That Other Woman 

Cassie Robinson never considered herself a catch by any means, though her mother would have argued against that of course.

She’d tell anyone within hearing distance that her little girl was the smartest, prettiest thing this side of the Mississippi and any boy would be damn lucky to even turn her head. It embarrassed her of course, but it also made her proud to have a mama who thought so much of her. She told Dean that once, though she’s not sure when exactly. Much of what they said to each other is so tied up in hurt that she doesn’t think back on it much these days.

No, she wasn’t really a catch. Skin and bones with a head too big for her body and breasts that barely filled a B-cup. That was the Cassie Robinson she grew up with, looked at in the mirror everyday. Which was why she allowed herself to get attached to him so quickly, fell before she knew exactly who was coming to her bed each night. Dean Winchester made her feel things. Beautiful. Wanted.

He’d made her feel like a woman for the first time, instead of that awkward teenager in her high school year book.

***

"You dropped something."

It was the first thing he said to her in the middle of the quad, standing next to the soft blue blanket she’d spread out on the grass. She closed her algebra book and looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the bright sun overhead.

"I’m sorry, what did you say?"

He grinned at her and bent his knees until his eyes were level with her own. It gave her a chance to really take him in, every pseudo James Dean wanabee inch of him.

"I said you dropped something." He repeated the words slowly, gave them a sexy flair that made laughter bubble up in her throat. But she held it back, forced her features into some semblance of normalcy.

"And what was that? What did I drop I mean."

He shrugged.

"Hell if I know, just figured it might’ve have happened at some point. I’m Dean Winchester by the way."

She laughed so hard that it hurt her stomach. And she said yes when he asked her out for a drink. It was the least she could do under the circumstances.

***

She didn’t let him kiss her. Not that night anyway.

Or the night after. She played things cool, made fun of him every chance she got. Did everything she was sure all the other girls hadn’t. And there had been others, that cocky walk of his told her as much. Women couldn’t keep their eyes off him and she’d never received so many nasty stares in her life. She wasn’t used to other girls noticing her at all, especially the blond ones. Maybe because she’d never been a threat to them before.

But Dean never even glanced their way, he was too busy telling her stories about his little brother Sam and how he’d terrorized him when they were young. She could hear the pride in his voice when he mentioned how smart Sam was, that he’d gotten the best parts of their mother, while Dean considered himself more like his dad. But when she asked about his parents, his eyes would darken. He’d lift the beer to his lips and change the subject. So she never bothered to ask again.

Maybe if she had, things between them would have ended differently. But they would have ended just the same. That much she was sure of.

***

They’d seen each other for five nights straight and he never touched her, not in that way at least. And she never asked him to, though she wanted it more everyday. But it wasn’t until he showed up at her room one night, smelling of rotten eggs and smoke that she finally gave in. He’d used her shower, explaining that they’d kicked him out of the hotel room for trashing the place. He’d laughed at her confusion while his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer despite her protests.

"I’m tired Cass." He whispered, his face only inches from her own. "I’ve had a long fucking day and I’m tired."

Her attempts to focus on his words were falling short, distracted as his hands moved beneath her shirt. His thumbs rubbed back and forth across her skin, bringing all those fleeting thoughts of him to the surface. She’d wondered how he’d feel against her, if he’d taste as bitter as the beer he favored.

"Aren’t you tired?" he whispered the words against her lips, causing them to part for him, welcome his probing tongue. She was tired, she realized that as her hands moved across his shoulders. Her hips pressed against his groin. She was tired of waiting, of pretending she didn’t want this more than anything. But most of all, she was tired of being the girl who says no to Dean Winchester. Because that wasn’t who she was or even who she wanted to be.

She just wanted to be the woman he couldn’t leave behind.

It was there, that small prickle of fear, even as her shirt slid above her head, his mouth trailed along her collarbone. Every touch felt fleeting, slightly desperate to her. She wanted to hold on for dear life, savor the way breathed her name against her skin. Her nipples puckered when the cool air of the room hit them and she whispered a brief prayer as his tongue swept across the taunt skin.

Stay with me. Please, just stay with me.

He may have heard her. She thought she saw a brief flicker in his eyes as he slid her jeans down her thighs. But he said nothing, only drew her down to the bed, his hands stroking away the last of her fears. There was just that moment. The warmth of his skin on hers. Thick probing fingers working inside her heat. There was no past, no worrying about the future. Just that insistent throb that had her writhing, cursing the empty ache at her core.

She begged for him, clawed at his skin as he moved between her thighs. He kissed her again as he pumped inside her heat, this tongue pulsing in time with each thrust of his hips. He swallowed each moan, each fevered cry as his mouth moved against hers, his own moans sending vibrations against her tongue. She came for him, her body clenching, drawing him deeper. But he only moved faster. Kept her with him until his name became the prayer. Her body spent and limp beneath him.

He kissed her once more, gently against her flushed cheek. It wasn’t the first one of course, but it felt just as important, perhaps even more so. It felt like a promise. Something she could cling to as she fell asleep in his arms.

It didn’t last of course, what does nowadays? But at that moment, for one night a least they felt like forever.

***

She’d never considered herself a catch by any means. But she’d never been someone who was lied to, that much was certain. And when he told her about the shape-shifter he’d chased down the night before, that’s just what she became. One in a long list of women left behind, destined to watch him drive away in cloud of dust and break lights. He’d taken so much. He had so much of her already, she just couldn’t give him that. So she left him. Refused to look back as she walked away, hoping there was something left herself she could salvage.

He called of course. Everyday at midnight for a week, he’d called her and asked her to come back to him. It took her three days to realize he was calling at the same time they’d kissed for the first time. It weakened her resolve. Made her doubt what was true and what was just—fear. But she remembered that she was the prettiest, smartest girl this side of the Mississippi. And the last thing a girl like that had time for was playing games.

Eventually the calls stopped. And she moved on; found someone else to eat pizza with at midnight. But sometimes—not often, but every now and then she’d hear a roaring engine or see the back of blond head and think of that kiss. The first one of course, but the last as well. And wonder if the moment would come when she could touch him again without losing herself. Without being afraid.

It was possible, she knew that. But it wasn’t likely.

Because she’d never be the woman who says no to Dean Winchester.