The Best Policy 4/4
I figured since I said in my Sweet Charity description that you could find examples of my stories here, that I oughta actually, you know, put some of those stories here. So I'm making good on my threat of months back to move the rest of my stories over from ff.net. This isn't new. (And I have not abandoned An Ancient Pitch.)
Title: The Best Policy 4/4
Author: Deanish
Rating: PG13
Length: 1,650 / 5,450 words
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cassie; Sam/Jess
Summary: Dean told the truth. Sam didn't. Neither will ever make that mistake again.
Chapter 4: Truth and/or Consequences
Dean
Dean was thinking a lot lately about what Sam would do.
He liked Cassie. Really liked her. Maybe loved her. And he didn’t know what to do with that. How could he have a relationship - shit, even the word sounded ridiculous - and hunt at the same time? She wasn’t going to buy the usual excuses. If he said he was a traveling salesman, she’d want to know what he was selling. And the next time he came back with a face full of stitches, ‘ran into a door’ wasn’t going to cut it.
The rule was we do what we do and we shut up about it. It was a rule for a reason. But …
Sam would tell her. Sam would spout platitudes like "you can’t build a relationship on a lie" and "if she really loves you, it won’t matter." And maybe, for once, Dean needed to try to be more like Sam. Maybe Sam was onto something - after all, Sam was the one who didn’t seem to be afraid to want to be happy. And, for once, Dean wanted that.
Sam
Sam was thinking a lot, lately, about what Dean would do.
He liked Jess. Really liked her. Probably loved her. And he didn’t know what to do with that. How could he have a relationship - a real, honest-to-goodness, maybe-start-thinking-about-marriage-soon relationship - and not be honest about who he was? It would be building a relationship on a lie. And really, if she really loved him, it shouldn’t matter, right?
He wasn’t absolutely sure he was willing to put that theory to the test, however. It sounded good, but that was a lot to ask of love.
Dean wouldn’t tell her. Dean would spout pat phrases drilled into him by Daddy Dearest. Like, "we do what we do, and we shut up about it." "It’s a rule for a reason," he would say. And maybe, for once, Sam needed to be more like Dean. Maybe Dean knew what he was talking about - after all, Dean was the one who always knew the right thing to say to a woman. And for once, Sam wanted that.
Dean
"You what?" Cassie said, looking confused.
"Yeah," Dean sighed. "I thought you might say that."
He and John had finished the hunt last night. Turned out to be not a werewolf, but the ghost of an unusually skinny bear that died of hunger due to mismanagement by park officials. Looked like Cassie might get her front page story after all.
Regardless, it was time to move on. Dad’s orders. Dean had only been able to steal the time to say goodbye because the truck had blown a tire during the chase last night, and John had to go buy and install a new one.
So here he was, sitting at her kitchen table. It was now or never, and Dean had chosen now.
Was it too late to change his mind?
"Remember when we first met and I was pretending to be a reporter?"
Cassie nodded slowly.
"And remember how you figured out that I wasn’t a reporter, so I told you that, really, I was here because of a friend of mine had been attacked?"
Another nod, even slower.
"And remember how, then, I told you that wasn’t true either, and that really I was here because me and my Dad hunt things like ghosts and werewolves and demons, and we thought the thing that you saw might be one?"
She stopped nodding.
"Oh … Did I, uh, forget to mention that last part?" He grinned in what he believed to be a very endearing manner, but she didn’t look endeared. In fact, she kinda looked like he’d punched her in the stomach.
Her mouth moved like she was trying out different responses to that, but all that eventually came out was, "What?"
Dean squinted at her and scratched his head, then cleared his throat and averted his eyes - a full circuit through all his usual stalling tactics - before saying, "Yeah."
She did the searching for something to say thing again for a minute. But then something seemed to occur to her, and she gave her head a small shake and him a big smile. When he returned it with only a very small, cautious one of his own, it died.
"You’re serious, aren’t you?" she asked.
He opened his mouth to protest her tone, then thought better of it. Instead he gave a half-hearted shrug and another "yeah."
"Ghosts. Werewolves. And demons," she listed, flatly. "You … hunt them."
He just pursed his lips and nodded, not really meeting her eyes.
"And you’re serious?" she asked again.
He nodded again, meeting her eyes only to have her be the one to look away.
"You’re nuts," she said with finality.
Dean tried not to bristle, tried to remind himself that this was to be expected. "I know it may sound like that, but …" He cast about for something to follow up the ‘but’ with. " … I’m not. I swear."
"Oh, that makes me feel better," she bit out. She pushed up from the table and began to pace fitfully around the small room.
"Cassie," he started, hating that it came out as a plea.
"So what do you do with these ghosts and werewolves and demons when you find them?" she said, stopping to face him. "Put them in an ecto-containment unit in your basement? Silver bullet to the heart?"
"No," Dean spat, matching her sarcasm. Then rethought it. "Well, no to the ecto-containment unit. This isn’t Ghostbusters. But the silver bullet thing …"
"What?" she said, for the first time looking scared rather than disbelieving.
Dean stopped, realizing that the fact that he sometimes shot people - even if they weren’t quite people - was probably something he should have built up to. Before he had time to backtrack or explain or anything, however, she was talking again.
"I think you’d better go, Dean."
He winced a little, but decided maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea - give her some time to process. "Uh, yeah, that’s actually the other thing I wanted to tell you," he said. "Me and my Dad are leaving town tonight. We, uh, heard about a haunting up in Mansfield that we’re going to go take care of. But I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye."
He paused to gauge her reaction. It wasn’t what he had hoped.
"Well, you’ve said it," she said, stonily.
He chewed on his lower lip a moment, before charging bravely on. "I was thinking maybe, after we finish in Mansfield, I might swing back by. I’m not sure where we’ll go from there, but -"
She cut him off. "I really don’t think that will be necessary, Dean."
He straightened up and worked really hard for a few seconds at keeping his face blank. He was finding that to be more difficult than usual for some reason. "Cassie," he said, when he was sure his voice wasn’t going to catch. The word still somehow twisted into more of a question than he’d planned on.
"What?" she said, hotly. "What else could you possible have to tell me? Are you on run from the law? Did you used to be a woman? What?"
"Cassie, no. Come on," Dean said, giving in to the urge to beg. "Please, just … listen." It was all slipping away from him so fast, and he wasn’t sure exactly where he’d gone wrong.
"I really think I’ve heard enough." She shook her head angrily and seemed to come to a decision. "I … just … Go, Dean. Please. Just leave. And don’t come back."
He opened his mouth - to say what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe that she was the first girl he’d ever told this to. Maybe that he loved her. Maybe that he didn’t want to go at all, much less not come back. But his pride got the better of him, and he closed it again. He pushed himself up and toward the door, then made himself leave without looking back.
When he got back to the motel, his dad was packed and ready, bitching about having to wait and Dean putting some girl before the hunt.
Dean got a grim satisfaction out of being able to honestly say that it would never happen again.
Sam
"Why Sam?"
Sam woke up from the nightmare for the … well, he’d never really kept a count.
Jess. On the ceiling. In flames.
Asking him why he hadn’t warned her. Why he hadn’t told her. Why he’d lied to her.
"Why Sam?" Again and again.
He got no satisfaction out of being able to honestly say that it would never happen again.
The End
Title: The Best Policy 4/4
Author: Deanish
Rating: PG13
Length: 1,650 / 5,450 words
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cassie; Sam/Jess
Summary: Dean told the truth. Sam didn't. Neither will ever make that mistake again.
Chapter 4: Truth and/or Consequences
Dean
Dean was thinking a lot lately about what Sam would do.
He liked Cassie. Really liked her. Maybe loved her. And he didn’t know what to do with that. How could he have a relationship - shit, even the word sounded ridiculous - and hunt at the same time? She wasn’t going to buy the usual excuses. If he said he was a traveling salesman, she’d want to know what he was selling. And the next time he came back with a face full of stitches, ‘ran into a door’ wasn’t going to cut it.
The rule was we do what we do and we shut up about it. It was a rule for a reason. But …
Sam would tell her. Sam would spout platitudes like "you can’t build a relationship on a lie" and "if she really loves you, it won’t matter." And maybe, for once, Dean needed to try to be more like Sam. Maybe Sam was onto something - after all, Sam was the one who didn’t seem to be afraid to want to be happy. And, for once, Dean wanted that.
Sam
Sam was thinking a lot, lately, about what Dean would do.
He liked Jess. Really liked her. Probably loved her. And he didn’t know what to do with that. How could he have a relationship - a real, honest-to-goodness, maybe-start-thinking-about-marriage-soon relationship - and not be honest about who he was? It would be building a relationship on a lie. And really, if she really loved him, it shouldn’t matter, right?
He wasn’t absolutely sure he was willing to put that theory to the test, however. It sounded good, but that was a lot to ask of love.
Dean wouldn’t tell her. Dean would spout pat phrases drilled into him by Daddy Dearest. Like, "we do what we do, and we shut up about it." "It’s a rule for a reason," he would say. And maybe, for once, Sam needed to be more like Dean. Maybe Dean knew what he was talking about - after all, Dean was the one who always knew the right thing to say to a woman. And for once, Sam wanted that.
Dean
"You what?" Cassie said, looking confused.
"Yeah," Dean sighed. "I thought you might say that."
He and John had finished the hunt last night. Turned out to be not a werewolf, but the ghost of an unusually skinny bear that died of hunger due to mismanagement by park officials. Looked like Cassie might get her front page story after all.
Regardless, it was time to move on. Dad’s orders. Dean had only been able to steal the time to say goodbye because the truck had blown a tire during the chase last night, and John had to go buy and install a new one.
So here he was, sitting at her kitchen table. It was now or never, and Dean had chosen now.
Was it too late to change his mind?
"Remember when we first met and I was pretending to be a reporter?"
Cassie nodded slowly.
"And remember how you figured out that I wasn’t a reporter, so I told you that, really, I was here because of a friend of mine had been attacked?"
Another nod, even slower.
"And remember how, then, I told you that wasn’t true either, and that really I was here because me and my Dad hunt things like ghosts and werewolves and demons, and we thought the thing that you saw might be one?"
She stopped nodding.
"Oh … Did I, uh, forget to mention that last part?" He grinned in what he believed to be a very endearing manner, but she didn’t look endeared. In fact, she kinda looked like he’d punched her in the stomach.
Her mouth moved like she was trying out different responses to that, but all that eventually came out was, "What?"
Dean squinted at her and scratched his head, then cleared his throat and averted his eyes - a full circuit through all his usual stalling tactics - before saying, "Yeah."
She did the searching for something to say thing again for a minute. But then something seemed to occur to her, and she gave her head a small shake and him a big smile. When he returned it with only a very small, cautious one of his own, it died.
"You’re serious, aren’t you?" she asked.
He opened his mouth to protest her tone, then thought better of it. Instead he gave a half-hearted shrug and another "yeah."
"Ghosts. Werewolves. And demons," she listed, flatly. "You … hunt them."
He just pursed his lips and nodded, not really meeting her eyes.
"And you’re serious?" she asked again.
He nodded again, meeting her eyes only to have her be the one to look away.
"You’re nuts," she said with finality.
Dean tried not to bristle, tried to remind himself that this was to be expected. "I know it may sound like that, but …" He cast about for something to follow up the ‘but’ with. " … I’m not. I swear."
"Oh, that makes me feel better," she bit out. She pushed up from the table and began to pace fitfully around the small room.
"Cassie," he started, hating that it came out as a plea.
"So what do you do with these ghosts and werewolves and demons when you find them?" she said, stopping to face him. "Put them in an ecto-containment unit in your basement? Silver bullet to the heart?"
"No," Dean spat, matching her sarcasm. Then rethought it. "Well, no to the ecto-containment unit. This isn’t Ghostbusters. But the silver bullet thing …"
"What?" she said, for the first time looking scared rather than disbelieving.
Dean stopped, realizing that the fact that he sometimes shot people - even if they weren’t quite people - was probably something he should have built up to. Before he had time to backtrack or explain or anything, however, she was talking again.
"I think you’d better go, Dean."
He winced a little, but decided maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea - give her some time to process. "Uh, yeah, that’s actually the other thing I wanted to tell you," he said. "Me and my Dad are leaving town tonight. We, uh, heard about a haunting up in Mansfield that we’re going to go take care of. But I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye."
He paused to gauge her reaction. It wasn’t what he had hoped.
"Well, you’ve said it," she said, stonily.
He chewed on his lower lip a moment, before charging bravely on. "I was thinking maybe, after we finish in Mansfield, I might swing back by. I’m not sure where we’ll go from there, but -"
She cut him off. "I really don’t think that will be necessary, Dean."
He straightened up and worked really hard for a few seconds at keeping his face blank. He was finding that to be more difficult than usual for some reason. "Cassie," he said, when he was sure his voice wasn’t going to catch. The word still somehow twisted into more of a question than he’d planned on.
"What?" she said, hotly. "What else could you possible have to tell me? Are you on run from the law? Did you used to be a woman? What?"
"Cassie, no. Come on," Dean said, giving in to the urge to beg. "Please, just … listen." It was all slipping away from him so fast, and he wasn’t sure exactly where he’d gone wrong.
"I really think I’ve heard enough." She shook her head angrily and seemed to come to a decision. "I … just … Go, Dean. Please. Just leave. And don’t come back."
He opened his mouth - to say what, he wasn’t sure. Maybe that she was the first girl he’d ever told this to. Maybe that he loved her. Maybe that he didn’t want to go at all, much less not come back. But his pride got the better of him, and he closed it again. He pushed himself up and toward the door, then made himself leave without looking back.
When he got back to the motel, his dad was packed and ready, bitching about having to wait and Dean putting some girl before the hunt.
Dean got a grim satisfaction out of being able to honestly say that it would never happen again.
Sam
"Why Sam?"
Sam woke up from the nightmare for the … well, he’d never really kept a count.
Jess. On the ceiling. In flames.
Asking him why he hadn’t warned her. Why he hadn’t told her. Why he’d lied to her.
"Why Sam?" Again and again.
He got no satisfaction out of being able to honestly say that it would never happen again.
The End