Dean leaned me back onto the seat of the Impala, struggling to work his jeans the rest of the way from his legs. I watched as he toed off his boots and kicked them in the floorboard. His pants quickly joined them. He hovered over me, the amulet given to him by Sam years ago hanging in the air between us.
Lowering his head, his lips met mine, his tongue swiftly diving between my lips, the need for sweet, close-lipped kisses unnecessary. As our tongues tangled, Dean's hands slid down my sides, catching onto the hem of my leggings. His fingertips slowly dipped beneath the fabric, placing butterfly touches to my hips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers twirling the short hairs at the nape.
As he slipped my leggings over my hips and thighs, his mouth left mine to place lascivious kisses across my hip bones and above my mound. I couldn't keep the sigh I breathed silent. The feel of his breath and lips on my skin desirous. I could feel the slick at my core saturate my loins. Getting my leggings over my boots ceased his efforts as Dean kneeled and began untying and discarding the offending shoes until he could rip my pants from my legs.
While he had been untying and ditching my boots and then my leggings, I had removed my shirt and bra and couldn't hold back from kneading my breasts. Dean looked up at me through half-lidded eyes and drew an audible breath at my actions. He grabbed my ankles, spreading them and tucking himself between my legs. Placing barely there kisses to my calf, the inside of my knee and up my thigh his lips made a path to the cusp of my sex.
His nose brushed my folds and I not only heard but felt the rumble of his groan. "God, Nic, you smell so sweet. Gotta taste you," he murmured before his tongue licked a stripe from my entrance to my clit. "Mmmm, just a sweet as always." As he twirled his tongue around my clit, I felt wetness pool at my core.
Teeth nibbled at the bundle of nerves, I kneaded my boobs harder, needing friction wherever I could get it. His finger lazily drew tight little circles at my entrance before languidly slipping inside. I moaned at the sensation, egging him to insert another finger. Crooking them, he stroked the front wall, stimulating my g-spot as he continued to nip my clit with barely there teeth. I could feel the coil in my lower abdomen almost achingly tighten.
The pressure of his calloused fingertips on the ridged area inside me made me squirm; he placed his free hand over my stomach and held me still. Looking down, I met his desire-blown eyes and could feel the smile against my sex. The presence of admiration, adoration, and something else I couldn't pinpoint in my lust filled mind caused the coil to burst, causing the orgasm to rush through me like a hurricane. Dean moaned loudly as my juices covered his hand and his chin as he rapidly attacks me with his tongue, trying to capture all of it.
Once he had cleared as much as he could, he inched up my body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses to my stomach, sternum, between and on the side of each of my breasts, to my shoulder, my neck and the spot below my ear before meeting my lips with his. I could faintly taste myself on him as he crashed into me, gliding his tongue in.
Dean deepened the kiss and I felt him line his already hardened member at my entrance. He smoothly slid into me, pushing himself inward until he was fully sheathed. Resting long enough for me to adjust, he began pistoning his hips, pushing the feeling of complete entirety higher and higher. I began meeting him thrust for thrust in a rhythm likened to the voracity of rabbits. Our orgasms hit quick and we were both breathless, panting in the splendor of it all.
Dean's cell begins to ring. Looking down at me spread out under him, he reluctantly answers it.
"Hello? Hey Ellen. What's going on? Yeah, we'll be right there," he looks at me apologetically. "We need to go by the Roadhouse." At my grimace, he goes on, "I know, but Ellen says she needs us to get there now." I concede, sitting up and getting dressed. We had to stop and get Sam on the way so there was no time to revel in the afterglow of the intimacy we just shared.
We pull up to the Roadhouse and head inside. I don't want to be here; I don't want my good mood to be ruined by having to deal with her. After taking care of the Cranoxion and before dealing with Ronald, Dean and I had spent time together, getting closer in more than physical ways. We had discussed our relationship, hunting and to my amazement, we had discussed the future. Hunters never talked about the future because we never knew from day to day when our time was going to be up.
"So. You uh, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?" Ellen gets right to the point as soon as we are all seated. She hands us each an opened beer. "No. Not really. No offense, it's just kind of a family thing," Dean tells her.
"Not anymore" Ellen says, dropping a stack of papers on the bar. "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his sixth month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"
"Yeah, we think so," Sam interjects.
"Sam..." I say in warning.
"Why?" Ellen asks, looking at the three of us.
"None of your business," Dean tells her, taking a drink of his beer.
"You mind your tongue with me, boy" Ellen orders, pointing a finger at Dean. "This isn't just your war, this is war. Now, something big and bad's coming and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. Now, at best all we got is us. Together. No secrets or half-truths here."
"There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher, like me. And um ... we all have some kind of ability," Sam explains.
"Ability?"
"Yeah. Psychic ability. Me, I have, um, I have visions. Premonitions. I don't know, it's, it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us. "
"What kind of plans?" Ellen begins grilling Sam
"We don't really know for sure," I speak up, answering her honestly.
"These people out there, these psychics - they dangerous?"
"No. Not all of them," Dean answers, looking over at the younger Winchester.
"But some are. Some are very dangerous," Sam tells her.
"Okay, how many of them are we looking at?"
"We've been able to track a clear pattern so far. They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday."
"That's not true," Sam sadly tells Ellen. He is devastated that the pattern is no longer fixed.
"What?" I asked him, not understanding what he means.
"Weber? Or Ansen Weems, or whatever his name is - I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. There's nothing out of the ordinary."
"Which breaks pattern. So if there's any others like him, there'd be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down."
"And so who knows how many of 'em are really out there?" I can tell the boys are getting discouraged seeing that the more information we come up with, the less it makes sense. Jo walks into the bar and Ellen beckons her over. I automatically tense up and Dean grabs my hand and squeezes. No one notices my reaction except him.
"Jo honey?"
"Yeah?" Jo says, noticing our joined hands and turns to her mother.
"You'd better break out the whiskey."
The boys and I, along with Ellen, start going through all the information Ash had pulled up for children whose homes had burnt when the child was 6 months old, trying to find another possibility of what this demon was after.
Later that night, after we had thoroughly reviewed every report Ash had provided and emptied multiple bottles of whiskey, we all turned in. Ellen being kind enough to arrange sleeping quarters for the three of us. Thankfully this time, I didn't share a room with Jo, but with Dean.
The next morning, Dean and I are surprisingly the first ones awake.
"Good morning, beautiful!"
"Morning," I say, stretching. I had had an amazing dream-free sleep and am feeling pretty refreshed. Pulling me tighter to him, Dean nuzzles the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. The feeling of his lips touching that sensitive skin begins to flow through me, causing shivers down my spine, until my stomach growls and he stops his ministrations to chuckle.
"Wanna go get breakfast?" he asks me, sitting up to look at me.
"Sounds good. Should we wake Sam?"
"Yeah, I'll go get him while you get dressed." He rolls out of bed and bends down to kiss my forehead before leaving the room.
Pulling back up to the Roadhouse, I pull out my phone as we get out of the Impala.
"Los Angeles, California."
"What's in L.A.?" Sam asks me.
"Young girl's been kidnapped by an evil cult," I tell him, trying to keep a straight face and not give way that it's a joke. "Yeah? Girl got a name?" Sam seems interested in the possible case, while I'm having a hard time keeping my giggles in check. "Katie Holmes," I can no longer hold it and permit the laugh to leave my lips. Sam joins in laughing with me, "That's funny."
"And for you, so bitchy," Dean tells me, earning him a slap on the ass. He jumps slightly at the contact and wraps an arm around me, whispering in my ear, "You're asking for it, darlin'." I smile up at him, letting him know his threat was welcomed.
Sam rolls his eyes and grunts, "Guys, enough with the PDA. I want to hold my breakfast down." I know Sam is just joking because of the grin he is being terrible at hiding.
From inside the roadhouse comes the sound of breaking glass and shouting voices. Dean turns and looks toward the building. "Catfight," I warn them as we head for the door.
"I am your mother, I don't have to be reasonable!" Ellen yelled at her daughter. "You can't keep me here!" Jo fired back. "Oh, don't you bet on that, sweetie," Ellen said, voice laced with annoyance. "What are you going to do, are you going to chain me up in the basement?" Jo asked, following Ellen around the bar.
"I wouldn't mind that," I muttered silently. But not quite enough that Dean didn't hear me; he looked down at me, squirming a brow. "You know what, you've had worse ideas than that recently. Hey, you don't wanna stay, don't stay. Go back to school," Ellen offered.
"I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection," Jo tried to get sympathy. 'Freak is right,' I thought to myself. I didn't want Dean to know that she still irked me. "Yeah, and getting yourself killed on some dusty back road, that's where you belong?!" Ellen said, seeing through her daughter's attempt to earn pity. Ellen turns and sees the boys and I standing there.
"Guys, bad time."
"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, turning to leave. Dean grabs my hand and we go to follow Sam, "Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway."
"Wait. I wanna know what they think about this," Jo tells her mom, grabbing a file folder from a table. A family with two kids under three, all wearing bright yellow t-shirts that read "Nebraska is for Lovers" enter. "I don't care what they think!" Ellen tells her daughter.
The dad of the group asks, "Are you guys open?"
"No!" "Yes!" Ellen and Jo answer simultaneously.
"You'd probably be safer checking out the Arby's down the road," I tell the family and they leave.
The phone rings. Jo glares at it, then at her mom. Ellen stalks over to answer it. Jo walks up to us, holding the folder. "Three weeks ago a young girls disappears from a Philadelphia apartment," she explains, shoving it at Dean. "Take it, it won't bite."
"No, but your mom might," Dean says, glancing toward Ellen before taking the file.
"This girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, all young blondes," Jo clarifies, looking pointedly at me. "Only happens every decade or two so cops never eyeball the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or —"
"Who put this together? Ash?" Dean asks as he reads over the information the file contains. Sam looks over his brother's shoulder while I try to comprehend why Jo is focused on me.
"I did it myself," Jo exclaims, visibly proud of herself.
The boys hum, impressed, "Hmm."
"I gotta admit," I cringe, hating that I am saying this. "We've hit the road for a lot less."
"Good. You like the case so much, you take it," Ellen tells us, having finished her phone call.
"Mom!" Jo almost looks as if she's about to throw a tantrum because she's not getting her way. I inwardly smile, knowing that her outburst just makes her look more like a child to Dean.
We make it to Philadelphia one-day, the next day. Pulling up to the address for the apartment complex, I look out the window up at the building. It looks just like any other building, no weird construction, no unusual urns or novelty items that could be used to hex the dwelling. We round up our equipment, such as EMF readers, a crowbar and a shotgun loaded with salt rounds and shirk the side of the building to get to a back door, basement or some other type of opening to get in.
Once inside we find the apartment of the latest victim easily and Sam works at picking the lock.
"I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case," he tells us.
"Yeah, maybe she put together a good file. But could you see her out here working one of these things?" I answer, already tired of this conversation. "I don't think so. What'd she do when the monsters captured her, throw a tantrum?" Both boys looked at me and smirked. "It's true guys! You seen how she acted when her mom told her no and gave us the case."
I pulled out my EMF reader as they did and started strolling around the apartment. "You getting anything?"
"No, not yet," Sam answers me, as he runs his reader over the light switch, it purrs. He leans over. "What's that?" he asks to no one in particular. Dean walks over to investigate, "What?" I follow behind. Sam reaches out and touching something black and slimy. "Holy crap."
Dean also touches the goo, but I am not about to. Lord only knows what it is.
"That's ectoplasm," Dean says, sniffing the substance on his finger. "Well, guys, I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man." Sam rolls his eyes at his brother's nonsense and I throw a classic bitch face toward my boyfriend.
"Dean, I've only seen this stuff, like, twice. I mean, to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit."
"Oh great!" I utter, "Casper's irritated."
Dean smiles at my antic, "All right, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls."
We exit the apartment and are walking down the hallway when we hear voices. We quickly hide around a corner. I frown and look at Dean when I realize the woman's voice belongs to Jo.
"It's so convenient," Jo tells the man walking with her. He's dressed in overalls so I assume he's the landlord. "Yeah, it's a great building, fixed it up real nice," the landlord tells her. "All the apartments come furnished, too."
"It is so spacious," Jo cheery voices grated on my nerves. "You know, my friend told me I absolutely have to come check it out, and I have to admit, she was right. You did a really good job with this place." Before I can grab him, Dean steps around the corner. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"There you are," Jo says as she steps to Dean's side. She tries to wrap an arm around him, but he pushes her away. "Who are you," the landlord asks, surprised to find anyone in the hallway.
"Dean, my b-" Jo begins her introduction that I quickly interrupt. "Dean is her brother," I say, Sam right behind me. "Sam and Dean are her brothers. And I'm his fiancee," I explain, pushing my way between Dean and Jo. The look on Dean's face is unreadable as he looks down at me.