Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Supernatural. Zip. Nilcho. Nada. A big morbidly obese zero. 'Cept one of those free promotional DVDs from Channel Ten that has the Bloody Mary ep on it. That one kinda freaked me out. Anyway.
Authors Note: Look, I am so sorry that it has taken me so long for this chapter. But I have a pretty good excuse. I just graduated from high school! WOOT! And seeing as that I am now unemployed and schooless, guess what? MORE UPDATES FOR YOU:) Enjoy, bastardarinos.
Chapter Seven
To Dean, Charlie seemed to glow. Now, with his arms around her and the morning sunshine streaming in through the gap in the curtains, he felt like he was basking in her light. And maybe if he held her close enough and kissed her just right, he could glow too, and be just as radiant as her. She was beautiful, in all of her naked vulnerability, her implicit trust. Dean didn't know how to describe it, but there was something about the way she looked at him – eyes dark with desire and cheeks flushed pink, something about the way she arched her back into his touch, something about the way her skin raised into goosebumps whenever his lips brushed against her skin – it drove him absolutely mad.
Whenever they were together, it was like a good-natured battle of wills. Charlie had a strong spirit and Dean was charismatic so it was like of a contest – to see who would give in first, who could elicit the most feeling, who could maintain the upper hand. And at the moment, Dean was winning. Shifting his weight a little, he slid one hand behind her head and the other to rest in the small of her back. Charlie countered his move by pushing up, resisting his weight on top of her and making him a little weak at the knees. Keeping his composure he pulled away from her, letting his hand wander along her neck, making a trail up to her jaw line and then down to her collarbone. He felt Charlie's hands slide up along his back to rest on his shoulders and, burying his face in her neck, he traced the previous outline of his hands, layering soft kisses across her chest. Her skin was smooth against the rough of his face, and sneaking a quick look at her, Dean knew things were back in his favour. Time to progress. Drawing his hand out from underneath her, Dean had started to trace circles on her navel when he felt an unfamiliar inconsistency in the texture of her skin – one that he hadn't noticed last night.
"What's this?" he murmured, but before Charlie had a chance to answer, he had disappeared under the covers.
"It's a scar," she answered, fingers now in his hair. "Lesson one is to never fall down stairs whilst carrying a metal ruler."
"Oh," she heard a muffled voice answer, the trapped vibrations racing up her spine.
"That's not nearly as interesting as I hoped. I thought maybe you had got a tattoo or something."
Charlie laughed. "Not there. I am way too ticklish."
"Hmm," Dean said, grinning. "Big mistake." Kissing her scar, Dean then feathered kisses along her ribs, hands tickling any bare skin they could find.
The reaction was immediate. Charlie tried to wriggle away, and her hands sought his in a desperate attempt to make him stop. He could hear the sounds of her laughter, and feel her diaphragm shaking as he tickled her mercilessly.
"Stop it!" she squealed, wrestling under his persistent touch. "I'll hurt you!"
"Like to see you try," he grinned, emerging from the blanket but refusing to desist.
"Stop it!" She said again, but this time managed to squirm out from underneath him and begin her own fevered attack.
Five minutes later there was a mutual declaration of a cease-tickle, their stomach muscles aching with laugher. Having worked her way on top, Charlie was sprawled out across Dean's chest, propping herself up with her elbow while he tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck.
"I only stopped for you, you know," Dean said, giving her a playful smile and knowing that the hand resting at the very low end of her lower back was the cause of the shivers radiating across her body.
"Sure," she replied, grinning. "You think that."
For a moment Charlie fell silent, taking in his lopsided grin and feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her.
"I love you."
And with those three simple words, she was winning again. Charlie smiled at his surprise, and reaching for his face she leaned up and kissed him. To Dean, time seemed to stop existing. At one stage he thought he felt her tears on his cheek, but when he opened his eyes there were no tears – but painted on her face was such a look of sadness that it made his stomach lurch. Dean didn't know what to do; all he knew was that he wanted to take her pain away, to stop her from hurting. He didn't want to make her sad anymore. So he put his arms around her and kissed her, and when she moulded herself to his embrace he shifted so that they lay side beside, so there weren't any competitions anymore.
"Oh Dean," Charlie sighed, snuggling in next to him and enjoying the warmth of his body. She wouldn't think about him leaving. Not just yet.
Lying next to her, Dean and the strangest yet strongest urge to protect her. He felt like he was shielding her – from what he didn't know – that he had to be her rescuer, that Charlie was the girl he wanted to stand up for. Juvenile, he knew. Impossible, he knew even more. It's hard to be a superhero from a distance. But Dean wasn't thinking about leaving. He had learnt a long time ago that it was much easier to take every moment as it comes.
A soft knock on the door was like a stone in both pools of thought. Dean jerked his head up, whilst Charlie peeked at the door from under his arms. He looked down, sending her an exasperated look. Do not disturb signs were fairly self-explanatory. Charlie saw his annoyance and kissed him on the shoulder before resting her head against him, reminding him that some things aren't worth the anxiety.
Dean took a breath, resting his head back on the pillow. "Little busy right now. Come back later." He said.
"Dean?"
Dean raised himself onto his elbows, looking warily in the direction of the door. Charlie shifted so he could sit better upright, but still with a lingering hand on his stomach.
"Who is it?" He asked guardedly, though he had a good idea.
"It's Sam. I'm really sorry to disturb you…" His voice trailed off before he spoke again. "But we need to talk."
Charlie looked at Dean questioningly, but he shrugged. He has some awful sense that this relatively calm situation was teetering on the edge of a knife, and as soon as he opened the door it would slide right off. Thus, he was reluctant to leave the warm bed and temporary life security and let the impending situation in.
She saw his reluctance kissed him reassuringly on the cheek. At this moment, nothing could shake her. "You better let him in."
Dean nodded, grudgingly pulling away from her half embrace and tossing back the covers. Charlie fell back on the pillows for a moment as she watched him pull on his jeans, appreciating his fine form. It really didn't matter whether he was fully dressed, half dressed or no dressed – he was pretty much universally hot. Grinning to herself, she too slipped out of the bed, pulling on her clothes just as Dean opened the door. Sunshine spilled in through the threshold, and for a moment Dean had to shield his eyes. The light was wonderfully warm on his bare chest and the sky was absolutely clear. It was going to be a beautiful day.
Sam felt colour rise to his cheeks as a shirtless Dean opened the door, and felt even more embarrassed when he spied Charlie's back disappearing from view as she pulled on her own shirt. It was fairly obvious that the disruption was not appreciated, judging from the unamused look on his brother's face and his tousled hair.
"Sorry to interrupt," he stammered, looking at the floor.
"I hope this is especially important," Dean said, eying Sam and frowning.
"Morning, Sam," Ever courteous, Charlie came over to greet him, taking Dean's hand and leaning against him. "Everything alright?"
Sam looked up. "Yeah, ah…well…" He let out a nervous laugh, unsure of the boundaries in which he had to keep.
Dean seemed to read his mind. "It's alright," he prompted. "What's going on?"
Sam took a deep breath, knowing that the next two words were going to change everything. "It's Dad."
Dean froze, and Charlie felt the change in his body language. He had never really mentioned his father before, so Charlie wasn't sure if she should be happy, concerned or panicked. The seconds seem to stretch ten times their value before Dean moved, looking down with his head angled towards her but not meeting her eyes. Charlie didn't need any help interpreting that one.
"I'll make us some coffee," she said brightly, and turned away. But the words didn't seem to suit the atmosphere; instead they sunk back into her, planting little seeds of worry. For some reason she felt panic bite her insides, and her hands shook as she filled the jug.
'There is nothing to worry about,' she told her self sternly, noticing the tremor. 'Everything will be ok. Just stay in control.' She took a few deep breaths, feeling slightly better as she waited for the kettle to boil.
Sam watched as Charlie busied herself searching the draws for teaspoons. "How much does she know?" he whispered fiercely, sending Dean a sharp look.
"What do you mean 'it's Dad'? Is he hurt? Does he need help?" Dean replied, completely ignoring Sam's question.
"I don't know," he answered, eyes still on Charlie. "Seriously, how much did you tell her?"
"That doesn't matter!" Dean said vehemently in a low voice. "Tell me what's going on!"
Sam was taken aback by Dean's forcefulness, and looked at him seriously. "I don't know what's going on. He called my cell and said that he needed to see us both urgently. He hung up before I could find out anymore."
"Did he say where he was?"
Sam exhaled. "Iowa."
"Iowa?" The inflection in Dean's voice questioned the nature of the statement.
"Iowa." Sam confirmed, the tone in his own voice making it clear there was no mistake. "157 South Road."
The words fell like lead to the ground, unsettling Dean from his already uncertain composure. Iowa was a long way away. "How long?"
Sam looked away and bit his lip. "Two days," he said quietly.
There was a lengthy pause.
"Right," finally Dean managed to speak. He could feel Sam's eyes anxiously searching out his, but he ignored them; instead staring fixatedly at the straw mat at the doorstep.
He wished he could close the door, wished he could shut out the complications that seemed to permanently crowd him. He could feel her presence, and maybe if he was surrounded he could forget that the world existed. Maybe he could pretend that nothing existed except dust and air; that they had their own pocket of time that was secret and safe.
"What are we going to do?" Sam's voice seemed to echo, as if he was shouting from the end of a very long tunnel.
Dean's eyes travelled up to Sam's, and he blinked. "Ok," he said simply.
Sam didn't understand. "Ok?"
"Ok." Dean repeated. "We only have two days to get to Iowa. We have to leave now."
"But…" Sam faltered at Dean's stare. "What about Charlie?"
Dean looked down, his head at an angle. "It's dealt with," he glanced up again, hating the anguished look on his brother's face. "This is family. They come before anyone." Dean swallowed hard, the next words struggling to leave his throat. "Even her."
Sam felt some strange sense of gratitude, and he quickly swallowed the 'thank you' that had appeared on his tongue. "I'll wait outside," he offered, feeling terrible.
But Dean wasn't listening. He took a deep breath, letting out a quiet sigh. And then, hand pausing momentarily on the handle, he pulled the door shut and disappeared from sight.
Charlie hummed to herself as she sauntered up the stairs to her room, pausing at her bed to retrieve her textbook from her bag and then plonking herself at her desk. Her good mood could not even be deterred by the prospect of a full night of cramming for the imminent maths exam.
Her mother stuck her head around the door. "You're in a good mood," she said, rather obviously.
Charlie smiled vaguely. "I suppose," she said. She hadn't exactly figured out how to tell her that she was currently dating the boy whom a few months prior had been her worst enemy. Her mother was the logical type, who didn't put much weight in the feelings side of things; thus, Charlie didn't think that she would really understand. And if the general reaction of the people at school was anything to go on, it didn't matter how brilliant her argument was – no one was really going to get it.
The only person who really came close was Luke, and that was saying something. They had hardly spoken since the prom, over two weeks ago. It wasn't that Charlie didn't want to; it was just that she didn't know what to say, and that in itself was enough to make her upset. They had been best friends for years, and now she couldn't even find any words of comfort to ease the dejected look on his face. Charlie wanted to let him know that her being with Dean didn't change anything, but at the same time she wanted to give him his space and certainly didn't want to force her company upon him. So they were stuck in this weird sort of void, pretending that everything was alright, and talking without really speaking.
Little did Charlie know that Luke felt exactly the same way – not really knowing what to say and definitely not wanting to be an imposition on her time. People had been saying things, about how such public enemies could turn around and start dating – and these things usually resulted in nasty little stories and vicious rumours. No one could seem to comprehend how it could possibly happen, preferring to try and explain it away with gossip and conjecture. Luke knew better than to heed in it. Instead, he told all those rumour mongerers exactly where to get off, and that caused him his own fair share of trouble. He didn't think Charlie knew about it. At least, he hoped she didn't. Only last week he had requested very politely that a girl spreading some of the afore mentioned speculation keep her opinions to herself - resulting in Luke getting a 'friendly' slap from the girl's boyfriend after class. And just when he had wanted to creep away and wallow in his own self-pity, who should come lumbering around the corner but Dean Winchester, who pulled him unceremoniously to his feet and asked gruffly if he was alright. Luke couldn't escape fast enough, and prayed that Dean would have the good grace not to say anything to Charlie. If her pity had been hard enough to take, he didn't think he could stand her sympathy – even if the circumstances were honourable. But she hadn't said anything, and Luke was left with a strange mix of humiliation, longing, hurt and indignation.
Charlie's mother arched her eyebrows together, suspicious at her daughter's lack of elaboration. "Anything you want to tell me about?"
Charlie widened her eyes in a sort of puzzled innocence. "No. No, I don't think so."
Her mother regarded her with an eagle eye before relenting. "Ok." She disappeared back behind the doorframe, only to reappear a few seconds later. "Oh, and Luke called while you were out."
The tip of her pencil hesitated on the paper, and Charlie looked around interestedly. "Oh really?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
"He asked if it would be alright to come over about eight." Her mother disappeared again, her voice moving in the direction of the laundry.
Charlie smiled. Luke always, always, always rang before coming over to check if it was ok. Glancing at her watch, she pulled the textbook closer towards her and tried to decipher the last topic. Maths was definitely not her speciality. She was so engrossed that she didn't even hear the phone ring, or hear someone answer it.
"Charlotte?" This time her father's voice broke her concentration.
Swallowing her irritation, she turned. "Yes?"
"There's someone on the phone for you."
Charlie tucked her pencil into her hair. "Is it Luke?"
"He didn't say who it was."
Frowning a little, she followed her dad down the stairs, picking up the phone and leaning against the doorframe. "Hello?"
"Charlie?"
"Dean?" Her voice rose in surprise.
Across the other side of town, Dean pressed his face against the cool glass of the phone booth; relieved to hear her voice and feeling it settle his jangling nerves. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Long time no see," he joked feebly. Only a few hours earlier, he had walked her home. It was almost hard to believe how much everything had been shaken up in such a small space of time. Almost.
Charlie wasn't fooled, hearing the anxious tone in his voice. "Everything alright?"
Dean closed his eyes, a wry smile on his face. There was nowhere to hide with her. "I need to see you."
"Dean…" her voice trailed off, and he heard her move around the corner where she couldn't be heard. "I told you, I have to study tonight."
"I know, but - "
Charlie sighed. She knew this would happen. And he was so darn persuasive against her weakening commitment to maths. "No buts, Dean. I have to. I know you don't understand - "
"Charlie." Through the glass Dean saw his father leave the convenience store and start towards him. "Look, I don't have long. But please, it is really important."
"Dean, I just don't think - "
"Please." He interrupted her, turning around so his father couldn't see his face. "Promise me you'll meet me at the tree outside my house."
There was something in his tone – the note of urgency – that made her clutch the phone closer to her ear.
"Charlie?"
"Ok."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
"The tree outside my house. Seven o'clock."
"The tree outside your house at seven o'clock. I promise."
Dean risked a glance in the direction of his father, and jumped in surprise to see his face peering in at him from just outside the glass. "I have to go. But I'll see you later."
And then all of the sudden his voice was gone, and Charlie was left with a beeping phone in her hand and a burden of worry in the pit of her stomach.
Seven o'clock came. Charlie waited under the big tree outside of Dean's house, rubbing her arms a little in the chilly air. She had skipped dinner – leaving the house almost as soon as Dean had hung up, and hoping that she would be back in time to see Luke. Whatever Dean wanted, she hoped that it was important and that it wasn't bad news. She was still a little worried about that.
As she waited a shaft of light fell across the street, and Charlie saw a figure emerge from one of the houses and come towards her.
"Charlie."
She saw relief spread across Dean's face as he greeted her under the tree, and before she had a chance to reply he had taken her in his arms and kissed her. Charlie softened at his touch, but there was something in his kiss that just wasn't right.
"Dean, what's going on? I've been worried." She said as she pulled away.
Dean avoided her eyes. "Will you just sit with me for a while?"
She felt a little pang at his gentleness, and took his hand. "Of course."
They sat holding hands with their backs against the tree for a good five minutes before Dean broke contact, rummaging in his pocket and pulling out an army knife. Charlie opened her mouth, but before she could speak he had ploughed the blade into the bark and carved out their initials. When he finished, Charlie took the knife out of his hands and laid it on the grass.
He still refused to meet her eyes until she pulled his chin down and they were face to face. "What is going on?"
Dean blinked and swallowed. He would give anything not to have to recognise this as a reality. "I'm leaving."
Charlie didn't understand. "What do you mean you're leaving? For a holiday?"
He wanted to look away, but they were too close. "No. We're moving. Tomorrow. Charlie, I'm not coming back."
She felt her breath catch in her throat. "But you can't."
Now Dean looked down. "I don't have a choice. I have to. God, I'm so sorry."
Charlie felt tears leaking down her face, and for a second she didn't know what to do. And when Dean folded her into his arms, he smelt so good and he felt so nice that she felt the ground spinning away from underneath her.
"Please don't cry. Please…" Dean broke off, kissing her amid her tears. "Please, I'm sorry…"
After a few minutes the shock was no longer new and Charlie's tears stopped. Instead she sat with her forehead resting against Dean's, in an odd sort of sad silence.
Finally she took a deep breath. "I wish you didn't have to go. I…" She paused, finding her control. "Dean Winchester, I love you."
Dean thought someone had turned the world upside down. No one had ever told him that in that way before. His heart seemed to thump very loudly, beating double time. He pulled away, running a hand under her jaw to stop her trembling lips, and to bring her eyes to his again.
"I love you too," he said, and though the words seemed to tumble awkwardly out of his mouth, she knew that he meant them. "But sometimes that isn't enough."
For a long moment they didn't say anything, and then Charlie nodded. She sniffed; pushed the hair out of her face, and leaned forward and kissed him. And then she got up, and walked away. And then Dean was alone.
Luke waited in Charlie's room, observing with a smile the open textbook and the scribbled out calculations. He had been doing the same thing a few hours before. He took a deep breath in, noting that her room smelt like her. That made him more nervous, though he wasn't sure why. All he had to do was tell her, and that was it. There was a sudden click as the door opened, and Charlie stepped into the room. She looked shaken, if not upset; and her eyes were the kind of clear they got when she had just been crying.
"Hi Luke," she said, barely controlling the tremble in her voice and genuinely very glad to see him.
"Charlie," he said, taken aback when she crossed the room and hugged him. He couldn't help but notice how well she seemed to mould to him. "Is everything all right?"
For a split second it crossed her mind to tell him about Dean, to let out the emotions that were beating against her temple and giving her a headache. All she needed right now was a shoulder to cry on, and Luke had always been that for her.
"Charlie?" Luke pulled away from her, with warm eyes and concern softening his features.
She looked up at him, and just knew that as soon as she mentioned Dean the closeness they had just re-established would go straight back to being distance again. Something in Luke's eyes shut whenever Charlie mentioned Dean, and she didn't want that. As much as she was not ok, she just knew she couldn't tell him. Not now, anyway. It must have taken courage to come over here and she didn't want to put him off or hurt him again. No, for the time being, her misery was her own.
"I'm fine," she lied, looking away so he wouldn't see the falsity. "Just tired and stressed you know." She tried a smile, and Luke seemed to buy it. "Sorry I'm late."
"That's ok," Luke smiled back at her, knowing that she wasn't telling the whole truth but not willing to push it. "Not long to go now, though. Hang in there."
Charlie smiled again, feeling tears threatening again. Her resolve wouldn't last long if he was going to keep up at being nice. She sniffed and swallowed hard, taking a seat on her bed and indicating for him to do the same. "Anyway. How's it all going? It's been a while since we talked."
Luke felt uncomfortable, but quickly put it aside. "Yeah, I guess. I've been good… busy. How about you?"
Charlie remembered how every afternoon since the prom Dean had walked her home, and how they had held hands and kissed at the front door when it was time to say goodbye. "Yeah, pretty good."
There was a silence, and Luke fiddled with her eiderdown. "I've got something to tell you," he said at last.
Charlie didn't say anything, but looked at him expectantly.
He took a breath. "I'm going away for six months."
She blinked. "Sorry?"
"I have some relatives in Europe who are going around the world – they need someone to baby sit their house while they're away. And I said I would do it."
"For six months?"
"Yeah. I think…it will be a great opportunity," he ended lamely.
Charlie took a deep breath and told herself to keep her composure. "When do you leave?"
Luke smiled a little. "The day after tomorrow."
She swallowed her shock, managing to turn it into a grin. "Wow, that sounds amazing."
He tweaked his glasses to look at her better. "Yeah, I'm really excited about it."
"Well…I don't know what to say," Charlie laughed to cover the sinking feeling in her stomach. "I'm going to miss you."
Luke smiled, properly this time. "Yeah, I'm going to miss you too."
"Have a great time."
"I will. I'll call you. Send some postcards."
"You better."
"Well," Luke stood, looking at the time on his watch. "I better let you go. I just wanted to tell you first, before you heard it off someone else. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
Charlie stood as well, and they hugged before Luke made his way over to the door. "Thanks for coming over. It was nice to chat to you again."
"Yeah. Night Charlie."
"Night Luke."
Charlie sat on her bed for a long time, trying very hard not to think or feel. She knew that as soon as she did, the misery would just get the better of her. After a while she slowly got up and changed into her pyjamas, turning off her desk lamp and crawling into bed without giving a second thought to study. The covers were heavy, masking the sound of her tears as she sobbed until her throat was sore. She had never felt so alone.