Writhe: The Director's Cut
AN: Waves at Wynfred. Enjoy your trip sweetie!
Chapter 6: Thank you Murphy's Law
Frustrated, Sam turned and stared over the group of dancers. All the effect lighting made it difficult to see anything clearly, but a dark clad figure on the floor caught his eye, and he moved closer, mouth open, staring.
It was Dean, beyond a shadow of a doubt. But…he was dancing. With other people.
On a dance floor.
To the best of Sam's knowledge, Dean had a rudimentary grasp of the waltz, on par with a gorilla's knowledge of metaphysics, but that was it.
Sam continued to gape as he watched Dean dancing with Ashley as though he had been doing it all his life. Their bodies synchronized and moving in sinuous, graceful steps, an extension of the music surrounding them. Their rhythm took on a familiar look, but was executed in such a slow, languid manner, Sam felt heat on his cheeks as he watched. If this was how Dean moved on a dance floor…
Sam brought himself back to reality with a jerk. This was not why he was here.
Ashley and Dean pulled apart when the need for air became too much, Dean breathing heavily and Ashley panting in small gasps. Dean kept one hand tangled in her hair, his eyes blazing.
Ashley's eyes darted over Dean's face. She almost looked frightened.
"Let's get outta here…" he growled, pulling her closer, but not quite kissing her, just a quick dip of his head in her direction.
"What about your brother?" she asked.
"To hell with 'im," Dean growled. He nuzzled against her throat, nipping. "He's a big boy; he can find his own way home."
Wide-eyed, she moved her head in a short nod and followed him as he left the floor, their hands locked together.
Dean was startled when Sam pushed his way through the crowd calling his name, one long arm streaking out to grab Dean's arm.
Dean!" Sam exclaimed. "Thank God, I've been looking all over for you!"
Dean whirled, jerking Ashley behind him, eyes flashing. "What, Sam?"
Sam took an uncertain step backward. "Dean…I've been trying to call you. We need to talk and I need to show you something." He gestured with the laptop, glancing over Dean's shoulder at Ashley who was watching warily. "Alone," he added.
Dean frowned at him. "Whatever it is, it can wait!" he snapped, turning away, "Tell me in the morning!"
Sam caught his arm again. "No! It can't. In the morning it'll be too late. You have to see this. Where are you going?"
Dean yanked his arm free. "None of your damned business, Sam. I'm an adult; I don't have to account for my whereabouts to you."
"I've got to talk to you!" Sam insisted. "Please! Just five minutes! Let's go outside." He took a step toward the foyer and turned, clearly expecting Dean to follow.
It was on Dean's tongue to tell Sam to fuck off, but then he huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Fine!" He pulled Ashley to him. "I need to talk to my brother for a minute. It won't take long. Then we'll get outta here."
Ashley nodded. "Sure, I'll wait in the foyer for you until you're ready."
She suddenly seemed very nervous.
"Are you all right?" Dean asked, watching her.
"I don't want to start anything between you and your brother-" she began.
Dean pulled her close and kissed her. "This'll just take a second. It has nothing to do with you."
She nodded and smiled. "Go talk to Sam." She crossed the foyer and sat down on one of the plush couches.
Dean grabbed Sam's arm and practically dragged him out the door onto the sidewalk, walking him a short distance away from the waiting people.
"Man, what's wrong with you?" Sam demanded.
"What's wrong with me? What the hell's wrong with you? Is this how you're getting back at me for not being more help on this?" Dean braced his feet apart, arms down, hands fisted, radiating pissed off.
Sam stared at him. "Are you nuts? What are you talking about?" He laughed in disbelief. "Have you totally forgotten why we were meeting here in the first place?" Sam waved his hands. "Never mind, never mind! Dean, I think it's Ashley!"
Dean spread his hands. "You think what is Ashley? Dude, you're not making sense!" He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand, a headache suddenly spiking behind his eyes. His body felt like it was coming down from an adrenaline rush. He sank down on one of the raised flowerbeds behind him, shaking his head.
Sam sat down next to Dean and opened the laptop. "Dean, listen to me!"
"What, Sam? What the hell is so damned important?"
"I was watching footage from the club the night Matt Lewis was killed." Sam replied as the screen booted up. Dean, he was with Ashley! She looked…different… but it was her! I'm sure of it!" Sam shut up as a couple walked past, staring at them. "Dean," he began again, more quietly, leaning closer. "Please, just watch-"
"Sam, for God's sake-"
Sam thrust the laptop at Dean who grabbed it reflexively. Rolling his eyes, Dean finally looked down at the screen as the footage began to roll. "I don't see anything-" Dean began, watching the camera pan the crowd.
"Wait," Sam delicately scrolled forward.
Dean squinted at the screen as a woman with deep red hair and a full body came into the picture. His body stiffened and he brought the laptop closer. Sam tapped the keyboard and froze the picture of the woman with the cherry brushing her lips. "Well?"
Dean made a face. "Well, yeah, she sorta looks like Ashley, but look at her. The hair's different, her eyes, the body's different. Sam, I just don't-" Dean struggled to pull his mind from the morass of feelings assaulting him to try to listen to what Sam was saying.
Sam bit his lip. "Dean, I think she's seducing you. I think that's why you're acting this way-"
"What way? Why?" Dean snarled, forcing Sam to take back the laptop. "So, she's a succubus now?" Dean jumped up and took an angry few steps away then turned back and shoved a finger at Sam. "You're the one who said I should ask her out. I'm pimping you out, Dean! So now that I actually have and I admit I like her, you're telling me she's this evil thing you dreamed up?" Dean closed his eyes and clamped his hand over his mouth. "Is it so hard to believe I could actually want to be with a girl for more than sex?" He demanded finally, looking long and hard at Sam, who stood wide-eyed with his mouth open. "That she might want to be with me for more than that?"
Sam's mouth shut with a snap. "No…Dean, I didn't mean it like that…." Sam sighed. The last thing he intended to do was hurt Dean, but there was no way around this. "Dean, this isn't like you…. Deep down you know it. I'd think it was great if you could find some girl you could- listen to me!" Sam suddenly barked, grabbing Dean's shoulder.
Dean's angry eyes shot to Sam's face. He tried to pull away, but Sam had him in a death grip. "Sam!"
"NO!" Sam's fingers bit into Dean's shoulder. "I'm not sure what the hell is going on here, but I know this girl was with Matt Lewis the night he died. This girl is Ashley. Somehow she's involved! Hell, for all I know it's her psycho twin sister, but I can't let you just leave with her like she was any other girl until we know for sure!"
Dean glared at Sam, furious without understanding exactly why. Despite himself, he knew something wasn't right; the wild need to be with Ashley was fading in the night air, the intoxicating scent and feel of her body against him.
But still…. He made a frustrated noise. "Dammit, Sam! What am I supposed to do?" He raked his hair angrily. "What if you're wrong?"
"Then I'm wrong" Sam hastened to reply, his grip loosening slightly, "and I owe you and Ashley a major league apology for being a total asshole, but Dean, you saw Matt Lewis. What if I'm right?"
Dean let out the breath he was holding, looking away. "So what are you telling me? If what you're saying is true, then what?"
Sam relaxed visibly. "Take this." He held out the wrapped stiletto.
Dean unwrapped the cloth and stared at the iron dagger. "And do what with it?" One eyebrow cocked sharply toward his hairline.
"Go home with her," Sam replied. "If it is her, we have to try to end this. The only way to destroy her is by using a knife like this in an act of love."
Dean's other eyebrow shot up to join its partner. "Wait one friggin' minute!" He exclaimed. "You think Ashley is the creature we're looking for, you want me to take her home, have sex with her…and then while…." Dean stood up, outraged. "Are you out of your frigging mind? Even I can't do that!" He shoved the knife back at Sam. "Screw you, Sam!" He stormed off down the sidewalk, seriously rattled.
Sam caught him before he'd gone five steps, forcing the knife back into Dean's unwilling grip. "It's the only way! You think I haven't tried to find another? It's how it started; it's how it has to end."
Sam was deadly serious, Dean could see it.
"No," he said, voice low. "I think you're fucking crazy. That is not Ashley on that video. And I'm keeping this cause I don't want to see you anywhere near me or her with it. Do you understand me?" He crammed the wrapped blade into his waistband under the shirt. He pointed at Sam. "Stay the hell away from both of us!"
With an angry twist he turned and stalked back into the club, Sam's glaring disbelief a physical presence at his back.
The ride back to Ashley's apartment was quiet. Ashley kept glancing sidelong at Dean as he brooded silently, grappling with his thoughts.
"What did Sam say to you?" She finally ventured hesitantly. "You seem upset."
Dean shot a look at her, then back at the road. He shrugged. "Nothin'." Feeling the handle of the dagger dig into his stomach, he continued, "We just had a stupid argument. I really don't want to talk about it." He shifted uncomfortably, swinging the big car into the parking space by her building.
He got out, opened her door and accompanied her in silence up to the door of her apartment.
She unlocked the door and he followed her in. He walked out to the balcony as she locked the door and leaned against the railing, looking out at the lights.
After a moment she joined him, standing close, but not touching. "Dean…," Ashley began.
He sighed, turning to look at her.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." She said, toying with the necklace he had fastened for her earlier, her eyes taking in the glow of light below.
"Why? What's wrong?" he asked, taking her arm.
Ashley shook her head, glancing up at him. "I really like you, Dean." Then her eyes drifted to the floor and across the room.
Dean closed his eyes, stroking her arm, feeling that electric spark as he did so. Sam was out of his mind. "I…I like you, too," he said hesitantly. "I like you a lot."
He lifted his hand and used it to raise her face to him. To his surprise tears filled her eyes, one spilling over the dam of her lashes and rolling slowly down her cheek.
"Tell me what's wrong," he said, frowning.
Ashley shook her head again. She put the flat of her hand against his chest and gazed up at him. The contact sent heat through Dean's body and set his heart racing, causing his breath to hitch. She opened her mouth to speak, obviously torn over what to say.
"I think," she began in a low, controlled voice, "that you have such an old soul. That you are so sad and so lonely…." Dean's brows drew together as she spoke. "I think you are so beautiful inside, and I can feel how much pain you're in and I want to make it all be better for you." She lowered her head, voice breaking. "I don't want to add to that pain, to hurt you."
"What are you talking about?" he demanded, putting one hand over hers, the other caught a new tear as it drifted from her eye.
"I'm so lonely," she whispered, almost to herself. "I've been alone for so long." The pressure from her hand against his chest grew stronger and began to feel very much as though she was pushing him away. She abruptly shook her head. "You need to go, Dean," she said, suddenly loud. She actually did push him this time. "I want you to go. Now. Please."
"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Dean insisted, catching her face between his hands and forcing her to look at him.
Her eyes implored him. "Please…."
Dean stared into her shimmering eyes, then lowered his face, taking her mouth in a gentle kiss.
At first she tried to break away, but even as she was shaking her head, she suddenly moaned. Before he could move she was pushing herself up against him with shocking strength. His back slammed painfully into the door frame behind him, her fingers clutching around the back of his head, nails digging in, forcing herself even closer.
It was so unexpected and strong, Dean felt his teeth cut into the inside of his lip, bringing the taste of blood to his mouth.
Ashley moaned again as she tasted it too, her movements became wilder. She was all over him, hands sliding everywhere, his shirt pulled half off, fingers sliding under his t-shirt, her leg sliding between his, shoving up.
Dean made a strangled sound, trying to push her away, but she clung to him like skin, her mouth devouring his, teeth digging in. His eyes went wide as liquid fire suddenly seared his mouth and throat. Crying out, panicked and agonized, he found the strength to shove her away from him, losing his balance and falling heavily to his side. Spitting and gagging, the skin of his hands burning where they wiped frantically at his face and mouth. Blood and saliva dripped on the floor.
"I told you to go!" Ashley cried, turning away from him, her hands twisted in her hair. "God, why didn't you go?"
Standing outside the club, staring after Dean and Ashley, Sam swore with rare virulence. Going after Dean now would only get him a punch in the face. He needed to get to Ashley's, hoping to God that's where they went.
A taxi at the curb a few feet away and Sam ran for it, grabbing the door as another young man with a stunning blonde on his arm reached for the handle. "Sorry!" Sam snapped, flashing his gold club card to fast for the other couple to really see what it was. "Police emergency!" he slid into the backseat and slammed the door. He yelled out Ashley's address and hit the seat, adding, "Step on it!"
The taxi screeched away from the open-mouthed couple.
Traffic was a nightmare downtown. Everyone in the whole frigging city had decided to go out it seemed and they were all determined to get totally in the way. Sam was leaning over the front seat screaming at the other cars as loud as the driver.
The car that blasted through the intersection, trying to clear the yellow light before it turned red slammed into the driver's side of the cab with an explosive crash, throwing Sam into the driver's side door, knocking him cold.
Dean pulled himself to his feet, one hand hovering over his mouth. He stumbled away from her, other hand reaching out to support himself against the door to the kitchen. He slumped against the wall, leaning over. The initial flash of pain was gone, in its wake a sickening burn.
Dean coughed, grimacing, spraying his hand with fine drops of blood, the fire on his tongue and palate making his eyes water. "Wha'd you do t'me?" His words slurred from trying to talk without causing himself more pain. His tongue felt too thick and his breath was starting to wheeze. He was going to try for the door, but knew he wouldn't make it.
Still turned away, Ashley's voice was rougher, deeper. Her hands still tangled in her hair, started sliding through the long satiny locks, the dark hair seemed to lengthen into a sudden waterfall of deep red curls that fell almost to her waist.
Shaking out the mahogany tresses, she lazily released the hook that held her dress in place. With a slow turn she allowed the silken fabric to drift down her body and pool at her feet. She was naked underneath.
Dean couldn't help but watch her garment slither to the ground. Coughing, he slowly lifted his eyes again, seeing the slender body that had been Ashley's, become fuller, rounder, curvier in a way you didn't see much anymore. Her skin became more golden as he watched. The face he saw was still Ashley's, but while Ashley had been pretty, very much so, this was the sensuous beauty of full lips, heavy lidded eyes, now a startling silver rather than bright blue, an elegance of form and motion unlike anything he had ever seen.
Comparing the Ashley he had known to this woman before him was like comparing a cheap print to an original masterpiece. Looking in her eyes was seeing down the centuries, experiences you could be lost in. Moments to die for….
Dean forced him self looked away, away from those compelling eyes, his head buzzing. It was getting hard to breathe. He twisted himself to the side and fell through the doorway into the kitchen, staggering back against the cabinets.
Ashley kicked off her heels, one at a time, and stepped delicately out of the blue puddle of fabric. Pausing before a large mirror, she studied her reflection with a pleased smile, hands tracing over her curves. "God, it's like shedding an ill-fitting piece of clothing getting rid of her. A convenient, but uncomfortable disguise.""
She undulated slowly into the kitchen, watching him. "Does it hurt? I just gave you a little taste, but that's usually enough to bring them down. You're very strong." She leaned closer, reaching out to Dean, who tried to pull away. Her fingers pressed to his face, following him down as his legs gave out and he slid to the floor. "I'm not surprised you were attracted to poor, lonely Ashley. I sensed you'd respond to her rather pathetic existence. A kindred spirit if you will. Silly boy," the tone in her voice was one of patient indulgence.
"You are Ashley!" Dean rasped, as if reasoning with her would help.
She slowly shook her head, moving her leg and comfortably straddling him as he lay there.
Dean fumbled for the blade in his belt, managing to get his fingers around the grip, but couldn't get it free.
Elana drew back, looking down in mock surprise. "Darling, you brought me a gift!" she crooned, pulling the black knife from his weak grasp and twirling it in her fingers, admiring it. She looked down at him sideways, eyes narrowed. "How very clever you and your brother are. Maybe I'll take him next."
"No, sweetness, you have it backwards, I'm Elana. Ashley helps me survive, day to day; It's a tough new world and a girl has to make a living. I am Ashley, she's my buffer, a mask. My alter ego if you will. Sometimes, like with you, because you are so strong and so pretty and so obviously damaged, she's my bait. As time has gone by, unfortunately, she's somewhat taken on a life of her own. It gets a little harder each time to shed her, like an old skin."
Elana leaned close, dragging her tongue up the side of Dean's face.
He twisted away. "Ge' off me, bitch!"
Elana ignored him, continuing in the same conversational tone. "She's started thinking it'll be different, she'll be able to hold on; I won't come out to play." She whispered in Dean's ear, "I let her have her fun, but I'll always be here."
She pressed her body against his, it didn't take much strength to clasp Dean's chin and turn his face toward her. Her lips drew closer.
"Sam…," he rasped.
Elana made a clucking noise, her fingers left his chin and began brushing through his hair. "You told him to leave us alone, remember? I think if he was coming he'd have been here by now, don't you?"
Her voice hardened and she grabbed his arms, jerking him down to lie flat on the floor. He grunted as the back of his head slammed on the tile.
"Play time's over." She spat. "I'm hungry." She ground her pelvis against him. "You know this can only be used in an act of love." She dragged the thin blade down his shirtfront playfully. "You might have loved pretty little Ashley. But I don't think you could have used this on her." She laughed. "What about me, Dean? Do you love me?"
"Gimme knife…show you…."
She laughed and tossed the blade across the room. She nipped at his bleeding mouth, her eyes staring deeply into his. "Do you love me, Dean?" She said in a low voice.
Dean struggled to draw in air, tried to close his eyes as she came nearer, blocking everything out, until she became everything.
"Do you love me?" She whispered, rocking against him. "Do you love me? Say it!" She demanded. "Tell me you love me!"
No! His mind screamed.
"Yes…," he gasped, unable to deny her, "…love you…."
Sam awoke with a jerk, a blast of pain over his left eye, stickiness coating the side of his face. His ears were filled with some kind of screaming….
"Easy, fella," a voice said, to close to his face, "the paramedics are here. You were in an accident-"
His taxi had been hit by another car.
Shaking his head, Sam became aware of a crowd of people. He was lying across the back seat of the cab. Sitting up with a snap, ignoring the accompanying dizziness, he caught sight of himself in the tilted rear view mirror. Blood pooled around his eye from a wound under his bangs and trailed down his chin. A hand grabbed his arm.
"Take it easy! You shouldn't move 'til the paramedics take a look at you."
"Get away from me!" Sam snarled, shaking off the other man's hand like a fly. He pushed his way out of the cab, swaying back against the fender.
"Sir! Sir, please, we need to check you out-" A more official voice attached to a uniform tried to touch him, getting shoved back for his trouble.
"No!" Sam barked, forcing himself to focus. "I'm refusing medical assistance, now get away from me!"
Fighting off the hands that tried to stop him, Sam took a few stumbling steps from the wreckage, straightened himself and looked around to get his bearings.
Then he ran.
Dean watched in horror as Elana gasped and reeled back, clasping her arms over her chest, her skin instantly taking on a dusty grey color, scales forming in delicate, black edged ridges.
Body shuddering and twisting as it reformed itself, her eyes remained locked on his. She laughed, a hiss of air through lips that thinned and drew back almost to her ears as they retreated into her head, hair disappearing into the skin of her skull as it flattened and grew broader. Her arms vanished into her shoulders, legs melting together and she sank to the floor in a graceful roll of elongated flesh covered with sparkling silver skin, each fine scale tipped in black. Her writhing body was as thick as Dean's thigh and at least three times his height.
Elana's now serpentine head dipped low to brush his face with her long forked tongue. Dean shuddered inwardly, closing his eyes as it fluttered across his skin, but his body refused to obey his commands to move. The spell was broken, but he was too far gone to respond.
Her head bobbed a few inches above his face, mouth slowly opening, a pair of long curved fangs unfolded from the roof of her mouth. A green droplet fell from one fang and sizzled as it hit his t-shirt and burned through. She slowly pulled back for her strike.
As death stared him in the face, Dean reached deep and drew strength from a place he didn't know existed, his body bucking upwards in an uncontrolled spasm of locked muscles.
Certain her prey was helpless, Elana was caught by surprise and thrown sideways. Dean slumped back, incapable of further movement. She reared angrily above him, fangs bared.
Both the serpent and Dean jerked as the door was suddenly kicked in and Sam burst through. His shirt was torn, splattered with red and blood streaked one side of his face and clumped in his hair.
Elana's lower body coiled over Dean's helpless form, crushing him beneath her weight her head bobbing against the ceiling.
With an ear-piercing hiss, she struck at him.
"Holy shit!" Sam yelped, falling back, crouching low as Elana's head snapped at him. "Dean!" Dean didn't move.
Looking around wildly, Sam spied the iron stiletto lying on the floor against one of the cabinets and threw himself at it in a rolling dive, scooping it up even as Elana struck at him again. He ended up at the far side of the living room, well out of Elana's strike range.
She pulled back, her body curling around Dean, constricting. Dean's head rolled limply and he groaned with the pressure as she tightened the coils around his chest. Lifting her head once more, she opened her mouth wide, green venom dripping, a sound like fat frying filled the air and her tongue rolled out to twitch and wriggle over Dean's face, each drag leaving a red welt behind it.
"No!" Sam yelled, realizing she was choosing Dean over him. He was throwing himself forward even as she drew back to make that last fatal strike. His body landed on top of Dean, blocking Elana's attack, the coils of her body rolling beneath him like a wave. He lunged with the knife, twisting the blade where it entered the slick body and slicing upwards into her throat.
Sam twisted to shield Dean as hot blood spewed over them both and the dead weight of Elana's body slammed into them.
Frantically, Sam kicked the still writhing body away, pulling Dean free of it's coils and hauling them both back against the cabinets. In horrified fascination, he stared as the twisting form changed and morphed back into a semblance of a human body, still covered with the silvery scales, but recognizable as a reptilian combination of both Ashley and Elana. Her eyes rolled to him, a hand stretching out.
Tightening his grip on Dean, but unable to tear his eyes away, he gasped when her body suddenly crumbled into dust.
Snapping himself out of it, Sam looked down at Dean, who was watching him blearily, but couldn't do more than roll his head, his hands jerking impotently on the floor as he tried to move them.
"…sorry…," Dean mouthed, he eyes swept over Sam's bloody appearance. He clutched Sam's arm. "Wha…."
"I'm fine, Dean," Sam snapped in exasperation. "We'll talk about it later. Did she bite you?" he demanded, grasping Dean's face.
Dean shook his head minutely and managed to lift a hand enough to drag it clumsily across his mouth. "Kiss…."
Then Sam registered the burns on Dean's mouth. "Oh…crap. God, that's gotta hurt. Okay, hang on a sec-"
He pulled Dean into a sitting position then ransacked the cabinets until he found the Alka Seltzer Ashley had given Dean that first night for his upset stomach. Filling a pitcher with water, he dumped in the whole box. While it bubbled, he dragged a stool over to the sink and hauled Dean up into it. The paralyzing affect of the toxin was wearing off already since Elana had not injected it into Dean's bloodstream, but Dean was incapable of holding himself up.
"It's okay, Dean. It'll be okay," Sam breathed.
Repeated rinsing with multiple doses of the Alka Seltzer nullified the acid Elana used to burn Dean's mouth, but his lips, the inside of his mouth, tongue and throat were blistered and incredibly raw. Sam forced him to drink one dose just in case any had made its way into his stomach. By the time they were done, both men were soaked.
Mixing some crushed pain killers with water so Dean could drink it, he forced Dean to lie down and rest until his breathing had eased by threatening him with a hospital.
Just before dawn Sam had cleared the apartment of any trace of them both. Before the first rays of the sun had cleared the trees, they were gone.
"Here you go," Sam said, getting back into the car and handing Dean the milkshake he had requested via pen and paper.
Dean smiled a weak thank you, and took the straw out of the cup, opting to use the spoon. He had been using ice chips and throat sprays to try to numb the pain, but Sam figured Dean's taste buds were fried when he could only tell the flavor of the milkshake by the color. They were icy cold though and undoubtedly chilled his throat. There had to be at least a little pleasure from even that slight relief.
He knew Dean would heal in time, although he couldn't eat anything solid and talking was almost impossible. He had taken to scribbling on a legal pad, when gesturing and face- making failed him in his attempts to communicate.
As Sam started the engine Dean touched his arm.
Sam glanced at him, "Yeah?"
Dean scribbled on the yellow notepad and held it out for Sam to read. "Sorry. I was an asshole. Should've trusted you."
Sam sighed. He knew how guilty Dean felt about everything. "We already did this, Dean. I know you're sorry. It's okay. You weren't in control."
He went to start the car again. Dean made a growling noise and scribbled again, holding the pad out once more.
Frowning Sam read the words.
"You killed her."
Sam's frown deepened. "Yeah, Dean, I did. I didn't have any choice. I know how much you liked Ashley. If there'd been another way—"
Dean shook his head, making an impatient noise and began writing again again. "How? You said I had to do it. Killing had to be in an act of love."
Sam took the pad and read it slowly, glancing up at Dean.
Dean hit the pad with his fingers for emphasis, closing his eyes in a grimace as he swallowed, putting his hand against his throat before returning his eyes to Sam.
Sam handed the pad back. "I think I was being too literal with the legend," he finally said, putting the car in gear and backing up.
Dean rolled his eyes, drew a large question mark and held the pad up, shaking it, his eyes angry and confused.
Sam sighed and gazed at his brother for a long moment. "Dean…it was in an act of love."
He shifted into drive and hit the gas. Keeping his eyes ahead as they gunned down the road, he added.
"Just not yours."
End notes: Hope ya'll enjoyed!