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“I would say be careful or take care of yourself but it seems unnecessary. You know better than most,” she tells him this, both leaning against the Impala, sides flush together.
He huffs, says “Yeah” while looking down at his boots.
It’s early morning, just after eight, a bite to air even with the sun high enough in the sky.
He needs to be on the road. No sense in delaying the inevitable. But he doesn’t move until she lets go.
---
They move slow, nearly lazy, as if they have all time in the world. It feels like that, the sun not yet up.
They explore like it’s the first time, fingers and lips smoothing over warm flesh.
When he finally rocks into her, it feels so good, so right.
---
With her mom and dad’s help, it hadn’t taken long at all to unload the U-haul.
Her mom had cleaned the place before they arrived. Her parents had brought the bed they rest on, too tired to do anything. Ready to sleep before the sun even sets.
This is not how he thought they’d spent their last night together.
---
He loads box after box after box with her. It’s not much. Just books, clothes, odds and ends she’s collected over the past four years and stuff from home. All the furniture was already in the apartment when she rented it. They work late in the day when it’s not so hot, an early taste of summer in mid-May.
“You really didn’t have to do this Dean. I know there’s stuff you could be doing.” Her arms are full. Her face is too serious.
He has to laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be here?” He means what he asks. Proves it when he kisses her, her face in his hands. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel guilty for being here. Just taking a page out of Sam’s book, taking something for himself.
---
“I won’t miss this,” she says, not thinking. It’s the God’s honest truth but she’s old enough to know that sometimes some things you keep to yourself, especially the truth.
He doesn’t say thing. He doesn’t even look up to glare at her as she finishes cleaning his cuts. Nothing major, still it’s too much seeing his skin split open, hearing him hiss and muffle his curses.
“You know what I meant.”
“Lucky for you, you only had to deal with it for a few weeks.” There’s an edge to his voice that has less to do with physical pain than hurt feelings. He shrugs on his shirt when she’s done.
“Shit, Dean. I knew what I was getting into. I just didn’t know what I was getting into.” When she put her hands on her hips, she meant to sound forceful. All she sounds is sorry because she doesn’t measure up. It’s not like she ever thought she could. She’s pretty sure he didn’t expect half as much as what she’s done. “I don’t regret any of it though.”
He waits too many beats for her liking before he pulls her close.
---
Sweaty and smoky, he comes in, all in one piece.
---
“You kind of suck at this you know?” They sit in the library, books spread over the table. She’s working. He’s pretending to.
“This is what genius little brothers are for. Too bad my parents didn’t have twins,” he jokes but there’s bitterness and sadness in those words.
“Lucky for you, you met me when you did.” She bumps his shoulder.
He smirks, slides his hand up her thigh. “I think we were both lucky that day. Got really lucky later on.”
---
She wakes up first, blinds still letting in the full moon’s light. Dean lies stomach down, hands under his pillow, face towards her.
She watches him sleep, the rise and fall of his back, the way the light hits his skin. She makes out scars, old ones, definitely once ugly and red. She traces them with her eyes until she has to touch.
Dean wakes up. He doesn’t raise his head, just blinks the sleep out his eyes. Her hand stays put. She asks softly, “How did this happen?”
---
She pulls open the door to the bar ready to drink. She spots him at the bar, surrounded, leaning back, legs crossed, a beer in one hand, the other gesturing as he talks. As he smiles, Cassie imagines crinkles at the corners of his eyes, too far away to see them clearly now. Five women look at him and smile right along.
She’s jealous. He’s relaxed, happy. She got tension and lame jokes to try to break it up. He tried to make her feel better, which she greatly appreciated. But she’d rather have him like this, a smile that would make a saint want to sin.
She expected him to be gone. She makes her way over. She hopes she’s right about him being a guy looking for a good time.
He sees her, smiles, makes his way toward her without even excusing himself. She smiles back, victorious.
“I thought you’d be on Route 66 by now,” she tells him, practically no space between them.
He puts his arm around her shoulders, turns her away from the bar. “Change of plans” is all he says before he downs the last of his beer.
“Any particular reason?” She won’t deny the hope that flares in her gut.
He looks at her like he thinks about lying, doing what guys do, telling the girl what she wants to hear, then decides against it. “My dad told me stay put. He’s meeting me here. Looks like we’re going to be here awhile.”
---
It’s been over, over for almost a day now. It still feels like something’s going to happen.
She figures it must be normal to feel this way after someone who’s been dead for years, decades actually, tried to kill you several times over the course of three days. Dean came early in the second day and got rid of the ghost on the third. Must be normal even if she believed him when he said “the son of a bitch is good and gone.” He had that ‘I don’t fucking play around with this shit’ look on his face.
Then he was gone, off to wherever because “I don’t stick around much after a job’s done.”
---
At the twenty-four hour diner, a few miles out of town, the coffee’s hot and the pie fresh enough from dinner.
“Family business, huh?” she asks, clearly amused in a ‘I can’t fucking believe this’ kind of way although she really does.
“Yup. You gonna finish that?” He’s already across the table, fork in her pie.
She can only laugh at how much he puts away. “Sure. Who’s in this family?”
He shrugs, careful not to look at her. “Me, my dad.”
She tries to catch his eyes anyway. “That’s it?”
“I have a little brother. He’s at Stanford.”
“Good school,” she says, impressed.
“Not really.” He’s looking at her now, a smile on this face that she just knows has gotten him into the good kind of trouble. “I haven’t seen any chicks there that look as good as you.”
This time when she laughs it’s with her whole body.
---
“You hurt?” this man standing over her asks. This man that made that thing disappear.
“No, not really,” she answers distractedly.
“Good. Come on. We gotta move,” he orders. He’s got a hand out. He pulls her up then he’s moving not even looking back to see if she’s following.
“Hey, wait. Where are we going?”
“Anywhere but here.” He’s still moving.
“But I don’t know you,” she states what should be obvious.
“I’m Dean and I just saved your ass,” he practically growls at her.
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate it but,” she all but hisses.
“Good,” he says like she damn well better.
---
i want you to know that it doesn't matter
where we take this road
someone's gotta go
and i want you to know
you couldn't have loved me better
but i want you to move on
so i'm already gone