Chapter 13 – Come Away With Me

Summary: What if Dean had not been chosen by Roy Le Grange?

A/N: The title of this chapter and the song in scene two is Come Away With Me from Norah Jones. A wonderful piece of music, well worth the listen. A tiny line from Ramble On was also used.

I own no rights to these songs and don't own anything related to Supernatural.

This chapter is unbetaed. All errors belong to me.

A HUGE thank you to Sharlot for her generous encouragement. Words cannot express my gratitude.

This is a belated Valentine's Day gift dedicated to all the readers, followers and especially the reviewers.

Enjoy

SPN~SPN~SPN

It was only an afterthought.

Sam hadn't expected to find anything but he'd already gone through Dean's empty duffle and he hardly realized where he was headed when his ears tuned to the sound of running water in the next room. He listened to the muted splashes that assured him all was well as he grabbed the smooth wooden knob and tugged the dresser drawer open.

Sam stared at the pile of clothes, pulling free the balled up black AC/DC tee-shirt and fingering it smooth. It didn't make any sense; Dean never used motel dressers. It wasn't because they were filthy but because dad always demanded they have their duffle packed and ready to leave at a moment's notice. Sam knew how hard it was to break out of a mindset that had been drilled into them since forever. It took him months after moving to Palo Alto to stop doing it himself, to stop thinking he was never meant to stay.

But this was different. This was Dean and this handful of fabric was undeniable proof that his brother had stopped believing he would ever leave the Bethany Motel.

The washroom door creaked open and Dean half-stepped forward, his features shaded by the cast of dim light from behind. He gave a low grunt but Sam took no offence because it wasn't directed at him for touching Dean's precious tee-shirts. No, it wasn't that at all.

"She'll be here, soon," he said, sniffing each item of clothing before tossing it into the duffle. He couldn't wait to wash the smell of sick out of these clothes.

Dean grumbled, shuffling towards the window and parting the faded, flowery curtains. The snow had continued its slow descent, blanketing the Impala.

Sam checked his watch knowing Layla should have been here by now. Dean knew it too as he fretted and fiddled with the drawstring from the hoodie.

"Dude, she left 10 minutes ago," Sam blurted, using his best casual tone. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have tossed up this little white lie. No, any other time he would have teased Dean for being all girly and emo, same as his brother had done to him countless times. But not now. Sam couldn't do it, because despite the mockery and the pranks, when it counted most, when it had been important to Sam, Dean would pull him in, one arm over his shoulder and tell him exactly what he needed to hear. And this was important to Dean.

Sam gazed at the outline of his brother silhouetted against the window. It was a familiar sight. One he'd seen as a child, when he'd wake during the darkest part of the night to find Dean in a similar position, waiting for dad to return.

"Try her one more time and if she doesn't answer, I'll go look for her," he offered, swinging the duffle to the floor.

Just then a streak of light flashed across the room and Dean released a breath. His brother hobbled to the door, opening it and allowing a gust of cold wind to carry a swirl of snow followed closely by Layla.

She squealed and laughed as she kicked the door shut behind her. "Your timing is impeccable," she praised, shaking her head to dislodge the shiny, white specks clinging to her hair.

"You're a…mess," Dean retorted with a wry smile while Layla giggled and stomped the slush from her shoes.

Dean carefully swept the wet locks of hair from her cheek.

Sam felt a sharp pain in his chest, like a stitch popping open and something welled up in him, not quite a remembrance of Jess, but a longing that couldn't be silenced. He averted his eyes and cleared his throat. "Looks like it's getting worse out there," he commented.

"It's not too bad," Layla remarked while watching Dean. "You didn't think a little fluffy snow would keep me from giving you your birthday gift, did you?"

"A gift?" Dean wheezed in surprise.

Sam had never known Dean to make a big deal of his birthday, always claiming he didn't want presents and never wanting to be the center of attention. But there was a genuine amazement in his brother's voice and it made him realize how little Dean expected. It made his regret for not calling his brother on his last four birthdays that much more bitter.

"Well, I didn't quite get you something," Layla confessed. She pulled a small gadget from her purse, holding it in her palm to show him. "My family got me this to help me pass the time when I was in the hospital," she explained.

Dean squinted at the device then looked to his brother for help.

Sam recognized the device immediately. "It's a digital music player," he stated and the feelings of remorse and shame morphed into smugness knowing Dean wouldn't appreciate the device.

"Can you believe this little thing can hold hundreds of songs?" Layla declared, peering up at Dean.

"Hard to believe." Dean acknowledged with an uncomfortable shift in his stance.

She extended it towards him. "Thought you might want to borrow it."

Dean didn't make a move to take it. "But...what about you?"

"Oh, I heard those songs about a thousand times," she puffed in a bored way. "Here, let me show you how it works." She hit a sequence of buttons, explaining the functions. "I've got hundreds of country songs," she mentioned proudly.

Dean made an indignant noise but quickly faked a happy smile when Layla eyed him with suspicion.

"And love ballads…" she added.

Dean's face paled several degrees and Sam choked back a laugh.

"Here's the best part," she whispered, leaning in and locking in on Dean. "I downloaded your favourite songs, the ones on your tape cassettes."

"My music," Dean breathed, reanimating suddenly.

Layla nodded. "I made a playlist just for you so you could listen to your music even when you're not in the car."

Dean took the gadget and Sam's feelings of superiority was obliterated at the idea his brother might like Layla's gift more than his. He sulked back to the duffle. "I need to do some laundry before we run out of clothes," he said breaking up the moment.

"I didn't realize you were on your way out," Layla apologized, pulling back.

Sam noted how she hadn't made a move to take off her coat and sensed she had somewhere else to be. "You're welcome to stay," he lied. He dropped the duffle by the door, slung his coat on, and fumbled with the zipper.

Dean ignored his brother's abrupt behaviour, turning to Layla instead. "Do you have time?" He motioned to the player, shrugging lightly, indicating he wouldn't know what to do with it.

Layla smiled, her eyes softening. "I've got all the time in the world."

Sam knew it was a lie, plain and simple but her untruth bested his and the way Dean smiled at her lanced his chest as if his own poisoned tip had been used against him. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he huffed, shouldering the bag and making his way out the door.

Once outside, he readjusted the bag, hoisting it up, wondering why it felt so heavy. He turned to stare at the silhouettes behind the flimsy curtains and this time he was on the other side of the pane. He was on the outside looking in.

SPN~SPN~SPN

They sat hip to hip, one ear bud each, sharing the headset and listening to AC/DC, Metallica and Led Zeppelin. Dean had gotten quite adept with the little player, flipping through the playlist and selecting songs that would be the least offensive to Layla. After all, she volunteered for this and he didn't want to subject her to anything too painful for her sensibilities.

Dean closed his eyes allowing the music to wash over him. His fingers tapped in time to the song as he tried to recall the last time he felt this…content. Normally, he was at his best, at his happiest when he was on the open road, wandering from town to town, no ties to hold him, no roots to spread.

The time has come to be gone…the soundtrack to his life surged through the headset reminding him that staying in one place for too long always made him want to put the town in the rear view mirror. When he had no hunt to get to or no lead on dad's whereabouts, he'd head to lonely towns. Those were the places that had been forgotten or left behind. He didn't go there to be alone. No, he hated solitude. He went there because lonely places didn't have happy people. Lonely places didn't have fathers playing catch with their sons, didn't have elderly couples holding hands and didn't have moms gushing over their babies. Lonely places didn't remind him of what he didn't have and, didn't leave him wanting the things he couldn't hope for. Best of all, there was no need to hide because no one cared who you were and no one asked questions. Same as his one night stands.

Sure there was a kind of release and fun having a warm, willing body next to you, but it didn't make you feel any less alone. The idea made him reflect on that expression about love. The one that claimed that love was blind. He didn't believe that. In fact he was certain the opposite was true; lust was the act of hiding, of not seeing. Why else would you give out a fake name and fake love? Why else would you sneak out when the other person was sleeping or pretending to be asleep? These were nights with no introductions, mornings without goodbyes. Meetings that were over before the light of day exposed the emptiness within both of you.

Maybe lust was blind, but definitely not love; it was the reason he tried to tell Cassie everything. It was why he wanted her to see him, to know how him. But when the whole thing backfired, he ran for cover closing the door to his heart and vowing never to do something that stupid again. Except no one told his heart and over the last few days even with a creaky and disused hinge, that door cracked open and he started to care.

He slanted towards Layla wanting to gaze upon her, to see every little part of her, to recognize her every expression, to know her thoughts before she voiced them. He longed to see the moonlight glowing softly on her face. He ached to see the sunrise in her eyes. The craziest thing was that he didn't want to get in her bed, he wanted to get into her heart. But after so many years alone, so many years of one night stands, he didn't know how to ask for admittance.

The last strains of Ramble On faded, followed by an unfamiliar song. An apologetic smile graced her lips as she reached for the player, wanting to switch it back to his playlist. Dean took hold of her wrist, stopping her and allowing the languid piano notes and soaring cymbals to float through the headset.

Layla blushed. "You probably won't like this one."

He wasn't so sure and anyway, it didn't matter. "Do you like it?"

She nodded, smiling self-consciously, revealing the path to her heart. Although he was fearless when it came to fighting monsters, he wasn't so brave when it came to divulging his feelings and he lost the ability to speak but he didn't need to as the sweetest voice crooned through the headset. Each word spoke for him.

Come away with me…

It was exactly what he wanted because with her by his side no place would be lonely. He pushed himself up on unsteady legs.

Layla followed suit, holding his elbow securely. "You alright?" she worried.

He offered his hand and let down his guard. "May I have...this dance?"

She was about to argue that he shouldn't be standing but he placed a finger to her lips to stop her from voicing those concerns. He held his breath as she stared a moment longer before accepting his offer and slipping her hand in his. Her other hand came up to his chest, where it rested over his heart.

Dean guided her closer, encircling her waist, gliding his fingers until they rested against the hollow of her back. The singer's silky voice floated overhead, causing them to sway in time to the soothing waves of music. He could have drifted on this ocean forever.

Come away with me and I'll never stop…

But he would, he realized. His heart would stop beating and every feeling that was ready to burst out of his chest would be lost forever. He wanted her know how she made him feel except he didn't want to scare her or make her feel uncomfortable. He slowed the pace to a standstill, allowing one thought to surface. It was the one thing that could express what she meant to him.

"My mom...would have liked you," he breathed into her hair.

She peered up, her eyes radiating with intention and frailty. "I wish I could have met her," she replied, reflecting back what she saw in him.

Dean had never felt more connected to another human being as he did in that moment. He took a breath and she filled him. He was certain that if she moved away, all his oxygen would leave with her. But she didn't leave. She stayed and smiled, for him. Only for him.

He pulled her in and held her close. He had longed to get into her heart, he just hadn't realized he was already there.

TBC…