"What are you gonna do now?" Dean asked, glancing back into the rearview to look at Castiel.
Piper sighed and snuggled deeper against Dean's warmth. They were driving back to Sioux Falls, and she felt cold. She was vaguely worried that she'd never get warm again.
The angel was in the backseat. "Return to heaven, I suppose," he said thoughtfully.
"Heaven?"
"With Michael in the cage, I'm sure it's total anarchy up there."
She heard the frown in Dean's voice. "So, what, you're the new sheriff in town?" She sat up to give him a look.
She saw Castiel smile a little in the rearview. "I like that. Yeah. I suppose I am."
Dean snorted. "Wow, God gives you a brand new, shiny set of wings, and suddenly you're his bitch again."
Castiel seemed to take this in stride. "I don't know what God wants. I don't know if he'll even return. It just… Seems like the right thing to do."
Piper placed a hand on Dean's leg to stop the anger about to pour from his mouth, but he ignored her. "Well, if you do see him, you tell him I'm coming for him next."
Cass frowned. "You're angry."
Dean snorted again. "That's a fuckin' understatement."
"Dean, come on," Piper said softly.
"He helped," Castiel protested. "Maybe even more than we realized."
"Easy for you to say," Dean snapped. "He brought you back. But what about Sam? What about me, huh? Where's my grand prize? All I got is my brother in a hole!"
Piper watched as Castiel changed into someone cold and imperial. "You got what you asked for, Dean. No para-"
Fury washed through Piper, and she latched onto the only emotion she had felt since Sam had died. "Fuck you, Castiel," she said softly, interrupting him. When he looked at her, he was no longer cold and imperial. He looked... Confused and upset. She ignored it. "Go fuck yourself. Get the hell out of this car and go fuck yourself. How dare you suggest this is what we asked for?"
When he opened his mouth to argue, she looked forward through the windshield, refusing to meet his eyes in the rearview. "Just go," she said softly, "We're done here."
With the sound of wings, he disappeared. She sank into Dean's side once more, numbness settling over her again.
xxxxx
It was awkward when they dropped Bobby off.
Piper left Dean alone with Bobby to say his goodbyes. Dean had been surprised when she'd declared they weren't staying at Bobby's, but she knew better. They couldn't stay here, not with the memories of Sam littered all over the place. His clothes, his laptop, his books, his favorite beer, for fuck's sake. There was no way they could stay here.
She gathered their things and came back out to see Bobby and Dean looking awkwardly at the ground. She rolled her eyes and loaded their bags in the trunk. Men.
She walked back around and smiled at Bobby's arms already held open for her. She walked into them, wrapping her own arms around his neck, and hugged him close. "We'll see you later, Bobby," she said softly, keeping a lid on her emotions.
"Take care of him, Pi," he said roughly, "And yourself, too."
She stepped back and gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir."
When she turned to Dean, hearing Bobby start to make his way back up to the house, her husband looked lost. So she gently took the keys from him, led him to the passenger side, and drove them away.
xxxxx
Dean didn't know where Piper was going, and he didn't care. As long as he was with her.
Because nothing else mattered.
xxxxx
Piper drove until she was tired (more tired than she already was), then found a little town to stop in. She carefully drove to a liquor store, bought enough whiskey to keep them good and drunk, then found a shitty little motel. She used the rest of the cash they had on them (she had to take it out of Dean's coat herself, he was in no place to help her), and rented the room out for two weeks. She got extra blankets and pillows and took them to the room.
She took their bags in next, leaving Dean sitting in the passenger seat, staring ahead. When she was done, she came out to the passenger side and opened the door, then crouched next to him, her hand on his knee.
"Dean?" she rasped, her voice harsh from disuse.
He turned slowly to look at her, and the look in his green eyes would haunt her for a long, long time. "Yeah, kitten?" he asked in a whisper.
She patted his knee. "Come on, honey. Let's go to bed."
He let her lead him into the room by the hand. When they were in, she put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign up, then locked the door and set the chain.
She turned back to see her husband slowly pulling his jacket off, like he wasn't sure what to do. She took pity on him and pulled his coat off of his shoulders. She gently, slowly undressed him, tears starting to stream down her face. When he was just in a t-shirt and boxers, she undressed herself until she was in just a t-shirt and panties.
Then she arranged the extra blankets and pillows on the bed, and she pulled a bottle of whiskey out of her bag. When she turned around, he was sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard. She crawled in next to him, and his arm slid around her shoulders in a familiar, infinitely comforting way. She opened the bottle of whiskey and handed it to him, then got the remote and found an old black and white movie on TV.
They fell asleep several hours later, the TV still on, both drunk out of their minds.
xxxxx
Dean was never able to remember very much of the first three days without Sam.
He and Piper stayed in bed, almost naked, unless she was answering the door for food, and then she usually put his sweats on. She would then bring the food back to the bed, they would eat, wash it down with whiskey, and pass out.
He woke up crying several times, and his face was always already pressed into Piper's neck. She would whisper soothing nonsense, sweet nothings, keeping up a steady stream of love and support while he let it out.
His nightmares had also come back in full force, and she weathered that storm with him, too. She dodged him, calling out to wake him up, crawling back into bed with him once he had. He also knew that he hadn't woken up each time, because there was a bruise blossoming on her ribs, and one on her left thigh that looked like it hurt.
But she never uttered a word of complaint. She just held him through the grief.
xxxxx
On the fourth day, Piper cracked an eye open, looking blearily around the room. She didn't know what day it was, but at least she knew it was the fourth day.
She also knew that her head was killing her, her stomach was rolling, and she had never had a hangover quite this bad. She tried to take a deep breath, but the smell of the room had her stopping that almost immediately. Ugh.
She turned and looked at Dean. She smiled a little for the first time in days, though she was numb and heartbroken at the same time.
He looked peaceful, and the years fell off of his face when he was asleep. Her handsome husband, who snored like nobody's business when he was drunk-sleeping, but who was also quite the snuggler when he was drunk-sleeping. I love you so fucking much.
But she did not love the way he smelled, so she hit him on the shoulder gently. "Dean, get up," she said softly, ready to bail if he made an aggressive move. "Dean, baby, get up."
He groaned and opened an eye. "What?"
She pushed him a little. "We need to shower, Dean. You smell, I smell, I probably look awful, and you… Well, you always look good, but you still smell bad."
Before she could react, he had an arm around her waist and pulled her back down onto the bed, nuzzling her neck. "You look good to me, kitten," he slurred. Then he groaned. "Why does my head feel like someone shot at it?"
She kissed his temple. "Because we've been whiskey drunk for three days. Come on, handsome, in the shower with you."
xxxxx
Dean stayed in bed for a few minutes after Piper got up, listening to her slowly strip her clothes off and step into the bathroom. When the water started, he let his mind wander.
Leave hunting.
Could he even do that? Could he live in the real world, with bills and steady hours and junk mail? What the hell was junk mail, even? He wasn't sure he knew where to start. And what if Piper said no? How could someone keep a promise that involved someone else, if that someone else didn't want to keep it?
His brain tried to turn to Sam, but he skittered away from that. Instead he stood and stretched hard, groaning when the pounding in his head got exponentially worse. He pulled his t-shirt off and stepped out of his boxers, then followed her into the bathroom.
When he pulled the shower curtain back, she was standing at the back of the shower, just staring at the water, eyes wide and dry. Concerned, he put a hesitant hand out to her. "Pipes?"
She looked at him and swallowed hard. "I, just, um… It's kind of dumb, but… But I haven't, um, I haven't showered since… And he hugged me, and what if… I mean, it's kind of awful, right? But what am I going to do, just never shower again? That's crazy! But what am I supposed to do, just wash him off?!" Her voice started getting higher, and she started speaking faster and faster. "I can't just wash him off, because then what will I have?! Nothing! I'll never have anything again, because he's gone, so what am I supposed to do?! It's a betrayal, I could never do that to him, I-"
He stepped in quickly and stopped her words with his lips on hers. She whimpered, and he pulled away, putting a hand on the back of her head and pressing her face into his chest. "I know, kitten," he said roughly, "It's okay."
He held her for a long time while she cried, gently rocking her back and forth. His rational, smart, compassionate wife, who he now realized was also grieving. He whispered all of the nonsense she'd whispered to him, told her that he loved her, and that she was beautiful, and that they were going to make it.
Eventually, she let him lead her into the water. He turned her around and washed her hair, pressing kisses to her shoulders as he did so, ignoring the shampoo on his lips. Then he washed her, those devastating hips, her elegant legs, her flat belly. He kissed her scars, and paid special attention to the new bruises, silently apologizing for hurting her. She ran her fingers through his hair gently, silently accepting his apology.
Once they had both showered, he led her out of the tub. He gently dried her from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair, then wrapped her in a towel and took her to out to the bedroom.
He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, savoring the trusting way she leaned back into him. "What should we do now?" she asked. "Do you want to order food?"
He kissed the top of her head. "Let's go out, kitten."
xxxxx
They were sitting at a diner booth, and Piper was already missing the motel room. Everything out here was too… Loud, too brightly colored, too much. She wanted to go back.
But moving forward was the only option, and this was the most animated she'd seen Dean in days, so she quietly ordered pancakes and coffee.
Dean ordered something obnoxious that made her stomach turn, but she kept her mouth shut about it. Despite being more alert, he looked tired. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and his face was pinched tight with sorrow. He was still the most handsome man alive, but he looked… Tired.
She sighed and dug her phone out of her pocket. When it was in her hand, she just stared at it for a few moments. She'd intended to check her voicemails, but that seemed… Too much. Too much like just going back to the life they'd been living. And suddenly, she didn't really want that life.
Shrugging it off, she powered the phone on and dialed the voicemail code, smiling and thanking the server when their food was brought out.
Mara Pink had left a voicemail. Piper, darling, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have stopped it. I wish I could have helped. If you need anything... Well, I'm here if you need me, but I don't think you will.
Piper frowned. That was cryptic.
Garth had also left a message. Aw, jeeze, Smalls, are you okay? I just heard. I'm sure you're holed up with Dean somewhere (Piper had to smile a little at how well Garth knew her), but if you need me, call me, Smalls. I'm serious, Piper. You know I'm here for you.
She sniffled through the tears gathering in her eyes and saved both messages, then flipped her phone sut. She smiled across the table at Dean, who was looking at her with eyebrows raised.
"Mara and Garth… Condolences," she said softly.
He nodded, and she smiled when she saw he'd already made her coffee the way she liked it.
They ate in silence, and although he had exponentially more food than she did, they finished around the same time. The man can put food away like no one I've ever seen, she thought fondly.
"Pipes," he said hesitantly, "We need to talk."
She frowned. "Okay… What's up?"
He sighed and pushed his plate away. "Pipes, we… I mean, when… I promised…"
He looked so unsure of himself she couldn't help reaching across the table and threading her fingers through his. "Dean, baby, just talk to me. It's okay."
He took a deep breath. "Do you still want to take some time off?"
She blinked. That hadn't been what she'd expected. "What?"
"Time off? Beaches and little umbrellas?"
She thought about it for a moment. "Like a vacation?" she asked softly.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked out the window. "Or… Something more permanent."
"Permanent?"
He sighed heavily. "Pipes, I promised Sam we'd leave hunting. I know I shouldn't have done that without talking to you, but-"
"Yes," she said firmly. "Yes, I want to quit."
Relief had flooded through her when he'd said the word, "permanent." Piper was tired, and there were a lot of hunters saving a lot of lives out there. She no longer felt responsible for saving the world. They'd saved the world. They had paid enough. And suddenly, Mara's voicemail made much more sense.
The same relief was obvious on his face. "You do?"
She nodded shyly. "Yeah, um… Yeah. I do. I mean, you promised Sam, and… We've done enough, handsome," she said softly, meeting his amazing green eyes. "I think we've done quite enough."
He squeezed her hand gently. "I think so, too, kitten."
xxxxx
As soon as they were done, they went back to the motel, took their clothes off, and fell back asleep.
They drank on and off for the rest of the time they were in the motel. They didn't stay drunk, and they showered and left the room at least once a day from then on, but they did stay quiet and somber. They were grieving, and while there was some on and off laughter, they were mostly soft spoken and gentle with each other.
On the second to last night they had the room, Piper woke up to Dean nuzzling her neck, his big hand resting on her hip. She felt the tension in the room and whimpered, tilting her head back.
His hand moved to her core, his big fingers sliding through her folds, making her gasp. "Dean," she whimpered, arching into his hand.
"God, you're gorgeous," he whispered as he sank a finger into her. She wasn't wet enough yet, but the burn felt good, so she moved with his hand as he started moving that finger in and out of her. "Love the way you look when you're coming for me," he said roughly.
She gasped. "Fuck, Dean, oh, God," she whimpered, moving her hips in time with his hand.
He sank another finger into her as soon as she was wet enough, stretching her a little. He curled them to hit that electric spot, and she moaned, moving in earnest with him now, his name a prayer on her lips.
"Just a little more, come for me, kitten," he whispered. When his thumb put pressure on her clit, her world collapsed in on itself, and she arched her back and screamed for him.
He quickly pulled his fingers out of her and moved so he was on top of her, her legs spread for him. She whimpered and wrapped them around his slim waist, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of her husband hovering over her, his lust blown green eyes taking her in greedily.
He sank into her slowly, and when he bottomed out she gasped and he moaned. He pressed his lips to hers and set a slow, loving pace, worshipping her.
She returned the favor, kissing him thoroughly, then moving her lips down his beard-covered jaw (it had been days since his face had seen a razor), then down to his neck to bite his shoulder lightly. Her hands traced the defined muscles on his arms, his shoulders, then down his back as he picked up the pace and had her curling her toes and crying out his name again.
As soon as he moved his hand down to touch her again, she came hard, almost unable to make noise from the pleasure crashing through her. She was vaguely aware of him shuddering above her, his teeth pressed to her neck in a silent snarl.
He rolled to his back, taking her with him. She lay next to him, her head on his shoulder, listening while they caught their breath together.
And for the first time in almost two weeks, Piper believed that they might be all right, after all.
xxxxx
Hi, beautiful readers! Here are my notes:
I own only Piper Finley, the original character. I don't own Supernatural or any of the characters. (heartbroken).
Reviews and comments give me life and keep me going.
And, as always, thank you for reading, you beautiful, beautiful people.
**We're gonna have to go down to weekly updates for a while, guys, I'm sorry. I'm in the nonprofit world, specifically animal welfare, and this is both a slow season (which means harried fundraising), and a busy season (lots of little furry ones left out in deadly cold weather), so my life has exploded. 3 I love you guys, as soon as things slow down, we're back to every few days, I promise.
**I hope I did Dean and Piper's grief justice.
