New SPN fic - Dean hetfic - all the miles in between
omg I'm so sorry I totally just went to fix something and deleted the entry by accident! and thank god I save things now because lj sucks my ass! and eats my posts! anyway - sorry! reposted now with fewer typos!
*facepalm*
*koff*
So. Here's 6100 words of Dean hetfic? Yeah. I have no idea either.
Thanks to ethrosdemon for helping me hammer out some of the logistics on this one day last week. Kass, this turned out NOTHING LIKE what we were talking about. I mean, so much so that if you ever wanted to write THAT fic, go right ahead. This just kinda...went it's own way, as things tend to do around me, but again, thank you so much ♥
Thanks to maygra and winterlive for the awesome betas. You guys are wonderful.
This was written for a thousand reasons, and every last one of them has to do with
cee. All for you, baby, if you want it ♥
Title - all the miles in between
Pairing - Dean/ofc
Size - 6100 words
Spoilers - none really. slight references to events in Shadow.
all the miles in between
There's a road in Oklahoma that stretches east to west and runs clear across the state. It starts in Illinois, which is where the Impala sputters to life one night on the corner of a back alley street. The two brothers watch their father drive away, then spin the car around and drive off in the other direction, nothing to their names but a tank of gas and trunk full of weapons.
The road goes for nearly twelve hundred miles and passes through a total of six states by the time it ends in New Mexico. When the brothers get there, they'll catch word of a haunted motel in the small town square and spend the next three days exorcising demons and witches and ghosts. They'll fall asleep at night and dream dreams they won't remember in the morning. They'll leave New Mexico after the job is done and make their way further west, higher north, always moving, never stopping.
It's what they do.
But somewhere in the middle of the trip, they'll pass through a small, rural town in Oklahoma. Dust will kick up from the ground, coating the Impala with a layer of dirt and grime, and Sam will turn on the vents to try and get some fresh air in the car.
Something in the air as it pours through will cause Dean to stop breathing for a split-second. To tighten his fingers around the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He'll keep driving, try and put it out of his head, but he'll only be able to ignore it for so long until he has to pull the car to the side of the road, ignoring Sam as he asks "What? What's wrong?"
Dean will put the car in park and step out onto the road. The sun will be shining bright, and he'll look around, look behind him, look up to the sky. She won't be there, of course, but when he closes his eyes he'll be able to smell roses in her hair. He'll see her face; see the curve of her lips as she smiles at him, her hair blowing in the breeze.
*
When Dean was twenty his father rented a small house just outside Oklahoma City. "Sammy needs to finish school," he explained calmly when Dean complained. Dean wasn't too keen about staying in any one place for long. "I can still do jobs, you guys can come sometimes, just," his dad ran a hand through his hair and looked at Dean with serious, dark eyes. "Just do this for me, okay, Dean? Just a few years. It won't kill you," he added with a slow smile.
Dean was annoyed anyway. He never needed any fancy house or school, why was it different for Sam? All Dean's life they'd gone on jobs, traveled around. This whole idea of staying in one place for years, just for Sam and school was insane. That wasn't what they did.
When Dean was seventeen they stayed in one place long enough for him to study and pass the test for his GED. Nashville or a town just outside, he thought it was. Not that it mattered, really. A town was just a place for them to sleep for a bit, a home base for their books and maps and weapons and nothing more. Towns served their purpose as places for them to restock, refuel. A town was never supposed to be a home.
But for Sam they'd stay. Sam was smart - smarter than Dean ever really realized. Numbers and science and looking things up; Sam wanted to know it all. He'd do all the research for them when they were all out doing jobs, he'd be the one to start fitting all the pieces together, figuring out the whos and wheres and whys.
Sam was the computer guru, the research guy. Dean just always thought…. He always thought that Sam was smart just for them was the thing. Not that he also wanted to be smart for everyone else.
The house in Oklahoma was a small two bedroom with a cluttered basement and mice in the attic. The outside shingles were painted grey and there was a rusty black railing leading up the three front steps. After they moved in their dad went shopping. Food shopping, house shopping. Dean had never seen so much stuff around him in all his life.
Dad brought home bag after bag of pots and pans, sheets, blankets and pillows for the beds. One day he showed up with two small pink geranium plants in green plastic pots. He left them on the stoop, one on either side, a tiny American flag stuck in the dirt of the plant on the left. They lasted three days before Sam knocked one over with his boot while walking into the house after school, the second falling prey to Dean's drunken stumbling home two days after that.
Sam started tenth grade that year, and Dean got a job at the local garage doing oil changes and tune ups. He went to work on time, Monday to Friday, put in his forty hours a week. He talked to the guys in the shop a little, sometimes going out for beers with them after work on a Friday, other times just heading home to crash on the couch for the weekend.
Dean watched Sam go to school, get smarter and smarter, make friends and have something that Dean never had, never wanted. Sam was on the math team. Sam made the honor roll. Sam was in the school play. And Dean watched him do it and was happy for him, for all of it. He called Sam a geek when he brought home report cards with straight A's, and teased the shit out of him for his roll in Our Town. Dean was his brother and that's what brothers did.
He was able to do it all because he needed to, was the thing. Sam needed this. Dad needed to give it to him, and Dean, as usual, was perfectly happy as long as they were all together.
Tenth grade, eleventh grade. Sam started his last year, twelfth grade, and Dean was getting antsy. Three years they were starting on. Three years in the same place and the sheets were actually getting worn with washings and age. The paint on the house had faded to an ever lighter grey. There were oil stains on the driveway from parking Dad's old truck there night after night.
The handle on the first pan dad bought was broken, and Dean had to stop one night on the way home from work and buy a new one. He was at a different body shop now, one a little further out of their town, closer to the city, and as he stood on line waiting to pay he happened to look up and glance out the window and see her.
Sun was glaring through the glass panels at the front of the store, so Dean didn't even notice her until she moved, and even then he could barely see her face. Her hair was dark, he could tell that. It hung in thick, soft waves to just past her shoulders, and she was wearing a white dress speckled with bright red flowers.
Dean took a deep breath. He couldn't look away though he didn't know why. The girl smiled at him and raised her hand in a wave. Dean put the pan down on the counter next to him and got off the line.
He walked through the store like he was in a trance, and even though his training warned him that this might be a trick - a vision or a ghost or something supernatural - he couldn't stop moving.
The glass door was heavy under his hands, but he pushed it open as if it were weightless. Dean blinked his eyes against the sun and stood on the street looking around. He checked to the left and the right, walked to each corner and turned in a circle trying to catch another glimpse of her hair or dress or smile, but she was gone.
*
Fall chilled to winter, and winter rolled into spring. Sam was spending more and more time in his room, studying, talking on the phone with his friends. Dad was taking more and more jobs out of town. "Trying to get some more contacts," he'd tell Dean as he packed the bed of the pickup. "I'll leave you the car and there's money under the floorboard in the living room. Make sure your brother eats."
He'd be gone then, sometimes for a few days, sometimes a few weeks. Dean never worried; he always knew Dad would be back. Dean did some jobs with him from time to time, but more often than not he stayed back with Sam, watching out for Dad, making sure things ran smooth at home.
One morning Dean was in the deli down the block from the garage. He was spooning sugar into his coffee, not thinking about anything in particular, when he felt someone walk up behind him. He could smell flowers - something sweet like roses or lilies - and he knew it was her before he even turned around.
Her dress was blue this time, with a print of tiny white dots. Short sleeves revealed long arms and pale skin. Her hair was the same, and so was her smile. Dean felt himself smiling back.
"Hey," he said, trying to sound cool, then cleared his throat when she chuckled softly. "I mean, hi."
She smiled wider. "Hi."
There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. Her eyes were huge and green.
"I, uh. I saw you. Before," Dean stammered. He cursed himself in his head. He was twenty-two, for Chrissakes. He'd had more girlfriends than he could count. What the hell was wrong with him?
She raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Before?" she innocently. "When, before?"
And Dean thought Shit. Maybe it's not her. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she's-- and then he noticed the gleam in her eye, the way the corners of her mouth were twitching in the beginning of a laugh.
"Oh, you're funny," he teased, putting his coffee down so he could fold his arms across his chest. He needed to be calm and cool. It was just a girl in a deli. Nothing special.
"Yeah, I know." She was laughing now, and clapped her hands together once.
She was the most beautiful girl he'd had ever seen.
The deli was busy, people milling all around them, and after a minute someone came up on his side and nearly knocked Dean out of the way trying to get to the coffee carafe. He stumbled forward and cursed under his breath.
She held out her hands to stop his fall, and Dean could feel the warmth of her palms through his shirt. When he looked into her eyes his breath caught in his chest.
"So," she paused to read the name stitched above the left pocket of his work shirt "Dean. Do you want to go out tonight?"
He licked his lips. "Yeah. Yes."
She pulled a pen from the small white purse slung over her shoulder and scribbled something on a beverage napkin from the coffee bar. Her handwriting was wide and loopy and she drew a long, squiggly line under her name before handing the napkin to him.
"I'll see you then," she said, smiling one last time before she walked away.
*
They didn't pick a time or decide on a place or what they were even going to do that night, Dean realized when he got to work twenty minutes later. He had nothing but a four-inch square napkin with her name and address written on it in blue ink.
He did two oil changes and decided that she probably gave him the wrong address and when he went to look for it tonight the street wouldn't exist, or the block would end ten houses before the number she gave him. During lunch he smoked four cigarettes and decided that she probably went up to him on a dare or a bet, maybe some kind of sorority hazing for the local college. It didn't mean anything.
By the time he punched his time card and left work for the day he convinced himself that she wasn't even real. That she was a figment of his imagination, or even worse, some sort of demon or evil spirit. A succubus or a skinwalker or something like that, and since when was Dean so easy with girls, anyway? Just going out with them when they asked, saying he'd pick them up when he knew nothing about them.
Sam wasn't home when Dean got home from work. There was a note on the counter that he was out with some friends, catching a movie and getting something to eat. Dean crumpled the note and tossed it in the garbage.
He heated up some leftover Chinese food for dinner, then took an hour nap before getting up and showering. He wasn't nervous, that was ridiculous. This was just a girl, a normal girl (hopefully) and he'd pick her up and take her out someplace. Maybe for a drink or to a movie. They were actually pretty close to the city; maybe she'd want to go out to dinner and then dancing.
Dean didn't think so though. Not that he knew her, but for whatever reason he thought that she wasn't really the fancy dinner, movie, dancing kind of girl. He pulled a black t-shirt over his head and wore his nicest pair of blue jeans just in case though. Maybe not dancing, but a movie for sure.
He'd pulled the napkin from his work pants when he first got home and it was lying on top of his dresser now under a book to flatten it out. The address was even kind of familiar, and when he checked the town map he saw that her block was only about ten minutes from where he lived. Dean stuck the napkin in his front pocket and grabbed his jacket and keys.
The night air was cool; it was still early spring and while it was nice enough to go without a jacket most of the day, the temperature had really dropped since the afternoon. Dean rolled the windows down though so he could smell the air and hear the sounds of the city around him. Dogs barking and lawn movers going. He left the radio on low, turned it down even lower the closer he came to her neighborhood.
All the houses were around the same size and condition as the one he was living in. The lawns were tiny with burnt out grass. Bicycles lie dead on their sides in the middle of long, cracked driveways. He watched the numbers go down and down. Three houses from the corner he saw her number nailed to a white pole in the middle of the porch of a tiny yellow house.
The car rumbled to a stop, and before Dean even had a chance to get out and call for her, the screen door flew open and she was standing there; her smile brighter than the sun.
"Hey," she called. She was wearing a long black skirt that swung wide at the bottom and a white blouse tied in a knot at her waist. She'd rolled up the sleeves on the shirt; a thin silver bracelet hung from her wrist.
Dean walked around the front of the car and leaned against the passenger door. "Hey," he called back.
The wood of the tiny front porch creaked under her feet, and she gave him a little spin and curtsy, her hair lifting off her shoulders and swinging in the air. Dean didn't think anything of it when she bound down the steps and across the tiny lawn to finally stand in front of him. She was here and so was he. It was the most natural thing in the world.
She lifted her face, her smile wide and bright, and Dean bent his head and kissed her like he'd known her all his life.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as she touched her fingertips to her mouth. Dean took her wrist and pulled gently, turning her hand over to kiss her palm.
"Wherever you want," he answered.
She took a step back and smiled. "Then let's go that way," she said, pointing down the road he just came from. "But far, okay?"
Dean jiggled the keys and opened the door for her. "You got it."
*
After they got in the car they rolled the windows down and cranked the radio as loud as it would go. Her hair whipped around in the breeze, but when Dean asked if she wanted to close the window she just shook her head and laughed, her voice carrying over the music in the air.
They drove until they hit the town line, then further. They drove until the houses disappeared and then the buildings and then the factories. They drove until the sun completely fell from the sky and the air was more cold than warm.
Dean found a small section of woods on the side of the highway that he could pull the car off into. He put the blinker on and pulled to the side of the road. The tires bumped and rolled through the dirt, branches cracking under the weight of the car. They were sitting in the middle of a small group of trees and Dean wondered if this was all she wanted, just a drive and a quick-
"I'm not going to sleep with you," she said, in a voice more confident than nervous.
Dean turned his head as he parked the car. She was watching him with a gleam in her eye, and he tsked softly and shook his head. "You should be more careful," he said seriously. "Lot of guys out there aren't as nice as me."
She slid across the front seat of the car and leaned her head on his shoulder. Dean wrapped an arm around her and sighed, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. "I know that, but-"
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "But what?"
"But I know you," she said quietly.
Dean made a soft sound of agreement and just pulled her in closer, staring out the windshield, wondering how in the hell that was actually true.
They sat in the car that night and talked, her head resting against his shoulder. She wasn't any kind of witch or spirit, it seemed, just a normal girl going to college, studying English and astronomy - English because it was practical and her daddy wanted her to take it, astronomy because all she really wanted to do was look up at the stars.
Her and her daddy had lived in town just a few years longer than Dean had. She admitted that it was her that day outside the store back in the fall, but she wouldn't tell him why she disappeared or why she didn't see him again until today.
"Just wasn't meant to be then, I guess," she told him softly.
It was close to midnight when Dean took her home. He drove slower on the way back to town than he had on the way out. The wind had died down and when he looked over he saw the side of her hair was twisted and knotted from blowing around all night. He reached over and pushed it away from her face and three tiny silver hoops winked from her ear.
"So," he said as the car idled in front of her house. "I'll see you-"
"Tomorrow," she told him, leaning across the front seat to kiss him. She tasted like sugar and strawberries. Dean slid a hand into her hair and breathed against her mouth when she pulled away. "Tomorrow," she whispered again.
"Okay," Dean said. He swallowed hard as she climbed out of the car. "See you tomorrow."
*
Dean saw her the next night, and the night after that. They drove through the town, across the county. They sat on the hood of the car and drank beer, listening to music on the radio and arguing over who was better: Zeppelin or the Stones. The Who or the Beatles.
She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes. "That's Orion," She told him, pointing to the stars overhead. "And that's the big dipper, and the little-"
Dean kissed her mouth and she laughed, tumbling back against the hood. He leaned over her, a wiper pressing hard against his palm and said "I don't look at the stars. Only the moon." She just smiled and pulled him down to kiss her again.
He didn't tell anyone at home about her. Sam was watching him funny every time he left the house and came back. He'd ask Dean where he was or who he was seeing, but Dean would just walk past and slam the door behind him. "None of your business," he'd call out. "Fuck off, Sammy."
A few weeks after dad had been home from the last job and he was heading off again, but this time he needed Dean to come with him. "Sam'll be fine," his dad said when Dean questioned him about leaving Sam alone. "Trust me, Dean. Pretty soon it's-"
Dean narrowed his eyes when dad trailed off. "It's what?"
"I just think it's fine to start leaving Sam on is own, is all," his dad finished, then walked away, effectively ending the conversation.
It was an exorcism somewhere in Kansas. There was definitely no way one person could handle it, and Dean knew that.
"I won't be gone long," he told her the night before he had to leave. "I'll be back in three, four days, tops."
She pulled him on top of her in the backseat of the Impala. Took his wrist and tugged him closer, slipping his hand under the top of her dress. She shivered when he touched her. He dipped his head, kissed her collarbone and slowly rubbed the pad of his thumb across her nipple, the lace from her bra scratching against his palm.
"I know you'll be back," she gasped into his mouth. He pulled the thin fabric of her dress away and lowered his mouth to kiss her skin.
"God," he whispered. Her hands pushed the jacket from his shoulders and it fell to the floor of the car with a soft thump. She was whispering his name, leaning her head back so he could kiss her throat, her chin, high on her cheekbone. He could feel her fingers in his hair guiding his head down until his mouth was pressed against the swell of her breast, her skin soft as silk and, sliding under his lips.
Small hands were opening his jeans, shoving them down his hips. He pushed her skirt up around her waist. Trailed his fingers across her belly, under the elastic at the top of her panties and asked "Are you sure? Are you sure you want to-"
"I'm sure. Please, Dean." Her mouth was hard against his and she took his wrist again and guided his hand down, under the thin satin. "Please."
She was wet and tight around his fingers and Dean dropped his head against her shoulder and groaned as she slipped a finger inside her. "God. We better hurry," he said, and she laughed shakily against his ear.
"Okay," she said. "Come on."
They fumbled with jeans and underwear and the condom. There wasn't enough room, really, and Dean's elbow kept sliding off the side of the seat. By the time they were ready they were both laughing quietly, and watching each other in the darkness. "Are you sure-" he started to ask one last time.
She hooked an arm around his neck and yanked until he fell on top of her. "Shut up, Dean," she said, tugging until he was lined up against her.
All he watched was her face as he slowly pressed inside her. The way she closed her eyes and bit her lip as he kissed her cheek and jaw and mouth. Her skin was flushed, the tops of her cheeks bright pink and hot. Dean ran his mouth over her freckles. He whispered her name over and over as he kissed her eyes, her forehead. His hands twisted deep in her hair as she shivered and moaned, her body clenching around him.
When it was over they lay in the backseat, arms and legs tangled together. He could feel her fingertips running down his back. Her breath was warm against his shoulder when she said "So, you let me know when you're back, all right?"
Dean turned his head and buried his face in her hair. "I will," he told her.
*
The job took longer than they expected. It was just over a week when they got home and Dean barely took enough time to drop his stuff off, shower, and head back out to go find her.
"You're leaving already?" Sam asked. He was leaning in Dean's doorway, watching Dean carefully.
"Yeah. I gotta…" Dean trailed off. "I gotta go. Go talk to dad or something."
Sam just shrugged and walked away.
By the time Dean got to her house he'd convinced himself of every horrible situation possible. She wasn't going to be home. She didn't want to see him anymore. She found someone new. She moved.
He sat in the idling car outside her house for ten minutes, before putting it in park and killing the ignition. He was halfway up the walk when the door swung open, and she was standing there.
Dean stopped where he was. He shoved one hand in his jeans pocket and lifted the other in a wave. "Hey."
She smiled at him slowly as she walked down the steps. She was wearing a short dress, baby blue with light pink stripes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swung from side to side as she walked.
When she was standing in front of him she reached up and curled her hand around the back of his neck. Dean closed his eyes and took his first deep breath in nearly a week as he kissed her. "Hey," she said against his mouth.
"I'm back," he said.
She kissed the corner of his smile. "I know."
*
That night they lay together in the back of the Impala, her head on his chest, his legs kicked across the length of the backseat. They left the windows rolled down. Summer was coming quick and the air in the car felt heavy and thick.
Dean covered her hand with his where it rested on his belly. He twisted their fingers together and squeezed, and she squeezed back.
"What?" she asked.
He kissed the top of her head and asked "Do you believe in ghosts?" as quietly as he could.
She turned around to face him, and for once he couldn't read her expression at all. He had no idea why he said what he did. He just - he wanted to know. Or he wanted someone else to know.
Her fingers were gentle as they moved up under his shirt. She touched the scar running over his breastbone, courtesy of a demon three years ago in Dallas, and said "That's where this came from, isn't it."
If Dean were going to lie he'd have never said anything to her to begin with. He inhaled and held it, before breathing out "Yes."
She traced careful fingers from one scar to the next across his chest. Just gentle and sure enough for Dean to know she knew what she was touching, what she was asking. When she was done she pulled her hand back and curled her fingers around his again. "Tell me," she said. "I want to know."
Dean took a deep breath, and started to talk.
*
They wound up doing things other than just sitting in the car and talking. Dean took her to the movies and they laughed at all the previews even when they weren't funny. He took her to the park where she showed him every type of plant and flower she could name. He took her home where she met his dad, who thought she was nice, and Sam who she bonded with far too quickly.
"Hey, hey. Enough of this," Dean said, dragging her away by the hand as her and Sam started to plot things to trick Dean with while he wasn't looking. The last thing Dean was going to do was let her hear all the bad things about him from his brother. God knew he had enough out there on his own already.
He kissed her on her porch as windchimes tinkled softly in the early summer air. He held her hand and walked with her through the grass of the park, watching her toes squish through the wet grass. He laid her out on a blanket in the back of his car, the middle of a field at night, whenever he could, and kissed her lips and throat and belly.
Dean never let himself think about what was going to happen, or how or why. He was happy with what he had, happier than he could remember being. He had her face and her smile and the feel of her hands on his skin, the smell of her hair pressed against his nose. That was all Dean needed.
It lasted until the end of the summer.
*
Dean thought that maybe he should have been expecting it, but he wasn't paying attention was the thing. And maybe in the past it was something he'd have been happy for. Hell, it was something he'd even asked for himself.
But the day Dean got home from work to find his dad packing up their stuff into the back of the pickup truck Dean was blindsided.
"Dad. What-"
"Time to get going, Dean," his dad told him with a sad smile. "Sammy's…Well. Sammy's leaving." Dean nodded. He'd heard the screaming fights. He just - he didn't stop to think-
"We have to get moving again," Dad said, tossing a bright green duffle bag into the cab of the truck.
Dean swallowed hard. "Right. I know. I just…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I have to make a stop first. When are we going?"
His dad looked at him kindly. "Today, tomorrow. You let me know, Dean."
"Yeah. Okay." He swallowed and got into the car, twisting the key in the ignition and taking the roads at double speed all the way to her house.
The car was barely stopped when she came to the front door, the screen slapping shut loudly behind her. She was wearing cutoff jeans and a bright blue t-shirt. Her feet were bare. Dean got out of the car and just watched her move, watched the way she bounded down the steps and over to him like nothing in the world was wrong.
"Hey," she said, lifting her face to his for a kiss. Dean touched his mouth to hers, trying to memorize the way she smelled, the way she tasted. "You're here early."
"Yeah," he said thickly. Dean pressed his thumb to the corner of her mouth and kissed her again. "I, uhm. I just figured I'd-"
She took a step back and looked at him. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth set in a grim line. She watched him carefully before saying "Tell me. Whatever it is that you're not saying."
Dean could never lie to her. He swallowed hard. "I'm leaving," he said, his voice thick and rough.
He could see her throat move, watched as she blinked a few times and cleared her throat. "When?"
Dean shrugged. "Today. Tomorrow."
She nodded. "Today, then."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Today."
It was still early out. The sun was shining, big and hot in the sky. Dean could hear a sprinkler ticking from somewhere down the block. A dog barked from the yard two houses over. She stepped up to him the same way she did the first time he picked her up, the first time he kissed her. She lifted her head and said "Well then. You better be going."
Dean closed his eyes. He could see her painted against the inside of his eyelids and he wanted to make sure he kept her there, that he remembered how she looked, right here and now. He pressed his mouth to hers, then buried his face in her hair, smelling sweet berries and thick roses.
"Come with me," he said without thinking. The minute the words were out of his mouth, though, the more he wanted them to be true. "It'll be fine," he said, taking a step back. She was watching him, shaking her head but Dean wouldn't stop. "We'll leave now and you can come with us. We go to all different places, you'll be able to see so many different things and-"
"I can't, Dean." She took a step back and held out her hands. "I have school and-"
"You can go somewhere else," Dean answered. "Anyplace you want and--"
"Dean," her voice was soft and cut him off as he spoke. "I can't."
He looked away and sucked in a breath. Held it, then blew it out slowly. "Then just come for now," he said thickly. "Come now and I'll bring you back before school starts. I'll turn the car around wherever we are and--"
But she was shaking her head, walking closer and laying her head on his chest. "I can't."
Dean closed his eyes. "Why not?"
"Because," she told him, pulling away to look up into his face. "Then I'll never come back."
The worst part was that Dean knew she was right. She couldn't leave and he couldn't stay. It wasn't the right thing for either of them.
But as he stood on the sidewalk that day, holding her in his arms, Dean thought that knowing what was right sometimes didn't make much of a difference. Sometimes it just made it worse.
"All right," he said, quietly. "Okay." They stood here for another minute before he cleared his throat and said "I have to go."
She nodded against his chest. "Yeah," she said, so he held her even longer.
*
Dean leans against the car with his face tipped up toward the sun. He hears the passenger door open, hears the soft footfalls of his brother crossing around to come stand next to him.
"You okay?" Sam asks, and Dean just nods his head.
Because he's known all these years that he could probably find her if he wanted. He could look her up, track her down. But what good would it do for him to do that, only to leave her again all these years later the next time a job called? Nothing's changed; nothing ever will. And the thing is, Dean already did it once; he doesn't think he can ever do it again.
He feels his brother's hand against his arm and then it's gone and he's walking away. He's climbing back into the car, buckling himself in, and there are miles behind them and miles ahead. More jobs, more people to save and help. It's what they do, and Dean doesn't regret that for a minute. He loves his life, what he's chosen, and he'd never wish for anything different.
But he can understand a little more now, why Sam left home those years ago. Why he went looking for a life more normal than the one they had. Why he felt the need to look for something different. Because while Dean would never change his life or the choices he made, once he knew what that felt like - to stand facing two very different lives, and have to choose one over the other.
He chose the right one for him; he knows that. But every so often he'll smell roses in the air, and he has to take a minute to stop, close his eyes, and remember.
-end-
*facepalm*
*koff*
So. Here's 6100 words of Dean hetfic? Yeah. I have no idea either.
Thanks to ethrosdemon for helping me hammer out some of the logistics on this one day last week. Kass, this turned out NOTHING LIKE what we were talking about. I mean, so much so that if you ever wanted to write THAT fic, go right ahead. This just kinda...went it's own way, as things tend to do around me, but again, thank you so much ♥
Thanks to maygra and winterlive for the awesome betas. You guys are wonderful.
This was written for a thousand reasons, and every last one of them has to do with
cee. All for you, baby, if you want it ♥
Title - all the miles in between
Pairing - Dean/ofc
Size - 6100 words
Spoilers - none really. slight references to events in Shadow.
all the miles in between
There's a road in Oklahoma that stretches east to west and runs clear across the state. It starts in Illinois, which is where the Impala sputters to life one night on the corner of a back alley street. The two brothers watch their father drive away, then spin the car around and drive off in the other direction, nothing to their names but a tank of gas and trunk full of weapons.
The road goes for nearly twelve hundred miles and passes through a total of six states by the time it ends in New Mexico. When the brothers get there, they'll catch word of a haunted motel in the small town square and spend the next three days exorcising demons and witches and ghosts. They'll fall asleep at night and dream dreams they won't remember in the morning. They'll leave New Mexico after the job is done and make their way further west, higher north, always moving, never stopping.
It's what they do.
But somewhere in the middle of the trip, they'll pass through a small, rural town in Oklahoma. Dust will kick up from the ground, coating the Impala with a layer of dirt and grime, and Sam will turn on the vents to try and get some fresh air in the car.
Something in the air as it pours through will cause Dean to stop breathing for a split-second. To tighten his fingers around the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. He'll keep driving, try and put it out of his head, but he'll only be able to ignore it for so long until he has to pull the car to the side of the road, ignoring Sam as he asks "What? What's wrong?"
Dean will put the car in park and step out onto the road. The sun will be shining bright, and he'll look around, look behind him, look up to the sky. She won't be there, of course, but when he closes his eyes he'll be able to smell roses in her hair. He'll see her face; see the curve of her lips as she smiles at him, her hair blowing in the breeze.
*
When Dean was twenty his father rented a small house just outside Oklahoma City. "Sammy needs to finish school," he explained calmly when Dean complained. Dean wasn't too keen about staying in any one place for long. "I can still do jobs, you guys can come sometimes, just," his dad ran a hand through his hair and looked at Dean with serious, dark eyes. "Just do this for me, okay, Dean? Just a few years. It won't kill you," he added with a slow smile.
Dean was annoyed anyway. He never needed any fancy house or school, why was it different for Sam? All Dean's life they'd gone on jobs, traveled around. This whole idea of staying in one place for years, just for Sam and school was insane. That wasn't what they did.
When Dean was seventeen they stayed in one place long enough for him to study and pass the test for his GED. Nashville or a town just outside, he thought it was. Not that it mattered, really. A town was just a place for them to sleep for a bit, a home base for their books and maps and weapons and nothing more. Towns served their purpose as places for them to restock, refuel. A town was never supposed to be a home.
But for Sam they'd stay. Sam was smart - smarter than Dean ever really realized. Numbers and science and looking things up; Sam wanted to know it all. He'd do all the research for them when they were all out doing jobs, he'd be the one to start fitting all the pieces together, figuring out the whos and wheres and whys.
Sam was the computer guru, the research guy. Dean just always thought…. He always thought that Sam was smart just for them was the thing. Not that he also wanted to be smart for everyone else.
The house in Oklahoma was a small two bedroom with a cluttered basement and mice in the attic. The outside shingles were painted grey and there was a rusty black railing leading up the three front steps. After they moved in their dad went shopping. Food shopping, house shopping. Dean had never seen so much stuff around him in all his life.
Dad brought home bag after bag of pots and pans, sheets, blankets and pillows for the beds. One day he showed up with two small pink geranium plants in green plastic pots. He left them on the stoop, one on either side, a tiny American flag stuck in the dirt of the plant on the left. They lasted three days before Sam knocked one over with his boot while walking into the house after school, the second falling prey to Dean's drunken stumbling home two days after that.
Sam started tenth grade that year, and Dean got a job at the local garage doing oil changes and tune ups. He went to work on time, Monday to Friday, put in his forty hours a week. He talked to the guys in the shop a little, sometimes going out for beers with them after work on a Friday, other times just heading home to crash on the couch for the weekend.
Dean watched Sam go to school, get smarter and smarter, make friends and have something that Dean never had, never wanted. Sam was on the math team. Sam made the honor roll. Sam was in the school play. And Dean watched him do it and was happy for him, for all of it. He called Sam a geek when he brought home report cards with straight A's, and teased the shit out of him for his roll in Our Town. Dean was his brother and that's what brothers did.
He was able to do it all because he needed to, was the thing. Sam needed this. Dad needed to give it to him, and Dean, as usual, was perfectly happy as long as they were all together.
Tenth grade, eleventh grade. Sam started his last year, twelfth grade, and Dean was getting antsy. Three years they were starting on. Three years in the same place and the sheets were actually getting worn with washings and age. The paint on the house had faded to an ever lighter grey. There were oil stains on the driveway from parking Dad's old truck there night after night.
The handle on the first pan dad bought was broken, and Dean had to stop one night on the way home from work and buy a new one. He was at a different body shop now, one a little further out of their town, closer to the city, and as he stood on line waiting to pay he happened to look up and glance out the window and see her.
Sun was glaring through the glass panels at the front of the store, so Dean didn't even notice her until she moved, and even then he could barely see her face. Her hair was dark, he could tell that. It hung in thick, soft waves to just past her shoulders, and she was wearing a white dress speckled with bright red flowers.
Dean took a deep breath. He couldn't look away though he didn't know why. The girl smiled at him and raised her hand in a wave. Dean put the pan down on the counter next to him and got off the line.
He walked through the store like he was in a trance, and even though his training warned him that this might be a trick - a vision or a ghost or something supernatural - he couldn't stop moving.
The glass door was heavy under his hands, but he pushed it open as if it were weightless. Dean blinked his eyes against the sun and stood on the street looking around. He checked to the left and the right, walked to each corner and turned in a circle trying to catch another glimpse of her hair or dress or smile, but she was gone.
*
Fall chilled to winter, and winter rolled into spring. Sam was spending more and more time in his room, studying, talking on the phone with his friends. Dad was taking more and more jobs out of town. "Trying to get some more contacts," he'd tell Dean as he packed the bed of the pickup. "I'll leave you the car and there's money under the floorboard in the living room. Make sure your brother eats."
He'd be gone then, sometimes for a few days, sometimes a few weeks. Dean never worried; he always knew Dad would be back. Dean did some jobs with him from time to time, but more often than not he stayed back with Sam, watching out for Dad, making sure things ran smooth at home.
One morning Dean was in the deli down the block from the garage. He was spooning sugar into his coffee, not thinking about anything in particular, when he felt someone walk up behind him. He could smell flowers - something sweet like roses or lilies - and he knew it was her before he even turned around.
Her dress was blue this time, with a print of tiny white dots. Short sleeves revealed long arms and pale skin. Her hair was the same, and so was her smile. Dean felt himself smiling back.
"Hey," he said, trying to sound cool, then cleared his throat when she chuckled softly. "I mean, hi."
She smiled wider. "Hi."
There was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. Her eyes were huge and green.
"I, uh. I saw you. Before," Dean stammered. He cursed himself in his head. He was twenty-two, for Chrissakes. He'd had more girlfriends than he could count. What the hell was wrong with him?
She raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Before?" she innocently. "When, before?"
And Dean thought Shit. Maybe it's not her. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she's-- and then he noticed the gleam in her eye, the way the corners of her mouth were twitching in the beginning of a laugh.
"Oh, you're funny," he teased, putting his coffee down so he could fold his arms across his chest. He needed to be calm and cool. It was just a girl in a deli. Nothing special.
"Yeah, I know." She was laughing now, and clapped her hands together once.
She was the most beautiful girl he'd had ever seen.
The deli was busy, people milling all around them, and after a minute someone came up on his side and nearly knocked Dean out of the way trying to get to the coffee carafe. He stumbled forward and cursed under his breath.
She held out her hands to stop his fall, and Dean could feel the warmth of her palms through his shirt. When he looked into her eyes his breath caught in his chest.
"So," she paused to read the name stitched above the left pocket of his work shirt "Dean. Do you want to go out tonight?"
He licked his lips. "Yeah. Yes."
She pulled a pen from the small white purse slung over her shoulder and scribbled something on a beverage napkin from the coffee bar. Her handwriting was wide and loopy and she drew a long, squiggly line under her name before handing the napkin to him.
"I'll see you then," she said, smiling one last time before she walked away.
*
They didn't pick a time or decide on a place or what they were even going to do that night, Dean realized when he got to work twenty minutes later. He had nothing but a four-inch square napkin with her name and address written on it in blue ink.
He did two oil changes and decided that she probably gave him the wrong address and when he went to look for it tonight the street wouldn't exist, or the block would end ten houses before the number she gave him. During lunch he smoked four cigarettes and decided that she probably went up to him on a dare or a bet, maybe some kind of sorority hazing for the local college. It didn't mean anything.
By the time he punched his time card and left work for the day he convinced himself that she wasn't even real. That she was a figment of his imagination, or even worse, some sort of demon or evil spirit. A succubus or a skinwalker or something like that, and since when was Dean so easy with girls, anyway? Just going out with them when they asked, saying he'd pick them up when he knew nothing about them.
Sam wasn't home when Dean got home from work. There was a note on the counter that he was out with some friends, catching a movie and getting something to eat. Dean crumpled the note and tossed it in the garbage.
He heated up some leftover Chinese food for dinner, then took an hour nap before getting up and showering. He wasn't nervous, that was ridiculous. This was just a girl, a normal girl (hopefully) and he'd pick her up and take her out someplace. Maybe for a drink or to a movie. They were actually pretty close to the city; maybe she'd want to go out to dinner and then dancing.
Dean didn't think so though. Not that he knew her, but for whatever reason he thought that she wasn't really the fancy dinner, movie, dancing kind of girl. He pulled a black t-shirt over his head and wore his nicest pair of blue jeans just in case though. Maybe not dancing, but a movie for sure.
He'd pulled the napkin from his work pants when he first got home and it was lying on top of his dresser now under a book to flatten it out. The address was even kind of familiar, and when he checked the town map he saw that her block was only about ten minutes from where he lived. Dean stuck the napkin in his front pocket and grabbed his jacket and keys.
The night air was cool; it was still early spring and while it was nice enough to go without a jacket most of the day, the temperature had really dropped since the afternoon. Dean rolled the windows down though so he could smell the air and hear the sounds of the city around him. Dogs barking and lawn movers going. He left the radio on low, turned it down even lower the closer he came to her neighborhood.
All the houses were around the same size and condition as the one he was living in. The lawns were tiny with burnt out grass. Bicycles lie dead on their sides in the middle of long, cracked driveways. He watched the numbers go down and down. Three houses from the corner he saw her number nailed to a white pole in the middle of the porch of a tiny yellow house.
The car rumbled to a stop, and before Dean even had a chance to get out and call for her, the screen door flew open and she was standing there; her smile brighter than the sun.
"Hey," she called. She was wearing a long black skirt that swung wide at the bottom and a white blouse tied in a knot at her waist. She'd rolled up the sleeves on the shirt; a thin silver bracelet hung from her wrist.
Dean walked around the front of the car and leaned against the passenger door. "Hey," he called back.
The wood of the tiny front porch creaked under her feet, and she gave him a little spin and curtsy, her hair lifting off her shoulders and swinging in the air. Dean didn't think anything of it when she bound down the steps and across the tiny lawn to finally stand in front of him. She was here and so was he. It was the most natural thing in the world.
She lifted her face, her smile wide and bright, and Dean bent his head and kissed her like he'd known her all his life.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as she touched her fingertips to her mouth. Dean took her wrist and pulled gently, turning her hand over to kiss her palm.
"Wherever you want," he answered.
She took a step back and smiled. "Then let's go that way," she said, pointing down the road he just came from. "But far, okay?"
Dean jiggled the keys and opened the door for her. "You got it."
*
After they got in the car they rolled the windows down and cranked the radio as loud as it would go. Her hair whipped around in the breeze, but when Dean asked if she wanted to close the window she just shook her head and laughed, her voice carrying over the music in the air.
They drove until they hit the town line, then further. They drove until the houses disappeared and then the buildings and then the factories. They drove until the sun completely fell from the sky and the air was more cold than warm.
Dean found a small section of woods on the side of the highway that he could pull the car off into. He put the blinker on and pulled to the side of the road. The tires bumped and rolled through the dirt, branches cracking under the weight of the car. They were sitting in the middle of a small group of trees and Dean wondered if this was all she wanted, just a drive and a quick-
"I'm not going to sleep with you," she said, in a voice more confident than nervous.
Dean turned his head as he parked the car. She was watching him with a gleam in her eye, and he tsked softly and shook his head. "You should be more careful," he said seriously. "Lot of guys out there aren't as nice as me."
She slid across the front seat of the car and leaned her head on his shoulder. Dean wrapped an arm around her and sighed, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. "I know that, but-"
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "But what?"
"But I know you," she said quietly.
Dean made a soft sound of agreement and just pulled her in closer, staring out the windshield, wondering how in the hell that was actually true.
They sat in the car that night and talked, her head resting against his shoulder. She wasn't any kind of witch or spirit, it seemed, just a normal girl going to college, studying English and astronomy - English because it was practical and her daddy wanted her to take it, astronomy because all she really wanted to do was look up at the stars.
Her and her daddy had lived in town just a few years longer than Dean had. She admitted that it was her that day outside the store back in the fall, but she wouldn't tell him why she disappeared or why she didn't see him again until today.
"Just wasn't meant to be then, I guess," she told him softly.
It was close to midnight when Dean took her home. He drove slower on the way back to town than he had on the way out. The wind had died down and when he looked over he saw the side of her hair was twisted and knotted from blowing around all night. He reached over and pushed it away from her face and three tiny silver hoops winked from her ear.
"So," he said as the car idled in front of her house. "I'll see you-"
"Tomorrow," she told him, leaning across the front seat to kiss him. She tasted like sugar and strawberries. Dean slid a hand into her hair and breathed against her mouth when she pulled away. "Tomorrow," she whispered again.
"Okay," Dean said. He swallowed hard as she climbed out of the car. "See you tomorrow."
*
Dean saw her the next night, and the night after that. They drove through the town, across the county. They sat on the hood of the car and drank beer, listening to music on the radio and arguing over who was better: Zeppelin or the Stones. The Who or the Beatles.
She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes. "That's Orion," She told him, pointing to the stars overhead. "And that's the big dipper, and the little-"
Dean kissed her mouth and she laughed, tumbling back against the hood. He leaned over her, a wiper pressing hard against his palm and said "I don't look at the stars. Only the moon." She just smiled and pulled him down to kiss her again.
He didn't tell anyone at home about her. Sam was watching him funny every time he left the house and came back. He'd ask Dean where he was or who he was seeing, but Dean would just walk past and slam the door behind him. "None of your business," he'd call out. "Fuck off, Sammy."
A few weeks after dad had been home from the last job and he was heading off again, but this time he needed Dean to come with him. "Sam'll be fine," his dad said when Dean questioned him about leaving Sam alone. "Trust me, Dean. Pretty soon it's-"
Dean narrowed his eyes when dad trailed off. "It's what?"
"I just think it's fine to start leaving Sam on is own, is all," his dad finished, then walked away, effectively ending the conversation.
It was an exorcism somewhere in Kansas. There was definitely no way one person could handle it, and Dean knew that.
"I won't be gone long," he told her the night before he had to leave. "I'll be back in three, four days, tops."
She pulled him on top of her in the backseat of the Impala. Took his wrist and tugged him closer, slipping his hand under the top of her dress. She shivered when he touched her. He dipped his head, kissed her collarbone and slowly rubbed the pad of his thumb across her nipple, the lace from her bra scratching against his palm.
"I know you'll be back," she gasped into his mouth. He pulled the thin fabric of her dress away and lowered his mouth to kiss her skin.
"God," he whispered. Her hands pushed the jacket from his shoulders and it fell to the floor of the car with a soft thump. She was whispering his name, leaning her head back so he could kiss her throat, her chin, high on her cheekbone. He could feel her fingers in his hair guiding his head down until his mouth was pressed against the swell of her breast, her skin soft as silk and, sliding under his lips.
Small hands were opening his jeans, shoving them down his hips. He pushed her skirt up around her waist. Trailed his fingers across her belly, under the elastic at the top of her panties and asked "Are you sure? Are you sure you want to-"
"I'm sure. Please, Dean." Her mouth was hard against his and she took his wrist again and guided his hand down, under the thin satin. "Please."
She was wet and tight around his fingers and Dean dropped his head against her shoulder and groaned as she slipped a finger inside her. "God. We better hurry," he said, and she laughed shakily against his ear.
"Okay," she said. "Come on."
They fumbled with jeans and underwear and the condom. There wasn't enough room, really, and Dean's elbow kept sliding off the side of the seat. By the time they were ready they were both laughing quietly, and watching each other in the darkness. "Are you sure-" he started to ask one last time.
She hooked an arm around his neck and yanked until he fell on top of her. "Shut up, Dean," she said, tugging until he was lined up against her.
All he watched was her face as he slowly pressed inside her. The way she closed her eyes and bit her lip as he kissed her cheek and jaw and mouth. Her skin was flushed, the tops of her cheeks bright pink and hot. Dean ran his mouth over her freckles. He whispered her name over and over as he kissed her eyes, her forehead. His hands twisted deep in her hair as she shivered and moaned, her body clenching around him.
When it was over they lay in the backseat, arms and legs tangled together. He could feel her fingertips running down his back. Her breath was warm against his shoulder when she said "So, you let me know when you're back, all right?"
Dean turned his head and buried his face in her hair. "I will," he told her.
*
The job took longer than they expected. It was just over a week when they got home and Dean barely took enough time to drop his stuff off, shower, and head back out to go find her.
"You're leaving already?" Sam asked. He was leaning in Dean's doorway, watching Dean carefully.
"Yeah. I gotta…" Dean trailed off. "I gotta go. Go talk to dad or something."
Sam just shrugged and walked away.
By the time Dean got to her house he'd convinced himself of every horrible situation possible. She wasn't going to be home. She didn't want to see him anymore. She found someone new. She moved.
He sat in the idling car outside her house for ten minutes, before putting it in park and killing the ignition. He was halfway up the walk when the door swung open, and she was standing there.
Dean stopped where he was. He shoved one hand in his jeans pocket and lifted the other in a wave. "Hey."
She smiled at him slowly as she walked down the steps. She was wearing a short dress, baby blue with light pink stripes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that swung from side to side as she walked.
When she was standing in front of him she reached up and curled her hand around the back of his neck. Dean closed his eyes and took his first deep breath in nearly a week as he kissed her. "Hey," she said against his mouth.
"I'm back," he said.
She kissed the corner of his smile. "I know."
*
That night they lay together in the back of the Impala, her head on his chest, his legs kicked across the length of the backseat. They left the windows rolled down. Summer was coming quick and the air in the car felt heavy and thick.
Dean covered her hand with his where it rested on his belly. He twisted their fingers together and squeezed, and she squeezed back.
"What?" she asked.
He kissed the top of her head and asked "Do you believe in ghosts?" as quietly as he could.
She turned around to face him, and for once he couldn't read her expression at all. He had no idea why he said what he did. He just - he wanted to know. Or he wanted someone else to know.
Her fingers were gentle as they moved up under his shirt. She touched the scar running over his breastbone, courtesy of a demon three years ago in Dallas, and said "That's where this came from, isn't it."
If Dean were going to lie he'd have never said anything to her to begin with. He inhaled and held it, before breathing out "Yes."
She traced careful fingers from one scar to the next across his chest. Just gentle and sure enough for Dean to know she knew what she was touching, what she was asking. When she was done she pulled her hand back and curled her fingers around his again. "Tell me," she said. "I want to know."
Dean took a deep breath, and started to talk.
*
They wound up doing things other than just sitting in the car and talking. Dean took her to the movies and they laughed at all the previews even when they weren't funny. He took her to the park where she showed him every type of plant and flower she could name. He took her home where she met his dad, who thought she was nice, and Sam who she bonded with far too quickly.
"Hey, hey. Enough of this," Dean said, dragging her away by the hand as her and Sam started to plot things to trick Dean with while he wasn't looking. The last thing Dean was going to do was let her hear all the bad things about him from his brother. God knew he had enough out there on his own already.
He kissed her on her porch as windchimes tinkled softly in the early summer air. He held her hand and walked with her through the grass of the park, watching her toes squish through the wet grass. He laid her out on a blanket in the back of his car, the middle of a field at night, whenever he could, and kissed her lips and throat and belly.
Dean never let himself think about what was going to happen, or how or why. He was happy with what he had, happier than he could remember being. He had her face and her smile and the feel of her hands on his skin, the smell of her hair pressed against his nose. That was all Dean needed.
It lasted until the end of the summer.
*
Dean thought that maybe he should have been expecting it, but he wasn't paying attention was the thing. And maybe in the past it was something he'd have been happy for. Hell, it was something he'd even asked for himself.
But the day Dean got home from work to find his dad packing up their stuff into the back of the pickup truck Dean was blindsided.
"Dad. What-"
"Time to get going, Dean," his dad told him with a sad smile. "Sammy's…Well. Sammy's leaving." Dean nodded. He'd heard the screaming fights. He just - he didn't stop to think-
"We have to get moving again," Dad said, tossing a bright green duffle bag into the cab of the truck.
Dean swallowed hard. "Right. I know. I just…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I have to make a stop first. When are we going?"
His dad looked at him kindly. "Today, tomorrow. You let me know, Dean."
"Yeah. Okay." He swallowed and got into the car, twisting the key in the ignition and taking the roads at double speed all the way to her house.
The car was barely stopped when she came to the front door, the screen slapping shut loudly behind her. She was wearing cutoff jeans and a bright blue t-shirt. Her feet were bare. Dean got out of the car and just watched her move, watched the way she bounded down the steps and over to him like nothing in the world was wrong.
"Hey," she said, lifting her face to his for a kiss. Dean touched his mouth to hers, trying to memorize the way she smelled, the way she tasted. "You're here early."
"Yeah," he said thickly. Dean pressed his thumb to the corner of her mouth and kissed her again. "I, uhm. I just figured I'd-"
She took a step back and looked at him. Her eyes narrowed, her mouth set in a grim line. She watched him carefully before saying "Tell me. Whatever it is that you're not saying."
Dean could never lie to her. He swallowed hard. "I'm leaving," he said, his voice thick and rough.
He could see her throat move, watched as she blinked a few times and cleared her throat. "When?"
Dean shrugged. "Today. Tomorrow."
She nodded. "Today, then."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Today."
It was still early out. The sun was shining, big and hot in the sky. Dean could hear a sprinkler ticking from somewhere down the block. A dog barked from the yard two houses over. She stepped up to him the same way she did the first time he picked her up, the first time he kissed her. She lifted her head and said "Well then. You better be going."
Dean closed his eyes. He could see her painted against the inside of his eyelids and he wanted to make sure he kept her there, that he remembered how she looked, right here and now. He pressed his mouth to hers, then buried his face in her hair, smelling sweet berries and thick roses.
"Come with me," he said without thinking. The minute the words were out of his mouth, though, the more he wanted them to be true. "It'll be fine," he said, taking a step back. She was watching him, shaking her head but Dean wouldn't stop. "We'll leave now and you can come with us. We go to all different places, you'll be able to see so many different things and-"
"I can't, Dean." She took a step back and held out her hands. "I have school and-"
"You can go somewhere else," Dean answered. "Anyplace you want and--"
"Dean," her voice was soft and cut him off as he spoke. "I can't."
He looked away and sucked in a breath. Held it, then blew it out slowly. "Then just come for now," he said thickly. "Come now and I'll bring you back before school starts. I'll turn the car around wherever we are and--"
But she was shaking her head, walking closer and laying her head on his chest. "I can't."
Dean closed his eyes. "Why not?"
"Because," she told him, pulling away to look up into his face. "Then I'll never come back."
The worst part was that Dean knew she was right. She couldn't leave and he couldn't stay. It wasn't the right thing for either of them.
But as he stood on the sidewalk that day, holding her in his arms, Dean thought that knowing what was right sometimes didn't make much of a difference. Sometimes it just made it worse.
"All right," he said, quietly. "Okay." They stood here for another minute before he cleared his throat and said "I have to go."
She nodded against his chest. "Yeah," she said, so he held her even longer.
*
Dean leans against the car with his face tipped up toward the sun. He hears the passenger door open, hears the soft footfalls of his brother crossing around to come stand next to him.
"You okay?" Sam asks, and Dean just nods his head.
Because he's known all these years that he could probably find her if he wanted. He could look her up, track her down. But what good would it do for him to do that, only to leave her again all these years later the next time a job called? Nothing's changed; nothing ever will. And the thing is, Dean already did it once; he doesn't think he can ever do it again.
He feels his brother's hand against his arm and then it's gone and he's walking away. He's climbing back into the car, buckling himself in, and there are miles behind them and miles ahead. More jobs, more people to save and help. It's what they do, and Dean doesn't regret that for a minute. He loves his life, what he's chosen, and he'd never wish for anything different.
But he can understand a little more now, why Sam left home those years ago. Why he went looking for a life more normal than the one they had. Why he felt the need to look for something different. Because while Dean would never change his life or the choices he made, once he knew what that felt like - to stand facing two very different lives, and have to choose one over the other.
He chose the right one for him; he knows that. But every so often he'll smell roses in the air, and he has to take a minute to stop, close his eyes, and remember.
-end-