Here's the next chapter! Thank you so much for any reviews, alerts, etc. It really encourages me to write!
Dean turned the key and drove back onto the highway, ignoring Claire's worried expression.
"Dean, just tell me what happened!"
"No." Dean gritted his teeth. For a little bit, he thought he might have feelings for Claire, but now he figured it was probably just the curse. Sam said it shouldn't affect his emotions, but what did Sam know? He was sick and- Dean didn't even want to think about Sam or leukemia or the fact that he couldn't see his brother if he wanted to.
"Sam cursed me." He answered. Claire gave him a funny look.
"Well, you guys both seem to cuss a lot, so I don't see-"
"No, no. A real curse. With a witch." If he'd been in a better mood he would have at least smiled. Claire nodded in understanding. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about your... profession."
"I can't go near him. Otherwise something bad happens, we just don't know what, and we don't want to chance it." The Impala swerved a little as Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in habit to stop his watery eyes.
"Um, I think I should drive." Claire suggested. "You don't seem to be able to see straight. Besides, when was the last time you slept?" Dean realized how truthful her words were. He honestly didn't remember the last time he had a good night's sleep. Before leaving Sam? Before the cramped hospital chairs and doctors' diagnosis? Before Sam and he fought over the demon blood? God, that warehouse seemed like years ago.
Dean pulled off at the next exit and parked in front of a shady McDonald's, reluctantly handing the keys over and climbing into the passenger seat. "Just relax." Claire said as the engine rumbled. The car vibrated a little as Dean obtained a more comfortable position. "We're almost to Vegas."
Dean closed his eyes, listening to the purr of his car, and as his head rested against the cold window, he couldn't help but let his overwhelming thoughts drift away as he fell into a deep slumber.
...
Dean woke to the din of horns and the loud crashing sound of metal on metal as cars connected in the busy intersection before them.
"The hell?" He slurred, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. The sun was lower in the sky, and he figured without a glance at his phone that he'd slept a good four hours.
Claire was tense behind the wheel, her hand gripping it white knuckled as she stared wide eyes before them. Suddenly, she swerved to avoid the nearest car, but the road, slick and icy with the nearing wintery weather, sent them gliding along with no control.
"Step on the breaks!" Dean shouted.
"I am! I'm not stupid!" She screamed back, the both of them shouting out of fright and not true anger. "Watch out!" Dean cried at the last second. The cause was futile, and he cringed in anticipation of the crash.
It came almost in slow motion, the squealing of tires, Claire's screaming, and the ever-growing cars in front of him, closing the distance between them quickly until they made impact with a sickening crash.
The Impala jolted, scratching along a pickup truck, and Dean had a fraction of a second to look up before the lumber in the bed of the truck came rolling towards them, huge, no, massive logs hurling towards him and Claire.
Dean was already in a daze from the initial impact, and his weakened state was no help when the logs barreled through the windshield, shattering him in glass as a gigantic piece of wood shot towards him, knocking him right in the head.
Dean crumpled instantly in his seat, leaving Claire daringly to throw her arms out in front of him to block another two logs from hitting him. Distracted, she didn't watch a small minivan connect with another car right in front of her.
Dean blinked slowly in confusion as the minivan's driver sailed through the air and landed on the Impala's windshield. His vision was growing fuzzy, blackness moving in like a TV with no signal.
The woman crashed through the window and practically onto Claire's lap. The last thing he remembered was Claire's eyes, her expression as she screamed for help. Then the world turned to black.
...
Dean woke up in a hospital.
It seemed to be a trend.
His head felt like it was going to explode. Like, it was literally going to split in half.
"'m head..." He moaned to no one in particular. His eyelids weighed a ton, and it was only hunter's instinct to know his surroundings that forced him to heave his eyes open.
The room was empty, save another figure laying in the bed next to him. Dean sat up and winced as he pulled an IV out of his upper arm.
The man on the bed beside him coughed, his entire body shaking, as a nurse rushed in the room. She walked straight to the man, not noticing Dean at all.
"How are we Mr. Davis?" She asked softly.
"J-just fine. Just-" His coughs began again, the kind that made Dean want to clear his own throat.
"Let me get you your pills..." She turned around and almost ran right into Dean. "Mr. Bond! You're up! I'll have to ask you to sit back down, Mr. Bond."
She easily pushed Dean back towards the bed- he was still very weak- and he pressed her for information on the crash.
"Drunk driver." She explained, shaking her head. They say four had died, two in critical care. Dean and Claire had been lucky, but the minivan driver who'd flown out the window hadn't been.
"Where is she?" He asked. "Claire?"
"Claire L'amour?" Huh, Dean hadn't thought she was French. "That's the one."
"Room 342. But you just wait here and you can see her later, okay?"
"That sounds reasonable," Dean lied through his teeth, but the minute she left he stood up rather dizzyingly, swaying slightly as he changed his clothes. Thank God "Mr. Davis" seemed pretty out of it. Dean winced as he pulled up his shirt. His chest was covered in black, blue, and any color in between bruises, with a gash down the side, the most significant of the many cuts he'd received by being showered in windshield glass.
By the time he was dressed, Dean had regained his balance, thankfully, and casually walked out like he had a place to be.
He searched out room 342 easily, and found himself nervous for Claire, praying she was okay.
He knocked before entering, with no clue why, and found her sitting up and drinking a glass of water. "Dean!" She beamed, her eyes bright.
"Hey," He sat on the edge of her bed, glancing at the TV, Toddlers & Tiaras blaring tantrums in the background.
"How are you?" She looked pale.
"I'm okay." She played with her straw, not making eye contact. "You okay? You look like you just woke up."
"I did." He sighed before continuing. "Look, I've gotta go. Finish what I started."
"But you've been in an accident!"
"Just text me when you're out. I'll be worried." Dean patted her arm and turned to leave.
"Wait!" He swung around in expectancy.
"I'll come with you."
...
Dean knew the police would want to question them about the drunk driver. He'd heard the nurses talking on his way to Claire's room. So he wasn't surprised when they had just made it out the back- himself in normal clothes, Claire in a nurse's uniform- and alarms started to go off. A young doctor followed by a couple police officers stood at the hospital's back door. The doc pointed to where Dean and Claire stood frozen by a tall fence before the cops started running.
"Quick! Under!" Dean said, motioning them towards a small area where the fence had been peeled up like a banana. The recent rain caused a slick decent as Claire crawled under the wire.
The guards were gaining. Dean threw his duffel over the fence and slid under after her, spitting mud out of his mouth. "Disgusting." He muttered. The second he was out the other side, duffel slung over his shoulder, she grabbed his hand. "Go!"
Dean sprinted with her around the corner, glancing back to see the cops watching through the fence. One waved dismissively. "Okay," Dean slowed to a walk as they turned onto a back street.
"You okay?" Dean asked.
Claire looked down at her shirt. The material was brown with mud, but tinted red. "Oh... I guess the fence got me."
Dean stopped her and pulled up her shirt a little. He sucked in a breath. "Not that bad, just, Uh..." He was covered in mud himself, nothing to staunch the blood flow with. "I dunno. Just be careful. We're almost to a motel."
The Easy Street Motel was run by a drunken werewolf-looking man who looked skeptically at Dean and Claire when they entered. Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and pulled out his credit card.
The man handed them a room key and, duffel in hand, the two found their room: C5
Claire stumbled into the room behind Dean and practically fell onto the closest bed, instantly covering the pasty white sheets with a mixture of blood and mud.
"Not yet," Dean said softly, holding out his hand to pull her up. "Follow me."
He guided her to the bathroom and grabbed a towel to wipe off her face. "You need to clean up. Do you... Need help? Or..." He eyed the stain on her back.
"Oh, no. I-I got it." She assured him. Dean nodded and turned to leave her alone. "You know, you did pretty good back there." He said, as she started the water.
"Thanks,"
Dean nodded and closed the door behind him. It was only a few minutes before she came back out, wrapped in a towel and in search of some clothes. "Um..." Dean looked up from the TV. "Oh!" He stood up from the dirty bed. "Clothes... I'll get them." She whispered an embarrassed thanks as he quickly pulled a pair of her things out of the duffel.
She grabbed her clothes and raced back into the bathroom. Dean was peeling off his muddy shirt when she returned. "Hey. I'm gonna take a quick shower and then I'll look at where it nicked ya, okay?"
"Yeah, sounds fine."
Dean nodded and brought a change of clothing with him into the bathroom. Less than a minute later, Claire heard the water running and even heard a relaxed sigh as Dean stood under the hot water.
Claire pulled up her shirt and twisted to look at it. The cut wasn't too deep, just seemed ominous given the length. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but she figured she'd let the expert get a look at it first.
The shower turned off and Dean came out a minute later, seemingly rejuvenated, while she stood pacing back and forth in wait.
"Will you let me see your cut?" He asks, pulling on a shirt before she can notice the extent of his own injuries.
"Yeah, yeah, sure." They sit down on the clean bed and she pulled up her tank, revealing the slash across her back.
"You know, that's almost exactly where Sam got it." He noted out loud, gently touching the area around the cut. She was thin, the tan of her skin contrasting the ruby red of the bloody line.
"Let's just bandage that up." Dean decided, assessing his first aid options and deciding on a long, skin colored bandage. He sat behind her and peeled off the sticky flaps on the band-aid and covered the wound. "There. That should hold for now. We'll change it tomorrow."
"Okay."
"Then I'll find a cure for Sammy and kill those men."
"'I'll? What happened to 'we?'" She questioned.
"Yeah, about that... It's just- this is dangerous. And awkward."
Claire frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you liked me as a person."
"I do. It's just- you seem nice, but I can't trust my feelings when I know Sam's pushing me away from him like this." He sighed. "This... Connection... It can't be real. It's just the spe-"
Claire turned around and kissed him, the surprise showing on his face instantly turning to pleasure as he found himself disappointed when she pulled back. "Did that seem real? Or was that the spell, too?"
Dear God, Dean thought. Okay, so maybe he was wrong. Maybe he shouldn't have treated Claire like a child, shouldn't have pushed her away because of his guilty frustration towards his ailing brother. Maybe he should've realized his feelings for her, because, honestly, why didn't he turn her away?Tell her 'Hell, no!' at her prospect of joining him?
He could tell himself it was the spell, but all that old witch did was stop Dean from seeing his brother. If he got close enough, he'd suddenly lose interest and head away again. But it shouldn't affect his feelings, an idea that had just crossed his mind when Claire pulled him back again and, to his own surprise, he pressed her to him, never letting their lips part. Finally, they stopped to breathe, and Dean smiled at her with shock.
"That was real." He said, kissing her soft lips one more time because he finally could and she beamed back before he even stopped. "Why now? Why not before?"
"I don't know." She whispered, her lips brushing his as she talked. "It just... Seemed right, you know?"
"I do." Dean replied, holding her hands in his rough ones. "I really do."
She grinned and grabbed his shirt in her hands, pulling it over his head quickly. "Oh..." She breathed, her hand gently gliding down his front. At first he thought she was just in awe of his physical state, before he remembered where the bullet had grazed him. "Your hurt." She stated.
"It's nothing."
"No... It's something." She stood up and crossed her arms. "I'm not getting near you until you deal with that, Stubborn." She tried to be serious, but couldn't manage to keep the corners of her mouth from turning upwards. Dean raised his eyebrows and picked something out of the stash on the nightstand.
"There," He said, grabbing an antiseptic wipe and barely flinching at the sting. Then he lay back expectantly. "You coming?"
She bit her lip, smiling, and climbed on top of him. He put his arms around her, his hands in her hair, on her back, his lips against hers, her teeth, her neck.
"I knew it was you," She whispered. "When I first saw you. Love at first sight." Her hot breath was in his ear in the darkness of the room. "What about you?"
Dean smiled and rolled on his side until they were facing each other. "Me?" He replied. "You kind of snuck up on me."
...
Dean's eyes snapped open and he instantly realized how vulnerable he was. His arm was wrapped around Claire as the two cuddled under the covers, his weapons just outside of reach.
Dean wondered what had made him wake up with such a start when there was a knock on the door. He made eye contact with Claire, woken up in confusion, as Dean slipped out of bed and pulled on some boxers and jeans. He put a finger to his lips and grabbed his gun, cocking it quietly.
Claire pulled on a bathrobe and tried to follow him. "No!" Dean whispered, "It's not safe!" She jumped back in the bed, clutching the covers up around herself in fear as Dean stepped back and pulled open the door.
He raised his gun in front of himself protectively. "Put the gun down." Dean heard. "Now."
"Or what?" He taunted. The man before him looked familiar. Like... one of the men that had hurt his Sammy. Who, Dean thought, would never come alone.
Sure enough, from behind him came another chuckle and then an agonizing scream.
"DEAN!"
He whipped around expecting to see Claire hurt, in pain, even dying. Instead she pointed behind him, at the bathroom.
"WATCH OUT!"
Dean turned just in time to see a knife swing toward his neck. He ducked, but not before it sliced his brow, blood instantly streaming into his eye. Dean dropped the gun, and watched a foot kick it away towards the complete other side of the room.
Dean was seeing red, literally, desperately trying to wipe it away before it had deadly effects. "NO!"
He wheeled around and faced one of the men, the one without the knife. "Don't do this." Dean warned. He was good at hand-to-hand combat, but not the best.
Dean sent a fist flying towards the man's jaw when a booted foot caught him square in the back. He fell to his knees with a grunt and watched his blood fall on the carpet beneath him.
He tried to get up, stumbling and using his hands, but the nearest muscled man grabbed him in a chokehold. Dean squeaked and gasped for air, felt pressure added by a bony elbow beneath his chin.
It was a choke he knew all too well, one that John had made him practice time and time again. According to Dean's past knowledge and experience, he'd be out in a matter of seconds.
"Wait, wai..." He wheezed, clawing uselessly at the man's hands.
The blood flow to his brain was completely blocked, and before he knew what had happened his eyes had closed, his hands fell limply, and his body relaxed.
"No..." Claire whimpered as Dean's head lolled lifelessly. The blood speckled floor made her pale. "Dean!" Tears glistened as the blood ran into his mouth and down the side of his face. "No..." She whispered out of fright. Now that Dean was out of the way, well, she was next.
Thank you for reading! If you get time, drop me a line and tell me what you think. I'll update next week!