No stop signs, speed limit
Nobody's gonna slow me down
Like a wheel, gonna spin it
Nobody's gonna mess me around
Hey Satan, paid my dues
Hey mama, look at me
I'm on my way to the promised land, whoo!
I'm on the highway to hell
Highway to hell
I'm on the highway to hell
Highway to hell
"Don't you think these lyrics are a bit morbid for the situation, Dean?!"
"It's never the wrong time to crank some AC/DC, Baby Girl!"
Skylar gave Dean a sideways look from the passenger side of the Impala, one of her perfect eyebrows arching in confusion. Why in the hell was she sitting in some parking lot at 2 am while her husband sang at the top of his lungs, beating his steering wheel to death? If she didn't know any better, she would think he was drunk, if it weren't for the fact that he would never drink and drive, at least not with her in the car.
In fact, he took a moment to retrieve his coffee from the cup holder to take a sip, his long fingers continuing to tap against the wheel.
Every so often, his eyes would focus on an empty spot in the distance as if he were waiting for someone to make an appearance out of thin air.
Perhaps he was.
Skylar leaned forward and turned down the music. Dean gave her a look that was both comical and one full of agitation.
"I love the feeling of being awoken in the middle of the night and drug to God-knows-where with music playing so freaking loud, we might as well be at a rock concert," Skylar said, her words dripping with sarcasm. "But if we're just going to sit here, can we please go back and get some sleep?"
Dean took a deep breath, releasing a groan as the air left his lungs.
"Can't. Waiting on something."
Skylar waited for him to continue, but when Dean failed to elaborate, she could feel her patience wearing thin. She made a gesture for him to continue.
"We're on a hunt, Sky."
The words that fell from his lips were not something she cared to hear. "Why am I here?" The panic in her voice was hard to hide. "You should have brought, Sam. You know how useless I am."
"You're not useless, Babe. You're just…over protected. And that's my fault."
"You've taken me hunting several times, Dean. I either stand there like a deer in headlights, or I get knocked around while you gank whatever it is were hunting. I don't do anything but slow you down."
"Maybe," Dean agreed too quickly.
Skylar stumbled at his quick agreement, feeling slightly offended despite it being the truth. She asked again, "Then why am I here?"
Dean's eyes were soft upon her as he began to speak, but something in the distance caught his attention. He replaced his coffee in the cup holder while never taking his eyes away from the space ahead of them.
Skylar followed his gaze, squinting through the night. It was pitch black outside and a light drizzle was beginning to fall from the sky. But something caught her attention amidst the deserted sidewalk across the street. Someone was lifting the lid to the sewer system, glancing around frantically, before disappearing into the hole that lead beneath the streets.
Dean cut the engine. Without the heat blasting, Skylar immediately felt a chill run down her spine.
Shapeshifter.
"Let's go," Dean said.
Skylar watched as he existed the car and began making his way towards his intended destination, quickly halting his steps when she failed to follow. She was hoping that she would somehow go unnoticed, but her luck had been absolute shit lately. Dean came around the passenger side and yanked the door open, grabbing her by the elbow, and dragging her from the car.
"Hey!" she screeched. She wasn't used to Dean manhandled her anymore. Not like he used to. But there was no pain from his grasp, only firm determination.
Dean grabbed her by the back of her dark hair and yanked until her head was completely tilted back and his features were only centimeters from her own. It was something he had done most of their life when they would bicker and she refused to give him what he wanted. It was a motion that she had always secretly loved; the feel of his hand wrapped around her hair, pulling tight until she was held firmly in place and unable to move away from his overpowering body.
If anyone else had ever touched her this way, she would be sick to her stomach. But it was Dean. No matter how much those green eyes would flash with annoyance and fury, she felt safe.
"You're coming with me, and when I give the signal," Dean spoke through his teeth, his jaw working furiously as he brought an object upwards, the silver glistening as he moved it side to side. "You're going to drive this into its heart."
Skylar swallowed, finding the simple act difficult. When she didn't answer, Dean pulled her hair further, causing her to whimper. There was pain this time, but it was mixed with a dangerous amount of pleasure. The passion she felt for this man was out of her control. When she should be demanding that he unhand her, she instead felt her gaze drop to his lips. She wanted to kiss him in that moment, and as if reading her thoughts, Dean released his grip the tiniest bit…just enough to allow her access to him.
The moment her lips met his, the fire coursing through her body gathered between her thighs, making the ache nearly unbearable to withstand. Dean sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, biting down gently before releasing the sensitive flesh.
He pulled her away from the Impala, just far enough so that his hand could smack her ass, grabbing a fist full of her backside and squeezing firmly.
"Now if you're a good girl and do as I say," Dean said slowly, letting each filthy word graze over her flushed skin. "You can climb on my lap and ride the fuck outa me when we get back to the car."
Dean straddled the shapeshifter behind Skylar, his hand engulfing her fist at they drove the knife into its heart.
He had taken one hell of a beating…and it had felt amazing.
But each time he found an opening for Skylar to kill the bastard, she hesitated. It got to the point where he had to hold down their prey with one hand, grab his wife with the other, and finish the job himself. However, he needed Skylar to feel the rush that only a kill could provide.
"Stare into its eyes," Dean breathed against her ear as a sob escaped her lips.
Castiel had been right.
Her heart was too pure.
But he couldn't allow his only shining light to be cast into hell.
Dean twisted the knife farther, hearing it's flesh tear in the silence. Their skin was coated red from its blood.
"Watch it take its last breath, Baby Girl," he whispered, dropped a kiss against the soft skin of her bare neck.
Dean knew how fucked up he was. And now he was trying to taint his sweet girl with the same morbid disease that had always coursed through his own veins.
He got off from killing. It provided a power that no drug could ever supply.
Staring up at them was a new pair of lifeless eyes. Dean risked a glance at Skylar, noticing that the sobs had ceased as she silently looked at their victim. Only a flashlight swaying nearby provided them enough light to witness what they had just done.
She was a far cry away from being a real hunter. Hell, apparently she was never meant to be a hunter at all
She was the key to hell.
However, she was made to spend eternity in the place that had tormented his own thoughts night and day. He knew firsthand how harrowing, torturous, and agonizing hell was. How could he ever allow Skylar to be a sacrifice when cruel hell fire was the only thing awaiting her?
Dean gripped Skylar's grasp and yanked the silver knife from the shapeshifter's chest, gently pulling it from her tight grip. Her eyes remained riveted on its lifeless form as Dean rose to his feet, lifting Skylar up with one arm around her waist.
The walk back to the Impala was silent and wet as the rain pounded heavy against the pavement, but Dean felt oddly calm in that moment. This was what he had always wanted them to be.
To have a Bonnie and Clyde kind of relationship.
A reckless, impulsive, and dangerous love.
Shit, they may even meet their demise in the same way. Fate was a cruel mistress like that.
Dean opened the passenger side door for Skylar as she slid into her seat. A stunned look continued to sit upon her pretty face. He quickly got in on the other side and started up the Impala to blast the heat. Dean could feel Skylar's blue gaze on him, and it didn't take a genius to know that those sapphire eyes were raking down his body in a lust filled haze.
Maybe they were more alike that he had originally thought.
"You didn't do as I said, Baby." He smirked, knowing where her thoughts had gone. She was thinking about those words he had spoken to her about letting her ride the fuck out of him.
"I killed it!" she pouted.
"I killed it," Dean corrected. "Once again, you just stood there until it almost got the better of me…almost." Dean winked at her, but was rewarded with the deepest scowl he had ever seen. If Skylar only got angry when he denied her sex, then there were worse things to worry about.
His little wife turned around in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. She was throwing a temper tantrum, which he figured was much better than cowering in fear at being forced to hunt. Dean sobered as he began to think about the reason for their current state of affairs. He wasn't ready to tell her everything. He wasn't ready to let her know about the hardships that were awaiting them right around the corner.
He wasn't ready to tell her that she was born to be hell's bitch.
"It may seem like I was born to do this," Dean said carefully, adverting his gaze away from his wife. "My dad used to shove a gun in my hand…tell me to take care of Sammy. And then he would leave for weeks at a time. I was only ten, but I knew that if I wasn't the one to blow away the monsters, no one would. Yeah, I got a taste for it. I started to crave it. But this life…"
Dean cleared his throat, gripping one hand tight against the steering wheel, trying hard to find the words that he had consciously avoided speaking for so long. "But this life is beautiful compared to hell. Sure, we have to watch our backs and hope that we make it through another day. But down there…you're just a soul. You might as well be flesh and bone because you can feel every inch of your skin being sliced away. The sound of your own screams are drowned out by the piercing cries of everyone else whose lives were so fucked up that they were thrown into the pit. What did they do to deserve to burn for eternity? And because you're only a soul, it never ends. The pain never goes away."
Dean took a deep breath, wondering if he should even continue. He was taking a stroll down memory lane…a memory he wished would have vanished the moment he was torn from the inferno. "Forty years I spent down there. And, unlike those other souls, I was offered a way out. I was weak, so I took it. I'm the reason the world is literally hanging on by a thread. I began ripping people apart the way Alistair had me. It became second nature and I fed off of their fear and pain. I was no better than any other demon."
Dean hadn't realized he was crying until Skylar lifted her hand to wipe his wet cheek. At that moment, he could care less about appearing weak in front of the love of his life. She had to understand what he was trying desperately to save her from. It seemed like an impossible task, but he would die trying.
"I never want you to experience that level of torture, Baby. I need you to know how to fight, even if that means fighting against angels and the devil himself. If we fail…" a sob broke through the surface and Dean halted, biting on his lower lip to try and regain some level of composure. "There's no coming back from the dead anymore. There's just heaven and hell. And if we end up down there, there's no saving us…saving you. There's no saving you. So pl…please."
"Shoot first, ask questions later."
Dean's head shot up at Skylar's soft voice as she quoted one of his favorite life lessons. Sam always felt that shooting first was impulsive and reckless. What if the supernatural being they were after didn't deserve to die? But more importantly…what if they did?
Taking risks is a part of living life. But no ghost, demon, vampire, or unnatural entity was worth risking your own life. Because this life was incredible when you could share it with someone worth having by your side.
"Shoot first, ask questions later," Dean concurred. He leaned forward and kissed a wet streak that had begun to fall down Skylar's own face. Her brilliant blue eyes looked even more majestic swimming in a pool of unshed tears.
His lips traced a line, traveling down her cheek until he placed a lingering kiss against the corner of her mouth. The rain was pounding heavy on the roof. She was back to panting and Dean had to admit that he loved how she reacted to him. They were much more than sex. If he could never be inside her again, he would continue to stay faithful and devoted to her, he had no doubt about that.
But this part of their marriage, their entire relationship, was still new to them. Something they felt would have to be suppressed for far longer was now within reach. He knew that he would never be fully satisfied, and it was a feeling he eagerly welcomed.
Dean reached down to pull the lever under his seat, shoving himself backward. In a matter of moments, Skylar was straddled across his lap, clinging to him desperately. Her actions were a lethal mixture of fear and desire.
But they both needed this. They needed one another.
With quick and clumsy fingers, she reached down to undo the clasp of his jeans until he was freed.
Dean grabbed Skylar by the waist, slowly gliding her warm center down his cock until he was buried completely within her. He lifted her up his length and back down again, repeating the motion over and over until they were both shivering from more than the freezing cold weather outside and their drenched clothing. It didn't take long for her to find her own rhythm, riding him with ease. She looked and felt fucking incredible as she moved her hips up and down, bouncing her ass as she continuously took every inch of him inside her.
Dean reached down to grab a cassette tape, popping it into the player amidst the incredible sensation that only Skylar could give. Moments later, music filled the Impala, causing her to falter slightly as a laugh escaped her lips. Dean smiled. He would never get tired of hearing that sweet sound.
"Really?" She asked in between her soft whimpers, amusement evident in her voice.
"It was always your favorite, Sweetheart."
Dean put Baby in drive, pulling out onto the deserted street with his windshield wipers turned on full blast. He sped through the red light, his girl firm against his body. He began to sing along with the cassette, a natural smile lifting the corner of his lips. With her hips still moving and her face buried in his neck, Skylar sweet voice began to belt out the lyrics too, not missing a beat.
Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy
Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy
Workin' on mysteries without any clues
Workin' on our night moves
Maybe trying to corrupt his wife would turn out to be a lot more fun than he had ever imagined it to be.