I have nothing left to give
I have found the perfect end
You were made to make it hurt
Disappear into the dirt
Carry me to heaven's arms
Light the way and let me go
Take the time to take my breath
I will end where I began
And I will find the enemy within
Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin
Dear Agony
Just let go of me
Suffer slowly
Is this the way it's gotta be?
CHILDREN SHOULDN'T PLAY WITH DEAD THINGS
The Impala was racing down the highway, I was slouched in the front with Dean, listening to him complain, not for the first time I might add, about our younger brother's desire to visit his mother's grave.
"Come on Sam, I'm begging you. This is stupid." Dean said again, looking in the mirror at Sam who was in the back seat.
"Why?" Sam asked, genuinely confused.
"Going to visit Mom's grave? She doesn't even have a grave, there was no body left after the fire," Dean said, shaking his head.
"She has a headstone." Sam pointed out.
"Yeah, put up by her uncle, a man we've never even met." Dean said, rolling his eyes at me. I bit my lip and said nothing, no way was I getting in the middle of this one. Dean frowned at me for the lack of support, and continued with his reasoning. "So you want to go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger?"
"Dean, that's not the point," Sam said, doing the whole puppy eyed look.
"Well then, enlighten me, Sam." Dean said, staring at Sam through the mirror.
"It's not about a body or, or a casket, it's about her memory ok?" Sam said.
"Hmmm," Dean said, pondering but not really getting it.
"And after Dad, it just... just feels like the right thing to do." Sam said finally.
"It's irrational is what it is," Dean countered, shaking his head again, clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea behind the trip.
"Look, man. No one asked you to come." Sam said, raising his eyebrow.
"Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead? I mean, we haven't heard anything about the demon lately, we should be hunting that son of a bitch down." Dean said and I felt that familiar feeling of dread and guilt in my stomach start coming to the surface again.
"That's a good idea, you should. Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride, and I'll met you guys there tomorrow." Sam said, nodding.
Dean paused, re-thinking his strategy. "Right. To be... stuck with those people, making awkward small talk until you show up? No thanks." Dean changed his mind.
"Well you and Beth could just go do your own thing somewhere, talk things through, I'm sure you have a lot to talk about," Sam suggested. "I could meet you anywhere you want."
I looked back at him and raised my eyebrow. Yeah ok, so Dean and I hadn't been in a particularly great space this last month or so, but then, who the hell was given the circumstances?
I hadn't realised that Sam was starting to see the tell tale signs of us being on edge. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised either, he'd been around us long enough to know, especially since it'd been a while since we'd shoved him off to his own room. I looked over at Dean who was looking at me a little guarded.
"Thanks for that not-so-subtle hint there Dr. Phil," Dean said, scowling at Sam.
"Hey I'm just saying, you guys seem to need a little time out," Sam said with a shake of his head.
"Thanks for your concern Sammy, but we're fine. Aren't we Dean?" I said stubbornly.
"Yep, all good here..." Dean said looking at me. "All good over there?"
"Yep, all good." I said with a nod, turning back to the road.
"See, all good Sammy," Dean said, but his frown kind of said otherwise.
Sam sighed at the pair of us and shook his head. "Like two peas in a pod," he muttered to himself, sitting back resigned.
I caught Dean looking over at me, a little worried expression on his face, and I felt my mouth twitch in a sad expression of my own. He slid his arm across the bench-seat to me, playing with my hair a bit while keeping one eye on the road, one hand on the wheel. Then he pulled me over to him, putting his hand back on the wheel. I sidled up to him and rested my head on his shoulder, his hand dropped to my knee and I tucked my arm through his, cuddling it close to me.
Yep, all good, no problems here at all, I sighed and closed my eyes for a bit. Sam was right, we really did need some time out, but it was a bit of a scary prospect because of the can of worms it also threatened to open up between us.
Cemetery
Greenville, Illinois
Sam dragged me along with him to Mary's grave, Dean refused to come and was wandering off into the cemetery seeking a little peace and quiet. I was restless, graveyards just gave me the jitters, I didn't like being in them at all, but at least it was daytime, so it didn't seem quite so bad.
I watched as Sam used a pocketknife to dig a tiny hole in the green top of the grave. He pulled John's dog tags out of his pocket and looked at them for a while. I fought back the feeling of desperation I felt whenever I had to see anything to do with John's death, and looked away. Sam buried them in the ground, looking at the headstone.
"I think, um, I think Dad would have wanted you to have these," Sam said quietly. "I love you Mom."
I squeezed his shoulder and then wandered off in search of Dean. I found him near a dying tree, looking around. When he saw me he smiled and wrapped an arm around me.
"Hey," he said casually, leaning down to kiss me.
"Hey." I said back, smiling.
"Check this out," he said and pulled me along with him and pointing to a grave marker – an indication of a newly buried person. Around it there was a perfect circle of dead grass, dead flowers graced the top of the new grave.
"Well that's weird," I said, frowning.
Sam found us as Dean was finishing up talking to the grounds keeper. He rejoined us, looking up at Sam.
"Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college; funeral was three days ago." He informed us.
"And?" Sam asked, curious where this was going.
"And? You see her grave? Everything dead around it, in a perfect circle? You don't think that's a little weird?" Dean asked, gesturing back toward the marker before walking toward the Impala.
"Maybe the grounds keeper went a little agro with the pesticide," Sam suggested with a shrug.
"No, I asked him. No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it." I said quietly, staring over at the grave.
"Ok, so what are you thinking?" Sam asked, looking from me to Dean.
"I dunno," Dean said, "Unholy ground, maybe?" Sam looked sceptical.
"What?" Dean challenged, looking at Sam confused. "If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground. Remember the, the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?"
"Yeah, but..." Sam shifted uncomfortably.
"Could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or the, the Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough." Sam nodded, turning away and starting toward the car.
Dean threw me a frustrated look and followed him.
"Well don't get too excited, you might pull something." Dean snapped.
"It's just...stumbling on to a hunt? Here, of all places?" Sam was in full Dr. Phil mode all of a sudden and I rolled my eyes. I wandered around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. Dean was leaning on the roof of the car.
"So?" Dean said, not seeing the problem with Sam's suggestion.
"So? Are you sure this is about a hunt, and not about something else?" Sam asked.
"What else would it be about?" Dean asked stubbornly.
"You know, just forget it," Sam said shaking his head.
"You believe what you want, Sam, but I let you drag our asses out here, the least we could do is check this out." Dean said, frustrated.
"Yeah. Fine." Sam said and I grinned. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, I was sufficiently intrigued to weigh in Dean's favour on this one. Sam was totally outnumbered.
"Girl's dad works in town, he's a professor at the school," Dean said, looking at us and getting in the car. Sam sighed at me and I gave him a look that told him he owed Dean enough to at least check it out.
College Grounds
Sam decided to stay in the car, he was sulking a little thinking this thing we were so eager to check out was just another way to mask the pain of losing John and not wanting to deal with our grief. Apparently he was staging some sort of a protest by staying in the car.
Dean and I shrugged, heading inside. Sometimes it was easier, just the two of us, so his protest was falling on deaf ears. We loved Sam, but he could be a bit of a wet blanket sometimes. We found the door to Dr. Mason's office and knocked. A short, balding man came to the door, looking out at us.
"Dr Mason?" I asked when he opened the door.
"Yes?" He said, looking at us expectantly.
"I'm Beth, this is Dean. We were friends of Angela's, we … well we wanted to offer our condolences." I said to the man.
"Please, come in." Dr Mason invited, smiling at us both.
He closed the door behind us and I took a seat that he offered. Dean wandered off to look at the bookshelf nearby. I smiled, gesturing to a photo album Dr Mason had on his desk.
"May I?" I asked.
"Please." Dr Mason said, nodding. I picked the album up and flipped through it. It was basic and rustic. Recycled paper with random photos and handwritten notes on every page, clearly put together by a loving daughter.
"She was beautiful," I said softly with a smile, feeling sad that this girl's life had ended so early.
"Yes, she was." Dr Mason agreed with me.
Dean was looking at a large book he'd located, he looked up at us and closed the cover, holding it up toward us. I noticed that there were Greek letters on it along with a triangular symbol – not one I'd seen before.
"This is an unusual book," he commented.
"It's ancient Greek; I teach a course," Dr Mason explained and Dean looked at it curiously before putting it back on the shelf.
"So a car accident, that's, that's horrible," Dean said, walking over to us.
"Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh..." Dr Mason's voice trailed off.
"It's got to be hard. Losing someone like that. Sometimes it's like they're still around. Almost like you can still sense their presence." Dean said softly and not so subtly. I looked up at him with a warning look. Dean ignored me.
"You ever feel anything like that?" He asked Angela's father.
"I do, as a matter of fact," Dr Mason said, nodding.
"That's perfectly normal, Dr. Mason." I said, putting a warning tone in my voice for Dean. "Especially with what you're going through."
"You know, I still phone her. And the phone's ringing before I remember that, uh... family's everything, you know? Angie was the most important thing in my life. And now I, I'm just lost without her." Dr Mason said as he fought to hold back tears. Dean looked away, his face an unreadable mask.
"We're really very sorry," I said, and I was. I knew just how he felt.
Motel Room
"I'm telling you, there's something going on here, we just haven't found it yet." Dean said flipping through John's journal, standing in the doorway to the bathroom where Sam was washing his face.
"Dean, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing." Sam said, looking in the mirror at him sceptically.
"Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground." Dean said, looking at Sam.
"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground." Sam said, turning to face him, drying his face with a towel. "You said according to her Dad, Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash, that's not exactly vengeful spirit material."
"Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" Dean said, walking back into the main part of the room, Sam following behind him.
"You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here any more." Sam said, shaking his head.
"So what, Sam? We just bail? Without even figuring out what's going on?" Dean asked.
"I think I know what's going on here. It's the only reason I went along with you this far." Sam said quietly.
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.
"This is about Mom's grave." Sam said. I groaned silently and sat back on the bed Dean was now standing next to. Would he just not let up on that?
Dean scoffed, looking down at the journal again. "That's got nothing to do with it."
"You wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it. Look. Maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad." Dean turned to stare at Sam, eyes angry and bitter.
Sam sighed. "You wanna take another swing? Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better." Dean shook his head just barely, still staring at Sam.
"I don't need this crap." He said angrily, grabbing his jacket and bag.
"Where are you going?" I asked, sitting up on the bed.
"I'm getting us our own room. And then I'm going to go get a drink." He said, walking out and slamming the door.
I groaned and started collecting my things up and putting them in my bag. Sam sighed and paced around the room.
"He's gotta start dealing with this Beth, there's no case here, it's all in his head!" Sam ranted.
"We don't know that Sam, let's just give it some time, take a bit more of a look around ok?" I said, zipping up my bag.
"Has he talked to you? I mean if he'll talk to anyone..." Sam looked at me and I shook my head.
"Not really, Sam. You know, a little, but that's Dean. You have to give him some time, he's working through it in his own way." I said.
Sam struggled, his face awash with emotions.
"Look, you're worried about Dean, I get it, we all are Sammy. But this isn't going to help." I sighed and looked at him.
"It's irresponsible Beth, he's erratic, he's moody..." Sam kicked at the bed, grumpy.
"It's been six weeks Sam! Come on, give him a break. If he's still like this in six months then we can do the whole gang up on him and make him deal thing. Until then... just let me handle it, ok?" I asked, finishing on a gentle note.
"But are you?" He asked, turning accusing eyes to me. "Are you handling it Beth? I mean you're almost as bad as he is!"
I steeled myself, trying to hide the hurt out of my eyes. "When I want to talk about Dad, I will, ok Sam? Don't push it." I said.
Sam threw his hands in the air. "You two are exactly alike!" He groaned and stormed off to the bathroom. I heard the shower running and frowned. Did he just walk out on me?
"Well ok then... been good chatting Sam... let's do it again soon!" He ignored me and I shook my head. Same old Sammy. "OK well I'm going now little bro, I'll text you our room number once I know what it is." Still silence. "See you in the morning!" I stepped outside, shutting the door behind me and rolling my eyes.
Another Motel Room
Next morning
Mornings in bed with Dean had been the best part of the last few weeks. We made it a point to lie in because half the time we hadn't slept much the night before, too many nightmares and terrors. If one of us wasn't having some kind of a nightmare, the other usually was. It made for long nights of constant wakefulness, just holding each other in the dark, silently reassuring the other that it would end, one day – hopefully.
We would drift off to a deep sleep once the sun rose, and we left the blinds open so we could see it as early as possible every morning. Then we'd settle down and sleep, usually with me on my side, Dean tucked tightly behind me, an arm wrapped around my waist. It was comforting, familiar, and it was the only couple of hours peace we knew each day.
This morning though, Dean was fidgeting, still curled up behind me, not quite wanting to move just yet, but he was far from peaceful.
"That bloody Sammy..." Dean muttered in my ear, not for the first time since we'd moved our stuff into the room last night.
"He's just worried about you Dean." I mumbled sleepily.
"Yeah I know..." He sighed, resting his stubbly cheek against mine, I absently rubbed my face against it, liking how it felt.
"How come he doesn't give you a hard time like this?" He asked, rubbing my cheek back with a thoughtful look.
"He does," I said, yawning. He looked at me, confused.
"How come you're so calm about it all then?" He asked.
I turned in his arms a little so I could look up at him, smiling. "Dean, if I got as worked up with the pair of you as often as you two fight, I'd be a nervous wreck. Nope, I just let it wash over me, like water off a duck's back." I grinned, he laughed at that. It was far from true, but there was a little honesty in there.
"Think we can ditch Sam for the morning?" He asked, looking at me.
"What do you have in mind?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, you know, a little breaking and entering comes to mind." He said with a chuckle.
"Oooh, I'm intrigued." I said with a smile. He kissed me a couple of times before smiling and rolling out of bed. We'd been doing this dance for a while now, we were close, taking comfort in the mere presence of being in the room together, the feel of each other's touch. Dean had stopped following me around like he had been when John first died, but he was always within earshot.
There was still one part of us that hadn't returned to normal, and I didn't know what the block was with that – I assumed it was just part of the grieving process, part of it whatever Dean was feeling and wasn't talking about, and a lot of it the pain and loss I was feeling, and the fact that I couldn't talk to him about the demon and the deal that had saved his life. Either way, we had found our libidos almost non-existent. We definitely weren't talking about that.
Dean grabbed my phone and started tapping away at the keys. "Dear Sammy, Dean and I are taking off for some hanky-panky this morning, don't do anything we wouldn't do, talk to you later. Love, Beth." He muttered as he typed out a message for Sam.
"I don't talk like that!" I said, pulling the t-shirt I'd stolen from Dean off over my head and walking toward the bathroom.
"You do now!" He said with a chuckle, and hit send.
Angela's House
Dean used his credit card to open the locked door and we slipped inside. The house was neat and orderly, a few boxes on the table. Dean paused to look at a photo of Angela as I moved further into the living room. He turned suddenly and I heard a voice panic down the hallway.
"Who the hell are you?" A girl asked, and Dean started to walk down the hall. She ran and locked herself in the bedroom.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on!" Dean said to her, reaching out.
"I'm calling 911!" The girl called through the door at us.
"I'm Angela's cousin!" Dean said quickly, standing at the door.
"What?" The girl said, hesitantly.
"Yeah, her dad sent me over to, uh, pick up her stuff – I'm here with my girlfriend – my name's Alan? Alan Stanwick?"
The girl opened the door and peered out, I had come up to stand a few feet away, backing up the whole girlfriend story.
"Her dad didn't say that you were coming," she said.
Dean held up his keys and looked at her. "Well, how else would I have the key to your place?" He asked.
Ten minutes later we were in the living room, I was sitting on the couch with the girl, who we now knew was Angela's room mate Lindsey. She was crying, and I was handing her a kleenex while Dean hovered behind me, looking uncomfortable with all the crying.
"So, I'm sure you got a view of Angela that none of her family got to see. What was she like? I mean, really like?" I asked gently.
Lindsey dabbed at her eyes and sniffed. "She was great. Just great. I mean, she was so..." She searched for the word, tears in her eyes.
"Great?" Dean asked.
"Yeah." Lindsey said, nodding at him and crying again. "Yeah."
"Yeah." I said, handing her another tissue. "Here you go. You two must have been really close, huh?"
"We were. But it's not just her, it's Matt," she said, sniffling.
"Who?" Dean asked, looking over.
"Angela's boyfriend," Lindsey said, looking up.
"Right, Matt. What about him?" Dean asked.
"He killed himself last night. Cut his own throat..." She looked over at me. "Who does that?"
"That's terrible." I said sympathetically, patting her hand.
"He was taking Angela's death pretty hard, and I guess... I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days." She said.
"Messed up how?" Dean asked.
"He kept saying that he saw her everywhere." Lindsey explained, shrugging.
"Well, I'm sure that's normal, with everything that he was going through." I said with a smile.
"No, he said that he saw her. As in, an acid trip or something." Lindsey said, her eyes looking confused.
"Were Angela and Matt a happy couple?" Dean asked, his expression showed that he was thinking we were on to something. "I mean, is there any reason that Angela would be angry with him?"
"What? No, of course not, why do you ask?" Lindsey asked frowning at Dean.
"Just asking." Dean said dismissively. "Where did Matt live?"
We excused ourselves not long after that, I went to Angela's room, collecting an empty box and sealing it up like I had gotten a few items for her father, and then came out. There was one thing that I did grab which caught my attention. Like most girls, there was a diary hidden under her mattress. I smiled, and reflected on the kinds of things written in my journal and shook my head. No crushes or crap in mine, just how to kill vampires, demons, wendigos... nothing odd about me at all. Of course I had been known to keep a regular diary too, but those were well hidden.
Sam's motel room
Dean barged into Sam's room without a pre-emptive knock, Sam looked a little startled and shut off the TV he'd been staring at, tossing down the remote, looking a little guilty .
"Hey," Sam said, looking at us both casually.
Dean moved slowly into the room, giving Sam an amused look.
"What?" Sam asked, looking anxious.
"Awkward..." Dean said with a chuckle, glancing at the TV and what we were all pretty sure had been an adult channel.
"Where in the hell have you guys been?" Sam asked, changing the subject. "I mean really... hanky-panky?" He looked at me and I shrugged sheepishly.
"We were working my imaginary case." Dean said going over to look at the magazines on the counter against the opposite wall.
"Yeah? And?" Sam asked.
"Well, you were right, we didn't find much." Dean said, turning to look resignedly at Sam.
Sam nodded at him sympathetically, I rolled my eyes at Dean.
"Yeah. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night. Slit his own throat." He drew his finger across his own neck to drive that point home. "But, you know, that's normal." Sam smirked.
"Uh, let's see, what else." Dean said, enjoying this a little too much. "Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died." He paused, looking at Sam. "But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings." Dean was on a roll, still worked up over last night.
"Okay, I get it." Sam said with a smile, looking up at us. "I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here."
"Maybe?" Dean asked, spinning around to confront his brother. "Sam, I know how to do my job, despite what you might think!" Dean said, a little frustrated.
Sam looked a little taken aback and nodded, not meeting Dean's gaze.
"We should check out the guy's apartment." Sam said, changing the subject.
"We just came from there. Pile of dead plants, just like the cemetery. Dead goldfish too." I said, taking a seat on one of the chairs and putting my feet up on the bed, tossing my bag on the mattress.
"So, unholy ground?" Sam asked.
"Maybe. I'm still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela." I said, sitting forward and starting to rummage through my bag. I pulled out the pink diary and held it up. "I have been reading this, though."
"You stole the girl's diary?" Sam asked incredulously.
"Yeah Sam, girls prerogative, you find you read it – she should have hidden it better." I said with a raised eyebrow. "Now, if anything, this girl is a little tooooo nice." I said, looking at the boys.
"So what do you want to do?" Sam asked, looking at Dean.
"Keep digging, talk to more of her friends." Dean answered, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the counter.
"You get any names?" Sam asked.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked, holding up the diary. "I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world here!"
Neil's House
We decided to talk to Angela's best friend Neil first. He was standing at the door way, looking a little pale and tired.
"I didn't realise the college employed grief counsellors." Neil said, looking at the three of us. Maybe it was a little overkill, but Sam had wanted back in now we were working an honest to god, real case.
"Oh yeah." Dean said with a smile. "Yeah, you talk, we listen. Or maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever jump-starts the healing."
Neil looked at us hesitantly. "Well, I think I'm ok. Thanks," he said, not inviting us in and instead moving to go back inside.
"Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?" I asked, looking at him.
"Yeah, I did." Neil said, nodding.
"Well, we just wanted to make sure you were okay. Grief can make people do crazy things." I said with a concerned look. Dean smiled.
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself it wasn't because of grief," Neil said confidently.
"No? Then why?" Dean asked.
"It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault, and he knew it." Neil informed us.
"How was Matt responsible?" Sam asked from behind me.
"Well, she really loved that guy. But the night of the accident she walked in on him with another girl." Neil looked down, troubled. "She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car." We all looked at him sympathetically, nodding.
"Um, look, I gotta get ready for work, so thanks for the concern, but... seriously, I'll be okay." Neil said, heading indoors. Dean turned to give Sam a significant look and Sam sighed. He wasn't going to live this one down any time soon.
"Well, that vengeful spirit theory's starting to make a little more sense..." I said, as we walked back to the Impala. "I mean, hell hath no fury..." I finished with a smile. Dean looked a little uncomfortable at that and glanced at me.
"Remind me never to piss you off." He said with a grin, slipping his arm around my waist and pulling me tight.
"So, if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?" Sam asked, ignoring us.
"Well there's one way to be sure," Dean said, pulling away from me and rounding the car to get in the driver's side.
"Yeah, what's that?" Sam asked when we were all seated inside the Impala.
"Burn the bones." Dean said. I grimaced.
"Burn the bones? Are you mad?" I said looking at him. Dean stopped and cast me a questioning look. "Dean, Angela died last week!" I said, feeling horrified.
"So?" Dean asked.
"So, there's not gonna be bones. There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin." Sam pointed out.
Dean looked over at Sam with a grin. "Since when are you afraid to get dirty. Huh?"
Graveyard
My shovel hit the coffin with a thud and I grimaced.
"Here we are, night time in a graveyard, digging up a corpse yet again... must be Thursday!" I said sarcastically. The boys looked at me, Dean had an amused expression on his face.
"Yeah ok apple-pie, our lives suck, we get it," he quipped at me with a grin.
I smirked and tossed a few more shovel loads of dirt out of the grave. Truth was, I loved our life most of the time, it was just one of those long standing jokes that everyone got tired of after a while, but still told.
Dean cleared off the rest of the dirt, tossing his shovel up on the side of the grave. Sam was standing above us looking down, a disgusted look on his face. Dean reached down with a knife and slit open the restraints holding the coffin shut, standing to look back at me.
"Ladies first," he said with a raised eyebrow.
I winced, looking at the coffin, not liking what we were going to find inside, but I wasn't going to back down from the dare. I grabbed the flash-light I'd left on the ground next to me and handed it to Dean.
"Hold that," I said with a grimace, leaning down to the coffin. I glanced up at Dean and he had a bit of a sickened look on his face too. Steeling myself, I flipped the top part of the coffin open, closing my eyes.
"Huh." Dean said, and I opened one eye to peek. The coffin was empty.
"Now that's interesting," Dean said, exchanging a look with Sam who was frowning.
"They buried the body four days ago." I said, confused.
"I don't get it." Sam said shining his own flash light down on us. The light hit something at the back of the coffin, and he shifted to look. "Look." Sam said, pointing the light at some carvings against the head of the coffin.
"What is that?" Dean asked, crouching next to me to get a better look.
"I'm not sure." I said, gazing at them.
"I've seen these kinds of symbols before," Dean said suddenly, looking up at Sam.
Dr Mason's House
The next morning there was no sleep in. I was exhausted, the little trip to the graveyard having done nothing good for my nightmares. As soon as it hit seven o'clock Dean was out of bed, showering and dressing, ready to go.
We were at Dr. Mason's house first thing, and Dean pounded heavily on the door, agitated.
"Dean. Take it easy, ok?" I warned him with a frown. Dean looked sullen, and banged on the door a second time.
Dr. Mason opened the door, looking at us.
"You're Angie's friends, right?" He asked, recognising Dean and I.
I started to speak. "Dr. Mason..."
"We need to talk!" Dean said sharply.
Dr Mason looked a little taken aback, but invited us in just the same.
"Thank you," I said quietly, walking past him.
Dean turned to face the professor, all business. "You teach Ancient Greek. Tell me, what are these?" Dean asked, handing Dr Mason a copy of the symbols we'd found in the coffin.
Dr Mason frowned, looking at the symbols. "I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angela." He said.
"It does. Please, just humour me." Dean said, a little gentler.
"They're part of an ancient Greek divination ritual." Dr Mason said, looking at the symbols again.
"Used for necromancy, right?" Dean asked, looking at Dr Mason suspiciously.
"That's right." The professor said, nodding.
"See, before we came over here we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves. Apparently they used rituals like this one for communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life. Full-on zombie action." Dean said.
I was looking around the house, taking in our surroundings. Something didn't seem right.
"Yes. I mean, according to the legends." He handed the sheet of paper back to Dean, looking at him calmly. "Now, what's all this about?" Dr Mason asked.
"I think you know," Dean said, pushing.
"Dean." I said cautiously.
"Look, I get it. Okay? There are people that I would give anything to see again. But what gives you the right?" Dean was getting worked up and I started to wonder just whether this was about the case now.
"Dean!" Sam said, stepping forward, looking anxiously between the professor and Dean.
"What are you talking about?" Dr Mason asked.
"What's dead, should stay dead!" Dean said strongly, and I flinched.
"Stop it!" I said, grabbing his arm and forcing him to look a me. He broke my gaze and continued his tirade at the professor.
"What you brought back isn't even your daughter any more. These things are vicious, they're violent, they're so nasty they rot the ground around them. I mean, come on, haven't you seen Pet Cemetery?" Dean said loudly.
"You're insane!" Dr Mason said, walking away from Dean toward the back of the house.
"Where is she?" Dean pushed.
"Get out of my house." Dr Mason said, reaching for a phone nearby. Dean knocked it out of his hand and I gasped. He was losing it.
"I know you're hiding her somewhere. Where is she?!" Dean yelled.
"Dean! Stop! That's enough." I said, grabbing his arm again. "Dean, look!" I pointed to a row of plants by the window. "Look, beautiful, living plants." I said. Dean stopped, looking back at me, so much conflict in his eyes.
"We're leaving," Sam said, pushing us both toward the door.
"I'm calling the police." Dr Mason said, breathing heavy.
"Sir, we're sorry. We won't bother you again," I said quietly to the professor and then I pushed Dean out the door ahead of me.
Dean stormed down the pavement, Sam running after him.
"What the hell is the matter with you, Dean?" Sam asked, getting in his face.
"Back off!" Dean said, shoving him away.
"That man is innocent! He didn't deserve that!" Sam said.
"Okay, so she's not here, maybe he's keeping her somewhere else." Dean said, refusing to admit that he'd just made a really bad call.
"Stop it! That's enough, ok? Enough!" I said, coming between the two of them.
"I know what I'm doing," Dean said, looking at me.
"No, you don't. At all." Sam countered. "Dean, I don't scare easy, but man, you're scaring the crap out of me." He added looking at Dean, freaked out and anxious.
"Don't be over dramatic, Sam." Dean said
"Over dramatic?!" Sam scoffed. "Over dramatic? Well at least I'm feeling something, I'm experiencing something which is more than I can say for the pair of you!" Sam flashed angry eyes at me as well.
"What?!" I asked, stunned.
"You're lucky this turned out to be a real case. Because if it wasn't you both would have just found something else to kill." Sam said.
"What?" Dean scoffed.
"You're on edge, you're erratic - except for when you're hunting, because then you're both downright scary. Did you see yourselves with that vampire at the mill? You were both tail spinning. And you refuse to talk about it and you won't let me help you." Sam paused, looking between the two of us, breathing quickly.
"We can take care of ourselves, thanks." Dean said, turning angry eyes to Sam.
"No, you can't. And you know what? You're the only one who thinks you should have to. You guys don't have to handle this on your own, Dean, no one can." Sam said, pacing the pavement in front of us.
"The pair of you, honestly, you don't talk, to me, or anyone else. You've got it all bottled up inside and it's killing you both. Hell I don't even think you talk to each other about this – I mean you've talked to each other about everything since we were fifteen years old, but not this?" Sam stopped pacing and looked at us.
"Sam, if you bring up Dad's death one more time I swear..." Dean said, warningly.
"Stop. Please, Dean, Beth, it's killing you. Please." Sam said, reaching out to us with his hand. He took a breath and looked at us sternly.
"We've already lost Dad. We've lost Mom. I've lost Jessica. And now I'm going to lose you both too?" Sam looked heart broken. Dean shook his head, some kind of emotion passing through his eyes. He was antsy, looking around us. I stopped, thinking, fighting with myself.
Dean took my arm, and started walking toward the car. "We better get out of here before the cops come," he said, Sam trailed after us, frowning. I stopped Dean, holding his hand.
"Sammy, we hear you ok? We hear you. It's ok." I said giving him a quick hug. He returned the hug, just like when we were kids and I realised just how hard these past six weeks must have been on the not-so-little-anymore guy. He was our little brother and we'd cut him out, we'd cut each other out too – but I'd have to work on that later.
Dean stood watching, struggling with his emotions. I gave Dean a warning glance and he sighed. "Yeah, I'm being an ass. I'm sorry," he admitted, finally. "But right now we've got a friggin' zombie running around, and we need to figure out how to kill it."
Sam laughed, shaking his head and pulling back from me. "Our lives are weird," he said.
"You're telling me?" Dean chuckled before giving Sam a softer look. "Come on, let's go."
Sam's Motel Room
Dean was pacing the room, I was on the laptop, Sam on the bed with John's journal.
"We can't just waste it with a head shot?" Dean asked, looking at us both.
"Dude. You've been watching way too many Romero flicks." Sam said with a smirk.
"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke 'em?" Dean asked, throwing himself into a chair by the table where I was sitting.
"No, Dean, I'm saying there's too much. I mean, there's a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods for killing them." I said, looking up from the laptop. "Some say setting them on fire, others beheading will do the trick, uh, one said, where is it?" I scrolled down the page. "Ah, right here. Feeding their hearts to wild dogs. That's my personal favourite." I said, looking up with a grin, Dean shook his head at me like I was mad.
"So who knows what's real and what's myth?" Sam said, coming to join us at the table with the journal.
"Is there anything they all have in common?" Dean asked.
"No. But a few said silver might work." Sam answered, flipping through John's journal some more.
"Silver's a start," Dean said, nodding.
"Yeah. But now how are we going to find Angela?" Sam asked.
"We've got to figure out the person who brought her back." Dean said, simply.
"Any ideas?" Sam asked.
"I think it might be that guy Neil." I ventured.
"Neil?" They both said in unison.
"Yep," I said, standing to cross the room, picking up the little pink diary.
"How'd you come up with that?" Sam asked,
"You've got your journal, I've got mine," I said with a raised eyebrow. "And I know girls."
I flipped the diary open to the page I'd been reading just before I got on the laptop. "'Neil's a real shoulder to cry on, he so understands what I'm going through with Matt.'" I quoted, looking at them. "There's more in here where that came from, it's got unrequited ducky love written all over it.."
"How do you know that?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You think I only keep a hunter's journal? This is practically what mine said about you from age 16 up until you came to your damn senses." I smirked and he gaped.
"Oh yeah... I remember that...you used to journal about me," He said with a nah nah nahnah nah tone. He'd only known about them because I shared a couple of snippets with him right after we got together.
"Well, you and Johnny Depp..." I teased with a grin, earning me a frown.
"Uh, guys... can we get back on track?" Sam asked, looking at both of us.
We both turned to him, shrugging, Dean shot me another amused look, shaking his head at what I'd just said.
"Just because it's unrequited ducky love doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead." Sam pointed out.
"Did I mention that he's Professor Mason's TA?" I asked with a smile. "Has access to all the same books."
This got their attention. We headed for the door, grabbing our jackets as we went.
"Hey," Dean said to me with a cheeky grin, "You still got any of those journals?"
I laughed, "Hell no!" I lied, "Burned them all years ago." He looked a little disappointed.
Neil's House
We let ourselves into the house, courtesy of the old credit card trick. The house was dark and quiet.
"Hello?" Dean called out, moving further in with us not far behind. "Neil?! It's your grief counsellors, we've come to hug!"
I snickered. Dean pulled out a gun and handed it to me, I looked at it while he brought out one for himself. Wasn't much point with Sam, he rarely carried. "Silver bullets?" I asked.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse." I nodded approval.
We started moving through the house, Dean in the lead, gun out. I pointed out the wilted plants by the window and turned to see an entrance to the basement, a lock on the outside of the door – he had been keeping someone in.
"Unless it's where he keeps his porn..." Dean said with a chuckle.
Sam opened the door and Dean led the way down the stairs, Sam in the middle since he wasn't armed.
The room below was empty. "Sure looks like a zombie's den to me." Dean said, frowning.
"Yeah. An empty one. You think Angela's going after somebody?" Sam asked while Dean pulled at a loose grate in the wall. The cover came out, revealing an exit to outside the basement.
"Nah, I think she went out to rent Beaches." Dean quipped.
"Look, smart ass, she might kill someone. We gotta find her, Dean." Sam said.
"Yeah. All right, she, uh, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right?" Dean asked, thinking.
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Well, it takes two to, you know, have hardcore sex." Dean said, and I tilted my head at him in amusement. "I don't know, it just seemed that, uh, Angela's roommate was broken up over Matt's death. I mean, like, really broken up."
"You know you might be on to something." I agreed.
Angela's House
We got to Angela's house in time to hear screaming. Angela was already here. The door was unlocked and Dean raced ahead of us. I turned a corner into the living room in time to see Dean pull the trigger, shooting Angela in the back three times. Angela had been about to stab Lindsey with a pair of scissors, now she was convulsing from the bullets fired into her. She spun around and snarled at Dean who shot her once more in the chest. She screamed, and turned to run out the open bay window in the living room, Dean hot on her heels.
I ran and checked on Lindsey. "Hey you ok? I got you," I said, and she looked relieved to see someone she recognised.
Dean came jogging back, slightly out of breath and shaking his head. "Damn, that dead chick can run." He said.
"What now?" Sam asked.
"I say we go have a little chat with Neil," Dean said, frowning and leading us back to the Impala.
Sam was flipping through John's journal again on the way to Neil's.
"So the silver bullets, they did something, right?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, something, but not enough. What else you got?" Dean asked, glancing over at him.
"Um, okay, besides silver we have nailing the undead back into their gravebeds. It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire staking lore comes from." Sam said.
"Their gravebeds? Are you serious?" I asked sceptically.
"Yeah." Sam confirmed.
"And how the hell are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery?" Dean asked.
Neil's Office
Neil was alone in his office when we arrived. He looked up startled at us, from behind his desk.
"What are you guys doing here?" He asked, looking anxious.
"You know, I've heard of people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid, but you – you take the cake." Dean said with a wink, shaking his head and moving into the room.
"Okay. Who are you guys?" Neil asked, looking up at Dean standing over him.
"You might want to ask Angela that question." I said, crossing my arms.
"What?" Neil said, playing dumb.
"We know what you did. The ritual? Everything." Sam said quietly.
"You're crazy." Neil said looking at us, shaking his head.
"Your girlfriend's past her expiration date and we're crazy?" Dean asked, leaning across the desk at him.
"When someone's gone they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff." Dean said, steely eyes on Neil. I swallowed, I didn't like the way Dean was talking, it was a little too close to home.
"Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill Lindsey." I said to Neil.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Neil said, shrugging slightly.
Dean lost his patience, stomping around to the other side of the desk, grabbing Neil by his collar and pulling him to his feet, getting in his face.
"Hey! No more crap, Neil. This blood is on your hands. Now. We can make this right, but you've gotta tell us where she is. Tell us!" Dean tried to reason with him.
Neil looked at him, tears in his eyes and a little shocked. "My house. She's at my house."
Dean let him go, then turned his gaze to a couple of dead plants by the window. He turned back to Neil.
"You sure about that?" He asked.
Neil nodded, looking around nervously. I looked past him, spotted a closet and nodded at it to Dean. He saw it too. Dean turned his head toward the closet, raising his voice.
"Listen. It doesn't really matter where she is. There's only one way to stop her. We've got to perform another ritual over her grave, to reverse the one that you did. We're going to need some black root, some, some scar weed, some candles... It's very complicated, but it'll get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple hours. I think you should come with us."
He turned to look at Neil. "I'm serious Neil. Leave with us. Right now." Dean said in a quieter voice.
"No. No." Neil said, shaking his head.
Dean leaned in, lowering his voice again. "Listen to me. Get out of here as soon as you can. But most of all, be cool. No sudden movements. Don't make her mad." Neil's eyes widened at that last comment, but he still didn't change his mind about coming with us. Stupid boy.
"Come on," Dean finished, looking at Sam and I. "Let's go." We headed out the door, I wondered if she would take the bait.
Cemetery (again!)
We were decorating Angela's graves with white candles. I shook my head at the absurdity of it all.
"You really think this is going to work?" I asked, looking over at Dean.
"No, not really. But it was the only thing I could come up with." He said, with a chuckle.
I smiled, well usually it was his hair-brained off-the-cuff schemes that worked the best anyway.
A noise sounded and we were all instantly alert. Sam stood, pulling a gun from the small of his back and headed to investigate. He disappeared into the trees, and was gone from sight. Dean and I waited, listening for any indication of what was happening.
Suddenly we saw Sam come running through the graves out of the tree line. Angela tackled him to the ground and he landed hard with a grunt. Angela climbed on his back, grabbing his head and twisting it back.
"Hey!" I shouted, taking aim and shooting at her. She startled, jumping off Sam and moving back from us. Dean and I both shot her several more times until she fell down the open grave that we'd been leading her toward. Dean raced toward the grave, pulling a long metal stake from his belt, sliding along on his knees as he reached the edge, jumping down and pinning Angela with it into her coffin. She screamed, struggling, and then went limp.
I stopped at the grave side, looking down at Dean, trying to catch my breath.
"What's dead should stay dead." Dean said resolutely, turning to look at me.
I sighed and fell silent, not wanting to think about that.
Dawn came and we were just finishing up covering the grave over. I ran some of the dirt through my hand, reflecting on the girl underneath us and the horror she had become.
"Rest in peace," I said quietly.
"Yeah. For good this time, ok?" Dean quipped, shaking his head.
We all stood, turning for the car, Sam swinging a shovel over his shoulder with a grunt.
"You know, that whole fake ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp." Sam said.
"Thanks," Dean said, grinning.
"But did we have to use me as bait?" Sam complained, looking at his wrist.
"I figured you were more her type. You know, she had pretty crappy taste in guys." Dean retorted.
"I think she broke my hand," Sam said, and I looked over a little worried at that.
Dean laughed. "You're just too fragile. We'll take you to get it looked at next."
We passed Mary's grave and Dean paused to look back.
"You want to stay for a while?" I asked, looking over at him.
"No." Dean said quietly and started walking again. "Let's get Sam to the hospital, then we can get out of here."
Motel Room
Sam was still at the hospital, getting his broken wrist fixed up. Dean and I had come back to get the rest of our things.
I was pacing in the room, feeling antsy and anxious, all kinds of emotions coming to the surface in such a short amount of time.
Dean looked at me and frowned. "What's wrong?" He asked and I stopped mid-stride to look at him.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears coming to my eyes.
"What for?" He asked, coming to stand near me, hands on my arms and looking at me with worried eyes.
"The way I've been acting, for being... I don't know... hard to reach?" I brushed a tear out of my eye. "And for Dad..." I said with a shuddering sigh.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, frowning.
"Well you know, I just... so much happened while we were in the hospital and I'm tired Dean, and I can't hold it in any longer, it's killing me."
"Look," Dean said, leading me to the bed and sitting us at the end of it. "I know you've been thinking it – so have I. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. So did you. And like an hour later after I get better, Dad is dead and the colt is gone." I nodded.
"Dean..." I said, voice breaking, wanting to tell him so badly.
"You can't tell me there's not a connection there." He said, looking at me. I shook my head. "And I know you know more than you're telling me."
I glanced up at him, watery eyes and sadness showing through. I nodded slowly and he sighed, pulling me to him and holding me against his chest.
"I think the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. That much I do know." Dean said, swallowing hard and pulling back to look me in the eyes again. I nodded slowly, and he sighed.
"It's not your fault Beth, whatever Dad did, it's not your fault." Dean said, looking at me concerned.
"I should have stopped it. I should have done something Dean." I whispered.
"You know better than anyone that there was no stopping Dad once he set his mind on something," Dean said, I bit my lip to stop it from trembling.
"Beth, you're the most important person in my life, you think I could be doing this, getting through any of this if you weren't here?" He looked at me and there was so much love in those eyes, love I didn't deserve.
Sadness flicked across them as he looked at me. "I never should have come back, Beth. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. I should have stayed dead." I was shaking my head frantically at him, tears running down my cheeks.
"Well then maybe we should both be dead, you know I can't explain how I'm here, maybe it was our time... I feel so... empty. Like there's this big hole inside of me and nothing is going to fill it, and you and me..." I grasped at his hands, closing my eyes. "...are we ever going to be ok again?"
He frowned, moving to kneel in front of me on the bed. "What do you mean?" He asked, looking up me.
"I just feel like … he's gone Dean, and I'm so selfish because instead of mourning him like I should be, I'm just happy that it's him and not you, because I don't know how I could go on without you, and it tears me up inside because he was my Dad too, and I love him, and..." Dean kissed me and it broke my rambling. It felt so achy, to have those lips on mine once more, kissing me softly, lovingly, as if all my sins were forgiven, when there was only a black pit of despair in my stomach.
He pushed me back on the bed, sliding up to beside me, left hand brushing the hair out of my eyes, his right hand trailed up under my top along my bare skin, drawing a shudder from me. Leaning into me his soft lips kissed along my jawline and moved down to my neck, I sighed and closed my eyes, revelling in the touch that we'd not really indulged in since John's death.
"It's ok to feel that Beth," he said quietly against my skin.
His hand moved under me to my lower back, pulling me into him a bit until we were pressed against each other, my arms coming up around his neck, and draping behind him as I moaned in response to his attentions.
With experienced hands he unhooked my bra, and then tugged at the back of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. I quickly discarded the bra, and in turn slid my hands under the shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. He groaned and quickly removed his t-shirt to join it, the warmth of his bare skin now under my palms as I slid them over his chest.
Dean pulled me with him to stand up, reaching out to hold my face between his hands as he caught my lower lip between his own lips, sucking on it before sliding his tongue in to caress mine. I moaned softly as I started to lose myself in the kiss.
He broke away, tears in his own eyes. He looked at me mournfully, and I realised we'd been fighting the same thing. Guilt. Guilt that we were happy to be alive. Guilt that we had survived, somehow, while our Dad was dead.
I nodded, fresh out of words, tears forming and he shook his head as if to tell me not to cry, leaning in to kiss me once more. This time it was a little more urgent, as if the months of grieving had left us with so much time to make up for.
Trailing my hands down I unhooked his belt, and pushed his pants, boxers and all down to the ground, suddenly I needed to just feel him, it had been so long that we'd been together like this. He met my urgency with his own groan, quickly discarding my own jeans, and then gasping when I took his cock in my hand, sliding my hand along it. He was already half way there, and he shuddered at my touch.
"God I've missed you," He said, sliding his hands around to my butt, pulling me closely against him, I dropped my hand and pressed my thigh against his groin, his arousal pressing against my hip as I slowly rubbed against it.
"I need you Dean." I whispered, kissing him again, urgent, desperate. He picked up the pace, kissing me deeper, longer, and I felt the ache in my heart start to melt.
I pulled him back down on the bed with me and he positioned himself over me, reaching a hand down to stroke between my legs, finding that hard nob and dragging his finger across it. I arched up with a groan, grinding against his hand, closing my eyes and throwing my head back.
"God Dean..." I moaned. He was watching me, hesitant for a moment, and I looked at him. He looked as vulnerable as I felt and I reached for him, pulling him down to me so that he was lying along my body, he supported himself, but there was still the weight of him pressing against me, hot and turned on.
"I need to feel us Dean, I need to know we're still alive." I said, looking at him and he pressed his forehead against mine, nodding slightly. He slid a hand between my legs, forcing them open, I felt him hover over me and then press inside with his hard arousal, I groaned as I felt him sink deep. When he was all the way in, I wrapped my legs around his waist, arching up to meet his rocking.
He thrust into me with long, slow movements, I moaned with each apex and looked up at him. His eyes were dark with desire. I pushed him on to his back, keeping him inside of me as we rolled in one smooth motion. He groaned, looking up at me as I took control, sitting back, running my hands along his firm chest. I leaned down and took a nipple in between my lips, teasing it with my tongue and then biting softly but firmly drawing a shuddering breath followed by a guttural moan.
I started to rock against him, a little faster as we lost ourselves in the moment. As I started to peak, he sat up forcing me to shift in order to keep him inside me, wrapping my legs around his waist, sitting in his lap, feeling him fully ensconced inside. It was a new feeling, so intimate, and felt amazing.
Looking deep into his eyes I saw all the hurt and pain he'd been feeling trapped inside there. I felt the tears flow as I rocked into him, it was slow, agonising, and the most incredible feeling of closeness. He seemed to know how much I needed it.
"I need you," he whispered, that was all I wanted to hear and he was kissing my tears away as they flowed.
I shivered as his hands softly trailed down to my buttocks, splaying one hand across the small of my back and holding me firmly against him as he moved me against him, guiding me in small almost circular movements. The closeness caused everything to be heightened, I moved just slightly back and forth in his lap, my breasts pressed to his chest, nipples tightening and brushing against him.
My mouth I trailed just over his lips, letting him listen to the small gasps of pleasure as each rock shot a wave of pleasure through my body. He watched me, eyes dilated, hungry, a small smile touching his lips as he saw just how turned on I was, how close I was to falling over the edge.
A few more thrusts and he slid a hand down between us, applying just a little pressure against my clit as he kept the rhythmic, slow rocking between us. Each little movement caused me to groan, gasping in pleasure. When I thought I couldn't bare it any longer I started to buck a little harder against him.
I pulled him closer to me, feeling his body pressed along mine, his mouth buried in my neck. He picked up on the urgency and using the hand at my back, thrust up into me, pulling me down simultaneously. He pushed up with a little more desperation, moaning into my shoulder. I felt waves of ecstasy start to wash over me, as he helped me rock. I tried to pull back, to ride them but he kept me tightly against him. It seemed to intensify the whole thing.
He was so far inside me, pushed up against that spot that only he knew how and where to access, and I shuddered, my whole body trembling as a warmth travelled from my groin and out. I cried out, with short erratic breaths, starting to throw my head back. He tangled his free hand in my hair, holding my head, forcing me to look into his eyes, watching as I trembled and tried to catch my breath.
When I stopped shuddering he kissed me, long and slow, with a tenderness that belied the feel of him pulsing inside of me. He shifted me off him, lifting me effortlessly to the bed, back against the mattress. Positioned on top he slid back into me, thrusting with a fast, rhythmic motion. He was close, pushing deeper, groaning with each thrust. Then with a hard, jerking motion he spilled inside me, collapsing into my arms with a groan, still moving slowly against me until the throbbing stopped.
We lay this way for a moment, his mouth pressed into my shoulder as he fought to steady his breathing. I fought the tears but they were back and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders tightly, burying my face in his neck and letting them silently fall.
He pulled back, a concerned look on his face."What's wrong?" He asked.
"Nothing. Nothing." I said, shaking my head, wiping away the tears from my face. He looked as if he didn't believe me and I smiled.
"I love you so much," I whispered, looking up at him. He softened at that, relaxing.
"You're a shmuck," he whispered with a little laugh. He kissed me lightly, just the barest of touches as his lips brushed against mine.
"I love you too Beth. I always have." He said quietly.
Maybe it was enough. Somehow maybe it was enough to get us through the guilt, to get us past the despair, to start building a life together again where we could allow ourselves to feel again.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
This chapter's song is Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin
Next up – mind control takes on a whole new level!
Thanks to everyone who has either left a review or PM'ed me – I really appreciate what everyone has to say, and enjoy the conversations :)
P.S. There won't be smut like this every chapter, I'd already written this way before I asked the question last night! But I will be bringing back some of the more playful affection from earlier chapters in Highway to Hell as the healing begins on all levels for our lovely couple :)
Welcome to all the new followers – hope you're enjoying the story – please leave me a message and tell me what you think!
Oh, and shout out to one of my other favourite series True Blood with the "must be Thursday" comment Beth says. I saw that line in Season 5 TB and just peed myself laughing, I've been saying it ever since! Quote: "A 3000 year old vampire wants to suck my blood, it must be Thursday!" - Sookie Stackhouse