The Distance Between Two Hearts; Part Three
Previous chapters here.
Chapter Five
Christina was instantly alert as soon as her eyes opened, and she only vaguely took note of her racing heart as she tried to remember what it was that had awoken her. She’d been dreaming about…something…and then…then she was staring at the interior of her bedroom, wrapped up with Dean.
She extracted herself from the warm cocoon that Dean provided, careful not to wake him, and got out of bed. She padded over to the window, though not entirely sure why, and laughed, quietly, as she found her sweatpants lying just underneath - damn, the guy had a good arm in the moment of passion. She pulled them on, happy that Dean wasn’t awake to make fun of her, and looked out the window.
Her heart, which had barely started to slow down, stopped cold. So, that’s what had woken her up; that’s what she’d been “dreaming” about.
There was a dog standing across the street from the apartment building, at the edge of the little park there. Well, at least it looked like a dog - unless you knew about the things that went bump in the night. The animal was far bigger than any normal dog should be, and had more wolf-like qualities than not. And she’d never seen a dog with eyes that glowed like that.
And it was staring at her.
Her breath left her in a rush at the same time her heart started beating again, blood rushing in her ears, and she had to grab onto the windowsill to keep from crashing to the floor. “Dean,” she whispered, not nearly loud enough.
She turned around and made her way back to the bed, stumbling in her light-headed terror.
“Dean,” she whispered again, a little louder this time, naïvely afraid that the creature outside could somehow hear what was going on in the bedroom - which, actually, wasn’t entirely unreasonable. “Dean, wake up.”
She shook him slightly, and he came to quickly, a hunter’s reflex. He immediately fixed his eyes on her, and she was comforted a little by the immediate concern shining in those green depths.
“What is it, Chris?” he asked, in a voice barely louder than hers, obviously picking him up on whatever emotion she was projecting, and grabbed hold of her hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Just…come here.” She took a shaky step back, pulling on his right arm. She felt an overwhelming sense of urgency to get him over to the window; afraid that the beast outside knew exactly what she was doing and would be gone in the few seconds it took to cover the ten feet.
“Okay. Alright, Chris, just calm down, okay?”
She pulled harder on his wrist, not caring to look back and make sure he didn’t trip himself. But, it was all in vain because when they once again reached the window, all she saw was the back end of the animal disappearing into the woods on the other side of the park.
“Shit,” she said quietly, feeling like she was screaming into the quiet stillness of the room, and dropped Dean’s wrist. “Shit.”
“It’s okay,” she heard the deep voice say behind her seconds before she felt his heat get closer. He leaned down and kissed the strip of her neck that was peeking out of the top of his shirt. “What did you see?”
“Don’t placate me, Dean, there was something there. I saw it,” she forced out through a throat still tight with fear. She needed him to understand; she wanted to make sure he didn’t think she was crazy or that this was another vision - even though he’d given no indication that he didn’t believe her. She’d just spent far too much time trying to justify herself in the hunting community, society in general, both as a female and a psychic.
“Hey,” Dean whispered, voice gone soft. He reached up and turned her around to face him, cupping her face in both of his hands. “I believe you. What did you see?”
She sighed and reached up to place her hands on top of his, finding comfort in the familiar strength of those fingers. “It was the wolf,” she told him, matter-of-factly. “It was the one, I know it. He…it…whatever…was looking up, at this apartment…at me.”
Dean just nodded at her and pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding on. Christina buried her face in the warm flesh of his chest and tried to stop the tremors that were running through her entire body. It was bad enough that she had to deal with a werewolf that seemed to be ignoring all the standard rules that came with being a werewolf. But, now it seemed like it was targeting her - or maybe Jake. The attack on Jake’s outing and the beast watching her apartment couldn’t be two totally unrelated events. That didn’t happen, not in this town and most certainly not to a hunter.
The situation had gone from bad to worse, and she knew that she couldn’t handle it by herself anymore. Something big was going down and she needed help. Luckily, she’d found it. Or it had found her, more like. Who better to help fight something supernatural than the legendary Winchesters themselves? Now, if they could only figure out what the hell was going on, they’d be set.
“You’re thinking too loud. I can hear the wheels turning - and, to be honest, they sound a little rusty.”
She snorted and pulled back enough to smack him in the stomach, fear ebbing away slowly, very slowly. “Oh, shut up, you. I’d be amazed if you could even get the wheels to turn. How long’s it been since you thought of anything? Other than sex, that is.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining about that sex thing a couple hours ago.”
She looked up and smiled, matching the one he was flashing down at her. It was a nice moment, bantering with Dean again. That had been one of her favorite things about their relationship: that they could just hang out and be themselves, be friends as well as lovers.
However, she couldn’t resist the perfect retort. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while. If Sam had shown instead of you, I’d have jumped him and I’d be in a much different situation.”
“Sure,” he scoffed amidst his laughter. “You’d have been much less satisfied.”
“Oh, so you think. I happen to know that Sam is excellent in bed.” She winked at him and padded back over to the bed, laying down and closing her eyes before he had much time to react, still willing the terror to go away.
She wasn’t surprised, 30 seconds later, to feel the bed dip next to her and a hot breath ghosting over her right ear.
“And, how might you know that?” Dean whispered, trying for seductive but sounding more pissed and bewildered than anything - which she had to laugh at.
“I have my ways, Deano. A lady never tells her secrets,” she explained coyly.
Dean laughed and settled himself next to her on the bed. Christina opened her eyes, and turned onto her side to face him. She was a little taken aback to find that she suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore, not with Dean right in front of her, willing to protect her. But, she wasn’t surprised at the way he was looking at her, not this time - like he used to, like she was something precious. She found her pulse racing again, the way it had when he asked her out, kissed her for the very first time. So much had changed about him, about them both, in ten years. And, while it was all familiar, it was so new at the same time.
It was hard to wrap her head around, but one thing, at least, was clear: he was there.
“Hey,” she whispered, so soft it barely crossed the space between them. She hoped that he’d remember the ritual - right before they’d fall asleep, or part for the night, or even when they first saw each other. It was their little way of saying so much, without outsiders listening in.
“Hey,” he whispered back, sleepy smile gracing his features.
She shifted closer to him, and placed a small kiss on his lips. “Did I tell you what his name is?”
His forehead wrinkled in confusion for a minute before he figured out exactly who she was talking about. “His name’s Jake,” he said, in an obvious tone.
“Well, yeah, but that’s not all of it,” she laughed. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her expectantly. So, she continued, “Jacob John West.”
He looked at her for a moment, confusion creeping into his eyes again. Then, it dawned on him and his eyes widened. “John?” he breathed.
She smiled and nodded. “Jacob for my father, John for yours. I figured you’d want something sentimental like that…”
Whatever she was expecting at the revelation, it wasn’t for him to suddenly lean across the divide and kiss her breathless before she’d even finished talking. But, that’s what he did.
Dean shifted his body so that he was flush against Chris, arms wrapped around her middle, and pressed his lips, still warm from sleep, against hers. She gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in. She moved her own against it, slowly, tasting him. She’d decided long ago that she’d never get tired of kissing him and, apparently, her conscience hadn’t forgotten it.
When he pulled away five minutes later, breathing as heavily as she was, he leaned his forehead against hers. Their eyes locked and their breath mingled, both saying so much with nothing at all. God, she’d missed him, so much more than she originally thought.
She didn’t realize that she’d actually spoken the thought until Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I know how you feel,” he said quietly.
She could feel heat spread to her cheeks, and knew that he could see her blushing even in the darkness. He didn’t laugh, just leaned down to kiss her again, almost chastely. Then, he gave something of a gasp and hopped off the bed, disappearing down the hall.
Christina sat up, and watched, wondered what he was doing…wondered if he was trying to leave. Her fears were squashed when, not 45 seconds later, Dean returned, carrying something in his hands. She continued to watch as he walked around and climbed back onto the bed, facing her.
“I, uh…I know this makes me look like a total girl, but I just…I found this - after you left. And, I…I kept it, though I’m not really sure why…Here.”
He held out his hand and her heart got lodged in her throat when she saw what it was. “Winnie,” she breathed, and reached out to take the stuffed bear.
Winnie was a bear that Dean had won for her at a silly carnival at the target booth, which, of course, he was good at. It was adorable, black with a bright pink nose and a bowtie to match. She’d named it ‘Winnie’ after him, his last name - and he’d whined that she was making him seem so not-macho. But, she knew that he secretly loved it, though she never called him on it.
And, he’d kept it. For ten years. Even when he thought they’d never see each other again, he’d kept it, kept a piece of them.
“I…I thought I’d lost it,” she said, clearing her throat to be heard through the emotion. “When we got to Kentucky, it wasn’t with me, wasn’t in any of the boxes. I was so upset…I think I cried for two days.”
She laughed and wiped away the tear that had escaped. “Sorry about all the crying…it’s not how I usually am, I swear.”
“I know.”
Chris looked up from the bear to find Dean with that look on his face again. “Why did you…I mean…why didn’t you just toss it? Cut your losses? If you thought that I’d left because of you, why keep a reminder of that?”
“God, why did I start this? I hate chick-flick moments,” he huffed, slightly annoyed. Then he smiled, traces of sadness still evident in his eyes. “I guess because it was yours. When I found it, it still smelled…”
He trailed off for a second and then stated, rather indignantly, “Hey! You kept Jake!”
She started giggling at that. When she stopped a couple minutes later, he was looking at her with a bemused expression. “Well, Dean,” she said, once she’d gotten control of herself again. “It’s not like I could just throw him in a garbage can, now is it?”
He shrugged. “Other people have.”
“Other people who aren’t good people like me.”
“You’re good people?”
“Hey!” She reached over and smacked him, with the arm that wasn’t clutching Winnie to her chest.
After a few more minutes of companionable silence, Christina yawned. Dean chuckled at that. “Tired?”
“Mmhmm.”
He reached underneath them and pulled the covers farther down, so they could get back into their warmth. She immediately moved into him, even as his arms were sliding around her again. There was something she’d wanted to say, more they needed to talk about. But, she decided it could wait as she began to drift asleep again, the wolf the farthest thing from her mind. She fell asleep to Dean’s heartbeat, a soothing rhythm against her ear, and Winnie sandwiched between them.
* * *
Dean woke up the next day to late morning sun sneaking through the half-closed blinds. At first, in his sleepy state, he wasn’t quite sure where he was and he geared himself up to let the poor girl down easy. He really needed to learn to keep things short and sweet at the bar or in the Impala. And, when was the last time - current situation excluded - he’d hooked up with anyone?
Of course, it all came flooding back, as he looked down and saw Winnie lying next to him. Christina. He was in her apartment, her bed - which was cold. Why was it cold? Where was she? Oh no. She hadn’t left him to get all of his stuff and head out, did she? No, no way. If she’d wanted him out, Christina would have thrown him out and -
His fears came to a complete stop when he heard a laugh come from a point in the room that he hadn’t yet dared a glance at. He let his eyes focus on the doorway and felt his heart start back up again with a jolt.
“Morning,” Christina said, with a smile on her face and a mug in either hand with steam rising off the top. She looked much more rested than she had the night before and it made her look much younger and so much more beautiful. She was dressed in a plain blue T-shirt and blue jeans, completely barefoot; her hair was flowing down her back in subtle, elegant curls. And, even though she had no make-up on, Dean thought she’d never looked better.
She looked happy.
But, how had she, obviously, showered and run the hairdryer and everything without waking him up?
“I have a kid, Dean. I’ve learned how to get ready without waking anyone.”
He looked up, startled. “How did you -”
Right, she was a psychic. That was something he would have to get used to. If it worked out, that is. Which it would, it had to.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, blushing and looking down at her feet. “It’s hard to keep control over it sometimes…Most of the time I can block everything out and focus and not hear a thing, but sometimes I get distracted and things intervene…and you know I’ve never had a good filter between my brain and my mouth, so…Sorry.”
Dean let out a short laugh. “Hey, it’s okay - just a little weird having my thoughts answered instead of my actual words.”
He motioned for her to come to him and she happily obliged, making sure to be careful with the cups in her hand. She handed one to him and then crawled up on the other side of the bed, sitting Indian-style.
He took a sip of the just-hot-enough coffee, watching her while the smell of her hot chocolate (she never was a coffee drinker) wafted over to him. He smiled when he realized that his cup had milk added to it; he’d never admitted to her that he liked it any way but black but, like so many other things, she’d just known - even before the psychic shtick came along.
Now, though, she looked uncomfortable, staring at the cup in her hand, worrying her bottom lip until blood began to rise to the surface. He began to wonder if his initial freak out hadn’t been correct; that now he was going to get the boot, even after everything that had been said last night. Maybe he should just get it over with for her.
“So,” he began, watching her for signs of what she was thinking. “I guess I should be going.”
Her head shot up, eyes wide with what was most certainly fear. “W-what? W-why??” she stuttered.
Keep up the ruse, Dean. Don’t break down and pull her to you. You knew this was going to hard, awkward, kid or no kid.
“Well, Sammy’s going to be wondering where I am -”
“He’s on his way over here…werewolf stuff.”
“Oh.” He had nothing else to say. He set his coffee cup on the bedside table and pushed himself off the bed with a slight grunt. His clothes had been folded neatly and set on top of the dresser tucked away in the corner of the room. He pulled on his jeans and black T-shirt. He was just about to pull on the red button-up when Christina spoke.
“Dean,” she whispered, almost hesitantly. “What is this?”
He turned around, shirt hanging from his hands, to find her on the edge of the bed, sitting back on her haunches with her hands folded in her lap, almost as if in prayer. Dark brown eyes were focused intently on him, and he was surprised that they were tear-free.
“What is what?”
She gestured all around the room and to the both of them. “This.”
He dropped his shirt back onto the dresser and made his way back to the bed, so that he was standing directly in front of her. He reached out and traced his fingers along her jaw, stopping just before her lips and titling her chin up.
“This,” he said huskily, “is whatever you want it to be, Christina.”
He tried not to let his feelings show in his eyes. Where they went from here wasn’t his decision to make. He knew that she was the one who stood to get hurt the most. It wasn’t like he would disappear completely if she didn’t choose to try them again; he had a son for Christ’s sake and he’d already missed out on nine years of the kid’s life. He didn’t want to miss any more.
But, Christina had been right the first time. Obligation to Jake didn’t mean that they had an obligation to each other or that they should stay together for him. All the same, he didn’t want to lose her again; he really didn’t. He wasn’t sure what she wanted though, and that’s what mattered. Sure, sex was great but it didn’t solve anything. She’d left once before, at a time when things were probably a lot simpler. There was nothing to stop her from doing it again.
“I want,” she said after a few moments, letting her eyes wander back to him and grabbing both of his hands in her little ones. “I want this to be -”
Suddenly there was a loud knock on the front door, followed by Sam’s voice yelling, “Chris? Dean?”
Damn impatient little brother.
Christina let out a laugh that was equal parts relief and annoyance, dropped his hands and climbed off the bed to answer the front door. Right when she got to the bedroom door, though, she turned back and reached up to kiss him on the cheek, before hurrying out.
Dean sighed heavily and began searching for his socks. Chris had put his boots by the dresser, but the socks were missing. Maybe she couldn’t find them either. He looked everywhere - including the bathroom, though he didn’t really know why. After he’d resorted to looking underneath the dressers and resisted the urge to go snooping through her underwear drawer, an idea dawned on him.
He let out a victorious “Aha!” when he found them tucked down into his boots.
He walked out to join the other two. He found them in the kitchen. Sam was leaning against the counter while Christina busied about the kitchen making breakfast. Or lunch rather; a quick glance at the clock told him that it was 11:07.
“So…wait a second…You’re telling me that you made a vampire cut his own head off?” Sam was saying through a fit of laughter.
Christina was laughing just as hard. “Yes!” she was insisting. “It was just after I’d realized that I had telekinesis or freak-persuasion or whatever. I didn’t have control over it yet and this guy was pissing me off like no other. During his little speech about how he was going to enjoy ‘draining me for days,’ I had this picture in my head of him reaching for my machete and cutting his head off - and he did. I swear it was the best thing ever.”
“Sounds like it.”
They both turned at the sound of his voice, their laughter fading into mirthful chuckling.
“Hey, man,” Sam said by way of greeting. His cheeks were flushed, teeth shining, and he was looking at Dean with a peculiar glint in his eye. Dean knew that look; it was the one Sam got every time he won some sort of bet or contest or prank war. He was already dreading the meaningful looks he was going to be getting from his brother until they had a chance to talk about what had happened with Chris.
“I was going to fix sandwiches for lunch. Is that all right with you?” Christina was smiling at him in a way that no one had looked at him for ten years, causing any semi-intelligent response to fly out the window. He inwardly groaned; she was turning him into such a sap!
After stupidly opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally just nodded.
Which made Sam laugh.
Which, of course, led to Sam getting smacked upside the head.
It wasn’t until they’d finished their sandwiches - which were amazing, according to Dean - and gotten through a bunch of “small talk” that they got to the point: the attacks.
“So, these attacks have been going on for the past six months, right? Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Sam asked Christina.
“Seven months. And, no, I haven’t. They’ve all been during the full moon, of course, but there’s so much other weird stuff going on around here that I forget about it until another one happens,” she replied in an annoyed tone.
Apparently, she thought Sam was belittling her - and, yes, Dean did congratulate himself on remembering that word - but Mr. Sympathetic would never do that. And, that made Dean chuckle ever so slightly.
“But, last night wasn’t even a full moon. Have you ever come across something like this before?” Now Sam was trying to placate her, make her feel like the superior. It really wasn’t smart to anger a telekinetic - Dean knew that from experience.
“Well, I did a little research last night. There’s a theory - just a theory, mind you - by a professor friend in Utah that says a werewolf could change at will. It’d have to be a male and he’d have to be, basically, the top dog. It can only be achieved, though, through some serious magic-induced power. And once it’s done? All bets are off. If this thing can change at will…then the whole town’s in danger. I mean, even more than they are now. They’d be in danger every night, not just three out of the month. And maybe even during the day.”
Dean was watching the whole exchange with mild interest. It wasn’t like Sam wouldn’t just drill the facts into him a million times before the hunt was over anyway. But there was something nagging at the edges of his consciousness, a worry that he needed to vocalize but couldn’t find the words for.
His chair, which he’d been balancing on the back two legs, came down with a loud clunk as it came to him. “What does he want?”
Okay, not the most elegant way to say that.
Sam turned to him in confusion while Christina stared down at the table, obviously understanding.
“What are you talking about Dean? What does who want? The wolf? They only ever want one thing - blood,” Sam stated matter-of-factly.
Dean completely ignored him, focusing all his attention on the brown-haired girl currently squirming in her seat. “Chris? What does he want? Why would he want that kind of power?”
Still resolutely not looking at either one of them, she began to ramble. “Well, he’s already started somehow, hasn’t he? Because last night…anyway, according to this professor, the only real reason a wolf would want this kind of power is to create a sort network of werewolves that he’d be the head of. In order to achieve it, he needs to get a child…turn a child. And this all has to be done the first night of the full moon.”
“That’s why he attacked those boy scouts,” Sam said, voice laced with no small amount of horror.
At that, Christina looked up at them. She had a determined look on her face, only made more effective by the tears shining in her eyes. “Yes,” she confirmed, rather fiercely. “And, I don’t know about you two, but I am not letting a kid die - or worse - on my watch. Not when I’m the mother of a possible target.”
“We’re not letting that happen either,” Dean said softly, bringing her attention to him, hoping their mutual fear about Jake showed in his eyes. She gave him a tiny smile, which he returned, as something almost physically passed through the space between them. He knew she was saying thank you.
Dean just nodded at her as his smile grew bigger. He was about to say something incredibly mushy - that he’d totally deny later - when Sam nervously cleared this throat.
“I’ll, uh…clear the dishes,” he choked, before making a hasty retreat to the kitchen with their plates.
Christina laughed and got up to follow. Dean was just about to follow, too, when there was a knock on the front door. He frowned as Chris called from the kitchen for him to answer it. A) He didn’t feel right answering a door that wasn’t his, and B) he didn’t trust anyone in the town, not in light of what was happening.
So, needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled when he opened the door and found himself face-to-smiling-face with the yahoo from the bar. What was his name? Bobby? Bryan? George? Well, whatever it was, he wanted Christina and that just wasn’t a possibility anymore, because Dean was back to protect his son and his…well…her from guys like this.
The man’s smile slowly faded at the sight of Dean and he coldly asked, “Will you tell Chris that I’d like to speak to her?”
He almost said “No need to get snippy.” But, that definitely wasn’t a Dean Winchester thing to say. And, he didn’t want to get this guy’s blood on the cream-colored carpet during the resultant fight. So, he shrugged and stepped back a little to give the guy room to step in. He was, more than a little, confused when he stayed out in the hallway.
But, he just shrugged again and called for Chris to come into the entranceway. No way was he letting this guy out of his sight. He could be the werewolf for Christ’s sake! Well, then there was the fact that he wasn’t laying a hand on Chris again. Ever. Again.
Ah, Billy! Dean mentally snapped his fingers and patted himself on the back.
Christina came out of the kitchen, Sam close behind - obviously he didn’t trust anyone either.
“Oh, hi Billy!” she said cheerily enough, smiling and opening her arms for a hug; Dean, though, caught the edge of trepidation in her voice. Billy gladly obliged to the hug, leaning down to envelope her.
Dean still figured he could kick the guy’s ass, especially with the jealousy beginning to boil in his veins.
“What brings you here?” Christina asked as they separated. She looked a little tense and he couldn’t figure out why. But, it was obvious - to Dean anyway - that something was amiss. He could tell that Sammy noticed it too.
Billy glanced at the two Winchesters warily. Obviously whatever he wanted to talk about he didn’t want said in front of them - which, really, was just too damn bad. Dean coughed, loudly, while Sam shifted, rolling his shoulders back like he was getting more comfortable in his bodyguard role.
“Oh, don’t worry about them. This is Sam and Dean Winchester,” she explained motioning to each of them. “Old, old friends of mine. You can say whatever it is in front of them, I’m sure.”
Dean faintly heard Billy grumble “yeah fucking right” under his breath but was stopped from throwing the guy down the stairs by Christina’s sudden intrusion into his head.
Dean, kitchen, go. I can handle him on my own and, hopefully, you can still hear what he’s saying.
Shocked at the telepathy, he shifted his gaze from Billy to Chris. She was staring at him with a mixture of fear and stubbornness. It was only the hulking figure within striking distance of her that kept him from kissing her senseless, just because he could. It would teach Billy boy to stay away, in any case.
He narrowed his eyes at her in what he hoped was a very threatening gesture before heading into the kitchen, motioning for Sam to follow. They stopped just within the doorjamb, in order to hear everything.
But, only snippets drifted towards them, more of Christina’s words than anything.
“Who are they?”
“I told you, old friends. What does it matter?”
“…don’t trust them.”
“Well, you don’t have to trust them. They’re of no concern to you.” Christina was getting pissed and Dean mentally cheered her on.
“They are if…mixed…with you.”
Then their words dropped off entirely even though Dean strained all that much harder to hear them. At least he could comfort himself that there were no kissing sounds or anything - no loud ones anyway.
“I’ll see you later then, Chris?” Billy was saying when the conversation drifted back to a human-hearing level.
“Yeah, later.” Christina’s voice sounded dull, like either she was very bored or barely controlling her anger. Dean figured it was most likely the latter.
The front door closed and the brothers stepped back out into the living room just as Christina’s cell phone rang. She smiled haggardly at them and walked over to pull the phone out of her discarded denim jacket from the night before.
“Hello?” she spoke into the phone, wearily, like she’d been awake for nine days straight. She nodded at whoever was on the other end of the phone as she reached for jacket, fishing in its pockets for something.
“Aright, Dad. I’ll be there soon.” She flipped the phone shut at the same time she found her keys in one of the jacket packets.
“That was Dad. Gotta pick up Jake ‘cause they’ve got something to do,” she explained. “You two wanna come with?”
She was looking at Dean more than Sam, directing the question solely to him. He read the real meaning - “Do you want to start being a father?” Okay, so maybe Chris wouldn’t put it that harshly, and she most certainly didn’t mean it like that - but he still got the message.
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging with a smile. “Let’s roll.”
She returned the smile, and he almost tripped, mesmerized by the sight again. Seriously, after this whole thing was figured out, he was going to have to crush a beer can on his head or something equally as manly. Sam was supposed to be the girl, after all.
Dean led the way, Sam behind him and Christina locking up the apartment. They were, apparently taking her car - much to Dean’s chagrin, but hey, his baby deserved a rest, right? Right.
The three of them piled into the black Ford Escape and headed off to pick up his son. God, his son…
* * *
“You know you’re going back there tonight, right Jake?” Christina asked, sitting down on his bed as he involved himself in his video games. “Back to Mamaw’s?”
“Yeah, I know,” he said distractedly.
She waited for him to say more before she rejoined Sam and Dean in the living room, where they were going back over the research they’d managed to gather before they met up with her. When, after a few minutes filled with nothing but simulated car crashes, Jake still didn’t say anything, she pushed herself off the bed. She made it to the door before he spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
She turned back to find Jake staring up at her, green eyes piercing right into her soul as they usually did when he wanted to talk. She was so shocked that he would ask, after all this time, that she didn’t know what to say, not at first. He’d never once questioned her about his father. Of course, she always figured it was because he’d known already. But, apparently there were some things that even psychics couldn’t see.
Clearing her throat, she turned and closed his bedroom door before sitting on the floor next to him. Jake’s eyes never left her, paused video game forgotten. “Jake -”
He cut her off, “I know you think he wouldn’t want me. But, he loved you, Mom, he did. Why didn’t you try?”
She was speechless again, whatever she’d decided to say spilling out of her mind; she wondered, not for the first time, just how her son had gotten so wise about the world. Sometimes, it seemed like he knew, or understood, things that even she couldn’t get a grasp on. Now, here he sat, telling her about something that happened before he was even born. It was amazing: the intuition and power stored in Jake’s little body, his mind. It scared her, to tell the truth. He could be such a weapon once he learned to control his powers. And, if he was that smart already? The world needed to watch out.
But, for the moment, Chris just tried to deal with the smaller scope of things. Jake was asking her something that she didn’t have an honest answer for. She’d asked herself every night for ten years why she chickened out of telling Dean she was pregnant. She could tell everyone that it was for the reasons she’d given Dean. But, she had never really been able to convince herself that it was true. Maybe she was just scared. Well, of course she was scared; she’d been 18 years old and pregnant by a man who disappeared for days at a time. But, maybe part of her was afraid that she could have it all, that Dean would stay and they’d be happy. Except for going back in time, she’d never really know.
And, that’s exactly what she tried to tell Jake. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Jake…It wasn’t that I thought he wouldn’t want you…he’s not that kind of guy…but, Dean…your dad, he wasn’t honest with me back then. He was hiding things and I didn’t know -”
“He was protecting you.”
She shifted her gaze from the carpet back up to his eyes. He looked so certain that she could only nod. “I…I know, sweetheart. But, he didn’t need to.”
“He didn’t know that, Mom!” Jake threw down his controller and stood up, starting to pace. Christina jumped at the outburst; her son wasn’t one for having a temper.
“Jake, honey, calm down.”
“No, Mom!” Jake yelled, and she knew that the Winchesters could hear him. “You should have told him! We should have been a family! Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you try harder? Why didn’t you give him a chance?”
Jake suddenly had tears streaming down his young face. Chris just sat there, wide-eyed, and watched him come apart at the seams. She had no idea…ten years and she had no idea that he had ever felt like that, like she’d taken something away from him. He’d always trusted her judgment, always. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one Dean’s sudden appearance was breaking. The elder Winchester always did have a way of forcing his way into people’s thoughts - but this time the thoughts he was causing were devastating and too real to handle.
After a few minutes of stony silence, Jake started talking again, softer, voice barely heard over the heartbeat pounding in her ears. “Mommy…we could have been a family. A real one.”
“C’mere,” she said, motioning for him to sit in her lap. He settled himself against her, and she held him, like she hadn’t for years. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’m sorry you think I took everything away from you. I am. But, I was scared…and I need you understand that, okay, baby? I wanted what was going to be best for you and this was my decision, my choice alone. Maybe it was the wrong one, I don’t know…but it was all I could do at the time. So, blame me, if you want. Yell, scream, I don’t care. But, I didn’t want either of us to get hurt and…I believed that this was our best option…
“Jake…where is all this coming from? Why are you asking me about this?”
“He’s sad,” came the tiny response, muffled into her chest. “Dean’s sad…I can feel it.”
And, just like that, Christina’s heart shattered, all the pieces she’d managed to put back together over the years lost the hold of the superglue and fell onto the floor of her son’s room. She suddenly felt the fresh pain of leaving Dean all over again; the terror she went through after having Jake and knowing that they’d always be alone. Not surprisingly, she felt tears begin to slide down her own face, even as Jake’s wet the front of her shirt.
She didn’t know the door had opened behind her until Dean touched her shoulder and knelt down. She looked up at him and tried to smile, knowing that it came out weak and watery. He smiled back at her, eyes questioning, as he cupped her face in one hand and rubbed Jake’s back in the other. Jake shifted in her arms and looked up at Dean, too, tears still running down.
“Hey, buddy,” Dean said quietly. “What’s all the yelling about?”
Jake didn’t say anything; he just detached himself from Chris to reattach himself to Dean. Dean looked startled at first, looking down at the clinging boy like he didn’t know what to do. Finally, he glanced at Chris, who nodded, and wrapped his arms around their son, clinging just as tightly as the little boy.
Christina smiled, genuinely, and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before she stood up and walked out of the room. She was wiping her eyes as she entered the living room and Sam got off the couch, concerned. He hugged her - well, more like swallowed her up in his huge, gigantic arms - and asked what was wrong.
She mumbled into his chest, “Jake blames me. He blames me for this whole mess. He says Dean’s sad and he doesn’t like it. So, he yelled at me for taking them away from each other.”
After a few minutes, she added, “Sam…is that what Dean thinks? Does he blame me?”
Sam pulled back, a little shocked, and sat them both down on the couch. “Chris,” he said hesitatingly. “While I highly doubt that he’s overjoyed about it, I think he understands. That you did what you thought was best. He’s made a lot of…uh…questionable decisions in his life and he’s not going to judge you, or hold this against you. You were young and scared and you were trying to spare all three of you from the most pain…I don’t think he can hold a grudge against you…you have no idea how happy he is to have you back, knowing about Jake…He just wants to do the right thing now.”
Christina watched Sam’s eyes while he spoke. He looked sincere, and if the person who knew Dean best, believed that they’d be okay, then maybe it was true.
Either way, she had to believe it, for her and Jake. For Dean. For Sam. For all of them, she had to have faith that they’d get through…
That they could bridge the gap between them all.
Part Four
* * * * * * * * * * * *
As usual, feedback is always appreciated! Especially with this one, lol! :)
Chapter Five
Christina was instantly alert as soon as her eyes opened, and she only vaguely took note of her racing heart as she tried to remember what it was that had awoken her. She’d been dreaming about…something…and then…then she was staring at the interior of her bedroom, wrapped up with Dean.
She extracted herself from the warm cocoon that Dean provided, careful not to wake him, and got out of bed. She padded over to the window, though not entirely sure why, and laughed, quietly, as she found her sweatpants lying just underneath - damn, the guy had a good arm in the moment of passion. She pulled them on, happy that Dean wasn’t awake to make fun of her, and looked out the window.
Her heart, which had barely started to slow down, stopped cold. So, that’s what had woken her up; that’s what she’d been “dreaming” about.
There was a dog standing across the street from the apartment building, at the edge of the little park there. Well, at least it looked like a dog - unless you knew about the things that went bump in the night. The animal was far bigger than any normal dog should be, and had more wolf-like qualities than not. And she’d never seen a dog with eyes that glowed like that.
And it was staring at her.
Her breath left her in a rush at the same time her heart started beating again, blood rushing in her ears, and she had to grab onto the windowsill to keep from crashing to the floor. “Dean,” she whispered, not nearly loud enough.
She turned around and made her way back to the bed, stumbling in her light-headed terror.
“Dean,” she whispered again, a little louder this time, naïvely afraid that the creature outside could somehow hear what was going on in the bedroom - which, actually, wasn’t entirely unreasonable. “Dean, wake up.”
She shook him slightly, and he came to quickly, a hunter’s reflex. He immediately fixed his eyes on her, and she was comforted a little by the immediate concern shining in those green depths.
“What is it, Chris?” he asked, in a voice barely louder than hers, obviously picking him up on whatever emotion she was projecting, and grabbed hold of her hands. “What’s wrong?”
“Just…come here.” She took a shaky step back, pulling on his right arm. She felt an overwhelming sense of urgency to get him over to the window; afraid that the beast outside knew exactly what she was doing and would be gone in the few seconds it took to cover the ten feet.
“Okay. Alright, Chris, just calm down, okay?”
She pulled harder on his wrist, not caring to look back and make sure he didn’t trip himself. But, it was all in vain because when they once again reached the window, all she saw was the back end of the animal disappearing into the woods on the other side of the park.
“Shit,” she said quietly, feeling like she was screaming into the quiet stillness of the room, and dropped Dean’s wrist. “Shit.”
“It’s okay,” she heard the deep voice say behind her seconds before she felt his heat get closer. He leaned down and kissed the strip of her neck that was peeking out of the top of his shirt. “What did you see?”
“Don’t placate me, Dean, there was something there. I saw it,” she forced out through a throat still tight with fear. She needed him to understand; she wanted to make sure he didn’t think she was crazy or that this was another vision - even though he’d given no indication that he didn’t believe her. She’d just spent far too much time trying to justify herself in the hunting community, society in general, both as a female and a psychic.
“Hey,” Dean whispered, voice gone soft. He reached up and turned her around to face him, cupping her face in both of his hands. “I believe you. What did you see?”
She sighed and reached up to place her hands on top of his, finding comfort in the familiar strength of those fingers. “It was the wolf,” she told him, matter-of-factly. “It was the one, I know it. He…it…whatever…was looking up, at this apartment…at me.”
Dean just nodded at her and pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding on. Christina buried her face in the warm flesh of his chest and tried to stop the tremors that were running through her entire body. It was bad enough that she had to deal with a werewolf that seemed to be ignoring all the standard rules that came with being a werewolf. But, now it seemed like it was targeting her - or maybe Jake. The attack on Jake’s outing and the beast watching her apartment couldn’t be two totally unrelated events. That didn’t happen, not in this town and most certainly not to a hunter.
The situation had gone from bad to worse, and she knew that she couldn’t handle it by herself anymore. Something big was going down and she needed help. Luckily, she’d found it. Or it had found her, more like. Who better to help fight something supernatural than the legendary Winchesters themselves? Now, if they could only figure out what the hell was going on, they’d be set.
“You’re thinking too loud. I can hear the wheels turning - and, to be honest, they sound a little rusty.”
She snorted and pulled back enough to smack him in the stomach, fear ebbing away slowly, very slowly. “Oh, shut up, you. I’d be amazed if you could even get the wheels to turn. How long’s it been since you thought of anything? Other than sex, that is.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining about that sex thing a couple hours ago.”
She looked up and smiled, matching the one he was flashing down at her. It was a nice moment, bantering with Dean again. That had been one of her favorite things about their relationship: that they could just hang out and be themselves, be friends as well as lovers.
However, she couldn’t resist the perfect retort. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while. If Sam had shown instead of you, I’d have jumped him and I’d be in a much different situation.”
“Sure,” he scoffed amidst his laughter. “You’d have been much less satisfied.”
“Oh, so you think. I happen to know that Sam is excellent in bed.” She winked at him and padded back over to the bed, laying down and closing her eyes before he had much time to react, still willing the terror to go away.
She wasn’t surprised, 30 seconds later, to feel the bed dip next to her and a hot breath ghosting over her right ear.
“And, how might you know that?” Dean whispered, trying for seductive but sounding more pissed and bewildered than anything - which she had to laugh at.
“I have my ways, Deano. A lady never tells her secrets,” she explained coyly.
Dean laughed and settled himself next to her on the bed. Christina opened her eyes, and turned onto her side to face him. She was a little taken aback to find that she suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore, not with Dean right in front of her, willing to protect her. But, she wasn’t surprised at the way he was looking at her, not this time - like he used to, like she was something precious. She found her pulse racing again, the way it had when he asked her out, kissed her for the very first time. So much had changed about him, about them both, in ten years. And, while it was all familiar, it was so new at the same time.
It was hard to wrap her head around, but one thing, at least, was clear: he was there.
“Hey,” she whispered, so soft it barely crossed the space between them. She hoped that he’d remember the ritual - right before they’d fall asleep, or part for the night, or even when they first saw each other. It was their little way of saying so much, without outsiders listening in.
“Hey,” he whispered back, sleepy smile gracing his features.
She shifted closer to him, and placed a small kiss on his lips. “Did I tell you what his name is?”
His forehead wrinkled in confusion for a minute before he figured out exactly who she was talking about. “His name’s Jake,” he said, in an obvious tone.
“Well, yeah, but that’s not all of it,” she laughed. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her expectantly. So, she continued, “Jacob John West.”
He looked at her for a moment, confusion creeping into his eyes again. Then, it dawned on him and his eyes widened. “John?” he breathed.
She smiled and nodded. “Jacob for my father, John for yours. I figured you’d want something sentimental like that…”
Whatever she was expecting at the revelation, it wasn’t for him to suddenly lean across the divide and kiss her breathless before she’d even finished talking. But, that’s what he did.
Dean shifted his body so that he was flush against Chris, arms wrapped around her middle, and pressed his lips, still warm from sleep, against hers. She gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in. She moved her own against it, slowly, tasting him. She’d decided long ago that she’d never get tired of kissing him and, apparently, her conscience hadn’t forgotten it.
When he pulled away five minutes later, breathing as heavily as she was, he leaned his forehead against hers. Their eyes locked and their breath mingled, both saying so much with nothing at all. God, she’d missed him, so much more than she originally thought.
She didn’t realize that she’d actually spoken the thought until Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I know how you feel,” he said quietly.
She could feel heat spread to her cheeks, and knew that he could see her blushing even in the darkness. He didn’t laugh, just leaned down to kiss her again, almost chastely. Then, he gave something of a gasp and hopped off the bed, disappearing down the hall.
Christina sat up, and watched, wondered what he was doing…wondered if he was trying to leave. Her fears were squashed when, not 45 seconds later, Dean returned, carrying something in his hands. She continued to watch as he walked around and climbed back onto the bed, facing her.
“I, uh…I know this makes me look like a total girl, but I just…I found this - after you left. And, I…I kept it, though I’m not really sure why…Here.”
He held out his hand and her heart got lodged in her throat when she saw what it was. “Winnie,” she breathed, and reached out to take the stuffed bear.
Winnie was a bear that Dean had won for her at a silly carnival at the target booth, which, of course, he was good at. It was adorable, black with a bright pink nose and a bowtie to match. She’d named it ‘Winnie’ after him, his last name - and he’d whined that she was making him seem so not-macho. But, she knew that he secretly loved it, though she never called him on it.
And, he’d kept it. For ten years. Even when he thought they’d never see each other again, he’d kept it, kept a piece of them.
“I…I thought I’d lost it,” she said, clearing her throat to be heard through the emotion. “When we got to Kentucky, it wasn’t with me, wasn’t in any of the boxes. I was so upset…I think I cried for two days.”
She laughed and wiped away the tear that had escaped. “Sorry about all the crying…it’s not how I usually am, I swear.”
“I know.”
Chris looked up from the bear to find Dean with that look on his face again. “Why did you…I mean…why didn’t you just toss it? Cut your losses? If you thought that I’d left because of you, why keep a reminder of that?”
“God, why did I start this? I hate chick-flick moments,” he huffed, slightly annoyed. Then he smiled, traces of sadness still evident in his eyes. “I guess because it was yours. When I found it, it still smelled…”
He trailed off for a second and then stated, rather indignantly, “Hey! You kept Jake!”
She started giggling at that. When she stopped a couple minutes later, he was looking at her with a bemused expression. “Well, Dean,” she said, once she’d gotten control of herself again. “It’s not like I could just throw him in a garbage can, now is it?”
He shrugged. “Other people have.”
“Other people who aren’t good people like me.”
“You’re good people?”
“Hey!” She reached over and smacked him, with the arm that wasn’t clutching Winnie to her chest.
After a few more minutes of companionable silence, Christina yawned. Dean chuckled at that. “Tired?”
“Mmhmm.”
He reached underneath them and pulled the covers farther down, so they could get back into their warmth. She immediately moved into him, even as his arms were sliding around her again. There was something she’d wanted to say, more they needed to talk about. But, she decided it could wait as she began to drift asleep again, the wolf the farthest thing from her mind. She fell asleep to Dean’s heartbeat, a soothing rhythm against her ear, and Winnie sandwiched between them.
* * *
Dean woke up the next day to late morning sun sneaking through the half-closed blinds. At first, in his sleepy state, he wasn’t quite sure where he was and he geared himself up to let the poor girl down easy. He really needed to learn to keep things short and sweet at the bar or in the Impala. And, when was the last time - current situation excluded - he’d hooked up with anyone?
Of course, it all came flooding back, as he looked down and saw Winnie lying next to him. Christina. He was in her apartment, her bed - which was cold. Why was it cold? Where was she? Oh no. She hadn’t left him to get all of his stuff and head out, did she? No, no way. If she’d wanted him out, Christina would have thrown him out and -
His fears came to a complete stop when he heard a laugh come from a point in the room that he hadn’t yet dared a glance at. He let his eyes focus on the doorway and felt his heart start back up again with a jolt.
“Morning,” Christina said, with a smile on her face and a mug in either hand with steam rising off the top. She looked much more rested than she had the night before and it made her look much younger and so much more beautiful. She was dressed in a plain blue T-shirt and blue jeans, completely barefoot; her hair was flowing down her back in subtle, elegant curls. And, even though she had no make-up on, Dean thought she’d never looked better.
She looked happy.
But, how had she, obviously, showered and run the hairdryer and everything without waking him up?
“I have a kid, Dean. I’ve learned how to get ready without waking anyone.”
He looked up, startled. “How did you -”
Right, she was a psychic. That was something he would have to get used to. If it worked out, that is. Which it would, it had to.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, blushing and looking down at her feet. “It’s hard to keep control over it sometimes…Most of the time I can block everything out and focus and not hear a thing, but sometimes I get distracted and things intervene…and you know I’ve never had a good filter between my brain and my mouth, so…Sorry.”
Dean let out a short laugh. “Hey, it’s okay - just a little weird having my thoughts answered instead of my actual words.”
He motioned for her to come to him and she happily obliged, making sure to be careful with the cups in her hand. She handed one to him and then crawled up on the other side of the bed, sitting Indian-style.
He took a sip of the just-hot-enough coffee, watching her while the smell of her hot chocolate (she never was a coffee drinker) wafted over to him. He smiled when he realized that his cup had milk added to it; he’d never admitted to her that he liked it any way but black but, like so many other things, she’d just known - even before the psychic shtick came along.
Now, though, she looked uncomfortable, staring at the cup in her hand, worrying her bottom lip until blood began to rise to the surface. He began to wonder if his initial freak out hadn’t been correct; that now he was going to get the boot, even after everything that had been said last night. Maybe he should just get it over with for her.
“So,” he began, watching her for signs of what she was thinking. “I guess I should be going.”
Her head shot up, eyes wide with what was most certainly fear. “W-what? W-why??” she stuttered.
Keep up the ruse, Dean. Don’t break down and pull her to you. You knew this was going to hard, awkward, kid or no kid.
“Well, Sammy’s going to be wondering where I am -”
“He’s on his way over here…werewolf stuff.”
“Oh.” He had nothing else to say. He set his coffee cup on the bedside table and pushed himself off the bed with a slight grunt. His clothes had been folded neatly and set on top of the dresser tucked away in the corner of the room. He pulled on his jeans and black T-shirt. He was just about to pull on the red button-up when Christina spoke.
“Dean,” she whispered, almost hesitantly. “What is this?”
He turned around, shirt hanging from his hands, to find her on the edge of the bed, sitting back on her haunches with her hands folded in her lap, almost as if in prayer. Dark brown eyes were focused intently on him, and he was surprised that they were tear-free.
“What is what?”
She gestured all around the room and to the both of them. “This.”
He dropped his shirt back onto the dresser and made his way back to the bed, so that he was standing directly in front of her. He reached out and traced his fingers along her jaw, stopping just before her lips and titling her chin up.
“This,” he said huskily, “is whatever you want it to be, Christina.”
He tried not to let his feelings show in his eyes. Where they went from here wasn’t his decision to make. He knew that she was the one who stood to get hurt the most. It wasn’t like he would disappear completely if she didn’t choose to try them again; he had a son for Christ’s sake and he’d already missed out on nine years of the kid’s life. He didn’t want to miss any more.
But, Christina had been right the first time. Obligation to Jake didn’t mean that they had an obligation to each other or that they should stay together for him. All the same, he didn’t want to lose her again; he really didn’t. He wasn’t sure what she wanted though, and that’s what mattered. Sure, sex was great but it didn’t solve anything. She’d left once before, at a time when things were probably a lot simpler. There was nothing to stop her from doing it again.
“I want,” she said after a few moments, letting her eyes wander back to him and grabbing both of his hands in her little ones. “I want this to be -”
Suddenly there was a loud knock on the front door, followed by Sam’s voice yelling, “Chris? Dean?”
Damn impatient little brother.
Christina let out a laugh that was equal parts relief and annoyance, dropped his hands and climbed off the bed to answer the front door. Right when she got to the bedroom door, though, she turned back and reached up to kiss him on the cheek, before hurrying out.
Dean sighed heavily and began searching for his socks. Chris had put his boots by the dresser, but the socks were missing. Maybe she couldn’t find them either. He looked everywhere - including the bathroom, though he didn’t really know why. After he’d resorted to looking underneath the dressers and resisted the urge to go snooping through her underwear drawer, an idea dawned on him.
He let out a victorious “Aha!” when he found them tucked down into his boots.
He walked out to join the other two. He found them in the kitchen. Sam was leaning against the counter while Christina busied about the kitchen making breakfast. Or lunch rather; a quick glance at the clock told him that it was 11:07.
“So…wait a second…You’re telling me that you made a vampire cut his own head off?” Sam was saying through a fit of laughter.
Christina was laughing just as hard. “Yes!” she was insisting. “It was just after I’d realized that I had telekinesis or freak-persuasion or whatever. I didn’t have control over it yet and this guy was pissing me off like no other. During his little speech about how he was going to enjoy ‘draining me for days,’ I had this picture in my head of him reaching for my machete and cutting his head off - and he did. I swear it was the best thing ever.”
“Sounds like it.”
They both turned at the sound of his voice, their laughter fading into mirthful chuckling.
“Hey, man,” Sam said by way of greeting. His cheeks were flushed, teeth shining, and he was looking at Dean with a peculiar glint in his eye. Dean knew that look; it was the one Sam got every time he won some sort of bet or contest or prank war. He was already dreading the meaningful looks he was going to be getting from his brother until they had a chance to talk about what had happened with Chris.
“I was going to fix sandwiches for lunch. Is that all right with you?” Christina was smiling at him in a way that no one had looked at him for ten years, causing any semi-intelligent response to fly out the window. He inwardly groaned; she was turning him into such a sap!
After stupidly opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally just nodded.
Which made Sam laugh.
Which, of course, led to Sam getting smacked upside the head.
It wasn’t until they’d finished their sandwiches - which were amazing, according to Dean - and gotten through a bunch of “small talk” that they got to the point: the attacks.
“So, these attacks have been going on for the past six months, right? Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Sam asked Christina.
“Seven months. And, no, I haven’t. They’ve all been during the full moon, of course, but there’s so much other weird stuff going on around here that I forget about it until another one happens,” she replied in an annoyed tone.
Apparently, she thought Sam was belittling her - and, yes, Dean did congratulate himself on remembering that word - but Mr. Sympathetic would never do that. And, that made Dean chuckle ever so slightly.
“But, last night wasn’t even a full moon. Have you ever come across something like this before?” Now Sam was trying to placate her, make her feel like the superior. It really wasn’t smart to anger a telekinetic - Dean knew that from experience.
“Well, I did a little research last night. There’s a theory - just a theory, mind you - by a professor friend in Utah that says a werewolf could change at will. It’d have to be a male and he’d have to be, basically, the top dog. It can only be achieved, though, through some serious magic-induced power. And once it’s done? All bets are off. If this thing can change at will…then the whole town’s in danger. I mean, even more than they are now. They’d be in danger every night, not just three out of the month. And maybe even during the day.”
Dean was watching the whole exchange with mild interest. It wasn’t like Sam wouldn’t just drill the facts into him a million times before the hunt was over anyway. But there was something nagging at the edges of his consciousness, a worry that he needed to vocalize but couldn’t find the words for.
His chair, which he’d been balancing on the back two legs, came down with a loud clunk as it came to him. “What does he want?”
Okay, not the most elegant way to say that.
Sam turned to him in confusion while Christina stared down at the table, obviously understanding.
“What are you talking about Dean? What does who want? The wolf? They only ever want one thing - blood,” Sam stated matter-of-factly.
Dean completely ignored him, focusing all his attention on the brown-haired girl currently squirming in her seat. “Chris? What does he want? Why would he want that kind of power?”
Still resolutely not looking at either one of them, she began to ramble. “Well, he’s already started somehow, hasn’t he? Because last night…anyway, according to this professor, the only real reason a wolf would want this kind of power is to create a sort network of werewolves that he’d be the head of. In order to achieve it, he needs to get a child…turn a child. And this all has to be done the first night of the full moon.”
“That’s why he attacked those boy scouts,” Sam said, voice laced with no small amount of horror.
At that, Christina looked up at them. She had a determined look on her face, only made more effective by the tears shining in her eyes. “Yes,” she confirmed, rather fiercely. “And, I don’t know about you two, but I am not letting a kid die - or worse - on my watch. Not when I’m the mother of a possible target.”
“We’re not letting that happen either,” Dean said softly, bringing her attention to him, hoping their mutual fear about Jake showed in his eyes. She gave him a tiny smile, which he returned, as something almost physically passed through the space between them. He knew she was saying thank you.
Dean just nodded at her as his smile grew bigger. He was about to say something incredibly mushy - that he’d totally deny later - when Sam nervously cleared this throat.
“I’ll, uh…clear the dishes,” he choked, before making a hasty retreat to the kitchen with their plates.
Christina laughed and got up to follow. Dean was just about to follow, too, when there was a knock on the front door. He frowned as Chris called from the kitchen for him to answer it. A) He didn’t feel right answering a door that wasn’t his, and B) he didn’t trust anyone in the town, not in light of what was happening.
So, needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled when he opened the door and found himself face-to-smiling-face with the yahoo from the bar. What was his name? Bobby? Bryan? George? Well, whatever it was, he wanted Christina and that just wasn’t a possibility anymore, because Dean was back to protect his son and his…well…her from guys like this.
The man’s smile slowly faded at the sight of Dean and he coldly asked, “Will you tell Chris that I’d like to speak to her?”
He almost said “No need to get snippy.” But, that definitely wasn’t a Dean Winchester thing to say. And, he didn’t want to get this guy’s blood on the cream-colored carpet during the resultant fight. So, he shrugged and stepped back a little to give the guy room to step in. He was, more than a little, confused when he stayed out in the hallway.
But, he just shrugged again and called for Chris to come into the entranceway. No way was he letting this guy out of his sight. He could be the werewolf for Christ’s sake! Well, then there was the fact that he wasn’t laying a hand on Chris again. Ever. Again.
Ah, Billy! Dean mentally snapped his fingers and patted himself on the back.
Christina came out of the kitchen, Sam close behind - obviously he didn’t trust anyone either.
“Oh, hi Billy!” she said cheerily enough, smiling and opening her arms for a hug; Dean, though, caught the edge of trepidation in her voice. Billy gladly obliged to the hug, leaning down to envelope her.
Dean still figured he could kick the guy’s ass, especially with the jealousy beginning to boil in his veins.
“What brings you here?” Christina asked as they separated. She looked a little tense and he couldn’t figure out why. But, it was obvious - to Dean anyway - that something was amiss. He could tell that Sammy noticed it too.
Billy glanced at the two Winchesters warily. Obviously whatever he wanted to talk about he didn’t want said in front of them - which, really, was just too damn bad. Dean coughed, loudly, while Sam shifted, rolling his shoulders back like he was getting more comfortable in his bodyguard role.
“Oh, don’t worry about them. This is Sam and Dean Winchester,” she explained motioning to each of them. “Old, old friends of mine. You can say whatever it is in front of them, I’m sure.”
Dean faintly heard Billy grumble “yeah fucking right” under his breath but was stopped from throwing the guy down the stairs by Christina’s sudden intrusion into his head.
Dean, kitchen, go. I can handle him on my own and, hopefully, you can still hear what he’s saying.
Shocked at the telepathy, he shifted his gaze from Billy to Chris. She was staring at him with a mixture of fear and stubbornness. It was only the hulking figure within striking distance of her that kept him from kissing her senseless, just because he could. It would teach Billy boy to stay away, in any case.
He narrowed his eyes at her in what he hoped was a very threatening gesture before heading into the kitchen, motioning for Sam to follow. They stopped just within the doorjamb, in order to hear everything.
But, only snippets drifted towards them, more of Christina’s words than anything.
“Who are they?”
“I told you, old friends. What does it matter?”
“…don’t trust them.”
“Well, you don’t have to trust them. They’re of no concern to you.” Christina was getting pissed and Dean mentally cheered her on.
“They are if…mixed…with you.”
Then their words dropped off entirely even though Dean strained all that much harder to hear them. At least he could comfort himself that there were no kissing sounds or anything - no loud ones anyway.
“I’ll see you later then, Chris?” Billy was saying when the conversation drifted back to a human-hearing level.
“Yeah, later.” Christina’s voice sounded dull, like either she was very bored or barely controlling her anger. Dean figured it was most likely the latter.
The front door closed and the brothers stepped back out into the living room just as Christina’s cell phone rang. She smiled haggardly at them and walked over to pull the phone out of her discarded denim jacket from the night before.
“Hello?” she spoke into the phone, wearily, like she’d been awake for nine days straight. She nodded at whoever was on the other end of the phone as she reached for jacket, fishing in its pockets for something.
“Aright, Dad. I’ll be there soon.” She flipped the phone shut at the same time she found her keys in one of the jacket packets.
“That was Dad. Gotta pick up Jake ‘cause they’ve got something to do,” she explained. “You two wanna come with?”
She was looking at Dean more than Sam, directing the question solely to him. He read the real meaning - “Do you want to start being a father?” Okay, so maybe Chris wouldn’t put it that harshly, and she most certainly didn’t mean it like that - but he still got the message.
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging with a smile. “Let’s roll.”
She returned the smile, and he almost tripped, mesmerized by the sight again. Seriously, after this whole thing was figured out, he was going to have to crush a beer can on his head or something equally as manly. Sam was supposed to be the girl, after all.
Dean led the way, Sam behind him and Christina locking up the apartment. They were, apparently taking her car - much to Dean’s chagrin, but hey, his baby deserved a rest, right? Right.
The three of them piled into the black Ford Escape and headed off to pick up his son. God, his son…
* * *
“You know you’re going back there tonight, right Jake?” Christina asked, sitting down on his bed as he involved himself in his video games. “Back to Mamaw’s?”
“Yeah, I know,” he said distractedly.
She waited for him to say more before she rejoined Sam and Dean in the living room, where they were going back over the research they’d managed to gather before they met up with her. When, after a few minutes filled with nothing but simulated car crashes, Jake still didn’t say anything, she pushed herself off the bed. She made it to the door before he spoke.
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
She turned back to find Jake staring up at her, green eyes piercing right into her soul as they usually did when he wanted to talk. She was so shocked that he would ask, after all this time, that she didn’t know what to say, not at first. He’d never once questioned her about his father. Of course, she always figured it was because he’d known already. But, apparently there were some things that even psychics couldn’t see.
Clearing her throat, she turned and closed his bedroom door before sitting on the floor next to him. Jake’s eyes never left her, paused video game forgotten. “Jake -”
He cut her off, “I know you think he wouldn’t want me. But, he loved you, Mom, he did. Why didn’t you try?”
She was speechless again, whatever she’d decided to say spilling out of her mind; she wondered, not for the first time, just how her son had gotten so wise about the world. Sometimes, it seemed like he knew, or understood, things that even she couldn’t get a grasp on. Now, here he sat, telling her about something that happened before he was even born. It was amazing: the intuition and power stored in Jake’s little body, his mind. It scared her, to tell the truth. He could be such a weapon once he learned to control his powers. And, if he was that smart already? The world needed to watch out.
But, for the moment, Chris just tried to deal with the smaller scope of things. Jake was asking her something that she didn’t have an honest answer for. She’d asked herself every night for ten years why she chickened out of telling Dean she was pregnant. She could tell everyone that it was for the reasons she’d given Dean. But, she had never really been able to convince herself that it was true. Maybe she was just scared. Well, of course she was scared; she’d been 18 years old and pregnant by a man who disappeared for days at a time. But, maybe part of her was afraid that she could have it all, that Dean would stay and they’d be happy. Except for going back in time, she’d never really know.
And, that’s exactly what she tried to tell Jake. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Jake…It wasn’t that I thought he wouldn’t want you…he’s not that kind of guy…but, Dean…your dad, he wasn’t honest with me back then. He was hiding things and I didn’t know -”
“He was protecting you.”
She shifted her gaze from the carpet back up to his eyes. He looked so certain that she could only nod. “I…I know, sweetheart. But, he didn’t need to.”
“He didn’t know that, Mom!” Jake threw down his controller and stood up, starting to pace. Christina jumped at the outburst; her son wasn’t one for having a temper.
“Jake, honey, calm down.”
“No, Mom!” Jake yelled, and she knew that the Winchesters could hear him. “You should have told him! We should have been a family! Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you try harder? Why didn’t you give him a chance?”
Jake suddenly had tears streaming down his young face. Chris just sat there, wide-eyed, and watched him come apart at the seams. She had no idea…ten years and she had no idea that he had ever felt like that, like she’d taken something away from him. He’d always trusted her judgment, always. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one Dean’s sudden appearance was breaking. The elder Winchester always did have a way of forcing his way into people’s thoughts - but this time the thoughts he was causing were devastating and too real to handle.
After a few minutes of stony silence, Jake started talking again, softer, voice barely heard over the heartbeat pounding in her ears. “Mommy…we could have been a family. A real one.”
“C’mere,” she said, motioning for him to sit in her lap. He settled himself against her, and she held him, like she hadn’t for years. “I’m sorry, Jake. I’m sorry you think I took everything away from you. I am. But, I was scared…and I need you understand that, okay, baby? I wanted what was going to be best for you and this was my decision, my choice alone. Maybe it was the wrong one, I don’t know…but it was all I could do at the time. So, blame me, if you want. Yell, scream, I don’t care. But, I didn’t want either of us to get hurt and…I believed that this was our best option…
“Jake…where is all this coming from? Why are you asking me about this?”
“He’s sad,” came the tiny response, muffled into her chest. “Dean’s sad…I can feel it.”
And, just like that, Christina’s heart shattered, all the pieces she’d managed to put back together over the years lost the hold of the superglue and fell onto the floor of her son’s room. She suddenly felt the fresh pain of leaving Dean all over again; the terror she went through after having Jake and knowing that they’d always be alone. Not surprisingly, she felt tears begin to slide down her own face, even as Jake’s wet the front of her shirt.
She didn’t know the door had opened behind her until Dean touched her shoulder and knelt down. She looked up at him and tried to smile, knowing that it came out weak and watery. He smiled back at her, eyes questioning, as he cupped her face in one hand and rubbed Jake’s back in the other. Jake shifted in her arms and looked up at Dean, too, tears still running down.
“Hey, buddy,” Dean said quietly. “What’s all the yelling about?”
Jake didn’t say anything; he just detached himself from Chris to reattach himself to Dean. Dean looked startled at first, looking down at the clinging boy like he didn’t know what to do. Finally, he glanced at Chris, who nodded, and wrapped his arms around their son, clinging just as tightly as the little boy.
Christina smiled, genuinely, and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before she stood up and walked out of the room. She was wiping her eyes as she entered the living room and Sam got off the couch, concerned. He hugged her - well, more like swallowed her up in his huge, gigantic arms - and asked what was wrong.
She mumbled into his chest, “Jake blames me. He blames me for this whole mess. He says Dean’s sad and he doesn’t like it. So, he yelled at me for taking them away from each other.”
After a few minutes, she added, “Sam…is that what Dean thinks? Does he blame me?”
Sam pulled back, a little shocked, and sat them both down on the couch. “Chris,” he said hesitatingly. “While I highly doubt that he’s overjoyed about it, I think he understands. That you did what you thought was best. He’s made a lot of…uh…questionable decisions in his life and he’s not going to judge you, or hold this against you. You were young and scared and you were trying to spare all three of you from the most pain…I don’t think he can hold a grudge against you…you have no idea how happy he is to have you back, knowing about Jake…He just wants to do the right thing now.”
Christina watched Sam’s eyes while he spoke. He looked sincere, and if the person who knew Dean best, believed that they’d be okay, then maybe it was true.
Either way, she had to believe it, for her and Jake. For Dean. For Sam. For all of them, she had to have faith that they’d get through…
That they could bridge the gap between them all.
Part Four
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As usual, feedback is always appreciated! Especially with this one, lol! :)