Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural blah blah blah…ON WITH THE FIC! Songs used are Skillet-Whispers In The Dark, and 3 Doors Down- Let Me Go.
Blue MoonChapter 7: Hunting Waskalwy Werewolves
You'll never be alone
When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars
Hear my whispers in the dark
The moon hung high overhead. Combined with my night vision, I could see everything perfectly.
Trying to ignore the bright orb's sway, I moved swiftly behind a tree, reaching out with my senses. It was difficult because I had to stifle a giggle when I heard Dean whisper something about Elmer Fudd. "Be vewy vewy qwuiet, we're hunting wascawly werewolves."
God, sometimes I worry both about him AND for him. This is one of those times.
Ok, concentrate. On something OTHER than the sweat just beginning to bead on Dean's skin, which was all to weird because from this distance I shouldn't even know where he is. Sometimes I freak myself out.
Sam had just crushed a dandelion, 100 feet or so to my left. His elder brother was about as far off to my right, gun drawn and at the ready.
He was close. I could hear his heart beat racing out of rhythm, smell the aroma of earth, musk, and pack.
Before I could react, before I could even think, I was being pinned to a maple tree by 200 pounds of grey and black fur. His claws began to dig into my biceps, drawing tiny rivulets of blood and tearing a cry from my throat.
I lifted my legs and delivered a roundhouse kick to his chest in a blur of motion. He had only shifted half way, like the wolf-man in one of those 90's horror movies, but a thousand times worse with no cheesy effects. My eyes stared right into his, mirroring their frozen hue.
The gun was gone, lost some where in the scuffle. I drew my own silver daggers, circling him dangerously, a complete predatory act. He launched his body towards me, and the dance began.
You'll never be alone
When darkness comes you know I'm never far
"Jesse!"
She didn't respond. Damnit!
I ran, gun aimed in the direction of the fighting.
Stupid fucking werewolves.
I'm torn between this life I lead and where I stand
And you love me but you don't know who I am
I was trapped in a deadly tango. I dodged his blows, getting nicked every now and again. Nothing serious, barely a few cuts.
"Jesse!"
Dean. I froze, less then a second, but a moment was all he needed. Dazed and confused, I was without weapons, without movement, and without hope.
"You smell of another man. I will kill him," he whispered, a fatal promise.
I laughed.
"If you killed everyman I've ever had sex with after I kicked your ass to the curb, there would be a serious dent in the attractive male population."
"If that's what it takes, then I shall do so. You belong to me Jesse, and no one else. Now, to take care of that mark…" he trailed off, lowering those ferocious jaws to the now maroon hickey on my neck.
Pounded into dry grass, skin twitching, eyes burning, heart racing, I did the one thing I could do.
I screamed.
I will be the one that's gonna find you
By the time I got there she was pinned by that damned thing. Worse, if I shot it, I'd cap Jesse too. Fuck!
"Hey, furball!"
He lifted his head to face me, giving me a death glare that reminded me of some daughter's father, or brother, or mother. The 'you-deflowered-my-little-girl-get-out-before-I-castrate-you' one.
Jesse took the opportunity to throw him into a tree. Damn. She was stronger then I gave her credit for. Remind me not to piss her off.
Somehow the bastard was gone before I could even aim. I'll say it again. Stupid fucking werewolves.
"You ok?"
She glared at me, a new level anger I hadn't seen before. One I never wanted to see again.
"I'm fine! Go kill him damnit!"
Fine? She looked like someone had tried to make mince meat of her.
Blood ran down her arms until it dripped off her fingertips from a nice assortment of scratches and a set five jagged holes on each smooth bicep. Her jeans were ripped on her left thigh, a nice slash at least 7 inches long there soaked her jeans with blood.
"Fucked up, Insecure, Nerotic, and Emotional you mean. You like you've just stepped out of a 90's slasher flic."
A gunshot interrupted the argument, stopping whatever was about to come out of those gorgeous lips. How the hell could I check her out when she was covered in blood? Dean, sometimes your just too hot for your own damn good.
Sam. Sammy was in trouble.
"Stay here," I commanded, gone before she could say otherwise.
In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me...
Stay here?
He was kidding right? Some kind of a joke?
I found my fallen gun and my knives, stuffing them in their wrists sheaths and shoulder holster, respectively.
Couldn't blame him much about the wounds though. I saw my reflection in one of the silver blades. I looked like Carrie, except the blood was mine.
What the hell was I supposed to say to comfort him? 'Its ok hun, my lycanthropic healing will make it all better'?. Mmhm, sure, then DEAN will kill me instead of Eric. Fucking perfect.
In any case, I ran after him, only to find everyone in a stand off. Eric held Sam in a headlock, while Dean was poised to take his head off with a sawed-off shotgun.
"How long do you think you can keep it from them?" Eric leered as I ran forward with my Browning aimed at his skull.
"Depends," I said, stopping next to Dean, "How long do you think you're gonna last?"
Sam was still blocking the shot. God fucking damnit!
And then he was gone, leaving behind only his disturbing laughter, and something else. A scent, sickly sweet, but I couldn't place it.
"Jesse, you look like hell," said the youngest brother, his eyes taking in my macabre look.
"Thanks Sam. Cause here I thought I looked dead sexy with blood dripping down my arms. Don't feed my ego, its almost as bad as his," I said with a grin, gesturing with my crimson thumb at his brother.
"C'mon, we'll wrap those and clean you up at home," said Dean, taking the point to the car. He wasn't taking any chances. Bully for him.
"Aw Dean, are you concerned about my well being?"
I will be the one that's gonna hold you
"No," I lied with a grin, "I just don't want you bleeding on my seats."
One more kiss could be the best thing
But one more lie could be the worst
And all these thoughts are never resting
And you're not something I deserve
We were in the bathroom offset from the kitchen. We being myself and Dean. I didn't want to risk getting blood on the stairwell rug, it was an antique. I also tried to tell him I could handle it myself, but he wouldn't have any of it.
I tried to set my mind elsewhere. But I could only concentrate on two things. One was the shirtless and slightly wet bare chest in front of me(the shirt had gotten soaked in the process of cleaning my wounds in the sink). Water drops beaded on the tanned, muscled, surface, and I was fighting every impulse not to lick them off.
The other thing was his touch. Every time his skin touched mine in any way it set of a thousand little electric pulses, sparks of white-hot heat demanding I take him.
I needed a shower. A cold one. NOW!
Suddenly I was snapped back to earth by the movement of his hands on the front of my jeans.
"Dean. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Taking your pants off," he said, his voice carefully neutral, hiding a grin.
"We are not having sex in here, Sammy is right outside in the kitchen!"
"I need to look at that cut on your leg. Not like its anything new Jess," he said as he had begun to call me. Still, he had a good point.
"Alright, but I can take off my own pants,"
Hey, I could. He had been careful not to bandage my joints, giving me maximum movement. I didn't know if that was for hunting purposes, or for sexual benefits. Don't think I wanted to find out either.
So there I stood, wearing only a black bra with matching satin undies. I would not be embarrassed. Just think of it as a bathing suit. Hell, had more to it then my bathing suit.
I sat up on top of my sink as instructed, too exhausted to fight with him. Besides, it made sense. He was way too tall to stoop, and no way in HELL was he getting on his knees before me in my current attire, or lack of.
His fingers touched my thigh, only inspecting the wound. That's all it is damnit that's it so brain stop having those fucking idea's!!
I hate you God.
Despite the lies that you're making
Your love is mine for the taking...
My love is
A burning, consuming fire
The cut looked pretty bad. Big enough to probably need stitches, but I'm no doctor.
What I did know was that I had to get this done. Because Jesse needed to get some clothes on, or I could not be held responsible for my actions. Surprised I've gotten this far without trying something…yet.
"Is there a clinic in town?"
Her eyes widened just a bit.
"That bad?"
"Could need stitches."
She shook her head, sending her crimson locks tumbling everywhere. Those silver gray orbs weren't even a little concerned for her own well-being.
"I'll be fine. Just wrap it up."
I did. She was probably right. Hell the damn thing had already stopped bleeding, so it either wasn't as deep as it looked, or Jesse was getting divine intervention.
When I tied off the knot my hand brushed her thigh, making her breath hitch. It was a total accident I…no, that was a lie. It was completely thought out before hand.
It was barely a second, that pause, but it was there. And it said volumes.
On her counter-top perch, she was only an inch or two shorter then me. I burned, no other words could describe it. We has just met yesterday, and there was so many damn things I didn't even know about her. What I did know was this: I could not, would not, lose her.
Any word or line didn't seem to fit. Actions speak louder then words, so I acted, by taking those sweet, full, pale pink lips and crushing them with mine.
And no matter how hard I try
I can't escape these things inside I know...
When all the pieces fall apart
You will be the only one who knows
I was drowning in flames, any other phrase could never do it justice. God, I wasn't even sure that one did, but it summed it up pretty accurately.
I was burning alive FROM Dean and drowning IN Dean all at once. Frightening and yet intoxicating, like some form of forbidden drug.
Forbidden. Prohibited. Off fucking limits. That's what Dean was in reality. And all he ever would be.
I shoved at his chest, hard and forceful, breaking the illicit meeting of lips.
"Dean! What the hell?! This needs to STOP!"
He looked at me, green eyes soft, his expression one of complete innocence. It was a Sam face, and he wasn't Sam, so why could he have that face? It seemed like cheating somehow.
"Why?"
Because if you know what I am you wouldn't touch me. You wouldn't kiss me. You'd look at me the same way you look at everything else you hunt. You would slip on that cold emotionless mask that lets you kill and do what you do every damn day, kill the supernatural.
If only things were so black and white, so simple. It seemed everyday brought a new shade of grey.
"Because it just does damnit. This is all your fault"
"Really?" said the Sam-Dean.
"Yes! You and your stupid hands that make me crazy and I sware it should be illegal in every fucking state for someone to be as attractive as you are! I bet if I go to a cross-road I'll find damn good evidence that your entire form was crafted of sin cause no man can be as fucking irresistible as you are what is so fucking amusing?!"
He was grinning, that same melt-in-your-shoes(or in this case lack of) smirk that makes me want to smack and kiss him all at once.
"You are. Last night you felt something Jesse," he said with relief, and something else. Triumph. Victory. Hope.
What the fucking hell was I supposed to say to that? There was no point in denying it again, because he would see right through it. If I told him how I felt, there was no way I was leaving this bathroom with what little remained of my clothes. If I told him why we couldn't this, the truth, he'd shoot me. And he wouldn't miss.
I said the only thing I could say.
"Goodnight Dean."
And I left him there, walking calmly out of the bathroom, before dashing up to my bedroom, fighting every impulse to use all my speed. Running past Sammy in the kitchen in my skivvies was bad enough, but running past in a blur, I think they'd finally figure it out.
But Dean knew. He knew how I felt. I smelled his sheer joy, like a child on Christmas morning. Just like that child, I knew he wouldn't give up. Fresh out of options, I did what I knew best.
I locked the door and ignored every moment of it.
(See? Told ya it got better...ish. Thanks for all the love last chappie!! You all seriously keep this fic alive! Welcome to the new readers as well, thanks for hopping on board! Anywho, go leave me more reviews, and I'll type like a fiend on speed! love yous all!!)