A/N – Thanks for the reviews! We are literally only one chapter away from earning our "m" rating!
I woke up on the most comfortable mattress I had ever slept on. The alarm clock glowed blue, and I took in my surroundings by the dim light. The room was not bare, but it was not utilitarian. I took a deep breath. The pillow smelled like whiskey, soap, and testosterone. Dean had given me his bed.
I suppose I should have been happy, or at the very least flattered, that he'd forgone sleeping in his own bed for my sake. It's too bad my emotions are stupid. Instead of feeling touched, I felt guilty. I laid there for a while, arguing with myself. On the one hand, I knew it wasn't healthy to still feel like I had to be faithful to my ex. He was a dick, and our break up couldn't get much more permanent than "Beheaded." It wasn't like his own loyalty at the end should have earned him any further affection from me. Not to mention the fact that Dean was a known womanizer. It would be stupid for me to invest myself in him emotionally. But, dammit, it had been so long since I had gotten laid, and he was so damned good looking. He was an itch, just under my skin, and if I didn't do something about it soon, I was going to go nuts. If I DID do something about it, I would go nuts. I had to get him out of my system, and soon.
I threw back the covers. I needed to think. I really needed a drink. When I got up, I realized I wasn't in my clothes, but a pair of boxers and an oversized Zeppelin t-shirt. I groaned. Yup, something definitely had to be done.
I was on a mission. I left his room, and got thoroughly lost trying to find the common area of the bunker. I was thankful for the solitude the late hour brought, even if it meant spending the rest of the night completely turned around.
Finally, I stumbled into a kitchen by accident. I cursed. There was Dean, leaned back, stretched out, and dozing on a chair, looking like sex on two legs. There should have been a law against filling out one's clothes so well. It was indecent. I stopped in my tracks, torn between sneaking off with the bottle of Wild Turkey sitting on the table and just turning around and leaving, wandering around until I found his room.
I made my decision. I turned slowly, and as silently as I could, took a step towards the door. The tell tale click of a gun being cocked stopped me in my tracks.
"You shouldn't sneak up on a hunter." His voice made me shiver.
"You should take your own advice." I sighed. So much for escape. I turned to face him, my arms crossed over my chest.
"Touché." He stood and stretched, his muscles straining against the confines of his band shirt. I had to stifle a groan. "I dig the new look." He smirked.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a stainless steel stock pot and grimaced. I'd like to say I had achieved the "sex hair" look, but really it looked like I stuck my finger in a light socket while standing in a wind tunnel. I slumped in a chair by the table. I was surprised to see that the bottle wasn't opened.
"Not thirsty?" I was fidgeting under his gaze.
"Early start. Wouldn't want to drink and drive my baby."
I nodded, and we lapsed into silence. I could feel Dean staring at me as he sat back down. It felt like an electric current.
"You should take a picture. It lasts longer."
"You should stop talking like a fifth grader."
Him and his stupid smirk were so infuriating!
"Dean…" I trailed off as our eyes met. The look in his eyes put me on edge. I'd seen that look before, on a werewolf before they'd gone for my heart. I gathered my courage. "Whatever this is…" I wished he would stop looking at me like that. "What I mean…" I sighed. "It just can't happen."
I really didn't like the look in his eyes. He looked conflicted, hungry, and concerned.
"I mean… It's been nearly a year since I've-"Damn him. "I'm screwed up, and you, well, I've heard about how you are with girls and-"
"You talk too much." Dean and that damn smirk interrupted me. I wanted to kick myself. Why was I sitting here, rambling on about how we couldn't hook up, with a guy who may not have even been interested in me? For crying out loud, he probably only brought me along out of some weird sense of chivalrous duty. Of course, I knew the answer to my own silent question. It's because I've always been an idiot, that's why.
"So I've been told." I was red from my head to my toes. I had to escape, and not just the room. I had to escape, in general. I'd managed to hunt for months without seeing Dean. I could hit the road, get off the radar-
"This life doesn't leave a lot of room fo personal crap. If you wanted to leave, no one would blame you. Hell, Sam and I almost called it quits before. Probably would have, if evil crap didn't keep trying to kill us." Wow. He sure as hell didn't bother with subtly. "You could start over. Find a small town, finish school, get a teaching gig -" My mind reeled. How the hell did he know about THAT? "Marry the small town sheriff, have a gaggle of normal little kids-"
I snorted. Dean had obviously done his research on me. I'd been in school to be a teacher, before my life went to hell. What he didn't get, was that it had taken a turn for the crappy long before I met my first boogie man. "I lost my chance for that way before hunting came in to the picture. If you want me to go, I will, but whatever you think you know about me, you don't know the half of it."
Dean's face darkened. "I know all of it. Sam's really good with a search engine."
My face blanched. I was not prepared to confront that part of my life, especially not with him. Hunting was a way for me to escape, to run from the pity, the awkward radio silence from friends. I didn't want to be surrounded by people so scared that their happiness would hurt me that they cut me out. Especially when they really just wanted to pretend that things like what had happened to me, to my family, weren't real. I couldn't blame them. I wanted to pretend too, and pretending was a lot easier when you didn't have to drive by places that reminded you that someone wasn't coming home.
And here it was, staring me in the face. I averted my eyes. If I looked at Dean and saw pity, I think it would have killed me. Maybe he didn't say anything out right, but knowing that he knew- it was like someone had found that barely healed scar ripped open the wound.
"Why would you do that? You ran a background check on me?" I would do anything to avoid talking about what happened. I didn't want Dean to see the pain, so I reacted with anger. "Did you satisfy your curiosity?"
I made the mistake of looking at Dean. He looked regretful, sad, and I swore I saw it… Pity. Crap. He made to move towards me.
"No." I cut him off. "I don't want your pity, Dean Winchester. If I wanted pity, I'd be at home right now, sitting in an empty house with a basement full of their things, waiting for God to finally tell me why."
I stood. Dean's eyes were burning, but I couldn't figure out why. Was he angry? Did I hurt him? Whatever it was, it fueled my own feelings. I was going to leave, and I'd rather his memories of me fill him with anger than pity. Maybe that made me selfish, but so be it. "Do you really want to know why I decided to hunt, Dean? Because when my mom looks at me, she can barely keep from crying. Maybe that makes me a coward, and maybe I'm stupid, and reckless, and I'll probably get myself killed. But at least then, it would mean something. I'd rather die saving someone than waste away waiting for answers that I'm not going to get." He was still staring at me. I met his gaze, and I couldn't continue. I needed to leave. Now. I had to go before I lost my resolve. If I let him keep looking at me like that, I knew I'd break down, give in. If he reached out to me, even out of pity… Well, I just couldn't let that happen.
"It's fine, Dean. Knowing that you know… Well, at least I know why you brought me here." He started to speak, but I cut him off. "I'm not some kicked dog for you to adopt. I can't be that." I was on a roll, and I couldn't let him change my mind. When he tried to respond, I cut him off again. "Goodbye, Dean."
I turned, and I walked away.