AUTHOR'S NOTE: A short one, set directly after 'Roadkill' Please let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy!
Over your head,
Trying not to drown.
Reaching for a breath,
Before it drags you down.
Caught in between,
All the pain you feel,
You lost control,
You're letting go,
But I never will.
RUN TO ME
Beth's Diary Entry – 25th February 2007 (Green River, WY)
Dean and I worked a job down in Nevada on Highway 41 this week. Two spirits trapped in a never-ending repeat, appearing once a year on the anniversary of their deaths. He taking out his anger on her for killing him in the accident, she not even realising she was dead. This other spirit was in so much pain all he wanted to do was make her suffer, torturing her to death every anniversary. It took putting him to rest, and then showing her that she had unfinished business before she could move on. Strangely enough, the same could be said for me. Somewhere in the aftermath of baby Patrick's death I forgot to go on living.
Greeley's wife killed herself when she lost him. How far in love would you have to be for it to hurt so much you couldn't go on? I don't even want to think about it. Thinking about it just makes it real, and when we face life and death almost every week, feelings like that can be incapacitating. If we'd known then what we know now, would I have not gone on hunts with the boys? Would I have never taken up this life to begin with? Would I have pushed Dean away, could I have? No.
I look back on all these years and think there is no escaping this – this is fate, this is life, and this is where we were headed before we even knew it. Sometimes I believe in fate, in destiny, sometimes I think it's just random, or someone's idea of a sick twisted joke.
It makes me wonder about Dad. I don't talk about this with Dean or Sam, because at the end of the day it's all my fault. I should have done something more. I should have let Dean go, I should have convinced Dad to let him go. I should have given my own soul for him. What is that demon doing to him down there? How many nights will he suffer torture, pain? Will he eventually become so twisted he becomes a demon too? I wish I could reach out and sense him, I wish there was more to this twisted demonic radar I have which is barely even useful.
When it all gets too much to consider, I try to focus on other things. I wonder if a visit to Missouri would help, but then again, I'm not sure I want to know the truth. It's easier to shut out the screaming inside my head when I can still deny it to myself.
So it's been a long month, 6 weeks actually, as of tomorrow. It doesn't seem all that long when you put it that way, but to me it's been a lifetime. Is it just me or does time seem to be speeding up? It's almost as if we're been corralled into a tunnel and pushed toward an ending we can't see. Whatever the case, we took some time to breathe, Dean and I, in Green River. We've needed it. Dean looked tired, as if he'd been carrying this burden for the two of us. I was starting to wonder if the struggle was worth it.
Then I think about Sam and I know of course it is. This is our baby brother, and we promised to keep him safe. Dean is always his usual pragmatic self, holding it together for the rest of us. It kind of makes me worry more about him I think, because at least I know Sam will talk when he needs to. So Green River has been good for us. We'd planned to stay for a night, we ended up here for three – a bridge got washed out with a torrential downpour and we've been stranded; we leave in the morning, we've been told of another way around. I think Dean liked having the excuse to stay a little bit longer.
We've been through so many things together, highs and lows, wins and losses. He's been nothing but patient with me as I walk around like the living dead. The truth of that hit home with me the first night we got here, and I realised I'd not only been denying myself the chance to feel comforted in his arms, I was denying him too. First step back toward living: feel, feel something, feel anything. First I felt anger, despair...all over the baby, over life. Then I felt fear; fear that I might lose Dean and that would break me. It's still there, that isn't ever going away. Whatever. At least we're together, as we face the next step. Dean looks younger, happier, and it makes me smile, he always makes me smile.
I'm holding on for you,
I'm fighting for your life.
And when you're blinded by this jaded world,
I'll be your eyes.
Even if you fall,
I won't let you break.
When all the noise is telling you
To run away,
Run to me.
Two days earlier
Rain was falling against the window with a fierce patter, the downpour bringing the world outside to a standstill. We would be here for a few days while this passed, the bridge was washed out and there was nowhere to go. The bed and breakfast room was cheerful; crisp whites and yellows brightening up the dull afternoon.
I sighed softly at the playful touch of Dean's kisses against my skin. We had locked ourselves away as soon as we arrived, and now I sat in his lap on the Queen Anne couch, a quilt pulled around our naked bodies. For the last hour we'd done nothing more than touch each other like children discovering pleasure for the first time, I shivered as his fingertips danced along my shoulder blade, dragging so softly it was almost unbearable.
Dean handled me like a startled rabbit, as if I might up and run at any moment. Several times I fought down the urge to back out, to retreat to the safety of the inner turmoil and darkness, instead of stepping into this new unknown world. He licked along my collar bone in a long singular stroke, following with a soft, lingering breath which had my skin standing up in goose-bumps. I gasped at the sensitivity and felt the hot wet readiness trickle between my legs; he lured me in with a gentleness I hadn't experienced in a very long time, time constraints and pure lust usually driving us at a faster pace.
Splaying his hand across my stomach, I felt hot fingers dip lower, tentatively exploring, seeking permission and I moaned into his kisses, pushing his hand to the centre of me, his fingers finding that hot pool of liquid ready and waiting. He groaned, slipping a finger along my clit and I arched against his hand, quivering.
I shifted as he slowly dragged an index finger along me, moving to straddle him, sliding over his hard and pressing need below me. I sat a little back, not ready, my breath catching in my throat with a small sob. Dean patiently pulled me in to him, kissing along my breasts, and up to my neck, nuzzling just under my earlobe. He breathed into my skin and I matched his soft sighs, as if he were breathing for the two of us.
I rode upon the delicious wave of kisses as he ran his hands into my hair, massaging my scalp and then taking fistfuls of my thick dark hair and tugging on it, the pure sensory overload from our bodies pressed together coupled with the firmness of his hands was lulling me into a cocoon, and I just wanted to feel him inside me, filling me up in every way. He was a part of me that I'd denied for too long. Another short sob escaped my lips as I forlornly thought about how I'd pushed him away when I lost Patrick, and it was as if for the last month and a half I'd been walking around missing a limb, thinking it was still there, like a phantom.
Dean claimed my lips, kissing away the sob and murmured comfortingly while he held my head in place; I shuddered at the feeling of his fingers entangled in my hair, the certainty of his hands pushing back against my arching. I tentatively dragged my wetness along his arousal, hearing his sharp intake of breath catch in his throat. I hesitated and bit my lip, trying to match the pain I knew I was going to feel.
His eyes bled to concern as he watched me reach that decision, I felt like it was my first time all over again. Gently I lowered myself over his familiar pulsing shaft. I held my breath, watching Dean's expression turn hungry as I gripped him, then inched my way down his entire length with a sigh. The pain I was expecting never came, I gave a couple of tentative rocks, arching at the feel of him stretching me, opening me up. It drew sobs of relief from my lips, and mistaking it for something else Dean reached to hold my face, peering into my eyes.
"You want to stop?" He said softly and I shook my head. Dean grinned at me. "Thank god for that," he groaned, claiming my lips hungrily.
Sliding his hands under my buttocks, Dean lifted us off the couch, walking to the bed where he laid us on the soft downy comforter. His full weight blanketed me, and I moaned at the completeness of having him locked against me, arching to meet his hips. He drove into me ever so slowly, keeping himself fully sheathed inside and allowing the friction of our bodies to drive us to a bursting point, like a geyser about to blow.
My breath hitched in short, startled bursts as he drove himself into me in long, torturous strokes, going so deep. He hovered his mouth over mine and whispered "I love you," and I felt tears trail from my eyes. He never said that, not like this, I could count the times he'd said those exact words to me on one hand. I was speechless, arching my body in response.
Our kisses became urgent, his breaking away to slide along my body as he sucked at the skin above my breasts, across my collar bone to my shoulder, groaning as his body started to shudder. "Unh, Dean..." I whispered, raking my nails along his contoured back and up his neck where I buried my fingers in his short hair, clasping him to me. He groaned loudly into my shoulder, biting down, pushing my senses into overload.
I arched urgently to meet his body, my breath quickening, and I felt his body start to quiver in long, rolling waves above me, carrying me with him. It didn't happen all the time, finding our peak together, but when it did it was like watching the flames of a fire catch, consuming the kindling and flaring to a searing heat. Our breaths locked in unison and I gasped for air as the tremors passed from him to me. I heard him cry out with a primal release meeting my own moans, collapsing heavily into me as I felt the flames of my own orgasm consume me.
Melting into the bed I pulled him close, the sheer joy that flooded through me brought a laugh to my throat and it fell from me as I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing his lips to mine for a slow exhausted kiss. We were us again, and I could feel; not only the darkness, the anger, the despair. I was feeling all the other emotions again too. I lay there, seeing them reflected in Dean's eyes. I felt loved. Happy. Whole. I was home.
Dean watched me with a silly grin on his face and it made me smile. He always made me smile. Then he kissed me again languidly, his fingers tracing soft, interlocking circles down my body as he turned me to my side, his entire body pressed along the length of me. I giggled when I felt the blood return to his member, thinking about the first time I'd ever felt that hardness against my back.
"What are you laughing at?" Dean asked me, and I turned to face him with a silly grin of my own.
"Just thinking about Philadelphia, and that morning..." I said, raising my eyebrow.
"Ahhh," Dean said, recalling it with a cheeky grin, licking his lips. He started to kiss along my shoulder again, and chuckled himself. "God you looked terrible with blonde hair," he said and I laughed. It was so true.
"You want to know what I wanted to do to you that morning?" He asked and I licked my lips and nodded. He moaned a little as he kissed me slowly, then pulled back with another hungry look. "Strap yourself in then, we're gonna be here a while..." I groaned at the thought, eager and willing. My body was going to hurt in the morning, but it was so going to be worth it. We had nowhere else we had to be, and there was no where else I'd rather be than here.
Day after day,
After all you seen,
Its alright if you feel like unraveling.
I'll be right here.
I'm pushing out the walls,
To find the place,
Where you can say,
Brave through it all.
Dean's Diary Entry – 25th February 2007 (Green River, WY)
So we put down a couple of ghosts on Highway 41 in Nevada this week. Just Beth and me, we left Sammy at Bobby's because she had a freaking meltdown and wailed on him like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I had to come in all Angel like and save the guy – it was pretty pathetic. I think it's time to do the tough love thing with her, she just doesn't seem to be getting anywhere unless we treat her like Dad would have.
The ghosts were easy enough, though not what I expected, that Molly, she was all right in the end, can't blame her I guess for not wanting to let go – especially when who knows where you're headed once you do. I can't help but think sometimes maybe I should have stayed dead, and then Beth wouldn't be going through what she's going through now...with the baby. Dad would be here to watch her and Sam, instead of the poor excuse for a replacement in me. At least he'd get the job done right, they wouldn't have to wait for me to find my way around in the dark.
I just have to keep pushing through. Dad's gone, and he aint coming back, so it's just us now. We have to stick together, and if it kills me I'm going to get Beth sorted out. She was laughing a few days ago about Philadelphia, man that was a strange time. Here we were sharing a bed, and all I wanted to do was jump her – when she was completely out of bounds. Man when I think of the sheer amount of willpower it took not to – and then her eyes when we pulled back into ourselves, getting back to that motel with Dad. How I just went and found comfort in whoever came along first, it just pisses me off. Dad and his stupid decree. I mean he was off banging Cole for god knows how long? I don't even want to think about it. The man was a jerk.
Sam's been calling, wanting to know when we're getting back. I told him to stay put at Bobby's, don't need him going off on his own and getting killed, or worse. One at a time, first I'll sort out Beth, then I can tackle Sammy. She's getting there, she's coming back into herself – it's taken nearly three days of talk talk talk and every little trick I've ever learned (and some I've just invented) to get her back to her usual happy self. Thank God that dry spell is over, that's all I can say. If she's happy, I'm happy.
So, lessons learned (since Dad always said I need to put that in here). 1. Hair pulling can be good. 2. Long slow kisses are better. 3. She really likes it when you stroke the base of her neck. Oh. And trees can be markers for otherwise unmarked graves. Who knew? Also, Beth is a walking encyclopaedia of weirdness...and I thought Sam was bad.
OK, back to bed, where I don't plan on doing much sleeping, if you get my drift... yeah... right. Chick flick moment over. Dean out.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Song for this chapter is: Run to Me by Nick Lachey. I just realised it should have been the song for the last chapter (but I forgot about it!) However it's fairly interchangable because this is just the most amazing song in my opinion. It so captures Dean's love for Beth. And when you're blinded by this jaded world, I'll be your eyes. Even if you fall,I won't let you break. Argh! Beautiful song!
Thank you for all the comments from last chapter, I'm off to reply to the ones I can right now :) Also thanks to the PM's that came in too :) Paddy77 you're not the first to tell me that about watching SPN now and wanting to see Beth there, I do it too. (I can't actually watch the first 3 movies of Star Wars for a similar reason because of an Obi-wan/Sabe fanfic I read and can't let go of). I can't read Dean/OC fanfic anymore because it just kills me to see him with anyone but Beth (and I definitely feel the same way when he's on screen kissing someone other than her!) I am thinking there's some awesome footage out there of Dean & Lisa though that could sort of be interpreted to be Beth in a video if anyone out there has the talent to pull it off!
P.S. Hey Caitysays... glad to see you're still around :)