A/N: In case some of you haven't noticed, the rating has gone down and we are down a chapter. I figured there wasn't as much sex as I'd imagined and so I took out the sex scenes/chapters and combined them into one fix called "Not for the kids".
Feel free to get your dirty kicks there. For every moment there is a possibility for a sex scene in this series, it will go there. This also makes this story more user friendly.
Also, this is tomorrow's chapter. It's just that tomorrow is really busy for me, so you can have it early. Happy Reading.
2007 – May
South Dakota – Sioux Falls
The tears were still strong in her eyes. They burnt away, desperate to fall. Again. She wiped a hand over her face once more and released a long, shaky breath. Charlotte let her eyes fix on the open hood of Bobby's old wreck. She'd hoped it would help her to think, if her hands could do something.
But she knew no way to bring a person back from the dead. It just wasn't a thing. Not without some serious consequences of course, but nothing seemed able to bring Sam a hundred percent back.
The wrench in her hand was thrown against the blue door of her Pontiac a few yards away and she ground her teeth together. The tears were coming back. Dean had driven her and Bobby away hours ago. Stuck in his own world whilst she fell further into hers. He was angry, upset, pissed and hell bent on a downward spiral into despair.
But so was she. Anger at Dean, driving her and Bobby away, started to boil and she curled her hands into fists. She was angry at the yellow eyed Demon for forcing them down this path. Angry at whoever that guy was that had stabbed Sam. Angry at herself, unable to do anything to bring Sam back.
For the past few hours she'd done nothing but stare at the engine in front of her, unable to stop her thoughts travelling to the Winchesters, to Ash, Ellen and Jo. With a deep breath she slammed the hood shut and moved to grab herself a fresh beer.
Inside, Bobby was sat at the kitchen table, a tumbler of whiskey in hand. He lifted his head up to her and she met his gaze for a few seconds before she moved to the fridge. Charlotte pulled the door open, started to reach for a bottle before she turned to eye Bobby. He was watching her. "You okay?"
It took her a few seconds to respond, trying to kick down the anger that was boiling away, trying to keep back the tears that wanted to spill. She closed the door and gave a single shake of her head. "No." She reached for a second tumbler, sat it on the table next to the whiskey glass the older man had and grabbed the bottle. "No I am not okay." A double was poured and she took a sip, eyes staring at the amber liquid inside the bottle. "How's Dean?"
Bobby sighed. "Won't budge."
She snorted and ducked her eyes further. She sniffed and took another sip of the burning liquid. "Can't blame him."
"Why don't you go and talk to him?"
Charlotte lifted her eyes to meet his and held it for several seconds. Dean had said he'd wanted some space, to be left alone so she'd left him and hadn't gone back, hadn't even picked up the phone to call him. Several times she'd picked up her phone, scrolled to his name and almost hit dial. He needed to talk about it. So did she, but she didn't want to. Dean wouldn't listen or talk and she wouldn't know what to say. Bury him? Burn him? She didn't want him to. She wanted Sam back. And if she knew Dean she knew he would be pissed. Mix that with her growing anger and somebody was going to boil over too far.
She shook her head, the muscles in her jaw tight. "No. Wouldn't do any good. He wouldn't listen even if I begged him to."
Bobby sighed again but the younger woman kept her gaze away from his. "At least pick up the phone and call him."
She turned her back on him and lifted her eyes to fix them on the open doorway. A couple of stray tears skidded down her face and she shook her head once more. "And say what? Sam's dead get over it?" The anger bit down on her tears and she let her head fall forward to stare at the floor. "That he needs to move on? How?" She turned, her voice starting to rise. "How can I say that when I can't move on?! This isn't fair!" Bobby's wide eyes forced her to reign in her growing voice and in a normal tone she said, "This ain't right. Anybody but Sam."
A knock interrupted anything Bobby would say and they both turned to stare at the door. He was the first to move. She took another sip, reducing the size of her drink to that of a single now and she stared at the wooden door. Dean's voice saying 'Hi' had her frowning. But her frown only deepened into one of shock and fear when she heard Sam say 'Hi' too. Then the taller Winchester was walking into the house, a smile on his face. "Hey Charlotte," he frowned brown eyes at her. "Are you okay?"
She wiped at her face and nodded. "Yeah," her ears caught the tail of end of Bobby's and Dean's conversation and she nodded again. "It's," she smiled awkwardly, the muscles in her cheeks straining against the tears and happiness at the sight of him. "It's erm, good to see you up and about."
"Yeah," he laughed his short laugh and the tears were pushing again. Dean walked in and she glanced at him, catching a sorry ass expression on his face. "Bobby did a good job."
"He did didn't he," she said. After a few seconds her fingers felt the glass in her hands once more and she finished off the drink before she moved to gingerly put it back on the table. She glanced at the boys once more and nodded her head to the junkyard, "If you'll excuse me," she said, "I was, doing something."
She turned and walked out. Her hands shook by her sides and she curled them into fists to try to steady her racing heart. He was alive. Sam. Alive. Living. Breathing. Dean. He'd done something. If his sorry assed expression was anything to go by it wasn't a story with a happy ending.
Her feet carried her to Bobby's car and she settled her hands flat on the hood of the car. Her mind worked, trying to figure out what Dean had done, what dumb ass stunt he'd pulled. With closed eyes she listened to the shuffling of feet behind her. She lifted her head to stare off in the opposite direction, already knowing who would be dragging their feet behind them.
The shuffling feet continued to move, getting closer until they stopped a few feet away. Her fingers pressed against the metal of the car and she felt the muscles in her jaw tighten that little bit more. "Charlotte?"
She stood, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the next and back. It took several deep breaths for her to turn and face him, anger clearly written across every inch of her features. His shameful look did nothing to shift her thoughts or feelings. "What did you do?"
He lifted his head just a few inches and he took a deep breath. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his jacket and she watched his eyes study her, gauging her. "Charlotte," and she swore his voice almost broke towards the end of her name. "I had to."
She took a step towards him, "What. Did. You. Do?" and she continued to walk until she stopped a foot away.
For a brief moment he looked away, then he looked down, his mouth open, waiting for the words to fall. He jerked his head up, mouth still open and said, "I made a deal."
Everything hit her then. The cap she'd put on her anger blew off and she let a fist loose, connecting with Dean's jaw. He stumbled back, a hand to his face and his eyes to her, shocked at the sudden outburst.
But she wasn't through. A deal. A deal, with a demon. And she could bet her ass he didn't have ten years. She marched forward, wrapped her hands in the collar of his jacket and pushed him back until he hit the side of the house. Her hands kept a firm hold as she pressed him further into the wooden structure. When she spoke her anger came out in a deadly whisper, "How long?"
Dean did nothing to bat away her hands or get her off of him. He let his hands fall to his sides, his head leaning back against the house. "A year."
Whatever pieces of her heart weren't already gone from losing Sam were down the drain now. "Damn it!" she yelled, jerking her fists against him before she pushed herself two paces away from him.
"That's why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill him myself. I got nothing to lose now right?"
She jerked her head in his direction, anger flaring again. "Nothing to lose? Oh," she let out a shallow chuckle and glared at him, hands rearing to wrap themselves around his throat. "I'm gonna kill you Dean."
Now it was his turn to let the anger show. "And send me down ahead of schedule?!"
"Yeah! Maybe I will!" She walked back up to him, squaring off to him, anger bouncing back to her from the waves of anger he was letting off. God she wanted to throttle him. Making a deal? Acting like nothing else matters but putting the yellow-eyed bastard down that started this mess?
He was the first to break the staring contest. "I'm not even supposed to be here! Dad brought me back so maybe this way, some good could come out of it. You know, like, like maybe, maybe my life could mean something!"
"It already meant something you dick!" Tears were begging to be let loose again and she wanted to throw herself around Dean, punch him, slap him, throttle him, hold him. She hated him. She hated him so much.
"Well I couldn't let him die!" The anger dissipated into tears from him and she felt herself beginning to kick herself. She didn't want Sammy to die either. But a deal? With a demon? Part of her was angry at herself for not thinking of it first. "He's my brother."
"He's my brother too," she whispered, tears beginning to blur her vision.
Dean frowned at her, confusion written across his face. "What?"
She shoved her hands against his chest, slamming him back into the house. "We're family! You, me, Sammy, Bobby. Family! We're in this together you son of a bitch. And now we gotta watch you die?"
A few tears escaped his eyes and made a wet track down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he managed.
She wrapped her hands in the folds of his jacket once more, eyes narrowed dangerously into a glare on him, tears beginning to stream down her face. "You better be sorry Dean Winchester." And her body started to shake. All of the emotions, all of the anger, the pain, the tears, it came out now and she dropped her head to his shoulder, holding onto him as her body shook with silent tears.
He rested his chin against her shoulder, closed tearful eyes and finally brought his arms up to hold him against her. He held on tight, fisting his hands into the fabric of her shirt and shoving his face into her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.
A very quiet, muffled voice said, "I hate you."
He smiled painfully, kissed her cheek and said, "I hate me too."