Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, at all. Only in my dreams where I'm chased by plastic flamingos and saved by a certain shiny black Impala. Songs used in this chapter are Orgy- Stitches, and Seether- Love Her,

Blue Moon

Chapter 5: Skin Deep

I never found out how she survived all of the sadness she kept inside

"Having fun?" I asked them, the words holding the promise of pain and cruelty.

Hey, it was 3am, I had a neck crick from that damn couch, and Sam was flirting with my girl(yes, she was mine, I called dibs).

Jesse smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Those grey orbs held worry, which made me feel a heluva lot better.

"Yeah, we were, actually," she answered as if everything was ok.

"What's the problem Dean?"

"Nothing. Why would there be a problem Sammy?"

As beautiful as fire against the evening sky

Of course not, none of us can see your obvious possessiveness.

You could actually see it not only on his face, but in his eyes. They were so green I could have sworn they glowed with it, like pure dazzling emeralds of dominating hate. Beautiful and terrifying.

Hey, be happy I was keeping my eyes on his…well..eyes. The evil bastard was shirtless. Naked from the waist up. The tanned skin—and no one should be that well sculpted! It's a sin damnit, like Jesus and his god damn nazism.

Sam simply rolled his eyes at his older sibling as he rose from his seat across the table. That's it. Just keep looking at Sam, innocent brotherly Sam. Brilliant plan my brain.

"Whatever Dean. I'm going to bed before you do something stupid," he began before turning to me with a soft smile. "Thanks for the good game."

I nodded. "You too. Maybe we could do it again sometime."

He bid me one final goodnight and disappeared to his room, leaving me alone with Dean and his half nudity…and his glare. It was so uncomfortable it was…excruciating. Like if I stood still long enough he could see through me like crystalline glass, picking apart every flaw and smudge.

I got up and went into the kitchen, not even bothering to say a word to him. I could feel his anger, boiling up under my skin. It was not aiding too much in my battle to not turn furry early.

Goosebumps rose on my legs, making my bare thighs tremble ever so slightly. Someone left the window open. Probably Dean. Under normal circumstances, I couldn't blame him.

It was the middle of July and my house has no AC. But we weren't under normal circumstances now, we're we?

I threw it shut, locking it in place, before heading to my fridge. My foot shut the door as I found my prize, a bottle of liquor known as Fireball. My own personal favorite.

Dean was standing over me when I turned around. I wanted to be mad at him, but at the same time I wanted to avoid the conflict altogether. It was late, and I was in no mood to fight. What I wanted to do was put more distance between us. Us being me and his washboard abs.

"Mind if I join you for a drink?" he asked, eyebrow quirked as he caught sight of the bottle.

No. No no NO!

"Fine, there's beer in the fridge."

"I meant the Fireball," he added with the smile that must have melted a thousand other truck stop whores before me. Still didn't lessen its effect. Damnit.

"Hell no, get your own booze."

He laughed, the sound warm and touchable. "Fine."

Then he grabbed my bottle. MY bottle. Holding it over my head endlessly far out of my reach.

"Give that back."

Again, the smile. "No."

I grinned my own back.

"Is everyone in your family obscenely tall, or is it just you?"

"Is everyone in your family obscenely short, or is it just the beautiful women?"

Actually, it is everyone. The tallest was my grandfather at barely 6 ft. But damned if I was telling him that.

I jumped up, grabbing his arm that held my precious whiskey hostage.

"Please?"

Laughter again as he unscrewed the black metal cap with its usual flaming logo. "Please what?"

"Please give me back my bottle of Fireball."

He tossed the cap aside on the table, taking a sip without even a tick of distaste. Damn sexy bastard.

"If you want it, come and get it," he answered, smirking suggestively.

Fine, have it your way Titan.

I never found out how she could lie with a smile on her face

Damn, she had an excellent taste in whiskey. And she looked really cute standing there trying to plot her next move against me. Battling over booze is way better then chess.

Next thing I knew I was being shoved against the counter by said adorable redhead, still trying to reach her precious bottle.

"Bit beyond your reach?"

And then she jumped me. Figuring if she tackled my frame she could reach the bottle.

She was wrong.

I turned the tables on the young woman's plan, pinning her against the counter with my usual devious grin.

"Admit I win, and I'll give it to you."

She laughed, sexy and daring.

"You wish."

Her silver eyes were set with a glare for a moment, and then something flickered there. A spark of…something. Hell if I knew what. But it was there.

We were so close. That impossible closeness where you're not sure how you're still not touching; yet there it is.

"Fine," I caved, "I'll give you a taste."

Finally, I did what I had been wishing to do for the past 24 hours. I kissed her.

Take me by the hand and see beyond the lies

Dean was kissing me.

Dean was kissing me!

I was frozen in shock for a few moments. Electric heat as hot as molten lava spread throughout my body, and it took all I had to even get a coherent thought. I'd never responded to anyone like this before, which terrified me more then any evil entity I'd faced in my entire life.

Do I kiss him now and fuck him, or do I kiss and run, or do I just flee now before it gets worse…

I kissed him back, and he responded eagerly to me, allowing me access to taste the sharp yet smooth taste of my liquor on his tongue. I could feel my beast rise in content, finally getting one of its hungers fed. She swirled in my eyes, and I knew they were no longer grey.

As much as I knew I had to get the hell out of this kitchen. Now. Amazing sex with Dean was not worth me getting killed over. As far as I knew. Can't really judge unless I've actually done the wicked dance with him now, can I? I did NOT want to find out.

'Don't stop' one half of my brain, and my beast, were screaming at me. 'Just give in, just this once. It will be amazing, it will be perfect, just let go'

A sigh escaped my lips as his own moved down to my shoulder blade, nipping the skin there. Little did he know it was the exact spot where Eric had cursed me one year ago; the long gone scar tissue leaving behind only sensitivity.

'Let it go' my mind begged me.

And I did.

Strip away the fences - leave me needing, leave me high

I woke up next to a warm mass, cradling me to it beneath the sheets. It took me a few moments to realize it was Dean. Oh god oh god OH GOD!

I had sex with Dean.

I HAD SEX WITH DEAN!!!

It refused to register in my brain. Like mentally I refused to accept it. The half full still open bottle of Fireball on the nightstand hit home. Dean had decided somewhere between the first time and the…(I had no idea, 5th at least? I did NOT want to think about it), that is tasted better on me.

Ok, just had to think. I wanted to get away from here, from him. Now. Fast, faster would be better….bad image BAD IMAGE! Worse, the image was a memory.

Fuck.

Again, BAD MEMORY!

Some words I would have to refrain from using today. For good reason.

Just concentrate. The fridge is looking pretty sparse, I can go shopping! Brilliant.

Ok, need clothes to go to the store. Nudity bad, very very bad. Shirt, a shirt was required. Where the hell was it?

Navigating my way very carefully out of the bed, I looked around. My Metallica nightshirt was nowhere to be found. Damn you God!

There was, however, Dean's shirt. It hung down to my knees in a cascade of faded black cloth. Good enough for me. Still, need pants. Pants were down the hall.

I tiptoed down the corridor, willing God to please, just this once, be on my side and make the boys stay asleep. C'mon, it was barely 9 o'clock, in my perfect world everyone would sleep till noon, hence they should in my house.

Slipping inside my room, I quickly tugged on a pair of what used to be jeans, now ragged capri-like things with more holes then swiss cheese. But they were all in the knees and such, so it didn't look whorish or anything. Bathing suit top went under Dean's shirt.

Then I grabbed a syringe, aiming for the right balance of tranquilizer and silver nitrate. With enough meds, I wouldn't shift on the first night. It's only the 2nd night I have no control over. Injecting the meds, I threw the vials and empty syringes in a shoebox under the bed. The lock on the draw was ruined; I'd have to replace it. Till then, Danny had one more secret to hide.

I grabbed a bottle of body spray, and then hesitantly putting it back. The shirt still had that spicy-sweet smell of Dean, and damned if I was ruining it. My hair brushed and in a low ponytail, black flip-flops on my feet, shades on my face, and I was out the door in my precious T-bird, blasting Orgy as soon as I was out of range.

Hey, just because I like mullet-rock doesn't mean I don't like anything else. My ears worship everything from metal to jazz, and everything in between. Except rap and pop.

Satan created rap, pop, hangovers, and Dean's body. Seriously, ask him. $10 says he confesses to all charges, especially the last.

My back pocket also hid one more surprise this morning. On my way out I found one last…shocker. My green satin undies on the post of my staircase.

I mean that fucking you is strange
And adored by me throughout
Oh no it's you again...
I'm so deranged you know
I will never be the same

I was just heading down the scenic route towards home when that familiar and ominous sound overrode the current of industrial music. Police sirens.

I quickly pulled an unintentionally flashy turn around and followed towards the park. Shit. The rumors were true.

It had always been a debated topic at Lunar Haven on whether or not one could control the beast well enough to change before the full moon. The med's suppressed the wolf, but the idea was if you learned to embrace your beast it could be controlled even better. I said it was a possibility, and reminded everyone the penalty of death. Death.

With a smooth parallel park I hopped out of the car to see what was going on. It was bad. Real bad. I hadn't even seen it yet, and I knew. It's not bad when you only smell blood, but this…it was meat, raw, and grotesque from the morning July heat.

Death in the summer is always the worst, the humidity and the pure sultry weather makes everything smell a thousand times more disgusting.

I shoved my way through the crowd to the headline that was held back just a few feet from the customary yellow Caution tape. I was wrong. It was worse then bad.

If I couldn't smell it, I wouldn't have known what laid before my eyes was ever human. It looked like scraps of meat, completely unidentifiable. The biggest piece was the size of my head, and it wasn't even a head. Or hell, maybe it was. I'm not even gonna think about it. Don't think, you don't comprehend, and you don't vomit. Point for me.

But that wasn't even the worst of it. Sure, maiming and death was extremely bad, but I could deal to the point where it didn't faze me too much. But the sight on the memorial stonewall did. It struck a real emotional chord.

There, written in blood that was still candy apple red, fresh and disgusting, and yet appealing to my beast, were the words "Now its more than skin deep."

July 14, 2006

"Its over Eric. We're through."

"But Jesse," he pleaded, begging in his own sick way. Amazing how an abusive bastard could beg and almost look appealing. Must have been how he lured me to him in the first place. "I love you. Please baby…"

Love?! We didn't love. Not anymore. Maybe once, a long time ago. Before he tried to take over me, and my life. Before he cheated on me. Twice.

"You don't love me. Love is a pairing of souls. This is only skin deep."

I shook off the memory and dug my cell phone out of purse. Dean had forced me to put his and Sam's numbers on my phone before I went on my run the day before.

His overbearing protectiveness had annoyed me then, but I was grateful now. Still, I was NOT calling Dean. I mean, what would I say?

"Gee, thanks for the mind-blowing sex, but my ex-boyfriend turned werewolf killed someone last night and I need you to come look at the crime scene. By the way, was it good for you too?"

Yeah. I'd call Sam.

Then hopefully get home before my fresh tub of Reese's Pieces Explosion icecream melted. People were dying and I was worried about the well being of my frozen deserts.

What can I say; I'm practical to the bitter end: death.

(That's it till Ch 6 guys! Where was the love last chapter? I got ONE review for chapter four. So, I'm being evil…er. Three reviews or I will hold Chapter Six hostage until one of us caves…(c'mon, I got 4 reviews for Ch 3, so three should be a piece of cake))