The Wounded Heart

Dean sat on the hood of the Impala, waiting for her to come off campus. He held a small sharpening stone in his left hand, and gently drew his knife over it every few seconds, bringing it to a fine, polished edge.

He looked up as a few students started exiting the double doors, chatting, yelling out, drifting over to the car park or to the municipal bus stop, just down the tree-lined road. In a few minutes, the campus grounds would be seething with people, heading in all directions. Cassie usually came out just after the first really big crowd, and Dean watched and waited, his heart thumping a little in anticipation.

It wasn't until the flow had thinned right down to one or two, that he started to feel a trickle of unease. He glanced at his watch. It was only four, but that was later than she'd been before. He tucked the stone into his jacket pocket, and slid the knife back into the sheath sewn into the inside of his boot. As he straightened up, he noticed that the final few students had left, the car park was almost empty.

The trickle of unease became a rivulet of worry. He looked around, wondering if he should wait a bit longer or go and see if he could find her. They'd had this arrangement, him waiting for her here, with the car, for over a week now, and she'd always been there, within a minute or two at least. The case that he and his dad were working on was twenty miles away, and had no connections to the town, or to the students; but the life of a hunter meant that he was alert for trouble, and the thought that something might have happened had already crossed his mind.

He looked at his watch again. Four ten. It wasn't right. Something was wrong. He slid off the hood and started to walk fast towards the main building's doors, his heart pounding now in fear.

He ran up the broad steps to the entrance, and barrelled through the doors, boot soles squeaking on the polished vinyl tiles. He looked around, and swore at himself for not making some kind of arrangement with her for this eventuality. Some code, or sign or even a meeting place. He had no idea where in this building she had been, was supposed to be or might be.

He chose the centre hall and started to run slowly down it, glancing left and right into the rooms on either side. They were empty, and the hall echoed the sound of his running feet, making him frequently glance behind him.

He'd nearly reached the end of the hall, when Cassie turned the corner with two other girls, talking and laughing. Dean came to a stop, the relief at seeing her, alive, in one piece, okay; turned to anger as he realised that there was nothing wrong at all.

"Hey." She smiled and waved at him, speeding up slightly and saying goodbye to her friends over her shoulder.

"Hey." Dean clenched his jaw and waited for her to come up to him.

The two girls had waved and gone down another corridor. Cassie was looking in her bag for her sunglasses when Dean's hand reached out and closed tightly around her arm.

"Ow … what are you doing?" She looked up and noticed for the first time that his eyes were dark with anger. "What's wrong with you?"

"What happened?" He bit out, relaxing his fingers a little. Cassie looked down at his hand and yanked her arm free.

"What do you mean?" She stepped back, her eyes narrowing as she finally saw just how angry his was, and her fighting spirit, as her dad called it, rose up to match it.

"Where were you?" Dean recognised that Cassie's temper was starting to flare, but he couldn't control the way he felt, couldn't back down from what he felt was a totally justified position. "I thought something had happened to you!"

"I was getting some notes from a friend, to catch up on the work I missed out on Monday because I spent the day with you!" Cassie stared up at him. "And I was only a few minutes, so why would you be worried about me?"

"We had an arrangement. I wait out front and you show up on time." Dean growled.

"What? Are you my father now?" She stepped back again, glancing at her watch. "Dean, I was only ten minutes later than I usually am! And you don't own me; you don't get to manhandle me because you get an irrational fear!"

"It's not irrational!" He yelled. "Anything could have –"

Only just in time he swallowed the words that wanted to come out. The words that could explain why he was in a rage over a ten minute delay.

"But nothing did." Cassie looked at him, her anger dropping as she saw how hard he was holding back. "And don't yell at me."

Dean looked down at the floor, counting to ten. "Nothing did. Right. What's the point of making a plan if you don't follow it, Cassie?"

"I didn't think it was carved in stone, Dean. Or that you'd freak out if I spent a few minutes getting some stuff from a friend." She looked at him. "My friends, who I haven't caught up with since you and I got together." She added pointedly.

Dean felt his anger dissipate. He didn't want to fight with her, again, just before their date. "Well, I'm sorry but I take plans seriously. And … well I take plans seriously." He finished lamely.

Cassie raised her brows at him. "Yeah. I can see that."

"I'm sorry I worried you." She said, a slight snap still in her voice. She walked to him, and looked into his eyes.

Dean sighed, looking into the depths of her warm, coffee-coloured eyes. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

"Okay then." She smiled and slipped her arm through his. "So, where are we going tonight?"

He turned with her and they walked down the hall to the doors. "It's a surprise. I think you'll like it."

He felt the dampness of his sweat at the back of neck. Not being able to tell Cassie things, anything really, was getting harder and harder. They fought like cats and dogs over the most trivial things because of it. And the more time they spent together, the more holes appeared in his story. She wasn't dumb, quite the opposite in fact. Sooner or later she was going to question him. He had to figure out what he wanted.

He pulled up in front of her house, and the lingering kiss she gave him before getting out set his flesh on fire.

"So, eight o'clock?" She smiled at him, leaning in through the open window, fully aware of the effect she'd had on him.

"Yeah, I'll be here." He smiled back, breathing deeply and trying to think of anything other than her smooth skin, soft mouth and the wicked twinkle that was nearly always in her eyes when she looked at him like that.

He watched her walk up the path and go inside, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Then he pulled away and headed home. Home being a motel off the highway at this point. A shower, change of clothes, update with his dad and he'd be ready to go.

At ten o'clock they lay on the thick blanket by the river, the remains of the picnic around them. The air was warm and sultry, but there were few insects at this time of year, and they wouldn't have noticed anyway.

Dean's lips trailed down Cassie's throat, and she moaned softly, her arms going around his shoulders, the nails dragging lightly over his skin, her lips pressing briefly against his temple. He slid his hand over her hip to cup her breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple, until it rose and hardened. His tongue slid down the hollow between her breasts and curved up to take the nipple into his mouth, and Cassie arched up under him, feeling his teeth scrape against the hypersensitive skin.

She shifted her arm, slipping it under his chest now, to slide down his stomach and into his jeans. His body shook slightly as her fingers ran over him, and the desire that had been building slowly, tormentingly sweet, suddenly burst into flame. He lifted his head from her breast and looked into her eyes, like his own, dark with raw desire.

He shifted his position and covered her mouth with his own. He could taste the salt from his skin on her lips and the sweetness of her mouth. Her skin was hot and she'd been wet from the moment his lips had touched hers. She could feel herself dripping now, her body liquefied in the hunger that radiated between them. He was holding his weight off her, propped on his forearms, but she wanted him to press her down, pulling him onto her and arching up against him.

Dean's breath caught in his throat as he felt her body arch against him. He struggled up, his eyes never leaving hers and yanked at the button and zip of his jeans impatiently. Cassie lay beneath, her shirt open. His heart stuttered in his chest, as his fingers undid the buttons of her jeans and drew them down her legs in a single, swift pull. His hands slid back up, fingers spread wide as his nerve endings felt the heat, the smoothness, the softness of her skin. She lifted her upper body up to him, kissing him deeply.

She shivered uncontrollably as his mouth again moved down her jaw and neck, licking, tasting, kissing her skin. Her nipples hardened in anticipation as his tongue followed the curve of her breast. When he took one into his mouth, her body flexed up against him, she took his hand and guided it downward, pushing it hard against her as his fingers slid through the moist folds of flesh, and slipped inside her. Dean lifted his mouth from her breast and groaned, the depth of his desire was bordering on pain. Cassie's head was thrown back as she rose against him, her mouth open, her heat swamping his senses.

She looked at him, her pupils huge with the desire that flooded her body, and slipped her hand around his neck, pulling herself upright. She pushed him down and slid her leg over him, leaning above him as she stroked him slowly. He lay back under her, his hands curved around the inside of her thighs, his head spinning with the sensations she was generating.

She pushed higher, felt him slide down her flesh, and plunged herself down, bowing her back as his length filled her. Dean's moan exploded from him, he was engulfed by heat and pressure. She rose and fell on him, and each stroke was consuming, building sensation on sensation, the frictionless slide spreading like fire through his body. When her muscles began to contract around him, he was lifted higher, and his hands clenched on her thighs, holding her closer to him as he rammed upwards. Cassie was gasping above him, her limbs shot through and helpless with a pleasure that expanded from her core and coruscated like burning oil through her nerves.

Dean watched her face, and thrust hard, exploding inside of her. The muscles of his body remained contracted, as he arched beneath her for an endless moment, then he collapsed in the aftermath, and she fell onto his chest, their lips seeking each other, closing over each other as the aftershocks continued to rock them together.

He lay still at last, only the slightest tremors still passing outwards to his limbs. Cassie lay on top of him, her breathing still ragged, her hair hiding her face. He shifted slightly, intending to roll over to lie beside her, when she stopped him.

"Don't. Don't move. I want you inside me for a bit longer."

The simple confession shook him. His arms wrapped tightly around her, and he pressed his lips softly against her forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere." He breathed, closing his eyes.

The evening air had cooled considerably when he pulled up in front of her place for the second time that day. Cassie leaned across the seat, her hand slipping behind his neck to pull him closer to her and her eyes closing slowly as she kissed him.

"Goodnight, Dean. You were right; I loved it." She smiled at him, a slow, satisfied smile with half-closed eyes that sent a fresh wave of desire rising in him.

"Cassie … " Dean trailed off, not knowing what he wanted to say. "I'll see you tomorrow, same time?" He finally managed, feeling inadequate.

"Yep." She kissed him again. "I won't be late, this time. I promise."

He smiled, watching her get out of the car and walk up the path, hips swinging.

When the front door had closed behind her, he started the engine and pulled slowly out from the kerb. His thoughts were a mess. He wanted nothing more than to stay with this girl for the rest of his life. He figured that at least a part of that feeling was caused by the unbelievable sex they shared, but mostly it was just her. She was utterly unafraid of anything, so far as he'd seen. She spoke her mind. She was honest, and smart and beautiful.

But every night, when he got back to the motel, and went over the days' work with his father. Or talked about the job. Or talked about other jobs they'd done, he felt the thrill of what they did for a living, the thrill of being a hunter, of testing his skills, his strength, his cunning, against an adversary, of saving people, and making the world safe for them again.

He couldn't have both, he knew that.

He drove back to the motel and pulled in, still without having gotten any it any clearer in his head. He wanted to be with Cassie. He wanted to be a hunter. He couldn't find any meeting place between the two. Cassie was almost done with college. She had already sent out her resumes to a number of newspapers and magazines for a job. How the hell did that fit into anything? He thought of Sam, off at school, able to be with anyone he wanted. It wasn't what he'd wanted, more school – far from it. But he could see the independence and freedom Sam had now, and he found that a part of him yearned for that.

"Dean."

Dean turned from shutting the door, to see his dad sitting at the table, surrounded by open files. He walked over and pulled out the single other chair that wasn't covered with paper, notebooks, and clothing.

"You found something?" He asked.

John nodded, his pen tapping the map in front of him. "I think so."

He looked up at his son. "You remember that witch we put down inGeorgia? Turns out she was communicating with a lot of spirits … about a demon."

Dean frowned and leaned forward. "A demon? I thought they couldn't get out of Hell, only influence people's minds?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, but it might not be the case anymore." John looked at Dean. "We need to go. I have to find about this."

Dean nodded, and they made their plans to leave in a few days. John had almost finished the case he was working on; he'd found the grave of the spirit that was haunting the railway yard. Tomorrow he'd salt and burn the bones and that would be that.

It wasn't until he'd climbed into bed, that Dean remembered Cassie.

He was waiting for her the next afternoon. He sat on the hood, trying to think of something, anything that would make it possible to have the two things he wanted most. He wasn't having much luck.

Cassie waved as she crossed the grounds.

"Where to today?" She asked, kissing him when they both in the car.

"I have to tell you something, Cass." Dean started the engine and pulled into the road.

"What?" She looked at him.

"Not here." He glanced over at her. "Somewhere private."

He drove back to the river, parking in the dappled shade of an enormous willow, just off the road.

When the engine was turned off, the silence was portentous. He stared in front of him, trying to find the words.

"Come on, Dean, you're making me nervous." Cassie twisted in her seat to look at him.

"I'm sorry." He turned to her finally. "This is going to sound kind of weird, Cass. And I shouldn't be telling you at all." He shrugged uncomfortably. "Kind of a family rule. But you need to know, if what we have … here … can amount to anything more."

He looked into her eyes, hoping she understood what he was trying to say. A small crease appeared between her brows. Cassie could feel how serious Dean was. She felt the thrill of his words, the hope for the future in them.

"Just tell me, Dean." She said.

"My family … well, my dad isn't an insurance salesman."

"Oh." Cassie waited. "Okay."

"Actually, we're hunters." Dean chewed the corner of his lower lip nervously.

"Oh." Cassie looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. "What do you hunt?"

Dean hesitated for a long moment. "Ah … supernatural creatures." He looked closely at her, wondering how she would take that.

"Supernatural creatures." Cassie repeated. "Like …?"

"Like werewolves, wendigos, ghosts … that kind of thing. We – my dad and me – help people, save people who have problems with those sorts of things. We've been doing it for a long time. My mom was killed by …something … back in Kansas; we're not sure what, but it was powerful and it was evil. My dad has been hunting it ever since."

"Oh." Cassie's voice was flat. Dean looked at her, tilting his head to see her eyes.

"Yeah. We have to leave soon. The haunting we came here for is nearly finished. Dad is dealing with the spirit's remains today. And we're heading for Georgia–"

"Dean, what is wrong with you?" She looked up abruptly at him. "You know, I didn't expect much of you, but I expected a hell of a lot better than this." She turned away, opening the passenger door and scrambled out.

Dean looked blankly at the seat where she'd been for a second, then turned and opened his door. He went around the front of the car.

"What do you mean? I'm telling you the truth!"

"Really? This is the truth? Your family are ghost hunters and you're leaving because you have another "case" … inGeorgia." She whirled around, her eyes sparkling with pain and fury. "And what, Dean?"

"And nothing. It's the truth." He looked back at her, his face expressionless but his eyes darkening as he realised that she wasn't going to believe it.

"Well fuck you, asshole! We're through!" Cassie stalked past him, hitching her bag over her shoulder with such force that the strap broke. She turned back to him. "Why can't you ever admit anything, Dean? Why does it always have to be some story? You're right – there's nothing more that can come of this, and I don't know why I thought –"

She turned away from him again, heading for the road. Dean felt as if he'd put his hand unthinking into a rattler's nest. He ran after her.

"Cassie, wait. I'm telling you the truth. I'm telling you because I want something more for us. Dammit, can't you just wait and listen to me for a minute?"

"God, I don't want hear it, Dean. Just get the hell away from me, and stay the hell away from me." She yelled over her shoulder, picking up her speed as she heard an oncoming car heading towards them. "I don't want anything to do with you!"

Dean stopped, his breath gone at her words. He watched as she put out her hand and the car slowed to a stop next to her. She got into it without a single look back and it took off, heading back into town.

He stood for several minutes, watching the car get smaller and smaller. Then he turned back to the Impala and got in. He didn't know what had happened. One minute he could see her feelings, her love, shining in her eyes. The next it had gone. And she was gone.

He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel, as the pain in his heart grew. He felt his tears fill his eyes and fall onto the wheel. He felt the pain of the loss of her eating through his stomach and into his chest.

"Cassie..." He whispered, his breath catching in his throat as he realised that he wouldn't see her again, couldn't touch her again, that she was gone, as lost to him now as if she'd died.

"Cassie…" He leaned back in the seat, feeling the pain sharpen and bite into him.

No. He pushed the pain away, clenching his teeth, forcing it back down. If she didn't want to know, then she wasn't worth it anyway, he thought fiercely, if she wouldn't give him a chance, then better it was broken now, than later.

He lay back, wiping impatiently at the tears, thinking of the risk he'd taken, and where it had gone. He would never let himself get that close to anyone again. He'd keep his feelings, and his thoughts to himself, and take his pleasure where he could, without ties, without strings and without emotions.

It was a long time before he sat up.

He put the keys into the ignition and started her up. Then he drove back to the motel.