The Distance Between Two Hearts; Part Two
Previous chapters here.
Chapter Three
Dean had to admit that he was astounded at the turn of events the past two hours had taken. He suddenly found himself sitting in the backseat of his own damn car, which was being driven by a girl he hadn’t seen in ten years, while his brother rode shotgun to keep the aforementioned girl calm enough to let them all - or just Dean - survive the night.
To say he was shell-shocked would be the understatement of the century.
To make matters worse, there seemed to be some secret between Christina and Sam. Sam kept shooting glances at her and she kept shooting glances at him - and Dean was ready to shoot a bullet into both of them on principle. Secrets didn’t help anybody in their line of work. More often that not, secrets got people killed.
Fortunately for both Christina and Sam, Dean was still too worked up over his “discussion” with Chris to force their hand. There was still something there; he couldn’t have imagined the way she’d kissed him back. But, there were still so many unanswered questions. Why had she just left him like that? Had she thought he didn’t want her? Well, that was ridiculous. He’d never wanted anyone - or loved anyone - more than her, neither before nor after. But, then why hadn’t she just asked him about it? Why run away when a simple question would have saved them tons of heartache?
Then, of course, there was the biggest question of them all: when, and why, had she become a hunter?
Even if the last question was never answered, the fact that she was a hunter still filled him with hope. Because then he could be completely honest with her; the last secret he had could be shared. He began to believe that he could get her back, that they could be happy again, together.
He’d never gotten over Christina and he knew that. He’d honestly never tried. In the back of his mind, there’d always been a naïve hope that they’d find each other again. Secret, hopeless romantic that he was, he’d often wondered if she was his soul mate. And, now, here she was, right in front of him. It couldn’t be a coincidence. There were no coincidences.
By the time they reached the ranger’s station and the surrounding clearing, Dean hadn’t answered any of his own questions. But he had figured out one thing.
He was going to get Christina back.
* * *
Christina, who had spent the entire car ride fighting off another onslaught of tears, was more than relieved when she pulled into the clearing and saw Jake completely unscathed. This was one of those times when she was grateful for his powers, rather than believing them to be a burden; she was sure that they allowed him to drive off the wolf. No nine-year-old boy could take on a wolf with sheer force and win. Hell, not many grown men could do that.
As she parked the car and began to climb out, she suddenly realized that Jake was very likely to run up to Dean and call him “Dad.” And, if he didn’t act out that blatantly, Dean would surely hear him call her “Mom.” That would not only be awkward, but let the cat out of a bag she didn’t want opened.
She turned to Sam, both of them still sitting in the front seat with a very confused Dean in the back, and gave him what she hoped was a meaningful glance. He just cocked his head at her, staring back at her with hazel eyes filled to the brim with confusion. She sighed and resigned to show Sam one of the powers she’d mentioned.
Jake, she forced into Sam’s mind, smiling at his wide-eyed realization of what was happening. He’s going to say something tactless and then Dean will know. Keep. Dean. Here.
Sam, still looking a little stunned, nodded, and she turned to climb out of the car again. As she headed towards the group of little boys and concerned parents that had gathered around the station, she sent out another message - this time to her little boy.
Jake, I know you know your dad’s in the car. He doesn’t know yet. Please don’t give it away. Don’t even call me ‘Mom’ when he’s in hearing distance, okay?
Christina saw Jake turn from the frightened boys and fix his green eyes - Dean’s eyes - on her right before she heard his answer.
Alright, Mommy, a tiny voice spoke in her head. Jake had tried to stop calling her “Mommy” when he turned eight, deciding he was too grown-up for it. That he had reverted back to it now showed how shaken he was and she began to run.
Jake started running too and they met halfway. He let out a half-whispered “Mommy” and began to cry. She knelt down and clutched him to her, letting him bury his face in her hair, not caring that he was soaking it with his tears.
“Shh,” she whispered soothingly. “Mommy’s here, baby. You’re all right. You’re gonna be just fine.”
He sniffled loudly and pulled back to look down into her face. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” he said fearfully. “I know you said to not use them, not in public…but it was attacking Ryan, Mom, and I couldn’t do anything else -”
She smiled at him and cupped his small face in both hands, wiping away stray tears with her thumbs. “I’m proud of you, Jake. I am so proud of you. You were so brave out there.”
He nodded, smiled back at her through his tears, and she pulled him back into her arms, clutching his little body tightly. She was always amazed at her son’s strength. Just when it looked like life was going to break him, he kept going.
She wished that he could have a real childhood, a better childhood than she could give him. She tried to love him as much as possible, but she couldn’t be two parents at the same time - and she’d never tried to take the place of a father. But, the boy’s wise-beyond-his-years intelligence always let her off the hook with that. Part of the connection they had allowed them to understand each other on such a basic level that they didn’t have to speak some things - telepathically or vocally. Jake had never asked where his father was; he’d just, kind of, looked at her one day and known, known all the things, all the reasons, that she could never say.
But, his powers, though not as developed as Chris’, would never allow him to be a normal child even if he’d had two parents. How did you tell your nine-and-ten-year-old friends that you could move things with your mind? See the future? Talk to people without moving your lips? Read their thoughts with so much as a glance? If he even tried to explain, he’d be labeled a freak and life would be hell. She could at least comfort herself with the fact that he’d never turn into Carrie, but still. It wasn’t exactly something a mother wished for her child.
Jake pulled away again after a few minutes and wiped his face with his hands, erasing the tears but leaving their tracks. Christina smiled at him and reached up to ruffle his hair. “Let’s get your bags, kiddo.”
He nodded and led her over to the group of people. The ranger, Joey Walton, smiled warmly at her as they walked up. She nodded and made a mental note to come talk to him later. Unlike the secretive life the Winchesters led, Chris had made friends with the town authorities. Joe, as well as a handful of others, knew what she was and enlisted her help whenever they needed it. Warsaw was centered on some sort of supernatural hotspot, much like the Hellmouth she’d laughed so hard about on Buffy: the Vampire Slayer, so there was a lot to keep her busy. She got paid for her help and had even taught some of the locals how to ward off and vanquish certain things. At least it was legitimate.
Jake grabbed his backpack and the miscellaneous camping gear that he’d taken out and failed to put back into the bag, and led the way back to the Impala. Christina followed in silence, too busy contemplating what to do. About the wolf situation and the Winchester situation - since it didn’t look like either one was going to go away on its own.
Mom! Jake’s voice invaded her brain weaving through her thoughts like a stream. You’re thinking too loud and I’m not going to say anything.
She smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see her, and continued thinking. As for the wolf situation, there was no doubt it was a werewolf. But, there was just one problem - the full moon was still two days away. In all of her studies, she’d never come across anything like this before. Werewolves stuck to the full moon pattern. The only time she’d seen anything else was on Buffy of all places, and she just flat-out refused to believe that Joss Whedon could get one-up on her. But, then again, stranger things had happened…
Now, as for the Winchester problem, there was no clear-cut solution to that; it was far more confusing than dealing with the werewolf. If the brothers were going to be around, she’d just have to be extra careful. That meant watching what words came out of her mouth and it definitely required no more alone time with Dean. She did not need to go there. She knew that if he kissed her again - or hell, even looked at her like that again - she was going to lose it. She was going to confess everything, tell him all about Jake, and get down on her knees to beg, if necessary, for him to forgive her. And, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t disrupt any of their lives like that; it wasn’t fair to anyone and she knew she was just setting herself up for disappointment. Dean Winchester was a proud man.
And, he didn’t love her.
“Earth to Chris.”
Sam was snapping his fingers in front of her; she hadn’t even noticed that she’d made it back to the car and was leaning against the passenger side door. She jumped and looked up at him apologetically.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking back down at the ground shyly. She could feel Sam’s concerned, understanding eyes boring into her, but she still didn’t look up at him again. She was too confused and too stressed out and too goddamned exhausted to deal with anything. She just wanted to sleep - take Jake to her parents’ house and…
Oh, God, where was Jake?
Her head snapped up and she looked around frantically, wondering how on earth she’d lost track of her own son after such a traumatic night. She spotted him after a few seconds, ten yards away with Dean. Jake had gotten out his pocketknife - the one her brother-in-law had given him for his ninth birthday - and was proudly showing it off to Dean.
She sighed in relief, even as her heart clenched painfully. Dean was smiling and had his own knife out, comparing the two. She found her mind wandering again at the sight of them. Jake looked so happy, and Dean, even if he didn’t know why, looked like he had already bonded with the boy. Chris could almost feel the immediate connection rolling off of them in waves.
Sam put his arm around her shoulder as a fresh tear escaped from each eye, and she turned into him, wrapping her arms around his stomach and burying her face in the thin cotton of his T-shirt. She felt both of his strong arms wrap around her shoulders and one hand start rubbing circles on her back. And she started to cry harder - for everything that she’d lost, both through her own actions and his secrets, and for everything that she could still have if she just reached out to take it.
“Shh,” Sam was whispering above her. “I know what you’re thinkin’, Chris. And it’s okay. This will all work out somehow.”
She sniffled and pulled back to look up at him, dropping her arms to her sides. “How do you know that, Sammy?” she whispered back, frightened that someone might overhear her and tattle to Dean. “I don’t even know what I want to happen.”
He looked down at her, in a gaze that was far too knowing for her comfort level, and gave her a dazzling smile, white teeth gleaming in the light from the nearly-full moon. “Just remember that you’re not the only psychic one.”
Shocked, she was about to force him to tell her exactly what he’d seen when an excited Jake ran up to her and all she could do was fix him with a split-second narrow-eyed glare before looking down into those eerily familiar green eyes. Had Dean recognized them?
“Whatcha got there, Jake?” she asked, motioning to his left hand since his right was shoving his precious knife back into his pocket. Her breath caught in her throat when he opened it and she saw what lay there.
It was Dean’s knife. It was the one he’d gotten for Christmas when he was nineteen. She’d given it to him. She could still see the carving, even though it was faded: Dean Winchester 1978.
“It’s Dean’s knife, M -” he cut himself off and looked at her with wide eyes before he swallowed hard and continued, “It’s nicer than mine and he said I should show it to you, maybe so you’d buy me one.”
She let out the breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in a rush. “Why’d he say that?” she asked in a voice that was trembling something fierce.
“I don’t know. Because I liked it, I think,” Jake replied with his childish reasoning. There couldn’t be an ulterior motive there at all, no way - Dean didn’t want to make her remember anything, of course not…because Dean Winchester wouldn’t pull a dirty trick like that.
“I see,” she said slowly, tearing her attention from the young green eyes to the older ones that were suddenly right there. She swallowed audibly and opened her mouth to say something, only to realize she didn’t know what to say. You bastard? C’mere and kiss me?
Sam, bless his heart, saved her by asking her for the keys. She shook her head and smiled up at him, grateful for his puppy-dog intuition. She pulled the keys to the Impala out of her pocket and handed them over, before climbing into the waiting backseat. As Jake crawled in next to her, she tried not to let her mind get overloaded by all the memories in the car. Driving, she was okay, because she’d only driven the car once or twice when she and Dean had been together. Back then, the car was still mostly their dad’s - Dean hadn’t officially gotten the Impala until his twenty-first birthday, seven months after she’d disappeared.
On top of her own memories, her consciousness was suddenly flooded with new ones that threatened to make the tears spill over again - and make her wonder when she’d gotten so damn emotional. She could feel, and even somewhat see, Dean’s…“adventures” in the back of the car. Her heart was filled with such jealousy and bitterness that she could have snapped an oak tree with her bare hands. How dare those sluts touch her Dean?
And, whoa, wait…when did she start thinking of him as “her” Dean again?
She shook her head to clear it as the Impala started up and Jake cuddled up to her, ready to finally sleep off the terror. She checked her watch and noted that it was only 10:48. There was still plenty of time to take him to her parents’ house. There was no way she was letting him stay in town with werewolves running lose, not when she was so unfocused. He knew how to defend himself if it was necessary, he’d more than proved that tonight, but she was going to see to it that it wasn’t necessary. If he were in Florence, she figured he’d be safe enough.
It was only ten minutes back to her apartment building, but it felt like much longer with the worried looks Sam was giving her in the rearview mirror and the blatantly obvious looks Dean was giving her over the back of the front seat, trying for nonchalant and failing. She was ready to scream at one or both of them, even though that wasn’t fair. Sam was genuinely concerned about her and Dean was concerned as well as insanely confused. She could see the wheels turning in Dean’s mind, trying to figure out Jake and what he meant to her.
She was too relieved when they pulled up in front of her humble abode. She was out of the car with Jake before the car had really come to a complete stop. She mumbled something to Sam about getting Jake taken care of and then waved them off while making a hasty retreat up the stairs.
Once the door was safely locked behind them both, she told Jake what the plan was and sent him off to his room to get more clothes, ones suitable for everyday wear, instead of camping. Then she pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and called her father. Though she insisted, many times, that she was perfectly all right to drive Jake out to them, he ended up making the 25-minute trip to her in order to pick him up.
The next two hours passed in a blur for Christina. Later, she would think that she was in some sort of shock, due to extreme emotional overload. She was little more than vaguely aware of her dad walking in the apartment and checking them both over, making sure no one had gotten bitten and needed to be shot in the heart - “Haha, Dad”, she politely responded - before taking Jake back to his house.
As she fell into her bed that night, exhaustion dragging down every body part, she thought once again of Dean. She’d forced herself not to think too much about him over the years. But, every now and again, she would look at Jake and get a rush of Dean in her head; it was so strong one time that she’d passed out. And, every time, it hurt down to the core. Especially when she’d gotten a glimpse of him with an African-American woman - with whom he was obviously in love.
In that particular vision, the one that’d made her pass out, he was telling the woman his secret, the secret. She’d felt so betrayed and gotten so depressed that she hadn’t eaten for three days - and probably wouldn’t have started again if Jake hadn’t come back home from his grandparents’ house and asked her why she was sad in all his three-year-old psychic glory. Jake was all she had to live for.
As it was, though, Dean Winchester was the only thing on her mind that night. And, she cried herself to sleep over him for the first time in almost eight years.
Chapter Four
“For the last goddamn time, what are you not telling me, Geek Boy?!” Dean almost screamed as he slammed the motel room door.
He turned to look at Sam and was only mildly shocked to see the look of confusion there, like they hadn’t been arguing about it all the way back to the motel.
“Stop trying to toy with me, Sammy,” he said, stepping into his brother’s space, glaring up into Sam’s all-too-knowing eyes, venom dripping from every word. “Don’t you dare tell me - again - that there’s not something going on. You know something I don’t and it has to do with Christina and you’re going to tell me!”
After a few seconds of stony silence, his anger broke and he slumped into one of the old chairs by the window. He waited until Sam sat in the other chair and asked, “Why’d she leave me, Sammy?”
His voice cracked and he didn’t even care enough to hide it. It wasn’t a secret that he’d missed her, that he’d loved her more than life itself. So, why should it be a secret that it was tearing him up - having her that close and yet still so far away? He’d never once thought that, if he found her, they’d go back to the way things were in an instant. No, he’d expected it to be hard, but he’d never questioned that they wouldi go back. But, he’d also expected it to be sooner. Now there were ten years spanning the distance - ten years of new experiences, new loves, new secrets.
There was also still the fact that she left.
He heard Sam sigh next to him and turned to look at his brother in the waning moonlight. Sam was looking at him with a mixture of fear and pain - and Dean didn’t even want to begin contemplating why.
“It’s not my place to tell you, Dean,” Sam whispered softly, like a secret. “She had her reasons and, while I don’t like that she just up and left, I completely understand her, why she did it. But, you’ve gotta talk to her about it. Hell, just talk to her, period. You two need to sort through all of this.”
“What do you mean: all of this? All of what?”
Sam let out a short bark of laughter. “Dean,” he said in his best my-brother-is-a-completely-oblivious-idiot tone, “there is obviously something still there. Don’t you want to find out what it is?”
Dean opened his mouth to retort, thought better of it, and snapped his mouth shut with a dull click. So, Sammy had seen something too, huh? Well, that was good enough for him.
He nodded and stood up, grabbing his keys from the table where he’d angrily flung them. “I’ll be back, Sammy,” he said, and headed for the door.
He chuckled to himself as he heard Sam’s reply right before the door clicked shut.
“It better not be tonight.”
* * *
Sam flopped back onto his bed with a loud protesting of springs as soon as the door was closed behind his brother’s back. He stared up at the ceiling and mentally patted himself on the back for managing to avoid letting out Christina’s secrets, though Dean had pushed and pushed and pushed.
He wanted to tell his brother all about Jake, especially after seeing the fear, the panic, plastered across Dean’s features, since it was so rare. But, it wasn’t his place to do so. It was Christina’s cross to bear, not his.
He could see all the unresolved romantic issues between Dean and Christina like they were a physical presence, and he really hoped they’d sort it out. Maybe even get back together, somehow. It was obvious they were still in love with each other, even after years apart, and for Christ’s sake they had a son. If that wasn’t enough for two people to make it work, then…well…the rest of society was just doomed.
He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. It had been a long couple of days and he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking. Seeing Christina had been a shock, after so many years of missing his old friend. He may not have cared about her as much as Dean did, but there was still a deep level of commitment and camaraderie between them. She was like the older sister that he’d never had - and never really wanted, honestly, but Christina had a way of forcing her way into your life and not letting go.
He remembered laying in bed back in high school, praying to God that she and his brother would work out. They were good for each other, he knew. Dean was happy - honest-to-God happy - for the first time in his life, and Christina had gotten infused with a new life force that made her shine almost too brightly.
They were right for each other; any fool could certainly see that.
His thoughts turned to Jessica from there, just as they did from every thought at night. He still missed her, four years later, but the overwhelming pain had settled to a dull ache. He still remembered the tiny details, the little things that he’d loved about her so much: how she’d laugh and smack his arm every time he made fun of all the girl products in the bathroom; and how she’d get this look of total understanding when he refused to talk about his family, how she wouldn’t force the issue.
He missed her so much.
After all, he thought as he finally drifted to sleep, Jess was his Christina.
* * *
Dean checked his watch right before he knocked on the door to Christina’s apartment. 1:30 in the morning. Well, he was there - no use in stopping now, right? Right.
He steeled his resolve again and knocked, probably too soft he thought. But, he’d give her a minute to get to the door. He knew she was probably asleep and he hated to inconvenience her, but the desire to see her overrode everything, all common sense. What would he say, though? They had been ready to tear each other apart back at the bar - was this just going to be a continuation?
He sighed, and raised his hand to knock again when the door was pulled open and he was face to face with a very sleepy Christina. He dropped his hand and had to stifle his laughter at how absolutely adorable she looked. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and her eyes were squinted as though they hadn’t yet adjusted to the dim light from the hallway. She had on black sweatpants and a pink tank top that clearly showed her black sports bra, making his heart race and his blood leave his brain for…well…somewhere else.
Christina groaned. “What the hell do you want? It’s late,” she spoke groggily.
Dean was about to answer when she said, “And stop leering at me like that. I am not a piece of meat, Dean.”
Well, she was awake now. He flashed one of his trademark grins that had always gotten him out of the doghouse in the past. She sighed and walked further into the apartment, leaving the door open for him.
She clicked on a lamp, illuminating a cozy-looking living room, and squinting again because the lamp was much brighter than the sliver of moonlight filtering through the blinds. He couldn’t help but smile at her again as a rush of affection swept through him and he stepped into the apartment.
He closed the door behind him and, out of habit, clicked the deadbolt shut. She looked back questioningly at the sound from her position at the closet, out of which she pulled a sweater.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck - a nervous habit that he’d always had and one she seemed to recognize, if the warm-hearted smile was any indication. Motioning to the heavy-looking, wool sweater, he asked, “You still get that cold, huh?”
Christina’s face turned a dark red. “Yeah,” she whispered, almost too softly for Dean to hear, “I do, especially since -”
She stopped herself and looked at him with wide eyes before disappearing into the kitchen, throwing over her shoulder, “Want something to drink?”
He stood there, a little dumbfounded, for a few seconds, trying to figure out what the hell she was about to say that she didn’t want him knowing. He figured, at once, that it was directly related to all the meaningful looks shared between her and Sam in the car and the anger began simmering just below the surface. Questions needed to be answered.
Rather than attacking her right off the bat though, he followed her into the kitchen, making sure to throw his jacket on the couch on the way. He wasn’t surprised that the small space was nearly spotless; although he figured it hadn’t been that clean the previous day. He remembered the time that he was a day late coming back from one of his trips and he’d come home to find that she’d cleaned her entire two-story house in six hours. She had a tendency to stress, and stress led to being super productive, which usually meant cleaning. Considering how jumpy she’d been at the bar, he knew he had something to do with the perfect appearance of the little apartment.
Dean found Christina next to the stove, leaning against the counter that ran all around the tiny space, one beer in her hand and another open one on the counter space next to her. She took a long pull from her own bottle and handed the other to him, which he accepted with a smile.
He saw her swallow extra hard as their fingers brushed, and he tried to ignore the way his pulse sped up at the tiny contact. He tried to let their skin linger together but she pulled away when he had the slightest grip on the beer and stuck her empty hand behind her back. He couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed.
He swallowed and stepped back to lean against the counter facing her. He took a swig of beer as he tried to figure out what to say next while she looked at him in quiet expectation. There were so many things that he’d come to say, only to find that he couldn’t phrase any of them to anyone but himself. He figured maybe he should start with something semi-meaningless, something that didn’t have anything to do with him.
“So,” he began quietly, feeling his way around her mood. “That kid…Jake…is he your sister’s son or something? He looks like he should be familiar…”
Christina suddenly looked panicked. Her eyes widened almost comically and her breathing visibly sped up as she shifted her gaze to the floor. Maybe this is what those looks had meant in the car. But, there was no way… For one, Chris didn’t look like she’d gone through childbirth and, two, the kid was…what? Seven? It didn’t match up. But…then…why did she look like she was in grave danger?
“No,” he faintly heard, watching her face closely. “He’s not my sister’s.”
She looked so uncomfortable that he was suddenly uncomfortable. His mind was racing through a thousand scenarios, every night they’d ever spent together. Through a tight throat, he managed to choke out, “Chris…how old is that boy?”
She stiffened and looked like she was holding her breath. At any other time, he would have laughed at the way she slowly brought her eyes up to meet his. But, when her dark brown eyes, filled with unchecked fear, met his, he felt his own breathing stop.
“Nine,” she whispered so softly that he had to physically lean in to hear her. “He’s nine years old, Dean.”
The breath that had caught in his throat was suddenly forced out in a rush as something clicked in his brain. If he was nine, then that really could mean…
Christina was staring at him now, eyes still wide with fear, but she was, at the very least, breathing again, shallow breaths, in and out. She was just waiting now, waiting for him to freak out and run away, slam the door behind him - physically and metaphorically. But, he wasn’t going to…he couldn’t…not when…
“Oh my God.”
“Figure out why he looks so familiar now? Just look at his eyes…Dean…he didn’t get those from me.”
“I…I have a son?” he whispered, like a prayer, speaking to himself more than her. He could feel the countertop cutting almost painfully into his back, holding him up. “But, how…? I mean…we were always careful…”
Christina snorted across from him. “Yeah, we were. Except one night. Remember Dean?”
He focused back on her and saw a smirk on her face that he would have been proud of on any other occasion. “Prom?” he said hesitantly.
“Prom,” she nodded.
Dean remembered her senior prom very well. She’d asked him, only once, if he’d go with her and he’d turned her down, saying it wasn’t his kind of thing. And it wasn’t. But she’d looked so crestfallen at the fact that she was either going to miss her senior prom entirely or she was going to go alone, that he had to make it up to her.
The day of the big dance, he’d taken her older sister, Kim, to find the right dress. Then he’d gotten a corsage with the aid of Sammy. Kim had to persuade Chris to allow a “makeover” of sorts, just for fun, since they were both just going to be sitting at home all night. Then he’d shown up at 7:00, an hour before Prom started, with the dress in one box and the corsage in another. To say she was startled was a severe understatement. He’d jokingly told her that that was the night she’d fallen in love with him.
So, they’d gone to Prom. Dean Winchester had gone to a high school dance just to put one smile on the face of the woman he loved. It was all worth it. She’d looked gorgeous; Kim had helped him pick out the most amazing dress and had fixed her hair so that half of it was falling in curls around her face. If he hadn’t been in love with her by then, that night would have cinched it.
Afterwards, she’d insisted that they drive up to “their spot,” a hill that overlooked the most beautiful lake in all of Kansas, the spot where Dean eventually planned to propose. That’s where it happened. Neither of them had been planning it. And it was the first time they’d actually gone that far. But, there they were, on a blanket on the grass, staring at the stars and the beautiful lake beyond on an unseasonably warm March night; he’d looked at her, the moonlight illuminating her shining face, and leaned over to kiss her, his heart near to bursting. They were both so wrapped up in the moment…and it had just felt right.
And, now here they were.
Dean brought his attention back to the present and Christina’s face, which had evolved from fear isolated in her eyes to terror etched into every millimeter of her face. Even with the weight of the past ten minutes, he couldn’t bring himself to really be angry with her. She’d obviously not planned any of this and he couldn’t hold her in contempt for her actions - even though he was pissed that he’d found out about his son this way, this late. Did she think he wouldn’t have stepped up? Taken responsibility? Or did she think it would have been out of pity - and just responsibility?
“Why did you wait ten years to tell me about him, Chris?” he asked incredulously.
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “I didn’t wait to tell you anything, Dean,” she stated matter-of-factly. “If it were up to me, you never would have found out at all.”
He set his beer bottle on the counter with a loud clunk and pushed himself explosively off the edge. “What?” he nearly shouted. “You weren’t going to tell me?”
“No.” Christina mirrored his motions and stepped right up to him, getting in his face, brown eyes flashing dangerously. “I wasn’t. Going. To tell you.”
“And why the hell not, Christina?”
She took a step back, giving them a little space, and looked up at him like he was too dumb to know the obvious answer. But, the fierce look on her face didn’t fade in the least.
“Why not?” she asked, anger pouring out of her with every syllable. “Why not? Dean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?! I found out I was pregnant while you were on one of your quote-unquote ‘business trips’ and I freaked out. There were only two outcomes for the situation, Dean -”
“What were those, Chris?” he cut her off. “Kill the damn thing or run away?”
“No,” she stated, with a smile that managed to be both bitter and sad at the moment. “Abortion wasn’t an option. Cliché as it is, I wanted the baby because it was a part of you…a part that wouldn’t lie to me. I was keeping it, regardless of what you did. But, like I said, there were two scenarios that could have played out if I told you. One - you would have tried to be a father, but kept on being a hunter. Jake would have grown up getting postcards on his birthday and maybe seeing his father once a year. He would have grown up, believing that his father didn’t love him and I wasn’t about to put any child through that.”
She paused and he stared at her, anger beginning to boil over. “What was option two?” he forced through gritted teeth.
“Option two?” she asked with a mild sneer. “That’s my personal favorite. Option two would have been far worse for everyone because not only would you have broken Jake’s heart in the end, you would have broken mine too. In scenario number two, you would have stayed with me, with him, out of obligation. You would have been unhappy and I would have been unhappy and Jake didn’t deserve to grow up like that either. Dean, you didn’t love me enough to stay - if you even loved me at all - and I knew that. There was no reason to put an innocent life through hell because of it.”
Just like that, his anger was gone. His blood ran cold at her words, and his breath was battling with his heart for space in his throat. Yeah, he was freaked about the kid thing, but he could deal with that, he could wrap his mind around it; it was a fact that he couldn’t change. But, he was more upset by the fact that she honestly believed he didn’t love her, because that was entirely his fault. And, it wasn’t anywhere near being true.
“You think I didn’t love you?”
Christina now had tears running down her cheeks and Dean couldn’t remember when they’d started. “I have no idea if you loved me. I really don’t. But, I know that it wasn’t enough…that I wasn’t enough. You were never going to tell me about the hunting…not like you told that Cassie girl.”
Now that was the absolute last thing he’d expected. “Cassie?” he asked, confusion clouding his already emotion-overridden mind. “How do you even know about Cassie?”
She gave him a watery smile right before she turned and walked out of the kitchen. He followed, of course, and found her curled up on one end of the plush leather couch, arms wrapped around her legs. He sat down in the armchair that was situated at her end of the couch and just looked at her, waiting for her to continue.
“I’m a psychic, Dean,” she finally said after a few minutes, gaze fixed firmly on the coffee table. “So is Jake…must run in your family…I kind of…got these powers from him.”
She paused to wipe away the few remaining tears. “One night, I don’t know what I was thinking about to bring it on…but I had a vision. Of you and…her…you were telling her, you…what you did, what you were…you…you loved her, Dean. It was so obviously written on your face and I just…”
Oh. That’s the only thing Dean could think, as her voice trailed off: oh. And, he couldn’t even force it past his lips. He just sat there, dumbfounded again, wondering what he could possibly say, where he should even begin. If he’d thought the scene at the bar was a mental overload it was nothing compared to the revelations that had been made in the past half hour. In the end, it was really quite simple, what he should say; he should start with the thing that was obviously hurting her - hurting them - the most.
“Chris,” he started, but before he could finish, he wanted to be closer to her, touching her. So, he pushed himself out of the chair, and knelt down by the end of the couch. He reached up and turned her face so that she was looking at him, then grabbed her right hand in both of his.
“I did love Cassie,” he continued, reaching up to wipe a few new tears from her face. “But, that was nothing…child’s play compared to you, Chris, don’t you get it? Just look at me. Ten years apart and then one glance from you and I fall apart…You’re right, okay? I fucked up…in more ways than one. I…I should have told you, I should have told you everything. But, I…”
His voice broke as a single tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek. He turned away to wipe his face on his sleeve but Christina’s hand got there first. She turned his head back towards her and wiped away the wet track down the side of his face. If he had been a girl - or Sammy - he would have broken down and bawled like a baby at the love, the warmth, he saw in those big, expressive eyes of hers.
“It’s you. The reason I told Cassie? It was you. I’d lost you and I didn’t know the entire reason, but I knew that the ‘big family secret’ was a major factor in it…I was miserable…And, then I found Cassie, the first girl that I felt remotely anything for after losing you, and I was determined to hold onto her. I wasn’t going to lose another chance at some kind of happiness because of some stupid secret. Because, honestly, if the other person loved me - truly loved me - then it shouldn’t matter if I’m a freak or not…But, you know what? She didn’t get it. And, even if she had…she still didn’t hold a candle to you. No one ever has and no one ever will and oh, God, Chris -”
He leaned forward as she leaned down and their lips met in a mind-blowing kiss that, at first, consisted of nothing more than lips touching lips. He brought his hands up to cup either side of her face and bring her just that much closer to him.
She brought her arms around his shoulders and pulled, bringing him up onto the couch. He brought his tongue out and swiped it along her lips, seeking entrance. He felt more than heard her moan just a split second before she opened her lips and their tongues were sliding alongside each other, for the first time in ages. He rolled them, as much as he could on the slim cushions, so that they were side by side, his back to the back of the couch, and pulled her even closer to make sure she didn’t go tumbling off - well, at least that was one reason.
The kissing got more intense, hands roaming everywhere, and Dean wondered where she’d learned these new tricks with her tongue - then decided he didn’t want to know as her right hand moved south and grabbed hold of his ass. He pulled back in shock, breaking the kiss, because it was completely unlike her to be so forward, and laughed at the predatory look on her face.
She was panting as heavily as he was and he grabbed her ass in turn, ripping a laugh out of her throat that bordered heavily on the edge of hysteria. Not that he blamed her, of course, because he was on the verge of it himself. He’d found out more information in six hours than he would in any normal year, and had gone through so many emotions it was amazing he was still breathing at all. He’d come over bordering on exhaustion and couldn’t be happier, have more energy, at the moment - having Christina in his arms, and laughing nonetheless.
She suddenly stopped laughing and he met her smoldering gaze. Her eyes had gone completely lust blown, dark brown a barely distinguishable line around massive black pupils and he knew that his own must mirror it, exchanging dark brown for green. Keeping his eyes open, he leaned forward to place a chaste, almost-questioning kiss on her lips.
Christina closed her eyes and whispered, “Bed. Holy Hell, now.”
Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He gracefully rolled them over and picked her up in his arms like a baby to carry her down the hall. They made it to the bedroom with minimal direction from her, running into the wall every few steps since they refused to stop kissing for more than a glance at where they were going.
He laid her down on the Queen-sized bed and noticed that somewhere along the way she’d gotten off her sweater and his red over-shirt. He wasted no time in lying down beside her and resuming the intense kisses, tongues dueling, both of their hands roaming again, familiarizing and memorizing again. He let one hand get in between them and wander down, past the waistband of her sweatpants and into her underwear. She tore her lips away from his and arched up, moaning so deep in her chest that Dean could feel it vibrate against his.
He easily found the entrance he was seeking, already wet and waiting, and shoved one finger in, letting his thumb rub over her clit at the same. Her response was a loud groan - he really hoped she didn’t have elderly neighbors - and to attach her mouth to his neck, which he gladly arched to give her better access. He reached his hand, the one that wasn’t otherwise engaged, up to cup the back of her head, letting out a breathy moan each time her mouth found another spot.
He was concentrating so hard on the sensations on his neck and his hand, three fingers of which were now engaged, that he was completely surprised when a small hand encircled his throbbing cock. He had a split second to wonder when she had managed to get his jeans undone before she gave a slight pull and all thoughts ceased to repetition of “God,” “Chris,” “Fuck,” and “More.”
He hadn’t realized that he’d said anything out loud until he heard Christina laugh. He opened his eyes, not knowing they were even shut, and looked down at her smiling, flushed face. He smiled back at her - not the smirk that he usually gave girls, but an honest-to-God smile - and leaned down to kiss her again.
He pulled away and pulled his hand out of her pants, causing her to whimper at the loss. He gave her a wink and mischievous smile before he stood up to pull off his shirt, quickly followed by boxers and pants in one fell swoop. She sat up and started to pull off her tank top before he stopped her.
“Let me,” he whispered, crawling back on the bed, laughing when a resultant shudder ran through her body. Eyes widening in what could only be described as lust, she smiled at him again and laid back, letting him do whatever it was he wanted - and he suddenly remembered how much trust she’d had in him before. Somehow, a new inkling of guilt made its presence known amidst all the other, more pressing feelings - she’d trusted him with everything and he took advantage of it.
Heart beating faster, he leaned over and pulled her tank top up, kissing the exposed flesh as he went, hoping the apology would be accepted. Flinging the pink material aside, he bent down again, pulling down the black sweatpants in the same fashion, kissing every inch of skin he came across along the way. He also began to commit the smell and taste of her to memory, just in case he never truly had this again, for whatever reason.
Pants thrown across the room, he sat back on his haunches, dick hard as iron heading for his stomach, and admired the view. Her body was almost exactly as he’d remembered it, although there were several scars that he was determined to explore and find out the origin of - and, y’know, the taste of. But, right then, he needed to get inside her. And fast.
She winked up at him and crawled over to the bedside table, opening a drawer and coming back with a condom and a bottle of lube. He raised an eyebrow at her and chuckled. Leave it to Chris to be prepared.
“You gonna finish this, baby?” she whispered sweetly, challengingly, in his ear.
“Oh, you know I am, darlin’,” he whispered back, cockiness blending with affection. He pushed her back down, pulling her underwear down and off - which she helped with. And when did she learn to bend her legs like that? Damn.
He broke contact only once more to sit up and pull the sports bra off, completely exposing everything she had to offer. He was mildly surprised to feel the condom being rolled onto his dick, considering he hadn’t even heard the packet being ripped open. Next came the lube - and did she really have to add those few extra strokes, teasing him to premature orgasm?
He crashed his lips onto hers as he unceremoniously forced his cock into her, balls deep pretty much immediately. He felt her face contort in a grimace at the intrusion and stayed still for her to adjust, not moving until she rolled her hips against his as a clear-cut sign for him to move.
The lovemaking - Dean refused to call it just sex with her - was fast, needy. Far too soon, Dean came, one arm wrapped around Christina’s waist helping her ride him, the other pulling her face down to his, breaths mingling. Chris came seconds later, one hand massaging her clit, the other gripping Dean’s shoulder. He arched up, and swallowed the moans and whimpers pouring out of her mouth with his own.
Having ridden out both of their orgasms, Christina collapsed half on top of, half to the side of Dean, staying in that position for a minute before rolling off, sweat making a weird, squelching noise as their skin pulled apart. He just lay there, panting, and waited for his vision to come back. He’d known good sex before, but good sex with all those elated feelings involved?
“Damn,” he said after a few minutes.
She laughed, still breathing heavily. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
He joined in her laughter and leaned over to kiss her again quickly. She pushed him off her and got up, padding naked out into the hall. She came back with her underwear and his over shirt on, buttoning up the last button as she crawled back in bed.
“You might want to take that off, Mister,” she said, looking down pointedly and making a disgusted face. “It’s kind of icky.”
He laughed and pushed himself up to walk into the adjoining master bathroom. He pulled the condom off, tied the end of it and flushed it down the toilet. He wiped his now-flaccid dick off with toilet paper and it followed the wasted condom down to all the dead goldfish in the city. On his way back to Chris, he extracted his boxers from his jeans and pulled them on before climbing into bed again.
Christina was already asleep, snoring very softly, and Dean felt his heart clench again for the 90th time that night. He sighed and lay down beside her, reaching out to run his fingers down the side of her face, a face that only an hour ago had been covered in old tear tracks and fresh tears. She looked so peaceful in slumber, and he found himself amazed at how he’d managed to get her, just as he was all those years ago. She was a Hellenistic beauty, and he knew she could have anyone, anything. But, she’d wanted him.
While he knew that one act of sex didn’t automatically make things right, he couldn’t help but picture all the plans that he’d made in his head. Of course, back when he’d first conjured them, they were about the ages they were now. He’d imagined them having a family, a real family. He’d imagined himself having a home base - a white picket fence, a dog, three kids, and a beautiful wife - to come back to after hunts. After he’d lost Chris, all desire for that faded and the idea of a suburban lifestyle made him physically sick. He’d meant it when he’d told Sam on a hunt that he’d commit suicide if he had to live like that - but that was only if Chris wasn’t the one asking about his day.
He’d have done anything for her, once upon a time. And, he was finding out that it was still true. No amount of time or space could erase what he’d felt or, apparently, even lessen it. He still loved her, he knew. Maybe more than before.
Christina sighed in her sleep and scooted closer, seeking out his warmth. He smiled at her, even if she couldn’t know, and pulled her into his arms. She made a contented sound in the back of her throat and cuddled in, wrapping her arms around his stomach, placing her head right above his heart and tangling their legs together. He couldn’t help but sigh too as he lovingly kissed the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, Chris,” he whispered to her, words bouncing throughout the empty room. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to make this right…for you and Jake.”
As he drifted to sleep, committing his promise to heart, he faintly heard a whispered, “I love you.”
Part Three
* * * * * * * * * * * *
As usual, feedback is always appreciated! Especially with this one, lol! :)
Chapter Three
Dean had to admit that he was astounded at the turn of events the past two hours had taken. He suddenly found himself sitting in the backseat of his own damn car, which was being driven by a girl he hadn’t seen in ten years, while his brother rode shotgun to keep the aforementioned girl calm enough to let them all - or just Dean - survive the night.
To say he was shell-shocked would be the understatement of the century.
To make matters worse, there seemed to be some secret between Christina and Sam. Sam kept shooting glances at her and she kept shooting glances at him - and Dean was ready to shoot a bullet into both of them on principle. Secrets didn’t help anybody in their line of work. More often that not, secrets got people killed.
Fortunately for both Christina and Sam, Dean was still too worked up over his “discussion” with Chris to force their hand. There was still something there; he couldn’t have imagined the way she’d kissed him back. But, there were still so many unanswered questions. Why had she just left him like that? Had she thought he didn’t want her? Well, that was ridiculous. He’d never wanted anyone - or loved anyone - more than her, neither before nor after. But, then why hadn’t she just asked him about it? Why run away when a simple question would have saved them tons of heartache?
Then, of course, there was the biggest question of them all: when, and why, had she become a hunter?
Even if the last question was never answered, the fact that she was a hunter still filled him with hope. Because then he could be completely honest with her; the last secret he had could be shared. He began to believe that he could get her back, that they could be happy again, together.
He’d never gotten over Christina and he knew that. He’d honestly never tried. In the back of his mind, there’d always been a naïve hope that they’d find each other again. Secret, hopeless romantic that he was, he’d often wondered if she was his soul mate. And, now, here she was, right in front of him. It couldn’t be a coincidence. There were no coincidences.
By the time they reached the ranger’s station and the surrounding clearing, Dean hadn’t answered any of his own questions. But he had figured out one thing.
He was going to get Christina back.
* * *
Christina, who had spent the entire car ride fighting off another onslaught of tears, was more than relieved when she pulled into the clearing and saw Jake completely unscathed. This was one of those times when she was grateful for his powers, rather than believing them to be a burden; she was sure that they allowed him to drive off the wolf. No nine-year-old boy could take on a wolf with sheer force and win. Hell, not many grown men could do that.
As she parked the car and began to climb out, she suddenly realized that Jake was very likely to run up to Dean and call him “Dad.” And, if he didn’t act out that blatantly, Dean would surely hear him call her “Mom.” That would not only be awkward, but let the cat out of a bag she didn’t want opened.
She turned to Sam, both of them still sitting in the front seat with a very confused Dean in the back, and gave him what she hoped was a meaningful glance. He just cocked his head at her, staring back at her with hazel eyes filled to the brim with confusion. She sighed and resigned to show Sam one of the powers she’d mentioned.
Jake, she forced into Sam’s mind, smiling at his wide-eyed realization of what was happening. He’s going to say something tactless and then Dean will know. Keep. Dean. Here.
Sam, still looking a little stunned, nodded, and she turned to climb out of the car again. As she headed towards the group of little boys and concerned parents that had gathered around the station, she sent out another message - this time to her little boy.
Jake, I know you know your dad’s in the car. He doesn’t know yet. Please don’t give it away. Don’t even call me ‘Mom’ when he’s in hearing distance, okay?
Christina saw Jake turn from the frightened boys and fix his green eyes - Dean’s eyes - on her right before she heard his answer.
Alright, Mommy, a tiny voice spoke in her head. Jake had tried to stop calling her “Mommy” when he turned eight, deciding he was too grown-up for it. That he had reverted back to it now showed how shaken he was and she began to run.
Jake started running too and they met halfway. He let out a half-whispered “Mommy” and began to cry. She knelt down and clutched him to her, letting him bury his face in her hair, not caring that he was soaking it with his tears.
“Shh,” she whispered soothingly. “Mommy’s here, baby. You’re all right. You’re gonna be just fine.”
He sniffled loudly and pulled back to look down into her face. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” he said fearfully. “I know you said to not use them, not in public…but it was attacking Ryan, Mom, and I couldn’t do anything else -”
She smiled at him and cupped his small face in both hands, wiping away stray tears with her thumbs. “I’m proud of you, Jake. I am so proud of you. You were so brave out there.”
He nodded, smiled back at her through his tears, and she pulled him back into her arms, clutching his little body tightly. She was always amazed at her son’s strength. Just when it looked like life was going to break him, he kept going.
She wished that he could have a real childhood, a better childhood than she could give him. She tried to love him as much as possible, but she couldn’t be two parents at the same time - and she’d never tried to take the place of a father. But, the boy’s wise-beyond-his-years intelligence always let her off the hook with that. Part of the connection they had allowed them to understand each other on such a basic level that they didn’t have to speak some things - telepathically or vocally. Jake had never asked where his father was; he’d just, kind of, looked at her one day and known, known all the things, all the reasons, that she could never say.
But, his powers, though not as developed as Chris’, would never allow him to be a normal child even if he’d had two parents. How did you tell your nine-and-ten-year-old friends that you could move things with your mind? See the future? Talk to people without moving your lips? Read their thoughts with so much as a glance? If he even tried to explain, he’d be labeled a freak and life would be hell. She could at least comfort herself with the fact that he’d never turn into Carrie, but still. It wasn’t exactly something a mother wished for her child.
Jake pulled away again after a few minutes and wiped his face with his hands, erasing the tears but leaving their tracks. Christina smiled at him and reached up to ruffle his hair. “Let’s get your bags, kiddo.”
He nodded and led her over to the group of people. The ranger, Joey Walton, smiled warmly at her as they walked up. She nodded and made a mental note to come talk to him later. Unlike the secretive life the Winchesters led, Chris had made friends with the town authorities. Joe, as well as a handful of others, knew what she was and enlisted her help whenever they needed it. Warsaw was centered on some sort of supernatural hotspot, much like the Hellmouth she’d laughed so hard about on Buffy: the Vampire Slayer, so there was a lot to keep her busy. She got paid for her help and had even taught some of the locals how to ward off and vanquish certain things. At least it was legitimate.
Jake grabbed his backpack and the miscellaneous camping gear that he’d taken out and failed to put back into the bag, and led the way back to the Impala. Christina followed in silence, too busy contemplating what to do. About the wolf situation and the Winchester situation - since it didn’t look like either one was going to go away on its own.
Mom! Jake’s voice invaded her brain weaving through her thoughts like a stream. You’re thinking too loud and I’m not going to say anything.
She smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see her, and continued thinking. As for the wolf situation, there was no doubt it was a werewolf. But, there was just one problem - the full moon was still two days away. In all of her studies, she’d never come across anything like this before. Werewolves stuck to the full moon pattern. The only time she’d seen anything else was on Buffy of all places, and she just flat-out refused to believe that Joss Whedon could get one-up on her. But, then again, stranger things had happened…
Now, as for the Winchester problem, there was no clear-cut solution to that; it was far more confusing than dealing with the werewolf. If the brothers were going to be around, she’d just have to be extra careful. That meant watching what words came out of her mouth and it definitely required no more alone time with Dean. She did not need to go there. She knew that if he kissed her again - or hell, even looked at her like that again - she was going to lose it. She was going to confess everything, tell him all about Jake, and get down on her knees to beg, if necessary, for him to forgive her. And, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t disrupt any of their lives like that; it wasn’t fair to anyone and she knew she was just setting herself up for disappointment. Dean Winchester was a proud man.
And, he didn’t love her.
“Earth to Chris.”
Sam was snapping his fingers in front of her; she hadn’t even noticed that she’d made it back to the car and was leaning against the passenger side door. She jumped and looked up at him apologetically.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking back down at the ground shyly. She could feel Sam’s concerned, understanding eyes boring into her, but she still didn’t look up at him again. She was too confused and too stressed out and too goddamned exhausted to deal with anything. She just wanted to sleep - take Jake to her parents’ house and…
Oh, God, where was Jake?
Her head snapped up and she looked around frantically, wondering how on earth she’d lost track of her own son after such a traumatic night. She spotted him after a few seconds, ten yards away with Dean. Jake had gotten out his pocketknife - the one her brother-in-law had given him for his ninth birthday - and was proudly showing it off to Dean.
She sighed in relief, even as her heart clenched painfully. Dean was smiling and had his own knife out, comparing the two. She found her mind wandering again at the sight of them. Jake looked so happy, and Dean, even if he didn’t know why, looked like he had already bonded with the boy. Chris could almost feel the immediate connection rolling off of them in waves.
Sam put his arm around her shoulder as a fresh tear escaped from each eye, and she turned into him, wrapping her arms around his stomach and burying her face in the thin cotton of his T-shirt. She felt both of his strong arms wrap around her shoulders and one hand start rubbing circles on her back. And she started to cry harder - for everything that she’d lost, both through her own actions and his secrets, and for everything that she could still have if she just reached out to take it.
“Shh,” Sam was whispering above her. “I know what you’re thinkin’, Chris. And it’s okay. This will all work out somehow.”
She sniffled and pulled back to look up at him, dropping her arms to her sides. “How do you know that, Sammy?” she whispered back, frightened that someone might overhear her and tattle to Dean. “I don’t even know what I want to happen.”
He looked down at her, in a gaze that was far too knowing for her comfort level, and gave her a dazzling smile, white teeth gleaming in the light from the nearly-full moon. “Just remember that you’re not the only psychic one.”
Shocked, she was about to force him to tell her exactly what he’d seen when an excited Jake ran up to her and all she could do was fix him with a split-second narrow-eyed glare before looking down into those eerily familiar green eyes. Had Dean recognized them?
“Whatcha got there, Jake?” she asked, motioning to his left hand since his right was shoving his precious knife back into his pocket. Her breath caught in her throat when he opened it and she saw what lay there.
It was Dean’s knife. It was the one he’d gotten for Christmas when he was nineteen. She’d given it to him. She could still see the carving, even though it was faded: Dean Winchester 1978.
“It’s Dean’s knife, M -” he cut himself off and looked at her with wide eyes before he swallowed hard and continued, “It’s nicer than mine and he said I should show it to you, maybe so you’d buy me one.”
She let out the breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in a rush. “Why’d he say that?” she asked in a voice that was trembling something fierce.
“I don’t know. Because I liked it, I think,” Jake replied with his childish reasoning. There couldn’t be an ulterior motive there at all, no way - Dean didn’t want to make her remember anything, of course not…because Dean Winchester wouldn’t pull a dirty trick like that.
“I see,” she said slowly, tearing her attention from the young green eyes to the older ones that were suddenly right there. She swallowed audibly and opened her mouth to say something, only to realize she didn’t know what to say. You bastard? C’mere and kiss me?
Sam, bless his heart, saved her by asking her for the keys. She shook her head and smiled up at him, grateful for his puppy-dog intuition. She pulled the keys to the Impala out of her pocket and handed them over, before climbing into the waiting backseat. As Jake crawled in next to her, she tried not to let her mind get overloaded by all the memories in the car. Driving, she was okay, because she’d only driven the car once or twice when she and Dean had been together. Back then, the car was still mostly their dad’s - Dean hadn’t officially gotten the Impala until his twenty-first birthday, seven months after she’d disappeared.
On top of her own memories, her consciousness was suddenly flooded with new ones that threatened to make the tears spill over again - and make her wonder when she’d gotten so damn emotional. She could feel, and even somewhat see, Dean’s…“adventures” in the back of the car. Her heart was filled with such jealousy and bitterness that she could have snapped an oak tree with her bare hands. How dare those sluts touch her Dean?
And, whoa, wait…when did she start thinking of him as “her” Dean again?
She shook her head to clear it as the Impala started up and Jake cuddled up to her, ready to finally sleep off the terror. She checked her watch and noted that it was only 10:48. There was still plenty of time to take him to her parents’ house. There was no way she was letting him stay in town with werewolves running lose, not when she was so unfocused. He knew how to defend himself if it was necessary, he’d more than proved that tonight, but she was going to see to it that it wasn’t necessary. If he were in Florence, she figured he’d be safe enough.
It was only ten minutes back to her apartment building, but it felt like much longer with the worried looks Sam was giving her in the rearview mirror and the blatantly obvious looks Dean was giving her over the back of the front seat, trying for nonchalant and failing. She was ready to scream at one or both of them, even though that wasn’t fair. Sam was genuinely concerned about her and Dean was concerned as well as insanely confused. She could see the wheels turning in Dean’s mind, trying to figure out Jake and what he meant to her.
She was too relieved when they pulled up in front of her humble abode. She was out of the car with Jake before the car had really come to a complete stop. She mumbled something to Sam about getting Jake taken care of and then waved them off while making a hasty retreat up the stairs.
Once the door was safely locked behind them both, she told Jake what the plan was and sent him off to his room to get more clothes, ones suitable for everyday wear, instead of camping. Then she pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and called her father. Though she insisted, many times, that she was perfectly all right to drive Jake out to them, he ended up making the 25-minute trip to her in order to pick him up.
The next two hours passed in a blur for Christina. Later, she would think that she was in some sort of shock, due to extreme emotional overload. She was little more than vaguely aware of her dad walking in the apartment and checking them both over, making sure no one had gotten bitten and needed to be shot in the heart - “Haha, Dad”, she politely responded - before taking Jake back to his house.
As she fell into her bed that night, exhaustion dragging down every body part, she thought once again of Dean. She’d forced herself not to think too much about him over the years. But, every now and again, she would look at Jake and get a rush of Dean in her head; it was so strong one time that she’d passed out. And, every time, it hurt down to the core. Especially when she’d gotten a glimpse of him with an African-American woman - with whom he was obviously in love.
In that particular vision, the one that’d made her pass out, he was telling the woman his secret, the secret. She’d felt so betrayed and gotten so depressed that she hadn’t eaten for three days - and probably wouldn’t have started again if Jake hadn’t come back home from his grandparents’ house and asked her why she was sad in all his three-year-old psychic glory. Jake was all she had to live for.
As it was, though, Dean Winchester was the only thing on her mind that night. And, she cried herself to sleep over him for the first time in almost eight years.
Chapter Four
“For the last goddamn time, what are you not telling me, Geek Boy?!” Dean almost screamed as he slammed the motel room door.
He turned to look at Sam and was only mildly shocked to see the look of confusion there, like they hadn’t been arguing about it all the way back to the motel.
“Stop trying to toy with me, Sammy,” he said, stepping into his brother’s space, glaring up into Sam’s all-too-knowing eyes, venom dripping from every word. “Don’t you dare tell me - again - that there’s not something going on. You know something I don’t and it has to do with Christina and you’re going to tell me!”
After a few seconds of stony silence, his anger broke and he slumped into one of the old chairs by the window. He waited until Sam sat in the other chair and asked, “Why’d she leave me, Sammy?”
His voice cracked and he didn’t even care enough to hide it. It wasn’t a secret that he’d missed her, that he’d loved her more than life itself. So, why should it be a secret that it was tearing him up - having her that close and yet still so far away? He’d never once thought that, if he found her, they’d go back to the way things were in an instant. No, he’d expected it to be hard, but he’d never questioned that they wouldi go back. But, he’d also expected it to be sooner. Now there were ten years spanning the distance - ten years of new experiences, new loves, new secrets.
There was also still the fact that she left.
He heard Sam sigh next to him and turned to look at his brother in the waning moonlight. Sam was looking at him with a mixture of fear and pain - and Dean didn’t even want to begin contemplating why.
“It’s not my place to tell you, Dean,” Sam whispered softly, like a secret. “She had her reasons and, while I don’t like that she just up and left, I completely understand her, why she did it. But, you’ve gotta talk to her about it. Hell, just talk to her, period. You two need to sort through all of this.”
“What do you mean: all of this? All of what?”
Sam let out a short bark of laughter. “Dean,” he said in his best my-brother-is-a-completely-oblivious-idiot tone, “there is obviously something still there. Don’t you want to find out what it is?”
Dean opened his mouth to retort, thought better of it, and snapped his mouth shut with a dull click. So, Sammy had seen something too, huh? Well, that was good enough for him.
He nodded and stood up, grabbing his keys from the table where he’d angrily flung them. “I’ll be back, Sammy,” he said, and headed for the door.
He chuckled to himself as he heard Sam’s reply right before the door clicked shut.
“It better not be tonight.”
* * *
Sam flopped back onto his bed with a loud protesting of springs as soon as the door was closed behind his brother’s back. He stared up at the ceiling and mentally patted himself on the back for managing to avoid letting out Christina’s secrets, though Dean had pushed and pushed and pushed.
He wanted to tell his brother all about Jake, especially after seeing the fear, the panic, plastered across Dean’s features, since it was so rare. But, it wasn’t his place to do so. It was Christina’s cross to bear, not his.
He could see all the unresolved romantic issues between Dean and Christina like they were a physical presence, and he really hoped they’d sort it out. Maybe even get back together, somehow. It was obvious they were still in love with each other, even after years apart, and for Christ’s sake they had a son. If that wasn’t enough for two people to make it work, then…well…the rest of society was just doomed.
He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. It had been a long couple of days and he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking. Seeing Christina had been a shock, after so many years of missing his old friend. He may not have cared about her as much as Dean did, but there was still a deep level of commitment and camaraderie between them. She was like the older sister that he’d never had - and never really wanted, honestly, but Christina had a way of forcing her way into your life and not letting go.
He remembered laying in bed back in high school, praying to God that she and his brother would work out. They were good for each other, he knew. Dean was happy - honest-to-God happy - for the first time in his life, and Christina had gotten infused with a new life force that made her shine almost too brightly.
They were right for each other; any fool could certainly see that.
His thoughts turned to Jessica from there, just as they did from every thought at night. He still missed her, four years later, but the overwhelming pain had settled to a dull ache. He still remembered the tiny details, the little things that he’d loved about her so much: how she’d laugh and smack his arm every time he made fun of all the girl products in the bathroom; and how she’d get this look of total understanding when he refused to talk about his family, how she wouldn’t force the issue.
He missed her so much.
After all, he thought as he finally drifted to sleep, Jess was his Christina.
* * *
Dean checked his watch right before he knocked on the door to Christina’s apartment. 1:30 in the morning. Well, he was there - no use in stopping now, right? Right.
He steeled his resolve again and knocked, probably too soft he thought. But, he’d give her a minute to get to the door. He knew she was probably asleep and he hated to inconvenience her, but the desire to see her overrode everything, all common sense. What would he say, though? They had been ready to tear each other apart back at the bar - was this just going to be a continuation?
He sighed, and raised his hand to knock again when the door was pulled open and he was face to face with a very sleepy Christina. He dropped his hand and had to stifle his laughter at how absolutely adorable she looked. Her brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and her eyes were squinted as though they hadn’t yet adjusted to the dim light from the hallway. She had on black sweatpants and a pink tank top that clearly showed her black sports bra, making his heart race and his blood leave his brain for…well…somewhere else.
Christina groaned. “What the hell do you want? It’s late,” she spoke groggily.
Dean was about to answer when she said, “And stop leering at me like that. I am not a piece of meat, Dean.”
Well, she was awake now. He flashed one of his trademark grins that had always gotten him out of the doghouse in the past. She sighed and walked further into the apartment, leaving the door open for him.
She clicked on a lamp, illuminating a cozy-looking living room, and squinting again because the lamp was much brighter than the sliver of moonlight filtering through the blinds. He couldn’t help but smile at her again as a rush of affection swept through him and he stepped into the apartment.
He closed the door behind him and, out of habit, clicked the deadbolt shut. She looked back questioningly at the sound from her position at the closet, out of which she pulled a sweater.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck - a nervous habit that he’d always had and one she seemed to recognize, if the warm-hearted smile was any indication. Motioning to the heavy-looking, wool sweater, he asked, “You still get that cold, huh?”
Christina’s face turned a dark red. “Yeah,” she whispered, almost too softly for Dean to hear, “I do, especially since -”
She stopped herself and looked at him with wide eyes before disappearing into the kitchen, throwing over her shoulder, “Want something to drink?”
He stood there, a little dumbfounded, for a few seconds, trying to figure out what the hell she was about to say that she didn’t want him knowing. He figured, at once, that it was directly related to all the meaningful looks shared between her and Sam in the car and the anger began simmering just below the surface. Questions needed to be answered.
Rather than attacking her right off the bat though, he followed her into the kitchen, making sure to throw his jacket on the couch on the way. He wasn’t surprised that the small space was nearly spotless; although he figured it hadn’t been that clean the previous day. He remembered the time that he was a day late coming back from one of his trips and he’d come home to find that she’d cleaned her entire two-story house in six hours. She had a tendency to stress, and stress led to being super productive, which usually meant cleaning. Considering how jumpy she’d been at the bar, he knew he had something to do with the perfect appearance of the little apartment.
Dean found Christina next to the stove, leaning against the counter that ran all around the tiny space, one beer in her hand and another open one on the counter space next to her. She took a long pull from her own bottle and handed the other to him, which he accepted with a smile.
He saw her swallow extra hard as their fingers brushed, and he tried to ignore the way his pulse sped up at the tiny contact. He tried to let their skin linger together but she pulled away when he had the slightest grip on the beer and stuck her empty hand behind her back. He couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed.
He swallowed and stepped back to lean against the counter facing her. He took a swig of beer as he tried to figure out what to say next while she looked at him in quiet expectation. There were so many things that he’d come to say, only to find that he couldn’t phrase any of them to anyone but himself. He figured maybe he should start with something semi-meaningless, something that didn’t have anything to do with him.
“So,” he began quietly, feeling his way around her mood. “That kid…Jake…is he your sister’s son or something? He looks like he should be familiar…”
Christina suddenly looked panicked. Her eyes widened almost comically and her breathing visibly sped up as she shifted her gaze to the floor. Maybe this is what those looks had meant in the car. But, there was no way… For one, Chris didn’t look like she’d gone through childbirth and, two, the kid was…what? Seven? It didn’t match up. But…then…why did she look like she was in grave danger?
“No,” he faintly heard, watching her face closely. “He’s not my sister’s.”
She looked so uncomfortable that he was suddenly uncomfortable. His mind was racing through a thousand scenarios, every night they’d ever spent together. Through a tight throat, he managed to choke out, “Chris…how old is that boy?”
She stiffened and looked like she was holding her breath. At any other time, he would have laughed at the way she slowly brought her eyes up to meet his. But, when her dark brown eyes, filled with unchecked fear, met his, he felt his own breathing stop.
“Nine,” she whispered so softly that he had to physically lean in to hear her. “He’s nine years old, Dean.”
The breath that had caught in his throat was suddenly forced out in a rush as something clicked in his brain. If he was nine, then that really could mean…
Christina was staring at him now, eyes still wide with fear, but she was, at the very least, breathing again, shallow breaths, in and out. She was just waiting now, waiting for him to freak out and run away, slam the door behind him - physically and metaphorically. But, he wasn’t going to…he couldn’t…not when…
“Oh my God.”
“Figure out why he looks so familiar now? Just look at his eyes…Dean…he didn’t get those from me.”
“I…I have a son?” he whispered, like a prayer, speaking to himself more than her. He could feel the countertop cutting almost painfully into his back, holding him up. “But, how…? I mean…we were always careful…”
Christina snorted across from him. “Yeah, we were. Except one night. Remember Dean?”
He focused back on her and saw a smirk on her face that he would have been proud of on any other occasion. “Prom?” he said hesitantly.
“Prom,” she nodded.
Dean remembered her senior prom very well. She’d asked him, only once, if he’d go with her and he’d turned her down, saying it wasn’t his kind of thing. And it wasn’t. But she’d looked so crestfallen at the fact that she was either going to miss her senior prom entirely or she was going to go alone, that he had to make it up to her.
The day of the big dance, he’d taken her older sister, Kim, to find the right dress. Then he’d gotten a corsage with the aid of Sammy. Kim had to persuade Chris to allow a “makeover” of sorts, just for fun, since they were both just going to be sitting at home all night. Then he’d shown up at 7:00, an hour before Prom started, with the dress in one box and the corsage in another. To say she was startled was a severe understatement. He’d jokingly told her that that was the night she’d fallen in love with him.
So, they’d gone to Prom. Dean Winchester had gone to a high school dance just to put one smile on the face of the woman he loved. It was all worth it. She’d looked gorgeous; Kim had helped him pick out the most amazing dress and had fixed her hair so that half of it was falling in curls around her face. If he hadn’t been in love with her by then, that night would have cinched it.
Afterwards, she’d insisted that they drive up to “their spot,” a hill that overlooked the most beautiful lake in all of Kansas, the spot where Dean eventually planned to propose. That’s where it happened. Neither of them had been planning it. And it was the first time they’d actually gone that far. But, there they were, on a blanket on the grass, staring at the stars and the beautiful lake beyond on an unseasonably warm March night; he’d looked at her, the moonlight illuminating her shining face, and leaned over to kiss her, his heart near to bursting. They were both so wrapped up in the moment…and it had just felt right.
And, now here they were.
Dean brought his attention back to the present and Christina’s face, which had evolved from fear isolated in her eyes to terror etched into every millimeter of her face. Even with the weight of the past ten minutes, he couldn’t bring himself to really be angry with her. She’d obviously not planned any of this and he couldn’t hold her in contempt for her actions - even though he was pissed that he’d found out about his son this way, this late. Did she think he wouldn’t have stepped up? Taken responsibility? Or did she think it would have been out of pity - and just responsibility?
“Why did you wait ten years to tell me about him, Chris?” he asked incredulously.
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “I didn’t wait to tell you anything, Dean,” she stated matter-of-factly. “If it were up to me, you never would have found out at all.”
He set his beer bottle on the counter with a loud clunk and pushed himself explosively off the edge. “What?” he nearly shouted. “You weren’t going to tell me?”
“No.” Christina mirrored his motions and stepped right up to him, getting in his face, brown eyes flashing dangerously. “I wasn’t. Going. To tell you.”
“And why the hell not, Christina?”
She took a step back, giving them a little space, and looked up at him like he was too dumb to know the obvious answer. But, the fierce look on her face didn’t fade in the least.
“Why not?” she asked, anger pouring out of her with every syllable. “Why not? Dean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?! I found out I was pregnant while you were on one of your quote-unquote ‘business trips’ and I freaked out. There were only two outcomes for the situation, Dean -”
“What were those, Chris?” he cut her off. “Kill the damn thing or run away?”
“No,” she stated, with a smile that managed to be both bitter and sad at the moment. “Abortion wasn’t an option. Cliché as it is, I wanted the baby because it was a part of you…a part that wouldn’t lie to me. I was keeping it, regardless of what you did. But, like I said, there were two scenarios that could have played out if I told you. One - you would have tried to be a father, but kept on being a hunter. Jake would have grown up getting postcards on his birthday and maybe seeing his father once a year. He would have grown up, believing that his father didn’t love him and I wasn’t about to put any child through that.”
She paused and he stared at her, anger beginning to boil over. “What was option two?” he forced through gritted teeth.
“Option two?” she asked with a mild sneer. “That’s my personal favorite. Option two would have been far worse for everyone because not only would you have broken Jake’s heart in the end, you would have broken mine too. In scenario number two, you would have stayed with me, with him, out of obligation. You would have been unhappy and I would have been unhappy and Jake didn’t deserve to grow up like that either. Dean, you didn’t love me enough to stay - if you even loved me at all - and I knew that. There was no reason to put an innocent life through hell because of it.”
Just like that, his anger was gone. His blood ran cold at her words, and his breath was battling with his heart for space in his throat. Yeah, he was freaked about the kid thing, but he could deal with that, he could wrap his mind around it; it was a fact that he couldn’t change. But, he was more upset by the fact that she honestly believed he didn’t love her, because that was entirely his fault. And, it wasn’t anywhere near being true.
“You think I didn’t love you?”
Christina now had tears running down her cheeks and Dean couldn’t remember when they’d started. “I have no idea if you loved me. I really don’t. But, I know that it wasn’t enough…that I wasn’t enough. You were never going to tell me about the hunting…not like you told that Cassie girl.”
Now that was the absolute last thing he’d expected. “Cassie?” he asked, confusion clouding his already emotion-overridden mind. “How do you even know about Cassie?”
She gave him a watery smile right before she turned and walked out of the kitchen. He followed, of course, and found her curled up on one end of the plush leather couch, arms wrapped around her legs. He sat down in the armchair that was situated at her end of the couch and just looked at her, waiting for her to continue.
“I’m a psychic, Dean,” she finally said after a few minutes, gaze fixed firmly on the coffee table. “So is Jake…must run in your family…I kind of…got these powers from him.”
She paused to wipe away the few remaining tears. “One night, I don’t know what I was thinking about to bring it on…but I had a vision. Of you and…her…you were telling her, you…what you did, what you were…you…you loved her, Dean. It was so obviously written on your face and I just…”
Oh. That’s the only thing Dean could think, as her voice trailed off: oh. And, he couldn’t even force it past his lips. He just sat there, dumbfounded again, wondering what he could possibly say, where he should even begin. If he’d thought the scene at the bar was a mental overload it was nothing compared to the revelations that had been made in the past half hour. In the end, it was really quite simple, what he should say; he should start with the thing that was obviously hurting her - hurting them - the most.
“Chris,” he started, but before he could finish, he wanted to be closer to her, touching her. So, he pushed himself out of the chair, and knelt down by the end of the couch. He reached up and turned her face so that she was looking at him, then grabbed her right hand in both of his.
“I did love Cassie,” he continued, reaching up to wipe a few new tears from her face. “But, that was nothing…child’s play compared to you, Chris, don’t you get it? Just look at me. Ten years apart and then one glance from you and I fall apart…You’re right, okay? I fucked up…in more ways than one. I…I should have told you, I should have told you everything. But, I…”
His voice broke as a single tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek. He turned away to wipe his face on his sleeve but Christina’s hand got there first. She turned his head back towards her and wiped away the wet track down the side of his face. If he had been a girl - or Sammy - he would have broken down and bawled like a baby at the love, the warmth, he saw in those big, expressive eyes of hers.
“It’s you. The reason I told Cassie? It was you. I’d lost you and I didn’t know the entire reason, but I knew that the ‘big family secret’ was a major factor in it…I was miserable…And, then I found Cassie, the first girl that I felt remotely anything for after losing you, and I was determined to hold onto her. I wasn’t going to lose another chance at some kind of happiness because of some stupid secret. Because, honestly, if the other person loved me - truly loved me - then it shouldn’t matter if I’m a freak or not…But, you know what? She didn’t get it. And, even if she had…she still didn’t hold a candle to you. No one ever has and no one ever will and oh, God, Chris -”
He leaned forward as she leaned down and their lips met in a mind-blowing kiss that, at first, consisted of nothing more than lips touching lips. He brought his hands up to cup either side of her face and bring her just that much closer to him.
She brought her arms around his shoulders and pulled, bringing him up onto the couch. He brought his tongue out and swiped it along her lips, seeking entrance. He felt more than heard her moan just a split second before she opened her lips and their tongues were sliding alongside each other, for the first time in ages. He rolled them, as much as he could on the slim cushions, so that they were side by side, his back to the back of the couch, and pulled her even closer to make sure she didn’t go tumbling off - well, at least that was one reason.
The kissing got more intense, hands roaming everywhere, and Dean wondered where she’d learned these new tricks with her tongue - then decided he didn’t want to know as her right hand moved south and grabbed hold of his ass. He pulled back in shock, breaking the kiss, because it was completely unlike her to be so forward, and laughed at the predatory look on her face.
She was panting as heavily as he was and he grabbed her ass in turn, ripping a laugh out of her throat that bordered heavily on the edge of hysteria. Not that he blamed her, of course, because he was on the verge of it himself. He’d found out more information in six hours than he would in any normal year, and had gone through so many emotions it was amazing he was still breathing at all. He’d come over bordering on exhaustion and couldn’t be happier, have more energy, at the moment - having Christina in his arms, and laughing nonetheless.
She suddenly stopped laughing and he met her smoldering gaze. Her eyes had gone completely lust blown, dark brown a barely distinguishable line around massive black pupils and he knew that his own must mirror it, exchanging dark brown for green. Keeping his eyes open, he leaned forward to place a chaste, almost-questioning kiss on her lips.
Christina closed her eyes and whispered, “Bed. Holy Hell, now.”
Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He gracefully rolled them over and picked her up in his arms like a baby to carry her down the hall. They made it to the bedroom with minimal direction from her, running into the wall every few steps since they refused to stop kissing for more than a glance at where they were going.
He laid her down on the Queen-sized bed and noticed that somewhere along the way she’d gotten off her sweater and his red over-shirt. He wasted no time in lying down beside her and resuming the intense kisses, tongues dueling, both of their hands roaming again, familiarizing and memorizing again. He let one hand get in between them and wander down, past the waistband of her sweatpants and into her underwear. She tore her lips away from his and arched up, moaning so deep in her chest that Dean could feel it vibrate against his.
He easily found the entrance he was seeking, already wet and waiting, and shoved one finger in, letting his thumb rub over her clit at the same. Her response was a loud groan - he really hoped she didn’t have elderly neighbors - and to attach her mouth to his neck, which he gladly arched to give her better access. He reached his hand, the one that wasn’t otherwise engaged, up to cup the back of her head, letting out a breathy moan each time her mouth found another spot.
He was concentrating so hard on the sensations on his neck and his hand, three fingers of which were now engaged, that he was completely surprised when a small hand encircled his throbbing cock. He had a split second to wonder when she had managed to get his jeans undone before she gave a slight pull and all thoughts ceased to repetition of “God,” “Chris,” “Fuck,” and “More.”
He hadn’t realized that he’d said anything out loud until he heard Christina laugh. He opened his eyes, not knowing they were even shut, and looked down at her smiling, flushed face. He smiled back at her - not the smirk that he usually gave girls, but an honest-to-God smile - and leaned down to kiss her again.
He pulled away and pulled his hand out of her pants, causing her to whimper at the loss. He gave her a wink and mischievous smile before he stood up to pull off his shirt, quickly followed by boxers and pants in one fell swoop. She sat up and started to pull off her tank top before he stopped her.
“Let me,” he whispered, crawling back on the bed, laughing when a resultant shudder ran through her body. Eyes widening in what could only be described as lust, she smiled at him again and laid back, letting him do whatever it was he wanted - and he suddenly remembered how much trust she’d had in him before. Somehow, a new inkling of guilt made its presence known amidst all the other, more pressing feelings - she’d trusted him with everything and he took advantage of it.
Heart beating faster, he leaned over and pulled her tank top up, kissing the exposed flesh as he went, hoping the apology would be accepted. Flinging the pink material aside, he bent down again, pulling down the black sweatpants in the same fashion, kissing every inch of skin he came across along the way. He also began to commit the smell and taste of her to memory, just in case he never truly had this again, for whatever reason.
Pants thrown across the room, he sat back on his haunches, dick hard as iron heading for his stomach, and admired the view. Her body was almost exactly as he’d remembered it, although there were several scars that he was determined to explore and find out the origin of - and, y’know, the taste of. But, right then, he needed to get inside her. And fast.
She winked up at him and crawled over to the bedside table, opening a drawer and coming back with a condom and a bottle of lube. He raised an eyebrow at her and chuckled. Leave it to Chris to be prepared.
“You gonna finish this, baby?” she whispered sweetly, challengingly, in his ear.
“Oh, you know I am, darlin’,” he whispered back, cockiness blending with affection. He pushed her back down, pulling her underwear down and off - which she helped with. And when did she learn to bend her legs like that? Damn.
He broke contact only once more to sit up and pull the sports bra off, completely exposing everything she had to offer. He was mildly surprised to feel the condom being rolled onto his dick, considering he hadn’t even heard the packet being ripped open. Next came the lube - and did she really have to add those few extra strokes, teasing him to premature orgasm?
He crashed his lips onto hers as he unceremoniously forced his cock into her, balls deep pretty much immediately. He felt her face contort in a grimace at the intrusion and stayed still for her to adjust, not moving until she rolled her hips against his as a clear-cut sign for him to move.
The lovemaking - Dean refused to call it just sex with her - was fast, needy. Far too soon, Dean came, one arm wrapped around Christina’s waist helping her ride him, the other pulling her face down to his, breaths mingling. Chris came seconds later, one hand massaging her clit, the other gripping Dean’s shoulder. He arched up, and swallowed the moans and whimpers pouring out of her mouth with his own.
Having ridden out both of their orgasms, Christina collapsed half on top of, half to the side of Dean, staying in that position for a minute before rolling off, sweat making a weird, squelching noise as their skin pulled apart. He just lay there, panting, and waited for his vision to come back. He’d known good sex before, but good sex with all those elated feelings involved?
“Damn,” he said after a few minutes.
She laughed, still breathing heavily. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
He joined in her laughter and leaned over to kiss her again quickly. She pushed him off her and got up, padding naked out into the hall. She came back with her underwear and his over shirt on, buttoning up the last button as she crawled back in bed.
“You might want to take that off, Mister,” she said, looking down pointedly and making a disgusted face. “It’s kind of icky.”
He laughed and pushed himself up to walk into the adjoining master bathroom. He pulled the condom off, tied the end of it and flushed it down the toilet. He wiped his now-flaccid dick off with toilet paper and it followed the wasted condom down to all the dead goldfish in the city. On his way back to Chris, he extracted his boxers from his jeans and pulled them on before climbing into bed again.
Christina was already asleep, snoring very softly, and Dean felt his heart clench again for the 90th time that night. He sighed and lay down beside her, reaching out to run his fingers down the side of her face, a face that only an hour ago had been covered in old tear tracks and fresh tears. She looked so peaceful in slumber, and he found himself amazed at how he’d managed to get her, just as he was all those years ago. She was a Hellenistic beauty, and he knew she could have anyone, anything. But, she’d wanted him.
While he knew that one act of sex didn’t automatically make things right, he couldn’t help but picture all the plans that he’d made in his head. Of course, back when he’d first conjured them, they were about the ages they were now. He’d imagined them having a family, a real family. He’d imagined himself having a home base - a white picket fence, a dog, three kids, and a beautiful wife - to come back to after hunts. After he’d lost Chris, all desire for that faded and the idea of a suburban lifestyle made him physically sick. He’d meant it when he’d told Sam on a hunt that he’d commit suicide if he had to live like that - but that was only if Chris wasn’t the one asking about his day.
He’d have done anything for her, once upon a time. And, he was finding out that it was still true. No amount of time or space could erase what he’d felt or, apparently, even lessen it. He still loved her, he knew. Maybe more than before.
Christina sighed in her sleep and scooted closer, seeking out his warmth. He smiled at her, even if she couldn’t know, and pulled her into his arms. She made a contented sound in the back of her throat and cuddled in, wrapping her arms around his stomach, placing her head right above his heart and tangling their legs together. He couldn’t help but sigh too as he lovingly kissed the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, Chris,” he whispered to her, words bouncing throughout the empty room. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to make this right…for you and Jake.”
As he drifted to sleep, committing his promise to heart, he faintly heard a whispered, “I love you.”
Part Three
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As usual, feedback is always appreciated! Especially with this one, lol! :)