Author: callmeadreamer @ october_thunder
Prompt: She (#89)
Fandoms: One Tree Hill/Supernatural
Disclaimer: Unless otherwise noted, I own nothing nor am I gaining any sort of profit from the use of these characters.
Progress: 3 of 100 (table)
You remember the beginning like yesterday. The first time you saw her. You thought maybe she’d be an easy girl to have some rough and tumble fun with, but her tone when you first spoke had told you that she wasn’t going to swoon over you like most other women did. Never one to back down from a challenge, of course you persisted. After all, Dean Winchester gets what he wants. Whether it’s the kill or the girl, you always manage. And this time, you wanted both. The latter more so over the former when you were actually able to hold intelligent conversations with her, and have her correct you when you were wrong. Something not even your brother did often after you put bleach in his conditioner bottle. Her strength was admirable. She radiated it. You were sure she didn’t even know how strong she was, and that made you even more intrigued by the dirty blonde that provided you with coffee and a sarcastic remark every now and again.
But this was too dangerous for her. You knew that from the get-go but she insisted on tagging along after she buried her friend and found out her sister had a connection to the demon. She and Peyton were right there along side of you and Sam when it culminated in the graveyard. She was right there, blood dripping from an open head wound as she held her left arm. She had you reset her shoulder, her teeth ripping through yours as she bit down to hold her scream in. You take a long swig of the whiskey as you try to block out that particular memory of her tears splashing on your skin, her sobs barely muffled as pain coursed through her. Pain caused by your hands. Not two months later she was hurt again when you got sloppy and some thing hurt her. She tried to distract you, tried to make you believe it wouldn’t happen again, but you knew it would. It always would.
So you left. At the worst possible time. She was dealing with a lot. The anniversary of her friend’s death was in a couple of days. She’d need you there. She’d need your comfort. And you hated that. She was your world now. She was who you protected. You didn’t give a rats ass about why you were in whatever crap-shoot town, hunting whatever was there. It was just another thing to kill that couldn’t hurt her. You’d grown soft. You knew it. But you couldn’t care. ‘Cause what you cared about was her. Is her. She took over your world the second she threatened to call the police on you if you didn’t tell her why in the hell you were asking about Taylor. You know it goes deeper than ‘care’ but you’re not willing to admit that aloud or even subconsciously as it seems.
You throw a twenty on the bar, telling Ellen thanks for the whiskey and to hold all news of hunts for a few days. You have somewhere to be. Someone needs you. You note the look in her eye, as if she already knows you’re going to see her. After a whack upside the head with a newspaper when you told her that you’d left Haley in the motel for her own protection, she’d told you to go back for her or she’d shove the barrel end of a shot-gun up where the sun don’t shine. Of course, you scoffed, though you made sure to mentally calculate how far it’d be between the back exit and your seat and the front exit and your seat by the time she grabbed the shot-gun under the register. At least you know you won’t feel a rock-salt shot to the shoulder blades as you’re leaving. It was gonna be a long drive to Tree Hill. And her scent was still lingering in the car.
Reviews make me happy ♥