Death had never been a scary thought. Before the age of twelve Dean knew he was destined to die young and he wanted to make sure he would go out with a bang. He lived every day to the fullest, taking unnecessary risks and just plain out behaving badly. Why not? He was going to hell anyways. The Cross-Road's demon had seen to that.
That didn't make almost accelerating his expiration date this afternoon any less of a shock. To say that he had been unprepared was an understatement. He and Sam had stumbled into a small New Hampshire Town just outside of New York two days ago. There had been rumor of a mysterious monster roaming the night, slicing anyone it could find to shreds, screams echoing across the state.
Sam thought it might be a Banshee. So a banshee they had prepared for. They were in no way ready when they discovered a Maenad in its place. They had fought the best they could but that didn't stop the beast from getting her hands on Dean. She stole away with him into the night, fully intent on sacrificing him in order to entice her so-called god.
He hung by his wrists from the top of a hand-made tree branch bull's head. He bled from the various cuts that the rough branches beneath his hanging body stabbed and cut into his bare back. The idol stunk of rotting meat and burning flesh.
Dean had all but given up hope as the Maenad had plunged her dagger into his right shoulder, slicing into him, drawing out the blood she needed to complete the ritual. Just as she became fully intent on finishing the job and burying the hilt of the knife in his chest Sammy showed up. This time prepared.
Now the battle was over, but the shock still lingered, making it difficult for Dean to breathe. They hadn't spoken a word since they climbed into the Impala and began the three hour drive back to their sleazy motel room. Dean chalked it up to the shock of it all.
His shoulder throbbed as he turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, entering the motel parking lot. He pulled into the space outside their door and put the car in park.
"Sammy…." He said, breaking the silence. Sam tilted his head in Dean's direction, indicating that he was listening. "Sam… I think we should take a break…"
"What are you talking about?" Sam turned to face his brother, baffled by the statement.
"You know a break, a vacation…at least for a day…"
"Maybe your right….."
"Damn right I am." Dean leaned forward on the steering wheel, peering out of the windshield into the newly dawning day before him. The sun was beginning to rise and the world around this was beginning to wake up, ignorant of the night's events.
"Today." He stated simply.
"Today will be our vacation. We'll do whatever we want and tomorrow we will go back to our lives. Back to hunting and tempting fate…." Dean said slowly.
Sam said nothing but got out of the car and closed the door. He turned back and leaned in the window.
"And just what are we going to do?" he asked seriously.
"Well Sammy…you're going to go do whatever that little heart of yours desires…I on the other hand have something I need to take care of." Dean leaned back against the seat once more, wincing as he shifted his injured arm.
"Um…alright. I guess I'll see you tomorrow Dean." Sam turned away from the car and walked towards the motel room they shared, thoughts reeling at the possibilities.
Dean on the other hand restarted the Impala and peeled out of the parking lot.
He had almost died today and it made him realize that when he did go he didn't want to have any regrets. None what so ever. And so he drove.
In the silence of the drive his mind wondered over what he was about to do. He knew that these feelings were natural. She was attractive, he was attractive….all natural.
Of course there was the part about them hating each other.
But it didn't matter. When he had been handing from the sacrificial idol he realized that there was still one more thing he needed to do before he kicked the bucket and he fully intended on living it out. Today.
He knew that what he was on his way to do could be constituted as suicide, but he could care less.
He drove for hours, loosing time in the flashing of the dotted yellow lines beside his car. He was in New York before 10am. He drove slowly as he reached his destination and pulled the car up to a curb outside an expensive looking pent house. He gazed up through the windshield to the top floor as if waiting for a sign. After a moment he let out a breath and reached into the backseat, grabbing his leather jacket.
He tugged it on painfully, not wanting to alarm anyone he encountered with the massive amounts of blood that was staining his shirt from his wounded arm. Satisfied with the disguise he climbed out of the car and entered the building.
He didn't stop at the front desk; he knew exactly where he was going. His mind shuffled through the possible scenarios as he pushed the last button inside the elevator. What would he say? Would she be game, or would she just make him look like a fool? Either way he would live out his last regret, for better or for worse he supposed.
Dean jumped when the elevator dinged, signaling that he had reached the floor of his destination. He strolled quietly down the hallway until he reached the last door on the right. He raised his hand to knock but paused in mid air. He took a deep breath and let his knuckles rap against the wood. He hit the door three times and then waited. It wasn't but a moment before he heard footsteps and watched as they paused. He heard her murmur something on the other side of the wood but didn't comprehend the words. The door swung open and she stood before him.
Dean couldn't help the smile that snuck onto his lips.
"Well well Dean Winchester, to what do I owe this unfortunate pleasure?" her accent rang thick through her words as she leaned casually into the door frame.
"I'm selling girl scout cookies and thought you might like some, Thin mints right?" he snapped back keeping up their usual banter.
"So are ya gonna just stand there Bela or are you going to invite me in."
She looked slightly caught off guard but she stepped aside none the less, leaving him to follow her inside if he wished. Dean stepped into the warm room, closing the door behind him.
"Well spit it out Dean, what are you doing here?" she asked leaning against the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. "Have you finally come to make good on your vow to kill me?"
She pouted teasingly. Dean said nothing at first. His eyes wondered along her body following the swell of her thigh, the curve of her waist and all the way up to her piercing green eyes.
"Dean?" she asked.
"Right…well I actually wanted to talk to you…." He said stepping closer.
Bela shifted uncomfortably as Dean stepped into her bubble. She could feel the heat radiating off of him and it made her ache.
Dean leaned closer. "Bela…" he whispered, his breath dancing across her face.
Bela frowned and leaned away. "God you reek! You smell like dead animal and blood...what have you been doing Dean?" she asked turning away from the offending smell wafting off of him.
"Right I forgot sorry." He said with a frown. Smooth Dean, smooth. He turned sharply and hissed as he tore further into the shredded flesh of his shoulder. The pain brought him to one knee and he grasped at his arm.
"Damn it…" he grunted. Bela was at his side before he realized it, peeling off his leather jacket. "What have you done to yourself you masochistic fool?" she questioned when she saw the blood dried across the length of his shirt and the bubbling of the new beginning to pour out of the newly opened gash.
"Come on, let's clean you up... I don't want you bleeding on my new carpet." She said with mock-sarcasm, concern flickering across her features as she helped him to his feet.
He led him into the bathroom, sitting him on the edge of the sink and ordering him to remove his shirt. She would have done it herself but she knew that he could do it better than she without causing himself much more pain.
She left the bathroom for a moment to gather some medical supplies she kept stashed for similar emergencies. As she returned and turned the corner into the bathroom she paused. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared. Dean was looking around, oblivious to the fact that she had returned. Bela took this opportunity to let her gaze linger. She had always through of Dean as attractive, but what he hid beneath his shirt was unfair by all means. His life time of demon hunting had toned him to perfection. He was nothing but bronzed muscles and it honestly made her knees weak.
Bela quickly composed herself and moved forward, pulling out a rag and wetting it in the sink. She reached out and dabbed it on Dean's wound, attempting to rid the flawless skin of the dried, flaking blood that coated his arm and chest.
"What happened?" she asked in a serious and concerned voice. Dean shrugged his good shoulder. "Maenad." Was all he said, as if it answered all unasked questions she could possibly have.
"You really should be more careful Dean…" Bela scolded as she finished the cleaning of the outer wound. Dean half-shrugged again. "Shit happens."
"This is going to sting…well a lot honestly…" Bela said as she emptied some of the alcohol bottle she found onto her rag. Before he could open his mouth to comment or question her she used one hand to hold the back of his injured should to hold his steady as the other one pressed the rag firmly against the open skin of his wound.
"SON OF A BITCH!!!!" Dean screamed trying to jerk away from the offending liquid. "Damn it Bela!" he cursed as she finally pulled the cloth away, satisfied that the injury was sterilized.
"Oh stop being a baby…" she growled as she leaned over his lap to grab the bandages on the other side of him. Dean reached out and grabbed her wrists.
He pulled her close, her chest flush with his, his face inches from hers. "Warn me next time…" he growled menacingly. "Glad to see you know how to properly thank someone for helping you jack ass…" she spat back. "Bitch." he grunted as he released her arms roughly.
Bela smirked. "Now are you going to let be finish or are you going to whine like a little girl all day?" she asked, her hands resting on her hips. Dean rolled his eyes. "With your loving demeanor I'm surprised you're not a nurse..." he teased. Bela smiled at the comment and commenced with rolling the bandaged across his shoulder and under his arm.
Pushing his legs apart she stepped between them, a safety pin between her teeth as she fought to move closer. She reached behind him, taking the pin and securing the bandage. She took a deep breath and found her senses assaulted with his smell. Her stomach fluttered and she felt her center stir. "There…all patched up" she said a little breathlessly before stepping away.
She stepped further away to lean her back against the wall opposite of where Dean perched. "So what did you want to tell me before we were so rudely interrupted by your attempt to bleed to death on my kitchen floor?"
"I just…" Dean paused for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation. Bela watched him, and registered the internal battle he was fighting.
"Oh out with it Winchester, I've got better things to do then wait for you to grow a pair…what is it for god's sake?" she asked rolling her eyes.
Dean smirked and lent forward on the counter. Despite her position he was still awfully close. "I came here to do something I've wanted to do for a long time….that way when my year is up there are no regrets." He said softly, his breath whispering across her cheeks as he spoke.
"Acceptable answer, but it still doesn't fully explain why you are here…" she said stepping away from the wall slightly and in turn moving her closer to Dean.
"Well I…." he said, unsure as to how to phrase his request.
"Well you…" Bela pushed back sarcastically, keeping up her guard.
(And well you will just have to wait until the next chapter to find out what happens.)
What is Dean's regret?
Will he live it out?
Tune in next time…dun dun duhh!!1
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