Disclaimer: Did not have not will not own anything related to the concept, characters and everything else associated with Supernatural. Quick reminder: Set pre contact with le father and also pre Route 666 with that chick Dean had a thing for – shudder. That was such a bad ep. Sorry this chapter has taken me a while to get up – school and what not. Am nearly finished though, should be completely posted in a few weeks! Enjoy (hopefully !) !

Chapter Three

Three floors up on the top floor, on the east wing and two rooms from the end on the left hand side, was room 201. Room 201 was a nice room. It was one of the manager's favourites. The views weren't especially magnificent around here, but this one – well, it wasn't bad. You could see the little town stretching away into the distance, lights twinkling like beacons through the nights that sometimes got unbearably dark. But all of this could be shut out with the handsome beige curtains, tied back with a smart gold tassel. A faded photograph hung on the wall, disrupting the uniform green striped wallpaper. There was one armchair, one television, a small bathroom and a neatly made queen bed. Charlie thought it was a nice room. It was a nice room, the right place for creating nice memories. Dean didn't really care, as long as he was here with her.

So here, on the bed in room 201, with the television flickering dully on the walls, Charlie and Dean sat. One of the things that Charlie liked most about Dean was his hands. They were big, but not unnatural. They were strong hands, used to hard work and toil. There were a few calluses and there were more than a few faint scars on his knuckles. But they were caring hands, hands that knew potential and hands that grasped the future with their wide and safe capability. Charlie loved Dean's hands and she loved it when he held hers. It was such a cliché, it was pathetic and weak (and she knew it!) but this action, more than any other that Dean did when they were together, made her feel safe and made her feel loved.

Sitting there with him, with Dean holding her hand, she thought her heart would just burst with feeling. Charlie grinned, watching the TV but not taking in a single image. As she watched, an ad slid neatly onto the screen.

"The scariest thing you will see this summer," a deep voice in the background proclaimed, "is: 'Zombies: The Lost Cause." Followed by a series of shots of pretty girls with blood spattered faces screaming or trembling silently behind shaking doors, the clip ended with a mutilated hand emerging from a mist shrouded grave.

Dean, who had been observing the ad with bemused interest, snorted derisively. "Crap. I'd seen scarier things when I was seven."

Charlotte, who had been chuckling, paused thoughtfully. "Really?"

Dean shrugged uncomfortably, wishing that he hadn't said anything. He trusted her implicitly and she had been one of the first people he had told about what he and Sam really did when he was away, but he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to talk about anything like that, because when he was with Charlie, it was his little slice of normality. The alternate reality that he could, in an ideal world, be living. But Dean knew, more than anything, that 'ideal' was a concept that did not exist – especially for him.

"I guess." He said, after a pause. "After Mum died, Dad just kind of threw us into the thick of it. I've known about this stuff for as long as I can remember." He added begrudgingly, sensing her curiosity.

Charlie looked at him sympathetically, tucking her legs up under herself and moving to lean against his side. Dean squirmed. He didn't want sympathy. He just wanted someone who knew his secret, but treated him like a normal person anyway. They lapsed into silence for a while, and when she spoke again, it made him swallow his displeasure very quickly.

"You know I worry about you." She said quietly, not meeting his eyes. "I know when you told me what you really do, you said not to. I know you said that you can look after yourself. And I trust you, I really do. I mean, you're still here aren't you?" Charlie looked at him with a faint smile. "But four years is a long time Dean. A lot can happen in four years. I know you don't want to talk about it…"

Dean stirred, feeling bad that he had been so unwilling to share such a few minor details. But Charlie shook her head, smiling sadly, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

"It's ok. I won't ask you. But then, you'll have to forgive me for being selfish. I know that if I'm scared, then you have to be scared sometimes too." For the first time in five minutes she met his eyes and it made Dean's heart want to break. They weren't talking about ghosts anymore. A few minutes ago so happy, Dean saw in her what in himself, he didn't want to recognise. This wasn't ever going to be more than what it was – a meeting every four years that affirmed existence and memories, that made sure that this was only ever going to be a dream. She let out a shaky breath, squeezing her eyes shut and causing more tears to slide down her face. "I'm scared Dean."

He tore his eyes away, unwilling to accept it. Hope was a tricky thing, and Dean didn't have the greatest track record with it – but sometimes, it arrived just when he most sorely needed it.

"Hey. Come here." Charlie allowed Dean to pull her into his lap, hating herself for doing this when she had promised that she wouldn't. Dean put his arms around her and felt her weight lean into him, her head against his shoulder and her breath hot against his neck.

"I wish things were different," he said, stroking her hair so he wouldn't have to look at her. "But they aren't. I have to do this, because…" the sentence stuck in his throat.

Because it's what I'm good at. Because I can't imagine living a normal, small town life. Because this is who I am. Because my family comes before anybody, anything, anyone.

"…Because I just have to." He ended blandly.

Charlotte nodded. "You don't have to explain."

"Hey." Dean shifted so that he could see her. "I don't have to leave for a while. And I know it's hard but…" He smiled. "I'm glad that you still want to know me, even after all these years."

Charlie smiled. "Of course I do." She looked down, feeling a flash of anger at the guilt coursing through her, and not wanting Dean to see. Why shouldn't she be allowed to enjoy herself, to enjoy the precious few moments she got to spend with him? She was always the good girl; she always did what was right by other people, even if it meant that she had to miss out. And why? It didn't make her feel good. She was just lying to herself. Her conscience was constantly morphing, but she knew this was what she wanted. She wanted to forget – and in that, Dean was an expert.

"I'm sorry." She said, after a moment. She sighed, repositioning herself to face him but keeping her eyes downcast. Dean leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. "I really wish they had put another ad on TV." She looked up, the beginnings of a laugh tweaking the corners of her mouth.

Dean grinned, a chuckle threatening to escape. Next thing they were both laughing, mirth spilling around the room and ugly feelings forgotten. Still shaking, Dean pulled Charlie to him and kissed her, softly and sweetly. When he released her, her cheeks were crimson.

"Still got it," she admitted.

"Charlie…" Dean smoothed her hair, running a hand protectively underneath her jaw line. He wanted to say something, but was finding it impossible to string together the words.

She smiled, running her hands over the contours of his face, her fingers smooth against the beginnings of his stubble.

"I love you." The words tumbled out of his mouth, rolled off his tongue before he could stop them.

Charlie froze for a second and Dean wished the earth would rise up three stories and swallow him. In his entire life, he had said that phrase only once. Then Charlotte kissed him, hard and hungrily. Moving to get closer to him, her hips pushed against his, creating a delightful friction between them. She rose to her knees, for a few moments making him reach for her kisses – but Dean pulled her hips back down onto his, not resisting as her hands snaked down to the bottom of his shirt and drew it over his head.

Her heart skipped several beats as she ran her hands down his muscular chest. He was incredible. Absolutely incredible. Leaving the warmth of his mouth, she trailed kisses down his neck and along his chest, only returning to taste him again when he pulled her face back up to his.

"I thought you didn't want wild, gratuitous sex," Dean said mischievously.

Charlie laughed. "I never said I didn't want it," she said, noting that he raised no objections to her fumbling with the buckle on his jeans.

Using his strength, Dean wrapped his arms around her, gently rolling on top of her.

"Well you're in luck," he said playfully. "Because that just so happens to be my forte."

TBC