Savin' Me
Savin’ Me
*plays taps* The last chapter *sighs* :(
Chapter 12
Chapter Wordcount: 686
Dean was trying to be quite as he came through the door, arms laden down with plastic bags full of greasy food.
Casey appeared to be sleeping, curled up on her side on the far bed.
Dean smiled, glancing habitually over to the closed bathroom door. The shower droning on behind the thin wooden barrier, informing him as to Sam’s whereabouts.
The small lamp, was on over in the corner and the muted T.V. cast a eerie soft blue glow over the rest of the room, but overall it was dark and Dean assumed Sam had turned off the bright lights before retreating to his shower to let Casey sleep in peace.
He toed off his muddy boots just inside the doorway, cursing the slow rain that had plagued them for the past week and started to cross the room.
Halfway across the room he managed to spectacularly slam three of his five toes on his left foot into the end of Casey’s bed.
“Son of a bitch!” he cursed, instantly screwing up his face knowing he had just woken her.
Juggling the food, trying to prevent the impending disaster he saw in his minds eye, all the while hopping on one foot like a lunatic, fumbling between trying to save the food and clutch at his foot while somehow keeping some semblance of balance, he managed to twist and crash onto the end of the bed just in time to see Casey’s slender hands snatch the bags out of mid air before they tumbled into his face.
While he grimaced in pain, foot hitched up high and cradled in his hands, he was vaguely aware of the shower being turned off and Sam storming out in a rush, towel wrapped around his hips.
“What happened…” he stopped abruptly, shock momentarily winning out over the laughter that was threatening to bubble up from his chest at seeing Dean, for all intents and purposes looking like a five-year old with a boo-boo.
Dean heard Casey chuckle behind him and groaned.
He had been shot, stabbed, ripped apart both inside and out and had pretty much died twice and here he was, tears pricking his eyes, holding his toes that he would bet money on being broken, but knowing at the same time he would loose.
“Yea…your bodies suck,” Casey deadpanned, causing Dean’s brow to furrow as he cracked open his eyes, peering at her upside down from his spot flat on his back on the end of her bed.
She was sitting on her knees above his head and looked at him with a shrug.
“What? It’s your weak shells that can’t take the pain.”
As his face twisted, a sharp comeback on the tip of his tongue she added, “I did it too this morning while you two were sleeping.”
And somehow in the mix of food and pain and awkwardness and Sam’s still half-dressed state, everything crashed down around them and all three of them erupted in laughter so loud, unbidden and downright innocent and childish, that the guests in the next room started pounding on the wall, yelling at them to oh so politely, “shut the fuck up.”
Sam, still snorting and giggling like a fool, returned to the bathroom to dress as Dean struggled to catch his breath before limping, rather exaggeratedly, over to the food and rummaging through, pulling out their respective meals.
Casey sat back against the headboard and smiled.
There were times she still felt lost, times she felt like a turncoat, like she was batting for the wrong team.
And there were still times, times in between Dean’s touches, that left her feeling like she was spiraling out of control and was about to snap, revert to her old ways.
But right now, right in that instant, everything was okay.
Really, they weren’t all that different, demons and humans. Each still loved, hated, fought, saved, killed, cared, had faith.
And yeah, humans might be weak, but these two, the two she sided with, the two she fought beside and for, were not.
And maybe...maybe she was okay with that.
Previous: Chapter Eleven
*plays taps* The last chapter *sighs* :(
Chapter 12
Chapter Wordcount: 686
Dean was trying to be quite as he came through the door, arms laden down with plastic bags full of greasy food.
Casey appeared to be sleeping, curled up on her side on the far bed.
Dean smiled, glancing habitually over to the closed bathroom door. The shower droning on behind the thin wooden barrier, informing him as to Sam’s whereabouts.
The small lamp, was on over in the corner and the muted T.V. cast a eerie soft blue glow over the rest of the room, but overall it was dark and Dean assumed Sam had turned off the bright lights before retreating to his shower to let Casey sleep in peace.
He toed off his muddy boots just inside the doorway, cursing the slow rain that had plagued them for the past week and started to cross the room.
Halfway across the room he managed to spectacularly slam three of his five toes on his left foot into the end of Casey’s bed.
“Son of a bitch!” he cursed, instantly screwing up his face knowing he had just woken her.
Juggling the food, trying to prevent the impending disaster he saw in his minds eye, all the while hopping on one foot like a lunatic, fumbling between trying to save the food and clutch at his foot while somehow keeping some semblance of balance, he managed to twist and crash onto the end of the bed just in time to see Casey’s slender hands snatch the bags out of mid air before they tumbled into his face.
While he grimaced in pain, foot hitched up high and cradled in his hands, he was vaguely aware of the shower being turned off and Sam storming out in a rush, towel wrapped around his hips.
“What happened…” he stopped abruptly, shock momentarily winning out over the laughter that was threatening to bubble up from his chest at seeing Dean, for all intents and purposes looking like a five-year old with a boo-boo.
Dean heard Casey chuckle behind him and groaned.
He had been shot, stabbed, ripped apart both inside and out and had pretty much died twice and here he was, tears pricking his eyes, holding his toes that he would bet money on being broken, but knowing at the same time he would loose.
“Yea…your bodies suck,” Casey deadpanned, causing Dean’s brow to furrow as he cracked open his eyes, peering at her upside down from his spot flat on his back on the end of her bed.
She was sitting on her knees above his head and looked at him with a shrug.
“What? It’s your weak shells that can’t take the pain.”
As his face twisted, a sharp comeback on the tip of his tongue she added, “I did it too this morning while you two were sleeping.”
And somehow in the mix of food and pain and awkwardness and Sam’s still half-dressed state, everything crashed down around them and all three of them erupted in laughter so loud, unbidden and downright innocent and childish, that the guests in the next room started pounding on the wall, yelling at them to oh so politely, “shut the fuck up.”
Sam, still snorting and giggling like a fool, returned to the bathroom to dress as Dean struggled to catch his breath before limping, rather exaggeratedly, over to the food and rummaging through, pulling out their respective meals.
Casey sat back against the headboard and smiled.
There were times she still felt lost, times she felt like a turncoat, like she was batting for the wrong team.
And there were still times, times in between Dean’s touches, that left her feeling like she was spiraling out of control and was about to snap, revert to her old ways.
But right now, right in that instant, everything was okay.
Really, they weren’t all that different, demons and humans. Each still loved, hated, fought, saved, killed, cared, had faith.
And yeah, humans might be weak, but these two, the two she sided with, the two she fought beside and for, were not.
And maybe...maybe she was okay with that.
Previous: Chapter Eleven