The second he saw her, he knew. Looking beyond the creamy smooth skin, the rocking bod and pouty lips… Beyond the way she’d so clearly honed all of her attributes to incite lust and want in the males around her. He saw past the pretty wrappings and glimpsed the real gift lurking within; the one he was driven to possess. Dean knew it as surely as he knew he was a sick son of a bitch for what he wanted to do to her. To do with her. He knew – and it still wouldn’t stop him.
She was hovering on the brink of destruction – flirting with the edge of a cliff and yearning to leap. She was ready to detonate and all she needed was a spark…
She’d drawn him in instead and would be getting a wildfire to ravage and burn her out hollow.
He recognized the symptoms instantly. The way her eyes flicked across the leering faces and the small, barely perceptible self-satisfied gleam she’d get at their lustful wanting so clearly tenting their pants. But there was innocence there too – so clear in her blushing cheeks and almost awed expression when she realized she held such power.
Even beyond that, he took in her defensive posture whenever she left the stage and the way her eyes flicked to the exits even as she removed her clothes. She made it a point to be aware of her surroundings at all times and examined shadows as if she expected the boogie man to leap out and snatch her up at any second if she gave him the opportunity. Through the lustful innocence that clearly told him she’d never known a man’s touch – and he was so very inclined to change that as soon as possible – he recognized not only a virgin in stripper’s garb but also the tell-tale signs of a woman on the run for her life. A woman who just might know more than the average bear when it came to monsters lurking under the bed.
While driven by his vices – mainly the urge to slake his lust with her willing body and shed the blood of whoever got in his way – a small, nearly dormant corner of his mind whispered an old motto.
Saving people, hunting things… The family business.
He wanted to devour her innocence and ruin her for any other. He wanted to push her over the edge of chaos and make her the Bonnie to his Clyde… Take her out and paint the town red for shits and giggles. He’d burn the world to ash for a laugh and afterwards, he’d find his religion in the wet little slice between her milky white thighs. He would sample what no other man had tasted and if it was the last thing he did, he’d tear her apart piece by piece and leave his stain upon her. Marking her as his alone. He’d taint her and fill her with his darkness even as he coveted her light.
But a part of him wanted to protect her, even from himself. Shield her from the horrors that go bump in the night even knowing he was the one that bumped the loudest.
At war with himself, he’d been content with simply killing off the more persistent patrons of her show. About five seedy gentleman – and he used that term loosely – in total had met their demise at his hand. Crowley had bitched about the last two. Dean had almost caused a scene in the middle of her set but he thought he reacted not only with great restraint when waiting to usher them out of the club as soon as his girl was safely backstage, but he’d also been entirely justified in gutting the bastards.
They’d been planning to offer her a job at their club across town but they didn’t even have a Taco Tuesday or a Five-Dollar Steak Night so Dean couldn’t have that. Besides, this place actually served pie.
He wanted to watch his girl tease the hell outta these poor schmucks while he had some pie – was that so much to ask for?
He didn’t think so. When he turned to a bitching Crowley, hands dripping with the still warm blood of his most recent victims, his fingers tightened around the First Blade. Bringing it up, he pointed at him with it while snapping, “You wanna be next, chubby?”
Well, that’d shut him up right quick. Fucking thankfully, too, because dude usually was quite fun to roll with and sang a wicked version of Free Bird during their karaoke nights.
“She’s in your head, Dean-O,” Crowley had mumbled earlier that night as they took up their usual spot at stage right. “Are you gonna do something about it or should I just cut off your balls and hand them to her so she can put them in her little purse right next to where she keeps your pride?”
With a devilish smirk, Crowley tilted his head to get a better look at her ass as she executed a particularly impressive spin and slide move, ending with her breasts shoved in some lucky bastard’s face. The man obligingly started throwing bills up onto the stage but Dean’s keen gaze honed in on the man’s flexing hands, aching to reach out and sample what didn’t belong to him…
Dean would have to pay a little visit to this loser later on.
“If you don’t make a move,” Crowley murmured as if following Dean’s train of thought. “Somebody else will.”
As if on cue, his girl’s eyes flicked to him. A rolling warmth spread throughout his body as he took in her delicious blush. Sweeping across her cheeks and down her neck, the rosy hue highlighted her barely covered breasts and made his mouth water. Fucking delicious.
He wanted to eat her up like she was the last slice of pecan pie in the world – slow and with relish. He would savor every last inch of her.
Watching as she looked away from him and scampered off stage, Dean turned to Crowley and said in a gruff, growly voice, “Any of these fuckers goes near her and I’ll rip their dick off and shove it down their throat until they either suffocate to death or die of the shock.”
“Either way – ” Crowley grinned, “Bound to be a fun time.”
Deciding another drink was in order, Dean left Crowley with a sharp clap to the shorter man’s shoulder that had him stumbling forward with a grumble. With a smirk, he eyed the impressive rack on the bartender in front of him but where he once would’ve leaned forward and given into the impulsive to give her tits a nice, slobbery motorboat – bouncers be damned – he now compared them to another pair and found them woefully lacking.
“Fuck off, skank,” he said in response to the inviting wink she gave along with his beer.
Chuckling as she huffed indignantly, he took a moment to admire her ass as she scampered away. Nice, but not as nice as his girl’s.
“Don’t forget my whiskey chaser!” he called out after her.
Greeting said skank with another condescending smirk as she none too gently set his shot of whiskey in front of him a moment later, he grabbed his beer and shot and gave her a mocking toast before ditching her and making his way to the backstage entrance. Crowley was no where to be seen, but he’d meet up with the guy soon enough. They had plans for some dirty dealing and the mark was hungry for blood. And Dean was eager to feed it.
First, he had to feed the need to see to his girl which was only marginally stronger at the moment. The benefit of hindsight had him knowing she was likely removing the bulk of her stage makeup and dressing in her civilian gear before she’d slip out the back and walk down the street to the seedy motel she was staying in. After first setting his eyes on her, it hadn’t taken long to learn her routine. No doubting his girl was smart but she sure as hell was oblivious to her surroundings if she hadn’t noticed him stalking her fine ass to and from the club each week. Which was strange because she made it a point to scan around her constantly, shoulders taut as though she was winding up a Jack in the Box toy knowing it would spring out at her at any moment and scare the shit outta her.
Taking a deep gulp of his beer, he contemplated breaking into her dressing room and bending her over whatever surface was nearest and fucking her until neither of them could physically stand any longer. He shook off the strong urge pulsing through him – it took damn near his entire will to fight the impulse but last thing he wanted to do was blow his load early like a teen losing his v-card on prom night and scare the girl off. Dean Winchester was no two pump chump. No… slow and steady, he told himself. If he restrained, she’d slowly walk into his beckoning arms and then he would spring the trap. Unknowingly, she’d slip his noose around her neck and tighten it for him, smiling shyly all the while. Once he had her hung up on him, he’d never let her go. So he abstained, thankful for the liquor coursing through him that dulled his desire to just a muted roar. It’d be worth it, he told himself. Fucking A, would it be worth it…
Only this night was different. Instead of hearing her call out her friendly goodbyes to her co-workers, Dean heard the mumbling of several voices slowly raising in anger. Recognizing the gruff British twang of his friend, Dean tensed. He’d hand Crowley his ass if he was in there messing with her…
At the first shout of, “Oy! Dean-o! Come out and play, yeah? These guys are trying to steal your girl!” he was off like a gun.
Charging into the cramped room with the finesse of a raging bull on steroids, it took Dean all of three seconds to assess the situation. Crowley, standing back waiting for the show to begin, and three vampires clearly with a death wish – one of who had his fucking icy hands on his girl, leaving what were sure to be tender bruises along her arms in his wake.
Son of a bitch was marking his girl and it would not stand.
No hesitation, he dove for them, pulling back his strength just enough so that he wouldn’t crush her under the onslaught of his furious attack. She slammed back into the wall and slid down, winded for sure, but largely unharmed. With that fact safe in mind, Dean’s anger snapped its leash and he unloaded his fury onto the idiot beneath him in a storm of flying fists. Marble skin gave way to his balled up fists, spiderweb cracks splintering across the guy’s face as the Mark of Cain feed Dean’s rage and strength.
Damn it feels good to be a gangsta, he thought with just a hint of a smirk as he bashed the dude’s head in right before fire flooded his veins.
Caught unaware by the pain, he collapsed with a grunt, allowing the idiot under him to crawl away.
The pain just made him even angrier, though, and his eyes turned into two fiery black pits as they connected with the little girl vampire staring intently at him like a kid unwilling to lose a staring contest. His smirk returned as their eyes connected and her own gaze widened as she took him in, seeing his amusement even through his pained grimace. Gathering up all his rage through the never-ending stream of pain running over him, Dean managed to make it to a knee and was about to launch himself at the little bitch when a voice broke through the fire:
“Stupid bitch – Hey! Ease up there, Janey!”
And then a stripper heel sailed passed Dean’s head towards the little witch.
With a dark chuckle, he watched her dodge the shoe easily enough but her concentration was well and truly broken so when the pain let up, he made quick work of gutting her like a stuck pig. The little witch’s eyes widened in shock as he buried the First Blade into her gut and pulled it down, her icy venom splattering over him as her guts spilled out onto the floor at his feet.
Puckering his lips up into a mocking kiss, he twisted his wrist and the blade carved out even more of her insides before he yanked it out and took it to her head. A dull thud sounded as he lopped it off and unable to resist, he punted it into the nearest wall and internally counted it as a field goal.
Turning, he saw the bastard from earlier tugging his girl away. She was twisting and jerking in his hold but though admirable her attempts were, she was no match for vampire strength.
Good thing he was there, he decided. With no problem at all, he walked over to the vampire, yanking him off his girl and stuck the blade into his stomach with a satisfying wet squish. On his arm, the Mark of Cain hummed and tingled pleasantly like a bug bite he’d just spent an hour scratching. Numb and satisfied, the mark and his drive for blood dimmed and Dean turned to his girl, sweating and chest heaving as he caught his breath.
Wide, brown eyes drank him in and he was done for it. Done with waiting and done with the games. She would be his whether she wanted to be or not. Game fucking over.
Tilting his head, he stuck the blade in the waist of his jeans and stalked to her like a predator eying a particularly appealing prey. His hands shot out on their own accord, firmly gripping her and hauling her up so fast she fell into his chest, her body pressed satisfyingly close to his.
But still not close enough.
Shock and awe crossed her eyes as he drank her in like a man dying of thirst. He wanted to gorge himself on her; lie her back to the ground, splay her thighs open and feast on her until she lost her voice from crying out his name.
And then he’d drink some more…
As though hearing his wicked thoughts, her eyes widened even further before her thick lashes batted and she went completely limp in his hold. He caught her easily, gathering her up into his arms in one smooth swoop.
With her pressed tight against him, he took a moment to survey the room. A thrill of victory surged through him as he took in the mangled bodies of his foes and he stood tall like a gladiator having survived the games despite the odds stacked against him. He’d come out the victor.
And to the victor goes the spoils.
His grip tightened on the girl in his arms and Dean made for the exit, uncaring of the carnage left behind him. Let someone else worry about cleanup – that wasn’t his department.
“So we’re just gonna take her, then?” Crowley fell into step behind him.
Dean paused, looking back at him over his shoulder. “You wanna try and take her from me?” he asked, the challenge plain in his tone.
Crowley snorted and held up his hands. “I’m just saying a little appreciation would be nice. I did help, after all.”
Dean lifted a brow. “Standing in a corner, trying not to break a nail – that’s what you call helping?”
“Didn’t want to spoil your fun,” Crowley grinned.
To that, Dean gave a grudging nod as a matching grin broke his stoic expression. Gutting those bastards had been fun, he had to hand the guy that.
“Besides, I came back here to put in a good word for you – help you seal the deal,” Crowley said. “Good thing too as it sounds like she’s got a bunch of those lot after her. Your girl’s been on the run from vampires, Dean-o, including their self-appointed kings and some boy toy named Edward who wants her back.”
Equal parts rage and anticipation filled him at the knowledge and Dean hefted her up more securely in his arms and made for the door once more.
“Let them come – I’ll gut them all one by one and let them watch as I pull out their own intestines to strangle them with.”
Behind him, Crowley sighed. “Never a dull moment around you, is there? But like I said earlier – either way, bound to be a fun time.”
Visions of defiling the girl in his arms were interspersed with images of violence, fighting and general mayhem. Dean felt his eyes shutter black. Oh yes, fun times were ahead.
“She’s my cherry pie… Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise. Taste so good make a grown man cry… Sweet cherry pie, yeaaaaah.”
He cut her a wink while lifting his hand up to point at her as he drew out the last word.
Predictably, Bella blushed.
A few people started heckling but Dean continued to strut on stage, drinking and shooting her smarmy grins without a care in the world.
“Nauseating, isn’t it?”
Biting her lip, Bella turned to Crowley who had plopped down across from her and raised a brow. “Says the man who was singing Ricky Martin last night?”
He maintained an impressive glare until his lips ever so slightly pulled up in response to her own twitching as she fought a smile at the memory. “We are living la vida loca, aren’t we, dearest?”
Reaching out for the drink he set before her, Bella couldn’t help but get lost in thought as she faintly responded, “The crazy life for sure.”
Having come to in Dean’s arms just a short week ago after watching him single-handedly destroy three of the Volturi’s best, Bella found her whole world turned upside down, inside out and every other direction Ricky Martin sang about.
The supernatural… Witches, ghosts…
Demons, her eyes flicked to Dean singing on stage.
All real and all now part of her ever crazy reality that she was still barely keeping a grip on. On stage, Dean spun and hit a particularly high note.
Barely, she thought, taking a deep gulp.
“There you go, love,” Crowley murmured, dark eyes focused on her as she chugged her drink.
Don’t even get her started on that smarmy bastard. A king, they told her. Not just any king though – oh no. Here she was, sitting in some dive bar, kicking back brews with a demon who just so happened to be the king of hell.
She couldn’t make this shit up.
“Give it time,” he said, sounding somewhat comforting as she slammed her empty mug down on the table and sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. “Sweet girl like you – you’re just begging to be corrupted.”
She knew she should’ve run – that she was in over her head with the two men she’d been bar hopping with for the past week. But when faced with an insane, ex-boyfriend vampire who was surely drawing closer and what was essentially the mafia equivalent of the vampire world… Well, she supposed she’d rather take her chances with a demon knight of hell and the king.
“I think you’re a bad influence on me,” she said dryly.
Crowley raised his brows and responded pointedly, “King of hell, here.”
“Cheers, your highness,” she grinned, leaning forward and stealing his drink to kick back.
“Saucy little minx,” he grumbled with surprising lack of heat.
Something must be wrong with her, Bella decided, because intellectually she knew the man – if you could call him that – before her had done unspeakable things that would scar her for life if she’d ever hear about them yet she actually was rather fond of him. She supposed it was the lack of putting on airs. After months of Edward suppressing his vampire side and pretending to be something he wasn’t while smothering her own personality in the process, it was refreshing hanging out with two individuals who embraced who and what they were so unashamedly.
Then there was Dean…
Intense didn’t even begin to cover it. Everywhere she went, he followed, his eyes burning a trail across her skin. When she’d woken in his arms, he’d spoken very little at first but she’d never forget his first words to her.
“You’re mine now.”
Shocked, she’d just stared at him blankly as he carried her down the street and to the motel room that’d served as her home for some time now.
Crowley had then taken it upon himself to give her the truth is out there talk and Bella knew she’d escaped one monster just to get trapped by another. But Dean wasn’t like Crowley. He actually struck her as more dangerous than the king while at the same time, more restrained. Crowley was like a demon with a small taste of humanity whereas Dean was a human with a hunger for sin. They both were equally deadly but where Crowley might be inclined to hold back and think of the larger picture, Dean was a man living second to second. Ruled by impulses he seemed only to hold back from when it came to her.
There was more than they both told her, she was sure of it. More to Dean Winchester than a devil with black eyes. At times when he looked at her, she was surprised to see a sadness lingering in the corners of his haunted gaze. There was an openness and she saw more than just lust and frank need in his steady expression. A lake – his eyes held the eerie calm of a placid lake but underneath the surface? A whirlpool that would suck her down into him.
She would drown but she wouldn’t be alone.
It was for those reasons she lingered, unable to tear herself away from the walking contradiction Dean made. Unable to resist growing closer to him and not only because she knew he would protect her from the vampires after her… But because Dean Winchester was like a man drowning himself in sin for the greater good. Proud, stubborn for true, but something more as well. She wanted to stay and find out just how deep his darkness ran and if there really was no saving him from himself.
Foolish perhaps, but she couldn’t spend her life running forever and Bella couldn’t help but think Dean was someone worth the time and effort to stop and get to know. That he was worth the risk to her already battered heart.
Speak of devil, having finished his song – a signature one he sang every time they went to karaoke – Dean collapsed into the empty seat beside her. Stretching his arm along the back of her chair in an unmistakable sign of casual possession, he turned to Crowley and said, “It’s your turn – make it good.”
With a long suffering sigh, Crowley stood, straightened his tie and then went to the karaoke machine. Yanking the mic out of someone’s hand while simultaneously pushing the guy offstage, he coolly punched in a number and eyed the crowd before smirking at Bella.
“This one goes out to all the devils out there…”
A guitar riff split the room followed by a thumping drum. Choking on her drink, Bella watched wide-eyed as ACDC’s Highway to Hell cued up on the screen. With another wink at her, Crowley proceeded to awkwardly sway in place, nodding his head off beat, while singing the classic rock song in monotone.
Despite her nerves and troubling thoughts, Bella immediately busted out into giggles which grew even louder when Dean grinned and started heckling.
“FREEBIRD!” he called out, winking at her as she snorted.
Not even phased, Crowley lifted the hand still holding his glass of whiskey and stuck out his middle finger at them.
“My life is like some crazy, twisted dream,” Bella gasps, wiping tears from her eyes. “And I keep thinking any minute now I’ll wake up and then boom – the king of hell starts singing Highway to Hell and I’m not even all that surprised. I should be more shocked, shouldn’t I?” she looked to Dean imploringly.
“Sweetheart,” Dean began, leaning into her side and planting his lips against her ear as he whispered gruffly, “Deep down, you’re just as twisted as we are so you might as well give in to it.” He licked his lips, “Give in to me.”
His breath tickled her ear and his lips had her stomach bottoming out with desire. A blush swept across her face and with a smirk, Dean reached out and drew his finger down the apple of one cheek and murmured, “That’s some blush you have there, Cherry.”
Swallowing, she asked, “Cherry?” in a soft, slightly cracked voice.
His smirk widened. “My cherry pie.”
He was going to kill her – no doubt about it. All week long he’d been slipping his arm around her – a touch here, a lingering caress there. Terms of endearment layered with innuendo, one after the other falling from his honeyed poison tongue and his words washed over her, sinking into her skin until they resonated in her very bones.
Yes. She was his – or would be. God, help her.
“Dean,” her voice quivered.
He grinned down at her, an unmistakable gleam of victory in his eyes. It would’ve been insulting had he not started caressing idle circles up and down her arm. All thoughts about demons and hell evaporated until all that was left filling her head was Dean Winchester.
“Yes?” his voice dripped with dark amusement.
She cleared her throat. “I-I want…” she trailed off, unable to articulate all she was feeling into words.
“Sh-h,” he cooed. “Easy there, Cherry. I know what you want – and you know it’s yours.”
“Son of a bitch,” she whispered. “Fuck it.”
Then she dove for his lips. Teeth clashing, Dean quickly moaned his appreciation for her bold move and quickly set them on a more steady pace, his tongue swiping out to taste her as he moaned deep in his chest. It sounded like a deep purr against her, causing her breathing to hitch.
Before she could pull back and stammer some sort of apology, Dean’s arms locked around her. Breaking their kiss just long enough to catch his breath, he picked her up as easily as if she weighed about as much as a piece of paper, hauling her out of her chair and up onto his lap. Her legs obligingly fell open and when he pulled her back down against him there was no mistaking his desire for anything but.
“Mine,” he murmured, lips moving away from her mouth to allow her to breathe. They left a sloppy trail to her neck where he sucked along her pulse point.
She quivered against him. “Yes,” she gasped.
In the background, she heard Crowley singing… “And I’m goin’ down. All the way… I’m on the highway to hell.”
“Hey you two – get a room!” some bar patron called out.
Not one to waste an opportunity, Dean stood up, locking her ankles around his hips.
“Good idea,” he mumbled against her neck.
Embarrassment flooded her but was soon forgotten when she felt the scrap of his teeth along her skin. Her eyes fell shut and she arched into him.
A surface hit her back and a vague part of her mind knew there was no way they could’ve been back in their hotel room already. Cracking open an eye, she realized he’d hauled her into the men’s room.
At the sink, some dude in a trucker hat was leering at them.
“Uh – Dean,” she tapped his shoulder.
He pulled back looking mildly annoyed until he followed where she pointed to and he snapped, “Get the fuck outta here or I’ll carve your eyes out with a spoon.”
The man gulped. Even he knew Dean was good for it.
The door slammed behind him and decidedly, Dean carried her over to it and locked it with a loud click of finality.
“No running now. I’ve got you,” he teased darkly.
Though she knew he meant it.
And strangely, running was the last thing on her mind.
His lips caught hers again as his hands circled around her wrists and pinned her to the door.
Letting out a moan worthy of a porn star, Bella’s desire ignited hotter until she started subconsciously bucking against him, desperate for friction to ease the tension gathering within her.
“Fuck it,” he repeated her words from earlier and letting go of her wrists, he ripped her shirt open and snapped the front of her bra as if it were made of silly string. Not leaving her any time to feel self-conscious, he welcomed himself to her breasts and sharply tugged a nipple into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue.
“Dean!” she gasped loudly, fingers sifting into his hair and pulling him closer to her.
“That’s right, baby,” he said against her. “Let them know who you belong to.”
Then his hand slipped into her pants, one of his long talented fingers circling her clit until she shuddered against him on the verge of shattering apart.
“Dean, please,” she gasped, over and over.
He pulled away from her breasts and looked down at her. His chest was heaving, muscles bunching under her shy fingers. When she looked up, his eyes glittered down at her, black as night.
They stared at each other, chest to chest and hearts racing so loudly the other could feel the echo of the beat in them.
Snapping out of whatever thoughts held him, his eyes flashed back to hazel and he smiled down at her, dimples creasing his cheeks and making him even more attractive – if that were possible. As strangely erotic she found his black eyes to be, his more human hazel gaze set something to ease within her.
Whether he knew it or not, it was more than just lust between them.
She heard the jingling of his pants being unbuttoned and unzipped. With a muted thud, they fell to the floor and before she could appreciate the view, he was tearing her jeans off and easing inside her.
“Sh-h,” he hushed, bringing his lips to hers soothingly when she tensed at the invasion. “I’ve got you, Cherry.”
So at odds with the violent, primal side of him that she was more often than not witness to, Bella slowly unwound. He sank into her with a sigh and when he reached the barrier of her innocence, he pushed passed it with a sharp thrust that had her jolting, her head falling back to hit the door behind her.
With him firmly seated inside of her, they held still for a long moment.
She felt… strange. There she was losing her virginity to a demon in the bathroom of a dive bar and yet she had this sense of being overwhelming connected and grounded to said demon. Maybe she was just a naive virgin equating sex with true intimacy but Bella had never felt closer and more open to anyone in her entire life and if the strangely unguarded way he stared down at her was any indication – it was the same for Dean.
“Please,” she whispered.
Tell me this is more… More than lust and more than you taking your fill before leaving…
Pride held the pleas at bay but his eyes softened at her with knowing.
Pulling his hips back, Dean thrust into her. Again. Then again.
The bathroom filled with their moaning as they each sought satisfaction within the other until with a sharp cry she came against him, shattering apart like a spun glass figurine dropped to the floor.
Bit by bit, Dean picked each jagged edge of her up and pieced her back together only to drop her over the edge again. He never acknowledged the words she held back, but when he came inside her, it wasn’t with the triumphant roar she would’ve expected. Instead, he whimpered against her lips, frowning as his eyes screwed shut.
But even so, she saw the glimmer of wetness lingering there, his own sparkling fragments evident as he broke apart against her.
Doomed – the word floated across her mind in her post-coital bliss. They were hopelessly doomed.
Weeks later found them in a new city, new hotel and new club.
Bella’s eyes swept across the audience as she approached the pole and when the familiar strands of Cherry Pie started, she couldn’t help but coyly grin to where she knew Dean was lingering. Her old co-worker Candice had once accused her of putting on a show for him. She’d laughed it off at the time but now it was all too true. He enjoyed watching her perform publicly, especially as each night ended with him spending hours teasing her willing body into submission. Dean wasn’t necessarily the jealous type though he took great pride in claiming her as his whenever and wherever possible.
It was a familiar scene recreated in whatever town they found themselves in. Bar hopping, karaoke, sex and fighting… Their world became a blur of vices as they kept moving. Town to town, never settling for longer than a couple days in each. Always running, each three of them almost afraid to stop long enough for reality to crash the party.
Wanting to hurry up and finish her set so she, Dean and Crowley could get ready to hop town again, Bella started swaying to the music only to stop when she took in the familiar face in the front row.
Edward eyed her darkly, his storming eyes managing to convey appreciation while still disapproving.
“Dean,” she called out, even as Edward hopped up onto the stage and threw her over his shoulder.
He moved faster than he should’ve, clearly not thinking about the humans around them though it was a particularly slow night, thankfully.
Hurling her back down to her feet, Edward loomed over her. “Just what in the world do you think you’re doing, Bella,” he scolded.
“Dean!” she yelled out again.
Looking around, she saw that he’d brought her out to the back alley.
Good, she thought. No witnesses.
For Dean was sure to kill him for touching her and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to take out any innocent bystanders as well.
Sure enough, the door behind Edward slammed open with a reverberating bang that had her flinching. Dean entered the alleyway, his entire presence filling the open area with an overwhelming sense of anger and oppression.
A strange tingle of awareness danced up her spine and she was gripped with the sudden and utter certainty that something bad was about to happen.
In the back of her mind, she heard their muted voices as they snapped at each other – Edward calling her his and setting Dean off like a canon. Crowley entered the street just as Edward’s family joined him – he was losing the fight against her demon and needed the help.
Voices were raised and hands clutched at her from all sides, trying to pull her both back and forward – a game of tug-o-war that had her dizzy. Finding herself in the middle of Edward and Dean, she tried to ease off to the side but Edward lunged at her and pulled her in front of him…
Right as Dean jolted forward with his blade out.
Time was surreal. She’d known Dean for such a short amount of it – still didn’t know him all that well, honestly. His past, her past… both were largely a mystery to the other with but a scant few facts penciled in here or there. Still, when she’d woken up in his arms after witnessing him kill Jane and her friends and he’d declared her his, she’d known it to be true.
And just as she’d known he would be, Dean turned out to be the death of her, that wicked looking blade he was never without slicing into her like a hot knife through butter.
“Dean,” she whimpered, pain radiating from her abdomen as she slumped forward into his arms.
Crowley started yelling and Edward started screaming. She thought she heard someone shout out to someone named Sam but she was too focused on Dean to look around and see who the newcomers were…
Dean’s eyes flashed from hazel to black, then hazel again as they cleared in realization.
“Cherry,” he whispered, sounding more human than she’d ever heard him.
Darkness tainted her vision and slowly, she felt the pull of death’s embrace.
Doomed, she thought as her eyes fell closed with a sense of finality. She’d always known they were doomed.
(A/N): All right. Let me have it, I know I deserve it!
Third and final part will be posted next week… Hope you all enjoyed!