dean and pausing before the flip.
"I think I got it…" He smirks a little, a shimmer of mischief flickering in his eye.
He steps towards her and quickly, more aggressive and awkward than her smooth movement, attempts the forms. He gets her on his back but loses momentum, holding her up mid-air before surrendering and letting her down again.
"It's okay, try it again," she smiles. "Thanks for not dropping me on my head."
"Gotta protect that pretty red mane of yours." He grins.
She ignores a flutter she feels in her chest by rolling her eyes. "Quit flirtin', start workin'."
Before she can ready herself for the attack, Dean barrels into her with the form and successfully lands the flip.
"Nice!" Her exclamation is weak and breathless.
"Yeah, and now for the real torture." He laughs.
She looks fearfully at him standing over her.
17th June, 2001 - Vancouver, Washington (Student Accommodation Apartments, NE 28th Ave)
Dawn stood looking out the window of her and Reggie's apartment, waiting for the kettle to boil. She held a mug of instant coffee, absent-mindedly stirring the dry granules with a teaspoon.
She was ruminating on the incident of the day before. She had been sitting at their dining table, typing notes late. Reggie was in bed.
She had felt a chill, the light in the kitchen had flickered, and then she watched as a knife inched its way from the middle of the counter over the edge and onto the floor. She had been frozen with fear.
"Do you think I should call him anyway?" She set the mug on the bench and turned to Reggie at the table.
"You should call him because he was cute." Reggie rolled her eyes. "Seriously, can we drop this? I already told you that what you saw was just because you've been so fucking stressed out this week! You need more sleep."
"Reggie, how could I have possibly hallucinated a knife falling off the bench?"
The two hardly fought, but when they did…
"The window was open in the lounge! Could have easily just have been a draught. Come on, Red, use your brain!"
"You are such a fucking stereotype about this shit!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, 'there's always a logical explanation for x, y, or z' scientist psychobabble."
"I am not!"
"You so are! Why can't you just believe me?"
"Oh, lord! Talk to the hand, bitch." She stood to leave, huffing out a cloud of air as she did.
Dawn paused. "Is it-"
"-cold in here?" Reggie finished for her.
They froze.
Reggie's eyes dropped to Dawn's side as she heard ceramic moving.
Slowly, she swivelled and saw her mug of coffee shift inch-by-inch off the bench. Before it fell, Dawn grabbed it instinctively.
She felt an electric shock of cold strike through her, and she let go of the mug, shivering as her muscles relaxed again.
Instead of falling and smashing on the floor, the mug hovered in front of her.
Reggie's eyes were wide. She whimpered a little.
The mug flew in her direction, granules spitting all over the room. The girls screamed, ducking to the floor, as the mug smashed into the wall behind Reggie.
The kettle started to whistle.
"Are you okay?" Dawn asked quietly.
"Yeah…" Reggie whispered back. "I think you should call him… You know, not just because he's cute…"
Shaking, Dawn stood slowly. She let go of a breath she had been holding, relieved that she could not see it.
The temperature was back to normal.
"Yeah. I think you're right." She gulped.
Dawn tries to sit up, but Dean is on top of her before she can get enough leverage. He pins her with his knees, digging them into her sides like she had done on that tumultuous first day.
"Payback time," he laughs.
Her heart is in her throat in a mixture of excitement and fear at what he might mean by this.
The obvious shock on her face just makes him grin. "Don't worry, no punching this time, just…"
With that, he shoves his hand in her armpit.
Immediately, she erupts into giggles as he tickles her.
"Quit it!" She manages to chew through the words as she laughs.
"No way, José!" He starts poking around her collar bones and ribs with his flitting fingers. "Not until I have my revenge!"
She tries kicking him off her, but his weight is holding her legs down.
"This is so unprofes- AYY!" She lets out a shriek, grabbing at his hands wildly as he finds a particularly sensitive spot.
"What, and you lashing out at me was professional?" He teases.
"Dean! Stoo-oop!" Her voice is shrill. "Uncle! UNCLE!"
He laughs, and stops, shifting off her and standing. He reaches out a hand to help her up. Her face is flushed and she is shaky on her feet.
"You fucking dickhead…" She mutters, out of breath.
"Sorry, it was just too good!" He laughs. "But, hey, that took a lot out of me. Lunch?"
She nods. He turns to pick up his things.
Dawn's heartbeat is in her ears, and she tells herself it is because of the shock and physical workout.
When it continues into their lunch, and when it gets louder when Dean smiles and makes her laugh, she chalks it up to being excited about rekindling an old friendship.
Even though most friendships, when they are really friendships, do no make her chest as fluttery as this, nor do they make her face beam like this, nor her legs as shaky.
They do not make her want to touch so much, and do not force her to repress other desires. Things she has not let herself think about when she was cut off from the world, the idea too painful, only making the loneliness hurt more.
She refuses to consider how this is all going to bite her in the ass when the day finally comes to return to that hurt.
Instead, she rides the high of butterflies and giggling, wide smiles and shining eyes. She keeps her hands to herself unless the need arises in their professional relationship.
She ignores the signs that the feeling may be reciprocated, because that would really complicate things.