A/N: Just a silly something for my @impala-dreamer on her birthday. Not beta’d, no warnings. Just happy boys, happy Beka, happy birthday.
“It’s not much…” Dean started before she cut him off.
“You kidding? This is great, I love it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. Would you two quit being fucking weird?” Beka smiled down at the box in her lap she’d just opened. “What more could I need?”
Sam chuckled, “I wanted to get the things that you can hang in a car too, but Dean wouldn’t let me.”
“Dude! Fuck. You.” Dean shot back.
Sam just shrugged.
Beka laughed at her boys, with everything going on she was amazed they remembered her birthday at all, let alone took the time to buy her gifts. When they’d pulled into Bobby’s earlier in the day, they told her that for her day, the three of them, plus Bobby, were taking a break for the weekend. No cases, no research, nothing but hanging out together, sleeping in and eating real food that didn’t come from a gas station microwave.
They’d filled the box with her favorite things. Candles (the good kind from Bath & Body Works), two bottles of whiskey that someone, Dean by the looks of it, had written ‘Beka’s ONLY you fuckers find your own’ across the labels and her favorite road snacks.
“Guys seriously. Candles? Whiskey? Dot’s and Oreos? I feel very spoiled. Besides, when you smell in the car at least I can roll the windows down.” She teased.
Dean scoffed at her. “Smell? I don’t smell. If anything, I smell like a man. Like a man should smell. A...a damn warrior.”
“Tell that to your ass after you eat extra onions.” Sam laughed.
“Alright, alright,” Bobby walked in carrying a cheesecake. “You two chuckleheads done? Poor girl has to listen to you two enough on the road as it is.”
“Cheesecake!”
“The very finest Sioux Falls Piggly Wiggly had to offer.” Bobby grinned. “Skipped the candles when I realized the only candles I had were for rituals. Didn’t seem very festive.”
“Thank you.” Beka beamed up at Bobby. “I’m not sharing, get away from him!” She shot at Dean who had fallen in step with Bobby.
“Meanie.”
“It’s my birthday shuddup.”
“Yeah Dean, it’s her birthday.”
“Settle down I have my own snacks.” Dean sat next to Beka on the old couch. “Grab the bag Sam, and put the movie in.”
“Are you? I’m not your maid Dean, and we agreed Beka would get to pick the movie tonight.”
“Well, maybe not maid, but you are kinda my bitch, so snacks!”
When everyone was settled, Sam finally pushed play.
Gif from @impala-dreamer (Warnings: HORRIFYINGLY SELF INDULGENT. DEAN X ASHLEY, SAM X BEKA.)
~
“Jesus Sam! Just go over there already!”
“Shut up Ashley.”
“I’m serious, if you don’t, one of two things are going to happen.” Ashley paused to take a drink of her beer. “Either I’m going to go over there and hit on her for you, or I’m going to take her for myself. What? She’s hot!”
“Who’s hot?” Dean asked as he took his seat next to Ashley.
“Beka. Sam doesn’t have the balls to go talk to her.”
“That’s not-” Sam started to protest, but Dean cut him off.
“Babe, leave him alone. He can’t help it I got all the moves in the family.” He smirked. “Here Sammy, take this. Little liquid courage for ya.”
Dean placed what looked like a triple shot of whiskey in front of Sam along with the rest of the beers he’d brought from the bar.
“Guys. I don’t even like her like that. Let’s just drop it.”
Dean and Ashley both glared at him.
“Ok, fine. I do, but that doesn’t matter.”
“Sam I swear to fuck if you don’t…” Ashley’s outburst was cut off by Sam slamming back the shot. “YES!”
“If she laughs in my face I’m going to kill both of you.”
“Sammy, she never shuts up about you.” Dean threw his arm around Ashley’s shoulders and pulled her close to his side. “Even you can’t fuck this one up.”
“I’ll help!” Ashley offered.
“No you will not.” Sam said as he stood. He walked over to the jukebox where Beka was picking music.
Just as he was about to reach her, both Ashley and Dean cheered. Beka turned and smiled just as Sam held his middle finger behind him.
Dean laughed and pressed a kiss to Ashley’s temple. “Bout fucking time.”
A/N: Here’s the end of my weekend. Hope you enjoyed hearing about it. It was quite an experience.
Go To Chapter: One ~ Two ~ Three ~ Four ~ Five ~ Six ~ Seven ~ Eight
Chapter Eight - Sunday Night:
The plan was simple: I was to stay in the car. Yup, that was Dean’s big master plan: keep Beka in the car while we do the scary stuff. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. I yes’d him to death the entire ride uptown, and promised to stay put right up until the second I slipped out the passenger side door.
Dean protested, Sam shrugged, and I headed off towards the house, ripping a strip of yellow caution tape from the front door as I entered.
The house was plain but comfortably decorated. The front door opened right into a living room with an old blue sofa with bright orange pillows. Goddamn Mets fans. Bet Bill would love that setup. He loves baseball more than hanging out with you. That'd fit right into his man-cave.
The Winchesters followed me in, Dean with his gun raised, and Sam visibly on edge. They scouted the first floor while I lingered near the staircase, running my hands over the curve in the dark cherry wood newel post. Look at all those stairs...you'd break your neck pretty easily if you took a tumble from the top.
My feet made the decision to climb the steps. I could barely focus on a single thought let alone putting one foot in front of the other. You don't need to think. You just need to act. You were never a thinker anyway, too stupid for that.
A familiar ringing went off in my back pocket and I retrieved my phone, swiping to answer as I continued up the stairs.
“Hey.” It was Bill. The connection was crappy and he sounded far away, the phone was probably on speaker in the car as he drove.
Hang up, you’re busy. “Hey babe.”
“We’re on the way back. Just left, so we’ll be about three hours, give or take. Josh’s already out cold.”
Hang up, hang up, hang up. “Great. OK.”
“You OK? You sound tired.”
Hang up. Say goodbye, this is your last chance. “Yeah, I’m good.” Four more steps.
“OK. Don’t wait up if you’re tired. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Mmhmm.” Hang up. This is it.
“Love you, Princess.” No, he doesn’t. Never really did. He was just settling for you. He said it himself, ‘sometimes you just have to be happy with what you got’. That doesn’t mean he ever loved you. Means he was too tired to keep looking. Why else would he marry a worthless, disgusting, ugly bitch like you?
I dropped the phone on the top step. I don’t know if I even turned it off, but there it fell. Bill’s picture looked up at me from the screen with a bright smile and happy amber eyes. Say goodbye.
I turned around on the top step and held the railing as I peered down the long staircase. This’ll be quick and easy. Just throw yourself off the step. Sure it’ll hurt a little, but it’ll be over soon. Do it.
I closed my eyes and stuck one foot out over the edge, feeling the air beneath it where the step had been. Deep breath… last breath… Do it.
I took that deep breath, filling my lungs as best I could and then slowly let it out while I let go of the railing. I bent my knees slightly and prepared to see if I could fly.
The question is often asked of children, “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?” My answer was always ‘to fly.’
In my dreams as a child I would have such a power. But I couldn’t just take off and fly. There had to be conditions, there was a process. First, I needed an open space, like a park or a long hallway. Next, I needed to take a running start. I’d crouch down, readying myself to sprint, and then take off like a bullet, running as fast and as far as I could before jumping into the air. If I’d run fast enough, if the wind was with me, I could hover some feet above the ground for a good distance before landing softly back on my feet. It felt so real, so natural, just to float above the Earth, even for a few moments. After the dreams I would test it out, trying desperately to take to the air. But my jumps never achieved more than a few inches of air, and the wind never aided my attempts.
The wind would once again not be on my side, but Sam Winchester would. As I lifted my foot, ready to take the leap, he came rushing up the steps in time to shake me from my goal.
“Beka! What are you doing? I’ve been calling you.” He reached the top step and grabbed me around the waist, spinning me away from the cliff. I tried to fight him, to push him away, but he held tight, pulling me from danger once again, whether he realized it or not.
I think I growled at him, I can’t really remember, but I made enough of a noise for him to set me back down and give me a hard look. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched; Sammy Bitchface Activated. See? He hates you. Probably just pulled you away from the steps so he wouldn’t have to hide another body, not because he gives a shit.
“You have got to hold on, OK?” he said firmly, his chest rising with a deep breath.
“I’m holding,” I shooed him with a quick wave and tried to turn away, but he grabbed my arm, spinning me to face him.
“You’re not. But you have to. Just a little bit longer.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, always keep fighting. Got it. Can I go now? Or do you have to follow me on my search for the little girl’s room?”
He let me go, but he wasn’t happy about it. I could feel him watching me as I walked down the short hallway, felt his eyes on the back of my head. Fuck him. Let him watch. Let him watch while you cut your throat in the bathroom.
I can’t wear watches. I can’t wear bracelets. The only way I could stand wearing my Fitbit was by keeping it as loose as possible. I don’t know why, but I’ve never been able to stand anything wrapped tightly around my wrist, especially if it touches the underside, right at the veins. Maybe it was a fear of accidentally cutting those bloodlines, or just a general skeeve, I’ve never been able to stomach it. Even if, fooling around, someone grabs my wrist, I panic. If fingers close too tightly around my wrist, the fun’s over. Just thinking about it makes me feel weird, makes my skin crawl slightly, makes my heart race a bit. Maybe in a past life I’d gotten a little too loose with a razor.
The bathroom was bright, too bright. Floor, ceiling and walls were covered in antique white penny tiles, the grout between them dull and gray with age. The door had been closed off with more police tape, but I’d make quick work of ripping through it. The bathtub was empty, but stained a bright red. This is where Melissa Torney had bit the big one. She’d filled the bath and cut deep into her arms, letting the blood flow out into the perfectly warm water. Had she lit the candles that sat around the edge of the wide porcelain tub? Had she played music? Was she crying, pained, screaming in the end? You’ll find out. It’s your turn Bek. Do it. Let it go.
My knife was still tucked carefully in my jeans, and I reached for it now, sliding it slowly from my waistband and cradling it in my hands. It only takes a moment. Just a swift slice across your neck and then you can rest.
I turned and looked in the mirror, gripping the sides of the pedestal sink with shaky hands. My eyes were red and glossy, my hair a mess of wayward strands; my cheeks hollow and pale. It’s almost over. Then you won’t have to see yourself anymore. Won’t have to look into your own dead, lying eyes and hate what you see. Soon you’ll be able to rest. Do it.
I raised the knife, positioning it against my throat, ready to pull hard and fast across my own skin. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out Sam’s voice as he screamed at me from the doorway. I couldn’t hear him, couldn’t see him. I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t anything. I was as I’d always been: dead inside. So let the outside match the inside. Do it.
A flicker of movement in the mirror grabbed my attention, causing my hand to pause and shake, the tip of the blade just barely piercing the skin below my left ear. Behind me stood the Smoke Monster in his corporeal, gray hooded form. It nodded at my reflection and I sighed, my shoulders dropping as they relaxed, my right hand ceasing its tremor. Do it. Release yourself. Find peace.
As I started again, the knife digging a little deeper into my neck, the Monster moved. It floated past me and towards Sam. He backed away, screaming for me, swatting blindly at the fiend as it overtook him. I turned and watched as Sam tripped over his own feet, falling backwards onto the ground. The Monster moved closer, spreading its arms and preparing to attack.
In that moment something snapped inside me. Or rather, the break mended. Seeing Sam seconds away from defeat, watching as the darkness tried to capture him, brought me back to myself. I ran forward, screaming Sam’s name into the dark room, twirling the knife in my fist. Just as the creature began to fade, moments before his transformation to smoke was complete, I brought my blade down, stabbing him quickly in the back, piercing his heart.
It wailed. A deafening cry ripped through the house as it shattered, falling to the floor in more pieces than could ever be counted, my knife landing atop the pile, stained with charcoal blood.
Some days are hard. That’s just the way it is. Some mornings I find it a struggle just to open my eyes. Once they are open, then comes the feet, the back, the arms, the stretch and pull to get yourself to sit up and leave the comfort of your bed. It’s hard. It sucks. But you do it.
You do it because there are people who depend on you. Because there are things in this world that will try to pull you down, but you can’t let them. You push back, you kick and scream until they leave you be. You keep fighting. Because one day, you’ll be gone, and it’ll be too late to fight. But that day doesn’t have to be today. Today can be amazing. You just have to let it be.
The Impala was once again parked in my carport, it’s engine idling as Dean loaded the trunk. I sat with Sam on my porch, the wrought iron chairs huddled closely together so we could speak softly and not lose any words.
“I don’t know Sam, I just… I feel good. I know I shouldn’t after today, but I do. I feel lighter, like… that pain is finally gone from my chest and I can breathe again.” I wiped at my eye as I spoke, brushing away the tears that had lingered on my cheek. Sam placed his hand on my knee and I closed my fingers around it. “I’ve felt so bad for so long… I almost forgot what it felt like to be happy, ya know?”
Sam bowed his head and smiled, a tiny laugh sneaking out on the tail of his breath. “Yeah, I know what you mean Beka.”
Dean closed the trunk with a light slam that echoed off the cement. He looked up at me and gave a sad smile. Sam moved to stand up but I tightened my grip on his hand. “I don’t want you to go.” My eyes welled with wetness again, and I shook my head at them. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“Come here,” he said, standing up and pulling me with him. I fell against his chest, my face crushed against the soft blue plaid shirt, and sighed as his arms closed around me. “I’m so sorry Beka. I’m sorry we invaded your life. I’m sorry we got you hurt, almost killed, twice. I’m sorry for... taking advantage of you.”
I laughed and pulled away so that I could look into his face. He was honestly apologizing. Honestly believed he had done wrong by me. “First of all, you did not take advantage of me. I was askin’ for it. And I’d ask for it again, not gonna lie.” He laughed, his face relaxing into my favorite shy smile. I raised my hand to his face, gently pressing it against his cheek. “Sam, you didn’t invade my life, or ruin my weekend, none of that. You gave me adventure and fun. You showed me so many things. You… you saved me.”
He looked down and took my hands, clasping them between his own and pulling them to his chest. “I seem to recall you saving me just now.”
“No Sam. Don’t you get it? Cas sent you here to help me. I didn’t realize it before because I was too caught up in the shock of you being real, but he did. You came here to save my life. And you did.” I pushed up on my toes and kissed his cheek. Before I could float back down, he let go of my hands and grabbed my face, pulling me up for one last kiss.
It wasn’t passionate or hungry or pleading like it had been earlier. It was gentle and bittersweet; a silent goodbye.
“I love you Sam,” I whispered against his lips when we parted. I wasn’t sure if he heard it, but his lips twitched into a slow smile. He didn’t return the words, but he didn’t need to. I didn’t need him to say it to me, or to even feel it, but I needed him to know. I needed him to leave here knowing that someone out there loved him. Not for power or strategically, not because he was the only one around. But for him. For who he was and the things he did. He needed to hear it, at least once.
Dean whistled to get our attention and I rolled my eyes at him, smiling as Sam and I descended the front steps.
“You gonna tell your husband about all this?” Dean asked with a laugh as I approached. He was bathed in streetlight, leaning against the Impala, looking a vision right out of Netflix.
“I really doubt it,” I said and sighed, “I don’t think anyone would believe me.”
“Well,” Dean opened his arms and I went to him, resting my chin on his shoulder as he squeezed me tight and rocked side to side. “Don’t worry, you know you’re not crazy, even if no one else does.”
“Gee, thanks.” I laughed and pulled away. “So what do you do now?”
Dean shrugged. “Cas just called, gave the all clear. So, I guess we go home.”
“I’m gonna miss you so much.” More tears. More weak smiles. They were leaving and the magic was ending.
“Hey,” Dean said sternly, wagging a finger at me. “No chick-flick moments.”
“You’re an ass,” I laughed.
“Yeah, I know.” He grabbed me close again and kissed my forehead. “I’m gonna miss you too, Beka.”
Goodbyes can take hours. You can stand there awkwardly saying all the things you need to say before the other party departs, or you can rip the band-aid off, give a few quick hugs, and let them roll away. So that’s what we did. One last hug to each of my Winchesters and they were in the car, taking their places in the front of the Impala. I tried not to cry, tried to keep breathing and stay strong, waving with a smile as Dean backed out of my driveway, but the tears rolled anyway.
Sam waved once more before Dean shifted into drive and they drove away. I watched the taillights fade down my street, wondering what was next, what I was going to do, how I could move on.
Before I had time to wallow, headlights passed over me as Bill pulled our blue minivan into the carport. He parked and jumped out, kissing me quickly and folding me in a huge hug.
“I missed you,” he said, kissing me again.
“Missed you too.”
Bill released me and tilted his head, looking passed me down the street. His brows furrowed and he looked back at me. “Did you see that car? It looked familiar.”
I looked over my shoulder in time to see the Impala turn the corner, taking Sam and Dean Winchester back home. I looked back at my husband and shrugged. “Huh, I didn’t notice.”
SPECIAL TAG FOR “THIS AIN’T NO JOKE, SWEETHEART” : @frickfracklesackles @bradygabrielle-blog @renegadesupernatural @codenameruby @oneshoeshort @itssteaksauce @wi-deangirl77 @dylanosprayberry03 @lazairahel @bananahog @nerdwholikesword
well... it would be dirty, I’ll tell ya that much. It’ll probably be on a table in the Bunker Library. There will be piles of books knocked to the floor by his sweeping arm as I fumble with the buckle on his belt. He’ll definitely lift me up onto the table, sitting me on the edge. I’ll totally wrap my legs around his waist while he cups my cheeks and kisses me so deeply that we both fall down onto the hard table. Hundred percent gonna be some clothes being ripped off and tossed haphazardly onto the floor, maybe my bra gets caught on one of those swords on the shelf and just dangles there.
Oh, the lamp gets completely broken. We shake the table so hard and fast that it shimmies to the edge and jumps right off, crashing to the floor. But... with the lights out... more fun can be had. I’m not saying it’s definite, but there’s gonna be a lot of hair pulling, his and mine, and there’s gonna be some hickies left on necks, some teeth marks on hip bones. It’s gonna be pretty sweaty. And fairly loud. At one point Dean is going to rush in to help me, thinking I’m being attacked, but when he catches a glimpse of my legs high on Sam’s shoulders, he backs away quickly, shaking his head. Boy, breakfast is gonna be a little awkward, but this is the price we pay for out of this world sex with Sam Winchester.
