bitchinfawkseh - Tumblr blog

bitchinfawkseh · 1 day

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 19

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Summary: While Carlos and Sam are in New York, Cheryl and Dean have a weekend to themselves as a new couple.

W.C: 3923

Warnings: Smut, violence, death.

[A/N] yahoo I've been excited to write this. But I've been in a writing slump so I'm sorry if it isn't up to par! Smut will be better in the future!

Masterlist | AO3

A weekend alone together was a dream come true, and Dean intended to make this a very enjoyable and sexy weekend. He even splurged on a nice hotel for them – a hotel that served breakfast in the morning.

Dean tossed their bags onto the single queen bed in the middle of the room and whistled lowly as he glanced around. The room smelt clean, and looked clean – there wasn't a stain in sight. “Damn, this is nice,” Dean commented. Cheryl kicked off her shoes and also looked around, she was surprised that Dean suggested staying in a nice place like this, she would have figured that he'd get them a cheap motel. “It is…” She trailed off. She had started to make her way to the bathroom to check it out when Dean stopped her right in her tracks.

“Wait, hold on. I got a surprise.” He grinned and waggled his brows. Cheryl's lips parted before she smiled. He had a surprise? For her? “What is it?” She asked.

“You'll see, close your eyes.” Dean mused. Cheryl did as he said, she squeezed her eyes shut and even set her hands over them. Dean smiled faintly before opening the bathroom door wide, he flicked on the light and led her to the massive tub in the centre of the room. A tub deep enough that the water would cover her boobs and her knees. “Open ‘em.” He said.

Cheryl's eyes flew open and she dropped her hands to her sides, as soon as her gaze landed on the bathtub, she gasped. “Dean! Oh, you remembered!”

“Course I did.” He scoffed. Cheryl clasped her hands together and smiled wide, this meant more to her than he'd ever know. She spun around to face him and looped her arms around his neck. “You're so kind, cariño…” She set a soft, thankful kiss on his lips and lightly scratched at the nape of his neck with her fingernails. “I suppose I'll have to show you how grateful I am later tonight…” Cheryl purred. Dean smirked and his eyes darkened with desire, he knew what she was getting at, and he loved the idea. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip before biting it. “...why not now? Then, you know, we can take a bath to get all clean.”

She grinned, “I like how you think.”

Cheryl fiddled with the buckle of his belt and peppered kisses all across his face lovingly. “So sweet… so nice… such a good man.” She whispered gently. Dean exhaled a heavy sigh and reluctantly closed his eyes, enjoying the praise she showered him with. Being with her made him feel good – she made him feel good… Cheryl made him feel loved.

Carefully, they had shimmied back so Cheryl had his backside pressed up against the bathroom counter, and she dipped her hand into his pants to tease him through his boxers. Dean let out a tiny strangled moan and pressed his forehead against hers. Everything she did to him was so well crafted, Cheryl made him fall apart. Cheryl rubbed her hand over his half-hard cock and squeezed it gently, when he moaned in response, she grinned. “I love a vocal man…” Cheryl whispered against his lips before kissing him.

“You're in luck then, babe.” Dean groaned and his eyes fluttered shut as her hand finally wrapped around his dick and she began to slowly stroke him. Cheryl bit her bottom lip and intently watched his face and reactions to her. “Am I?” She purred. Dean only groaned in response.

Suddenly, Cheryl dropped to her knees and tugged his pants and boxers down to about his mid-thigh. Before Dean could even open his eyes – let alone react – her mouth was on him in an instant. Her tongue swirled over his tip and he instantly let out a strangled moan. “Fuck – fuck, baby. Don't stop.” Dean pleaded. Instinctively, his hand went to cup the back of her head and he let out a few heavy pants once she took him fully in her mouth. He was a little above average, but nothing she couldn't handle – she'd hate it if he was obnoxiously big, now that would just hurt. Cheryl hummed around his cock and hallowed out her cheeks to make for a more pleasurable experience, which made Dean twitch in her mouth and he threaded his fingers through her hair. “Sweetheart – fuck, don't stop, don't fuckin’ stop.” He moaned. Cheryl didn't intend to stop until he came, she wanted to taste every last drop of him – again, she wanted to have no regrets.

Dean managed to crack his eyes open to peek down at Cheryl, and God was it a sight to behold. Mouth full of his cock, drool coating her lips, and her eyes full and wide staring up at him. He almost came right then and there. “Ah – ah… shit.” He groaned. He cringed slightly when his voice cracked, but quickly forgot about it when Cheryl ran the back of her tongue over his tip. His full body tensed and his brows furrowed, Cheryl knew he was close – his moans were now becoming whimpers. With one last swirl of her tongue, he finally came, spurts of cum shooting down her throat which she swallowed up greedily. She didn't mind the salty taste, she found that she liked it even. Probably because it came from her boyfriend.

Cheryl pulled off of him with a pop and climbed to her feet as Dean was busy catching his breath and recovering. When Cheryl only smiled, Dean let out a weak chuckle. “You weren't kiddin’ when you said you give great head.” He panted.

“So you liked it?”

“What – of fucking course I did,” he chuckled, “you're amazing babe.” Dean leaned down to gently peck her lips, he didn't care that he tasted himself on her, a real man kisses his girl after she gives wicked awesome head. Cheryl circled her arms around him and stared up at him through her lashes, “Bath time now?” She asked. Dean nodded.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

The bubbles were so tall that the bath spout was hidden from view and they piled over the edge of the tub. Dean had his arms wrapped around Cheryl and his chin resting on her shoulder. The bath was hot – so hot that he felt himself growing faint but he didn't want to be a wimp and hop out.

Cheryl traced small circles on the back of his hand with her fingertip and smiled faintly. “You're all red and steaming,” she said and she turned to face him, “is it too hot?”

“Oh, nah… it's fine.” He mumbled against her wet skin. Cheryl chuckled softly and tipped her head back to rest it against his shoulder. She peered up at him and batted her lashes, “I bet you're the type to go tomato red when you get a sunburn.”

“What – no! I tan!”

“You definitely do not, you're a white boy with freckles. You burn, lindo.”

“Hey! You love my freckles!”

“Of course I do,” Cheryl gently caressed his cheek with her knuckles, “they make you very handsome.” She whispered. Dean smiled faintly and leaned down to kiss her, but just as their lips were about to meet – his phone began to chime.

Dean groaned and screwed his eyes shut, of course, they wouldn't be able to get a weekend free of interruptions. It was just their luck. “Sorry baby…” He grumbled as he plucked his flip phone off of the towel laid out on the floor in front of the tub. Sam was calling him – probably to check up or something. He raised the phone to his ear, “Hey, what's up?” He said.

“Hey, uh, what're you guys doing?” Sam asked. Dean's eyes briefly met Cheryl's curious ones and his lips thinned. “Watching a movie…” He lied.

“Oh – nice… um, we're gonna be back earlier than expected, noon tomorrow,” Sam said. Dean grit his teeth and exhaled heavily, it was only Friday evening – they were supposed to get until Sunday all alone, but now they've lost a whole day. “Alright, see you.” He grumbled. He tore the phone away from his ear and vaguely heard Sam say see you before he hung up.

“What did he say?” Cheryl asked, fully turning her body to face him. Dean palmed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, he was quite looking forward to a weekend alone with his girl. “They're coming back early, at noon tomorrow.” He sighed.

“Oh, for fuck sake.” Cheryl groaned. She ran her hands through her slightly damp hair and bit her lip. “Well… I guess we have to fit a weekend full of sex in one night…” She slowly grinned. Dean raised his brows and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip in interest. “Babe, I swear you have a higher libido than me…” He trailed off. “Not that I'm complaining – I fuckin’ love it.”

“Then go dry up and lay on the bed,” Cheryl ordered before pecking his lips.

“Yes ma'am.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Sam glanced down either end of the dark crossroads, forestry on either side. This is where Dean made the deal to bring him back at the cost of his own life. Sam sucked on his bottom lip before checking to make sure he had everything in the small wooden box – ID, animal bones, et cetera. He knelt in front of the small hole in the dirt he dug with his hands moments prior and set the box inside, smoothing out the dirt over top of it. He wiped his dirty hands on his jeans and climbed to his feet. He didn't know how it worked really – if the demon would appear just like that. Sam swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looked around wildly for the demon.

A woman's voice crept up from behind him, “Well. Little Sammy Winchester. I'm touched. I mean... your brother's been to see me twice, but you? I never had the pleasure.” She said coolly. Sam spun around and glared at her, her eyes were a pure deep red – quite unlike a demon's usual void-like black eyes. The demon was dressed for business, a knee-length band-aid style black dress. She tilted her head and her eyes flickered back to a pair of brown eyes, normal eyes. “What can I do for you, Sam?” She asked. Sam reached for the Colt tucked into the waistband of his pants and aimed it right between the demon's eyes. He smiled tightly, “You can beg for your life.”

Her smile widened, “Not my style,” her smug face faltered as soon as she noticed the Colt – well, a Colt. “That's not the original Colt. Where did you get that?” She questioned. When Sam didn't answer, she clenched her jaw and shook her head. “Ruby. Had to be. She is such a pain in my ass. She'll get what's coming to her… you can count on it.” She hissed.

“That's enough. I came here to make you an offer.” Sam spat.

She let out a bark of laughter, tossing her head up to the sky as if she were laughing at God and the angels. “You're gonna make me an offer? That's adorable.” She cackled.

“You can let Dean out of his deal right now. He lives, I live. You live. Everyone goes home happy. Or…” He cocked the Colt and flared his nostrils, intending to shoot her at any sudden movement. “You stop breathing. Permanently.” Sam finished.

“Oh,” she laughed again, “All this tough talk. I have to tell you, it's not very convincing. I mean, come on Sam. Do you even want to break the deal?” She asked.

“What do you think?”

“I don't know. Aren't you tired of cleaning up Dean's messes? Of dealing with that broken psyche of his? Aren't you tired of being bossed around like a snot-nosed little brother? You're stronger than Dean. You're better than him.”

“Watch your mouth,” Sam said firmly.

“Admit it. You're here, going through the motions. But the truth is … you'll be a tiny bit relieved when he's gone.” The demon grinned.

Sam grit his teeth and narrowed his eyes, he was in no mood for her taunts and games. “Shut up.” He hissed through his clenched jaw. The demon's grin widened and her eyes darkened, amused by Sam's anger. “No more desperate, sloppy, needy Dean. You can finally... be free.” She echoed.

“I said shut up!” He shouted.

“Huh. Doth protest too much if you ask me.”

“All right, I've had enough of your crap. You let Dean out of his deal right now.”

“Sorry sweetheart, but your brother's an adult. He made that deal of his own free will, fair and square. It's ironclad.”

“Every deal can be broken.” Sam sneered. The demon shook her head and sighed heavily in mock disappointment. “Not this one.” She replied. Sam gripped the handle of the gun so tight that his knuckles went white – one of his fingers just barely hovered over the trigger. “Fine. Then I'll kill you. If you're gone, so is the deal.” He said.

She laughed, “Guess again.”

“What?”

“Sam, I'm just a saleswoman. I got a boss like everybody. He holds the contract, not me. He wants Dean's soul, bad. And believe me. He's not going to let it go.”

Sam's brows furrowed, if she wasn't the one holding the contract, who was? Who is he? “You're bluffing.” He said simply. She was a demon – he wasn't sure if she was lying to spare her life. But then again, it made sense. The demon shrugged and pursed her lips together, “Am I? Shoot me, if it'll get you off. But the deal still holds, and when Dean's time is up, he's getting dragged into the pit.”

“Then who's your boss? Who holds the contract?” Sam demanded, he wanted answers. He wanted to save his brother.

“He's not as cuddly as me, I can tell you that.” She answered with a cool smile.

“Who is it?”

“I can't tell you. I'm sorry Sam. But there's no way outta this one. Not this time.”

Sam exhaled sharply and ducked his gaze down to the ground in an attempt to process this newfound information. There was no way to get out of the deal – but maybe she was only saying that to get him to give up. He let out a sigh and squeezed the trigger, and a bullet flew right between the demon's eyes. She collapsed to the dirt, dead.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl set her hands on Dean's chest and rolled her hips over his, relishing in his moans and groans. She bit her bottom lip and tipped her head up to the ceiling, “Oh… bebé…” She purred. Dean groaned and screwed his eyes shut, settling either of his hands on her hips. She was going slow – agonizingly so. “Babe… c'mon, don't make me beg… please go faster.” He panted. Cheryl's grinned and ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it up a bit for show. “What if I want you to beg?” She hummed out. Dean moaned and threw his head back into the pillows covered with white cotton cases. “Fuck – fuck, come on baby, go faster. Please, I'm beggin’ – go faster.” He pleaded. He didn't think he'd be able to be the submissive one with Cheryl – but much to his surprise, she was all for it, she even encouraged it.

Cheryl hummed in satisfaction and began to roll her hips down much faster and harder than before. Dean was practically jelly at this point, succumbing to whatever she wanted to do with him. The headboard was now slamming against the wall, but since they didn't have to worry about Carlos or Sam hearing them, they could be as loud as they wanted. Dean palmed at her breasts and kneaded them in his hands. He loved how they looked, how soft they were and the fact that they were attached to Cheryl. He suddenly remembered about the tattoo that she said was under her boob. Now given the chance, he pushed each of them up gently and swallowed hard when he saw it. The tattoo itself was quite faded, but he could tell that it was supposed to be sparkles and stars.

“I – I love a chick with tattoos.” He managed to say. Cheryl grinned and set her hands over top of his, she enjoyed being fondled in the right context. “Good thing I have some…”

“Even if you didn't, I'd still find you hot.” Dean groaned and squeezed his eyes shut as her walls clamped around him. “Oh fuck –” Dean whimpered out, “I'm… I'm gonna come.”

“Ooh… come for me cariño…” Cheryl preened and she leaned down to kiss him passionately. “Hmm… gonna be a good boy for me and come?” She breathed. Dean moaned into her mouth and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. “I – ah – yeah, fuck yeah. I'm gonna come, baby.”

Cheryl drew back from him and watched his face as he came, she loved that she did that. She made him come. She loved to watch his mouth gape open, his eyelashes quiver and his nose scrunch up. Cheryl sucked in a breath and smoothed his hair back, smiling lovingly down at him. “You look so handsome when you do that.” She said. Dean cocked a brow and attempted to catch his breath, “When I come?” He asked through pants.

“Sí, you look handsome,” Cheryl confirmed.

“Aw, well, thanks, babe.” Dean pressed a sweet kiss to her temple and hugged her tightly. Cheryl giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, “De nada, ojos de angel.”

Cheryl gently lifted herself off of him and plopped down into the space next to him. She hadn't orgasmed yet – but the night was still young. “I'm ready for round two if you are.” Cheryl grinned mischievously. Dean sighed and rubbed and palmed his face, “Yeah – just a sec, need some water.”

“Water! Oh, good man. Yes, water is good for you.” She smiled proudly. Dean snorted and gulped back a couple of mouthfuls of water before offering it to Cheryl. She accepted it gratefully and drank the remainder of the water, then she tossed the bottle into the corner of the room and scooted back from Dean. Cheryl squeezed her thighs together and swayed her hips tauntingly. “Better get another condom and some more lube… I'm not done with you yet.” She smirked. Dean's pupils dilated and he matched her smirk, he'd never get tired of her… never.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean stroked Cheryl's back with his knuckles gently, and he pleasantly listened to the sound of her breathing. She was cuddled into his side, completely exhausted from their previous activities. Cheryl's eyes fluttered shut and she smushed her face into his chest. “I'm hungry.” She hummed. Dean pursed his lips together and his stomach rumbled in agreement. “Yeah, me too. Wanna run out and grab something?” He asked.

“Mmm, yes that sounds good. Can we get Mexican food?”

“Hell yeah, some chips and salsa would be delicious.” He grinned.

“I prefer pico de gallo with chips.”

“Pico de what?” Dean asked with a cocked brow. Cheryl let out a tiny laugh and smacked him playfully. “Pico de gallo, it's delicious. You'll like it.” She said.

Dean grinned and ran his fingers through her hair, lightly massaging at her scalp. “Alright, chips and pico de gallo, and some yummy tacos. How does that sound?”

“Heavenly.” She smiled. Dean nodded and reluctantly sat up, snorting when Cheryl whined and wrapped her arms around his lower back and pressed her chest into him. “No, it's cold.” She said.

“Babe, c'mon you'll warm up if you get some clothes on.” He leaned down and dug through her bag to grab her some comfy clothes. Which was fresh underwear, of course, one of his shirts that she took, and sweatpants. Cheryl pressed her lips into his shoulder and watched as he set the clothes next to her thigh. “I need socks.” She said, her voice muffled against his skin. Dean rolled his eyes and searched through the bag to find her some fluffy socks as per her request. Once found, Dean handed them to her. “Can I go get dressed now?” He questioned. Reluctantly, she tore away from him and started to clothe herself. “Yes…”

Once they were dressed and ready for the general public, they took the elevator down to the parkade and searched for the Impala as they didn't remember where it was parked. Cheryl skipped behind Dean and grinned wickedly, “You think it got stolen again?”

“Don't put that into the universe! Are you crazy?” Dean gasped. Cheryl let out a laugh and grasped one of his biceps to hold onto. “I'm joking! You are so dramatic!”

“Yeah – well – what if someone stole your Harley?” He asked smugly.

“They simply wouldn't, it's biker code.”

“Oh, sure.” He said with an eye roll. He glanced around, and finally, he spotted the Impala in a far corner of the lot. Dean pointed to it, “Look, it's over there, come on.”

Cheryl groaned, “Why did you have to park so far away from the elevators?”

“Stop whining.”

“Hey! You love my whining!”

“Yeah, not in this context.” Dean scoffed. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the Impala. Cheryl went around to the passenger side and climbed in just as Dean slammed his door shut. He shoved the keys into the ignition, “Hey, so, how many siblings does Carlos have?” He asked.

“Three brothers and two sisters.” She quickly answered. “All of them are older, except for one of his sisters – Ana Sofia. She's my age.”

“How old is Carlos?”

“He's thirty-one.”

“Wait – so you got married when he was twenty and you were freshly eighteen?”

“No, he was born late into the year. He was nineteen.” Cheryl explained. Dean let out a sigh of relief and rubbed his chin, he was happy that it wasn't a creepy situation or anything. “And Alejandro is the one they went to see, right?” Dean asked.

“Mhm, he's the oldest. He's like in his forties.”

“Fuck, he's old.” Dean snorted.

“More successful than us.” She shrugged.

Cheryl was right about that, Alejandro was much more successful than them. He was an esteemed plastic surgeon who owned multiple properties and had a wife and kids. On top of that, he managed to do the occasional hunt. He was what they all hoped to be. It was too late for Dean to be happy, to get married and have children – he wasn't even sure if that was what he wanted – what he deserved. But he knew, even if he wasn't the one to give Cheryl it, he wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to get married, and have kids, he wanted her to move on after he died. He didn't want her to mourn him for the rest of her life, he wouldn't have that.

Dean shot Cheryl a glance, his brows furrowing when he saw that she was smiling. She was usually always smiling when she was with him, he didn't know why. Was he that fun to be around? Dean returned his gaze to the road and set his hand on her thigh, squeezing it like he always did. Dean knew one thing for certain, he was going to make her as happy as possible. Maybe in death, if he could picture her smile, his fate would be easier to face.

#supernatural #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc #Spotify

7 notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 8 days

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 18

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Summary: Bela gets in the way yet again while they are working on a case.

W.C: 7627

Warnings: Sexual content and violence.

[A/N] boy do I have a surprise for you!

Masterlist | AO3

“So, how did things go with Mr. Warren?” Bela asked coolly as she shoved her way inside, not even caring to allow Dean to invite her in. She had a packed folder full of what looked like papers tucked under her arm. When nobody answered her question, she grinned and stopped just short of where Carlos was sitting. “That well, huh?” She mused. Dean shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. Bela grated on every single one of his nerves, and pushed all of his buttons – she annoyed the crap out of him. “If you say I told you so, I swear to God I'll start swingin’.” He growled under his breath.

“I think we all should have a heart-to-heart.” She began.

“That's assuming that you have a heart.” Dean retorted back. Bela pouted her lips together and set the folder on the wooden table. Her demeanour seemed quite apologetic, but then again, they couldn't trust Bela. She's fucked them over more than once in the past.

“Dean, please... I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts.” Bela said. Cheryl raised her brows and tucked her phone into her hoodie pocket. Her promise of a gift piqued all of their interest, but they didn't know if they could trust her. Sam marked the page of the book he was reading and set it down. “Such as?” He asked.

“I've IDed the ship,” Bela smirked. Carlos cocked a disbelieving brow, “Really?”

“Yes,” Bela looked Carlos up and down as if she were checking him out or sizing him up before opening the folder. “It's the Espírito Santo, a merchant sailing vessel, with quite a colourful history. In 1859, a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37.”

“Which would explain the 37-year cycle.” Sam breathed as he dawned on the realization.

“Aren't you a sharp tack?” Bela cooed. She flipped through the file before plucking out a printed photo. “Here's a photo of him.”

Sam inspected the photo as she handed it to him before his eyes widened in surprise and he showed Carlos the picture. “That's the guy we saw last night,” Sam said.

“You saw him?” Bela asked. Carlos nodded and glanced up at her, only staring at her blankly. He thought it was quite funny that she outsmarted Sam and Dean on multiple occasions, but he couldn't let that on. “Yup,” Carlos replied nonchalantly. “Except he was missing a hand.” He added.

“His right hand?”

“How did you know?”

“The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory,” Bela explained with a deep sigh. Dean grinned and let out a tiny chuckle at the thought of his joke. He had it locked and loaded, but when Cheryl sent him a raised brow, he decided not to say it. It was like she somehow knew it was a distasteful sex joke. “Right, so, uh, hand of glory? That sounds pretty dirty.” Dean opted to say instead.

When nobody laughed at his joke, he deflated. Sam's lips thinned and his brows knitted together, “Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful.” He deadpanned.

“So they say,” Bela said coolly. Cheryl raised her brows and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. “Which officially counts as remains. So we find it, burn it, and we're done.” Cheryl added.

“Yeah, but it doesn't explain how the ghost is choosing his victims.” Sam sighed.

“I'll tell you why. Who cares? Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.” Bela hissed. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Bela intently, trying to figure out why she'd bring this information to them. It certainly didn't benefit her, but maybe they should trust her. “Why are you helping us?” Dean questioned.

“Because I know exactly where the hand is.”

“Where?”

“At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history. But I need help.”

“What kind of help?” Carlos asked suspiciously.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Shopping, Cheryl loved to shop. So, when she had to go find a fancy dress and matching heels, she was over the moon with excitement. She settled on a simple black satin dress that puffed out at the waist and stopped just shy of the knees. It had spaghetti strap sleeves, but they were so thin that it might as well be a strapless dress. For shoes, she got simple black kitten heels that had a little tule bow at the counter. She felt effortlessly beautiful, and she looked forward to surprising Dean with her outfit. He was her date to it, after all, Carlos was going with Bela, and Sam was going with Gert. Now that she thought of it, this was her and Dean's official first date. Technically, anyway.

Cheryl smoothed out the skirt of her dress before tucking her small clutch into her side. They were waiting on Dean now, Bela was in a floor-length dress and had on a necklace with obnoxiously large gemstones, and Carlos was in his own tux – because he owned one, funnily enough. Bela sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, “What is taking so long? Sam's already halfway there... with his date.” She called out to Dean. His voice echoed from the top of the stairs, there was a hint of insecurity in his tone. “So not okay with this!” He yelled. Carlos snorted before saying: “What are you, a woman? Come down already!”

Dean groaned loudly, and finally, he descended the stairs sporting a tux that made Cheryl swoon. She sucked in a breath as her eyes settled on his form. Cheryl noticed that his bowtie was lopsided, but she found it cute. When nobody said anything, Dean outspread his arms and glanced down at the floor. He hadn't even noticed what Cheryl was wearing yet. “All right, get it out – I look ridiculous.”

“Not exactly the word I'd use.” Bela hummed as she pushed a chair into the table. Dean's brows furrowed in confusion and he pouted his lips together. “What?” He asked. Cheryl opened her mouth to speak, to compliment him, but Bela spoke before her.

“You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex.” She grinned.

Cheryl's face fell and her stomach tied into a knot. She didn't blame Bela for saying that, she and Dean weren't public with their relationship yet – but she couldn't help but feel insecure. Dean, having finally noticed Cheryl, swallowed hard and frowned. She looked too beautiful to be upset, she had even curled her hair – and he knew that took a lot of time because she always said that it did. “I'd rather not, let's go,” Dean said quickly before marching towards the front door. Cheryl followed suit, then Carlos and Bela.

Thankfully, Bela rode with Carlos in his truck – it allowed them to get to know each other since this was the first time that they had met. But, that didn't stop Cheryl from being silent on the way over to the museum. Her entire body was turned away from Dean. Her knees were pressed together and the skirt of her dress fell neatly over her thighs. She looked sort of like a princess.

Dean shot her a quick look and his lips thinned, he knew she was upset, it was wafting off of her – and it wasn't hard to guess why. “Don't pay attention to what Bela says, she doesn't mean it.” He said in an attempt to soothe her obvious worries.

“I'm sure she did,” Cheryl sighed deeply, “I'm just getting into my head, don't worry about me.” She whispered.

“Cher, I want you. Not Bela, not any other chick. You.” Dean started. Cheryl went silent and she pursed her lips together, she squeezed her clutch tight. She really wanted to believe him, she did believe him. “I'm scared that you're going to get tired of waiting to have sex with me. And it's not that I don't want to do it – I'm just… scared to. What if I can't please you?”

“That may be the craziest thing you've ever said, Cher.” He snorted.

“Dean,” She pleaded. She was being serious – she was terrified that she wouldn't be able to please him or make him feel good.

Dean frowned and gripped the steering wheel tight, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Simply being with a beauty like her would make him feel good. “Babe, it isn't just a one-way street… I want to make you feel good too, I am going to make you feel good. You don't gotta worry about pleasing me, because just being with you pleases me. No matter how long it takes, I'm gonna be here, and I'm gonna stay even if it's bad – and I doubt it will be.” He told her. Cheryl was looking at him now, he could feel her eyes pressing deep into his soul – searching for honesty. “Really?” She exhaled finally.

“Yeah! I mean, like, look at you. You're gorgeous, you look gorgeous right now. I'd be crazy not to wait – I'd be especially crazy to not wanna make you feel good.” Dean exclaimed. Cheryl's lips parted before they spread up into a wide smile, and her heart soared with relief. All previous worries she had about being intimate with him were gone, she now knew that he was here to stay. Here to be her boyfriend – not a hookup. She scooted a little closer to him, and he took the cue to hold her hand. “Well… I'm ready then.” Cheryl whispered.

His brows shot up, “Are you sure? It's only been a few days since our talk…”

Cheryl nodded, “Si, I am sure. I… trust you. I trust that you will make me feel safe, I want to do it with you. I don't want to be held back by what my Father did to me anymore, I want to be free.” Dean rolled into a parking spot in front of the busy museum and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He leaned into her, and his lips ghosted over hers. “Thanks for trusting me,” he whispered, “I'll always make sure you feel safe, always.” He said before he gently pressed his lips to hers.

Cheryl smiled against his lips and let her eyes fall shut, he was so understanding – so kind and careful with her, she wondered if he was like that with his past girlfriends. Reluctantly, she pulled back from him but still had her forehead against his. “We should go,” she whispered, “before they get suspicious.”

“Just one more…” Dean pleaded softly, nudging her nose with his. Her lips were soft and tasted of strawberries – presumably because of the lip balm she bought at the store the other day. Her breath was minty fresh, but even if it wasn't, he wouldn't care. Cheryl nodded slowly, “Okay,” She agreed. Tentatively, their lips met once again. This kiss was more heated than the last, a little sloppy and some tongue here and there. Cheryl only now realized that she had broken one of her first date rules; she was making out with Dean in the Impala before their date even started.

Now they walked in through the open doors, arm in arm. They could get off with simple stuff like this, maybe even hand-holding – tonight they were posing as husband and wife. Carlos had gotten Cheryl a fake wedding ring from a pawn shop, and the ring that Dean wore all of the time would work just fine. Cheryl leaned into Dean to whisper to him: “We're supposed to be husband and wife, Mr And Mrs Rosen. So act as such.”

Dean grinned wide. “Don't you think we're moving a bit fast?” He said teasingly.

“Shut up,” Cheryl laughed. She glanced around the room full of rich people in fancy gowns and tuxedos, she felt quite out of place. Even when she was married to Carlos and had to attend real events like this, she felt out of place, like some poor outsider who didn't know which fork was meant for the salad.

Dean nudged her side to grab her attention before pointing to a far corner of the room where Sam was dancing with Gert. “Would you look at that? Sam, a boy toy.” He mused. Cheryl couldn't help but laugh, Dean was effortlessly charming and funny. It was one of the many things she appreciated about him. “Dean,” she began to scold playfully, “focus, he's only doing his job. Let's go find the hand.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighed.

They perused around the museum, moseying around all of the people and waiters and waitresses with trays of drinks and food. There were men dressed in full black suits stationed at every door, and there were two of them posted at each bannister of the stairs. Dean sighed and his lips thinned in annoyance, “I don't think we're going to be able to waltz upstairs.” He whispered to Cheryl. She nodded slowly and glanced around for any way around the men, but when there were none, she groaned. “Oh, cariño, I feel faint.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and her eyes fluttered shut. Dean's eyes widened and he quickly grasped her arms as if preparing for her to fall. “What? Faint?” He asked quietly. Cheryl nodded and pouted her lips together before falling into Dean, he thankfully caught her.

Dean, who suddenly became aware of her plan, flagged a guard over. “My wife, she's not feelin’ too hot – is there anywhere she can lay down for a bit?” He asked hopefully. The guard took one glance at Cheryl, noticing her pale complexion and her sullen face before he nodded. “Follow me.” He ordered, and he led Dean (who was carrying Cheryl) up the stairs.

The guard thankfully didn't stick around, he left them alone to allow Cheryl to get better. “Bela said that the hand is in room two-hundred thirty-five, and it's in a locked glass case with an alarm,” Cheryl said as she kicked off her heels. Despite them being kitten heels, they were still quite uncomfortable. Any sort of high heel was uncomfortable. Dean noticed this, and quickly offered to go get the hand himself: “I've got it covered if you just wanna wait here for me.”

“Really? Oh, gracias, cariño. You're such a sweet man.” She doted. Dean flushed and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. For some reason when her accent got all heavy and she called him a Spanish pet name, he got all blushy like some schoolboy. “Uh, no problem, babe. Just wait here, I'll be back.”

And so, Cheryl was now waiting for Dean to come back with the hand. While waiting, she decided to sprawl up on the sofa and look through the photos on her phone. She usually didn't take pictures, a few of them were quite old, except for the recent ones of her and Dean. One of them in bed together, her lips pressed to his cheek and Dean grinning ear to ear. Another one showed them simply smiling in the Impala for the picture, and the last one was just of Dean marvelling at a large ice cream sundae he ordered. Again, she never really took photos, but she made the mental note to start taking more. If they couldn't find a way to save Dean, she wanted to remember his face, smile, and eyes. She'd hate it if she forgot his eyes, so green and comforting. So beautiful.

Ojos de angel.

Angel eyes.

Cheryl pinched the sheer fabric of her pantyhose and rubbed it between her thumb and pointer finger. Thinking about him dying made her heartache and her knees weak. The kind of fate that those who made deals faced was unfair and torturous.

Her phone pinged in her hand, it was a text from Carlos that read: Did you find the hand yet? Cheryl sighed and began to carefully type out her response on the keypad. When it came to speaking and reading English, she was a pro now, but writing – she was still quite bad at it. Yes, Dean is grabbing it.

OK, Carlos sent back. Finally, the door cracked open and Dean snuck back inside with the decayed hand wrapped in a handkerchief. Cheryl hopped off of the sofa and fisted her skirt out of nervous habit. “Good… you got it. We can put it in my purse.” She offered.

“Yeah, thanks.” He murmured. Cheryl nodded and snatched her clutch off of the small coffee table and tossed it to Dean. Once it was tucked away, Cheryl picked up her heels off of the ground and padded her way towards him.

“Let's go then, I'd like to get out of here.” She sighed as she reluctantly put her heels back on. Dean passed her clutch back to her and offered her his arm, which she gratefully accepted. “You know what I could use right now?” Cheryl hummed.

“What?” Dean asked.

“A nice hot bubble bath… in a tub deep enough that the water covers my knees and boobs.” She replied. Dean grinned at the thought of her wanting something so simple. A bubble bath, it was a little cute. “A bubble bath, huh? I'll keep that in mind…”

“If you find a hotel with a tub big enough, maybe we can bathe together.” She suggested shyly. Dean only paid attention to her as they descended the stairs arm in arm, he did not care about the rich people mingling around them. “A bath together… that sounds hot.” He commented.

“I was thinking romantic.” Cheryl smiled.

Cheryl glanced through the crowd of people for a restroom, she wanted to freshen up and adjust her pantyhose. They were chafing – it was making her go insane. Finally, she spotted the women's restroom and exhaled a sigh of relief. “I'm gonna pop into the washroom really fast, meet you at the Impala?” She glanced up at Dean just as he quickly placed a kiss on her cheek. Cheryl flushed and Dean nodded, “Okay.” He said hoarsely.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl set her purse on the counter and turned on the tap, wetting her hands before squirting some soap onto them and lathering it. She was very precise with how she washed her hands, her Mom taught her how to do it properly and passed on her fear of getting sick. In her head, she sang the happy birthday song twice.

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday dear Cheryl, happy birthday to you.

She used her name when she sang this song while washing her hands, it's what her Mom taught her to do. The bathroom door swung open and heels clicked against the floor. “Oh, Cheryl, how are things?” Bela asked coolly once she noticed her. Her eyes flickered down to Cheryl's clutch on the counter before they focused back on her. Cheryl smiled out of nothing but politeness, “Good, we're heading out now. Carlos told you we got the hand?” Cheryl asked.

“Yes, yes he did…” She sauntered over to the second sink next to Cheryl and began to touch up her makeup in the mirror. “He's quite the character, Carlos. Quite handsome too.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Cheryl snorted. She rinsed the soap off of her hands and flicked the excess water into the sink before turning to get some paper towels.

“So, you and Dean, huh?” Bela smirked. Cheryl flushed almost immediately and spun around to face her. She wondered what might have given it away – what made her think that. “What?” Cheryl breathed.

“You're together, are you not?”

“Um… no, what gives you the idea?”

“Just seems like it. My mistake.” Bela smiled. She patted her lips with the pad of her finger before leaning back. “Well, I ought to be going. See you around, Cheryl.”

“Yeah… see you around, Bela.”

After Cheryl was finished in the washroom, she rushed outside to the Impala. The air was frigid, it left goosebumps on her skin and made her fingers numb despite the short walk. Thankfully, Dean already had the heat blasting for her and the Impala was toasty warm. Cheryl let out a content sigh and her eyes fluttered shut, “Oh, it's so warm.”

He smiled, “Yeah, I knew you'd be cold.”

“You're such a good boyfriend.”

“Only the best for you, babe.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Sam and Carlos were already in the room when they got back. As soon as Cheryl was able, she kicked off her shoes and let out a deep sigh. Sam quickly sprang up from his spot on the sofa, “You have the hand?” He asked hopefully. Cheryl nodded and tossed her clutch at him, which he caught thankfully just as Dean shut and locked the front door. “It's in there,” Cheryl said as she fluffed up her hair. She inspected her reflection in the mirror for a moment and continued to mess with her hair. She didn't care about how it looked now, they were done for the night. They didn't have to go anywhere else.

“Um, Cheryl, it's not here.” Sam wavered. Her eyes widened briefly and she spun around to face him, it was there – she watched Dean put it in there. “What!? Sure it is!” She exclaimed. Cheryl rushed forward and snatched the bag from Sam's grasp, and sure enough, it was empty. She gasped and rocked back onto her heels, “Dean put it in here – I watched him!” She shouted.

“Well, it didn't just grow legs and walk away!” Carlos huffed out. Cheryl threw the purse down onto the floor and threaded her fingers through her hair. He was right – it didn't just disappear. The three men began to ask her a series of questions, what she did, who was there, et cetera. And then, she realized. “Bela,” Cheryl hissed through clenched teeth, “she was in the bathroom with me – she must have swiped it! God, I'm such an idiot!”

“Cher, don't say that – she's a conniving con artist bitch.” Dean quickly said.

“Yeah, this isn't the first time she's gotten one over us – we'll find another way.” Sam comforted. It wasn't Cheryl's fault, they wanted to make sure that she knew that. Bela was a con artist, she didn't care about the people she hurt or killed. She only cared about herself and money. Carlos patted her back, “It's okay, Cherry.” He murmured. This time, Carlos wasn't able to make her feel better. She still felt stupid.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl hadn't bothered to change out of her dress and pantyhose, she only laid on top of the unmade bed curled up into a small ball. She was utterly humiliated, and she didn't think she was a good hunter. Cheryl glanced at the clock on the nightstand, it was right around the time when Dean would sneak into her room. Midnight. As if right on cue, the door creaked open and Dean slipped through the small crack before closing it again.

When his eyes landed on her, he raised a questioning brow. “You haven't changed yet?” He asked quietly. Cheryl shook her head and reluctantly pushed herself up to a sitting position. “No,” she whispered, “too lazy, I guess.” She added. He went silent and only nodded, standing at the foot of the bed like a confused child. He was hesitating – hesitating to ask something – hesitant to climb into bed with her.

“Do you… want help?” Dean finally asked her.

“Help with what?”

“Changing.”

“Oh…” Cheryl flushed and looked at her bags full of clothes on the armchair in the corner. Neatly folded on the top of the bag was a fresh sweatshirt, pyjama pants and underwear. She swallowed before slowly nodding, she wanted Dean to help her. The idea made her heart pitter-patter and her stomach tie into a knot. “Si, por favor.” Cheryl whispered as she slid off of the bed.

Cheryl stood with her back to him, facing the wall and waiting for his next move. When Dean's fingers gently grasped the zipper in the middle of her back and dragged it down, she sighed. Dean was just as nervous as she was but for different reasons. He worried that he was going to make her uncomfortable – make her feel unsafe. He'd never want to put her in a situation like that. He dragged his gaze down to her strapless bra as the dress fell to the floor discarded. Dean now had her in her underwear – the woman of his dreams, literally. But he didn't intend to make a move on her, not when she was so upset. So vulnerable. He wouldn't take advantage of her like that. Dean curled his fingers under the hem of her tights and dragged them down to about her knees before he let her kick them off herself.

Cheryl smirked faintly and tucked a fluffy strand of hair behind her ear. “I can't sleep in a bra, Dean…” She whispered tauntingly. Yet again, he asked: “Are you sure?” Which made her sigh, she appreciated him asking all of the time, but sometimes she wished he would just do things like the regular Dean Winchester would. Without missing another beat, Cheryl turned to be face-to-face with him and reached back to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the floor. “Stop asking me that. I'll tell you if I'm uncomfortable.” She hummed as she snuck her fingers under his shirt to toy with the hem of his sweatpants. Dean swallowed hard and his pupils dilated as soon as they landed on Cheryl's breasts – full, beautiful, begging for him to grope and touch them. They were big – so they sagged a bit, nothing unusual, but fuck, just looking at them made him hard.

Dean's lips crashed into hers, and he felt up every inch of her bare body presented to him. Her back, her waist, her boobs, her thighs, it all. He groaned against her lips when she pressed herself right against his hardened cock, and Cheryl grinned. “Already?” She whispered before he attacked her again with breathless and needy kisses.

“It's just – fuck – it's just what you do to me, baby. Fuckin’ look at you, you're gorgeous.” Dean said huskily.

“So are you…”

“I'm not the one with great tits here.”

“Take off your shirt then, let's put that to the test.” She purred against the skin of his mouth. Dean pulled back from her and yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Cheryl smirked, “Pants too.”

“Yes ma'am.” Dean breathed as he tugged his pants down and kicked them away. He'd waited for this moment for so long – looked forward to it – hoped for it, and it was about to happen.

Their mouths were on one another within seconds, their hands on each other's bodies. It was just the two of them, appreciating each other, caring for each other, adoring each other. Dean caressed her cheek and gently swiped her hair off of her shoulder so he could pepper kisses along her sensitive neck. Cheryl sighed pleasantly and he relished in it, he couldn't wait to hear what her moans sounded like – were they anything like his dreams?

“Do you have a condom?” Cheryl breathed, her breath hot against his ear. Dean grinned into her neck and nodded slowly, he always had condoms – that was a silly question. “Yeah, in my room.” He replied huskily.

“Go get them, I'll be waiting here for you.”

“Oh… will you?” He smirked and groped her ass cheeks. Cheryl giggled softly and pressed a chasting kiss to his lips. “Hurry up. Don't keep me waiting.” She said. As if Dean would ever make her wait for him.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl fell back against the plush pillows and her hair fanned out across them. Dean gently traced his hands down her stomach before hooking his fingers under the band of her cotton panties and dragged them down her thighs and tossed them away. She was now in all her glory before him – beautiful and waiting for him to touch her. Dean let out a heavy breath and his eyes zeroed in on her wet cunt. “Fuck, babe…” He groaned as he climbed on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with his weight. Cheryl cupped his cheek once he was face to face with her and traced his lips with her thumb. She was a little nervous – but it was a good kind of nervous. The kind that had butterflies and the clenching of the heart.

She spread her legs wide and urged him closer to her by hooking a leg around his waist. “We have to be quiet, can you be quiet?” Cheryl whispered against his lips.

“Can you?”

“Depends how good you are.” She smirked. Dean also grinned and teasingly traced her inner thigh, slowly inching up closer to where she needed him most. Finally, he cupped her pussy and dragged his fingers through her folds and over her clit. Cheryl sucked in a sharp breath and her brows furrowed at the wonderful feeling. Her reaction only made his stupid grin widen, “So wet, for me?” He asked as he gently pecked her lips. She nodded fervently and moaned softly when he swiped over her clit again. Oh, that sound. The sound of her moaning for him, God, he wanted to listen to that sound all of the time.

Dean continued to toy with her, watching intently as Cheryl writhed in pleasure underneath him. Just watching her like this had him rock hard – his dick was straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs – begging to be touched, begging to be inside of her. Cheryl let out a whine and tossed her head back, “Stop teasing me and just fuck me!” She said, exasperated. Her plea was a little too loud, it had them stop for a moment and listen for any signs of Carlos or Sam being awake. Thankfully, a loud snore sounded from the next room over and they both sighed in relief.

Once it was safe, Dean smirked. “Needy,” he says as he kisses her, “but, if you want me to fuck you, then I guess I have to.”

“Por favor…” Cheryl begged. He knew what por favor meant, she was saying please.

Please, please, please. Chanting it like a prayer. He wanted her to say his name like that – over and over. And soon, she was. She was saying his name like that, chanting it over and over. Like a prayer.

“Dean,” Cheryl gasped. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he continued to thrust into her, slow and deep. Dean wanted to enjoy this, he didn't want it to be fast – he didn't want it to be forgettable. He didn't want to treat her like some slut, he wanted to show her he cared. Dean let out a tiny moan when her walls throbbed around him, he had been trying to be quiet, but it was just so hard. To stifle his moans and hers, he smashed his lips into hers and increased the pace of his thrusts. Cheryl breathed him in, she wanted to feel him, feel all of Dean. Not just the physicalities, but him.

His heart, his soul, his love. She wanted to feel him. Two hearts beating a thousand miles per hour, yet somehow they were in unison. His, hers, his, hers. Dean's, Cheryl's, Dean's, Cheryl's.

Cheryl lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts, and the bedframe creaked with fervour. They were nearing the end, she knew, she could feel it. Dean was growing sloppy, becoming more vocal and his hands fisted the sheets. Thankfully, he was wearing a condom so they didn't have to worry about a baby, they could enjoy their time together. She crossed her legs over the small of his back and moaned against his lips. “Come, I want you to come.” She panted. Cheryl's brows knitted together and she squeezed her eyes shut as he repeatedly hit that sweet spot deep within her. God, it felt good. He felt good. “Come for me, cariño…”

And so he did, but not without making sure she did first.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Now, they both lay in bed all sweaty with nothing but the sheets covering them. They were much too hot for the blankets. Cheryl had her head on Dean's chest, she was listening to the beat of his heart and tracing little shapes on his skin with her fingertip. They were silent for a long while, only trying to catch their breaths. Cheryl snuck a glance at the clock, it was just a little past one in the morning.

Dean was warm, she liked that. “I had fun, did you?” Cheryl asked finally.

“Yeah – I mean, hell yeah,” Dean said quickly. He rubbed her shoulder back and forth and smiled faintly. He did like it, his dreams couldn't even compare to the real thing. It was amazing. “Did you, uh, feel safe?” He asked.

“Yes, I did. Thank you.”

“Don't thank me, jus’ doing my job as a good boyfriend.” He chuckled softly.

“I guess so, I still appreciate it,” Cheryl whispered. Dean nodded slowly and began to thread his fingers through her hair, gently playing with it. “Can't wait to do that a-fucking-gain. You're awesome in bed.”

“I barely did anything… you should wait until I finally blow you, I get nothing but compliments.” She snorted.

“Well damn, babe. You got me all excited now.” He grinned and waggled his brows.

Cheryl rolled her eyes playfully and smacked his chest, “We're not going again tonight, I'm tired.”

“Okay, okay, tomorrow?”

“Maybe if you're on your best behaviour, now I'm gonna go pee before I fall asleep. I don't want a UTI.” Cheryl sighed as she reluctantly climbed out of bed. She plucked Dean's discarded shirt off of the ground and pulled it over her head. He caught a glimpse of her tattoos before – but he wasn't focusing on them. He saw the faded and blown-out red axe on her hip, and the small lilies on the side of her ribs. Dean didn't think to look for the tattoo she said was under her breasts. “Stealing my shirt, huh?” He grinned.

“Isn't that what a girlfriend is supposed to do?”

“Yeah, guess so. You gonna steal my boxers too?”

“Can I?”

“Go for it, girls are hot in a guy's boxers.”

Cheryl smiled and put on his boxers before jumping into bed to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Am I hot in your boxers?” She asked in a breathy whisper. Dean nodded fervently and set both of his hands on her ass, he liked how it felt. “Yeah – hell yeah, fuckin’ sexy.”

“Mmm, good…” She kissed him again before slinking away. “I'll be back, just gonna piss and wash my face.”

“Don't keep me waiting.” Dean winked.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Cheryl smiled.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean inspected a ship in a bottle carefully, he angled it around and closed one of his eyes so he could peek inside it. He always wondered how they got the ships inside of the bottles. Cheryl was to his left, Carlos to his right, and they were both talking about the pattern of the ghost; he killed those who had spilled their families' blood. Now that they knew who the ghost went after, they could confirm their safety. None of them had murdered their family members, and they could say that with confidence.

Frantic knocking began to sound at the door, and it soon turned into pounding when they didn't answer fast enough. Carlos groaned and pushed himself up from his spot, “I'm comin’, I'm comin’,” Carlos huffed as he opened the door. When it was none other than a panicked-looking Bela on the other side of the door, he was quite tempted to slam it in her face. She raised her hands pleadingly, “Please! Just let me explain!” She begged.

Now, Dean circled Bela like a hawk ready to kill at any sudden movement. Bela sat in one of the chairs drawn to the middle of the room, her hands in her lap. “I sold it. I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed.” She said. Dean clenched his jaw as he made it behind her back, and he discreetly made a shooting motion with his two fingers above her head. She fucked them over and made Cheryl feel stupid. As far as he knew, she was no better than dead.

Sam cocked a brow and folded his arms over his chest, “So the whole reason for us going to the charity ball was…?”

“I needed a cover,” she shrugged, “you were convenient.”

Sam sighed, “Look, you sold it to a buyer. Just go buy it back.” He also wanted nothing to do with her, he had the same feelings about her as Dean. Bela's lips thinned, “It's halfway across the ocean, I can't get it back in time.”

“In time for what?” Cheryl finally asked. Bela hung her head and closed her eyes as she sighed deeply. Now this was straight-up karma. “I saw the ship.” She confessed. Dean's brows shot up and he scoffed, “You what?” He began to chuckle and slowly shook his head, “Wow, you know, I – I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower-”

“What are you talking about?” She interrupted.

“We figured out the spirit's motive,” Cheryl began smugly with her arms crossed, and Sam raised a photo of a period-dressed man for Bela to see, “this is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy.” She said.

“So?” Bela scoffed.

“So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family’s blood. See first there was Sheila who killed her cousin in the car accident, and the Warren brothers, who murdered their Father for the inheritance. And now you.” Cheryl shrugged. Bela paled and her jaw went slack, so that's why the spirit chose her. “Oh my God…” She breathed. Dean smirked and began to circle her again, taunting her. “So who was it, Bela? Hmm? Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Your little sis, maybe?”

“It's none of your business.” She spat.

“No? Right. Well, have a nice life – you know, whatever’s left of it,” he slapped her on the back and made his way to the door, he plucked his jacket off of a hook, “let’s go, guy's.” He huffed.

Dean also took Cheryl's coat off the second hook and handed it to her, just as Bela jumped to her feet with wide eyes. “What?! You can't just leave!” She exclaimed.

“Watch us,” Dean growled.

“Please,” Bela begged, “I need your help.”

“We don't owe you shit, why should we?” Dean asked with a scoff. Bela didn't reply, she only hung her head and fiddled with her fingers nervously. He was right, they didn't owe her anything, but she still needed help.

Carlos’ lips thinned into a straight line, he felt bad for her, pity, almost. “You do realize you sold the one thing that could save your life?” He asked.

“I'm aware.” She replied sadly.

“Well,” Sam sighed and he looked at both Cheryl and Dean before continuing, “maybe not the only thing…”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

The moon rose high in the sky, full and reflecting a light luminous glow. The five of them surrounded a grave where they had five tall candles lit and flickering with two small bowls in the centre. Cheryl had drawn a pentacle with white chalk around the setup, and put some herbs into one of the bowls while Sam poured some thick red liquid into the second bowl.

Bela huddled into her jacket and silently cursed herself for not wearing a warmer jacket. Dean was leaning against a bigger gravestone, a Glock in hand. She shivered and glanced at Carlos then Dean. “Do you really think this is gonna work?” She asked.

“Almost definitely not.” Dean sighed. Thunder crashed and it quite quickly began to pour, the wind whistled painfully and cut through their clothes. Cheryl gasped and shivered, she hated the cold, and she hated it even more when her hair got wet when she wasn't washing it. Dean stood up straight and glanced around, clutching the gun tight in his hand. “Sammy! You better start reading!”

And so he did. “Aziel, Castiel, Lamisniel, Rabam.” Sam called upon them before continuing to chant in Latin. Carlos knew Latin among many other things, he and Sam had made sure this ritual was the real deal before they used it. Carlos and Sam were both the smart ones. The rain somehow grew heavier and thunder boomed. Cheryl gasped as a familiar heavy feeling in her heart and ringing in her ears set in. Before the phantom even made itself known, she knew where it was and that it was here. “Dean! Behind you!” She screamed over the pouring rain. Dean's eyes widened and he whipped around just as their ghost boy dressed in pirates clad materialized. So her ability to sense ghosts really did work.

But before he could do anything, the ghost had whipped him back by some unforeseeable force and knocked him into a far tomb. The phantom persisted, however, he wafted over to Bela and placed one of his cold dead hands on her face. Bela began to cough up water – a lot – and she fell to her knees, clutching at her throat desperate for air. Carlos grunted and glanced back at Sam, his curly locks now sopping wet. “Read faster!” He yelled before he sprinted over to kneel next to Bela. He set either of his hands on her arms, helping her through her heaves.

Thankfully, the rain was starting to die down and Bela wasn't coughing as much – but the spirit was still here. A loud creak like an old door opening sounded and the pirate's eyes narrowed. He slowly turned, only to be face-to-face with his brother. The one who hanged him, who betrayed him. His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw, “You hanged me!” He boomed.

“I'm sorry.” That was all his brother said.

“Your own brother.”

“I'm so sorry!” The ghost grit his teeth before charging his brother with a primal yell. As the two collided, a giant splash of water engulfed the two of them before they disappeared.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean and Sam were packing up the last of their things in the main room quietly. Dean made sure to hide the box of condoms he bought this morning by putting a t-shirt over it. Now that he and Cheryl were having sex (great sex, by the way), they had to be safe – they didn't want a baby, after all. A baby right now may be the worst thing that could happen. He knew she wouldn't get an abortion being Catholic and all, unfortunately.

The front door swept open and in strolled a much better looking and well-rested Bela. She grinned, “You boys should learn to lock your doors. Anyone could just barge in.”

“Anyone just did. Did you come to say goodbye or thank you?” Sam asked.

“I've come to settle affairs.” She said before tossing them each a stack of money and then one each for Cheryl and Carlos. “Ten thousand, that should cover it. I don't like being in anyone's debt.”

“So ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you?” Dean asked. Bela smiled faintly and Dean scoffed before shaking his head. “You're so damaged.”

“Takes one to know one. Goodbye, lads.” Bela hummed as she turned to leave them.

Sam sighed and focused his attention on the stack of money she gave each of them. “You have to admit, she has style.” He said.

“I suppose,” Dean replied.

“Hey, where are Cheryl and Carlos anyway?”

“Dunno, said they'd be back soon though.”

Cheryl passed the blunt back to Carlos and exhaled slowly. “So, Alejandro wants us to come to New York? He say why?” She asked.

“Said he's super busy with surgeries and needs help getting rid of a ghost in his new house, nothing serious,” Carlos answered before taking a drag. Getting high was one of their favourite things to do together – plus, they weren't sure if Sam and Dean were cool with it. Cheryl nodded slowly and bit her lip hard, he was her best friend – her partner in crime – literally. She couldn't resist not telling him about her and Dean any longer.

“Dean and I are dating… we have been for two weeks now…” She whispered. Carlos’ eyes widened and he coughed on the smoke that he inhaled – so bad that he began to turn red. Cheryl gasped and smacked his back a few times, hoping it'd help. “It's not that shocking! You're so dramatic!”

“Uh, yeah it is. You managed to keep a secret from me for two weeks?”

“Yeah… I'm surprised too.” She trailed off. Carlos narrowed his eyes and swiped his tongue across his lips as he stared at her. She had a boyfriend – and he hated the guy, but if she was happy, he was happy for her. “So… what have you guys done?” He asked.

“Well… normal couple stuff, I guess? I don't know what you're asking.”

“Have y'all fucked?” He deadpanned.

“That's none of your business!” She hissed.

“Oh! So you have! My, my, Cherry, look at you!” Carlos teased. Then, he got an idea. A wonderful idea.

“Why don't Sam and I go up to New York? And you and your boyfriend have alone time?” He waggled his brows and grinned.

“You'd do that for us?”

“I'd do that for you, not him. But, yeah.”

“Carlos… gracias…”

#supernatural #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc #Spotify

11 notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 15 days

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 17

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Summary: Bela gets in the way yet again while they are working on a case.

W.C: 7324

Warnings: Child abuse, molestation (only a victim sharing their story).

[A/N] extensive trigger warning for the beginning of the chapter! If you're sensitive to sexual assault inflicted on children please skip past it! I'd like to make clear that it is just someone sharing their story and it is not the actual act of it happening. I am splitting this specific episode (3.06) into two chapters for time purposes and for a better reading experience!

Masterlist | AO3

It's been a week, one week since they decided to take things to the next level. To make things official. Since then, they'd been sneaking around like teenagers. They wanted to keep their relationship low-key for the first little while. Sam and Carlos would be quite annoying and tease them, and they weren't ready to deal with that yet.

Dean's lips worked over Cheryl's in a passionate haste, she was absolutely intoxicating most of the time. He couldn't get enough of her, she smelt good, she tasted good, she felt good. He had her pinned in the backseat of Baby as it was one of the only places they could sneak off to. Dean traced his hands down her waist, stopping just shy of her hips when she grabbed his wrist. He pulled away from her and raised his brows, “Everything okay?” He asked. Cheryl's lips thinned and she swallowed hard, she wasn't ready to go there yet. To be honest, she was scared to. “I – I just, uh, I don't want to do that yet… I'm sorry.” She whispered shyly.

This wasn't the first time Cheryl had rejected his advances. In fact, it was the third. But it was the first time she said anything about it, and he was a little worried. Dean climbed off of her and sat with his back to the window. He offered her a hand to help her up, which she accepted, and that's when he decided to ask. “Is everything like… okay? Do you have the syph or something?” Her eyes widened immediately and she shook her head frantically. “What?! No! Why would you think that?” She questioned.

“Well, uh, not that it's a problem or anything – but I'm kinda worried I guess. You don't wanna go there yet and I get it but I'm just wondering why…?” Dean asked hesitantly.

Cheryl sucked in a sharp breath and looked down at her feet. She was scared to tell him, scared that he'd see her differently or think that she was disgusting. Everything was going so well so far, she didn't want to mess it up with her problems. She bit her inner cheek, hard and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “If I tell you something will you promise that you won't judge me?” She whispered.

“I won't,” Dean promised quickly. Cheryl was silent for a bit, trying to build up the courage to tell him. In an attempt to comfort her, Dean took one of her hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. Whatever it was, he knew it was hard for her to talk about.

“It's, um… it's difficult… for me to be intimate with someone new – especially if I am sober.” Cheryl started in a hoarse whisper. She kept staring at her feet but held onto Dean's hand tight. He was like her anchor, keeping her grounded. “It's hard… because I– I was, uh…” Cheryl closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. Her heart was racing and she suddenly felt very hot, like she was about to puke. “It's hard because… my Father – he… touched me as a child. For years.” She whimpered. Cheryl glanced up at the fabric roof of the Impala and blinked back her tears. “Six to fourteen, that was my life. And I didn't get lucky, I remember everything.” Her bottom lip wobbled and she sniffled. Cheryl didn't have the strength to look at Dean, she didn't want to see the disgust on his face, the hatred. “I finally told my Mom shortly after I got my period because I was scared that he was gonna… you know… so that night, we packed up a few things into garbage bags and my Abuelo drove us to the border. And then we never saw him again.”

Dean had stopped breathing, his heart was pounding in his ears and his hands had become clammy. He had never wanted to hunt something down and kill it more in his entire life. That man – her Father – was no human. He was a monster who hurt a child. A child. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to comfort her. Was he supposed to tell her that everything was okay? That he's here and he still wants her? Dean withdrew his hand from her grasp and rubbed it on his jeans in an attempt to get rid of the sweat, but that was the wrong thing to do. Cheryl finally let out a sob and turned to face him, her eyes full of tears. “Please don't hate me.” She cried. “Please don't – please.” She begged. Dean's face fell and he immediately swept her into a hug and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Sweetheart, no, no, no… I don't hate you – no, I could never hate you for something like that.” He soothed. He stroked her hair and swallowed hard, listening to her muffled sobs. “It wasn't your fault, yeah? You know that, right? You were a kid, Cher. Just a kid.”

Cheryl hiccuped and buried her face into his chest, curling into him as if she wanted to become one. “I mean, I could have told someone sooner – I had eight years to tell someone.” She sniffled.

“Hey, it's not your fault. He's the fucked up one, not you Cheryl. Not you.” Dean rubbed her back in gentle circles and kissed her forehead. “You can take as much time as you need, all right? We don't gotta do anything until you're ready. We'll go as slow as you want.” He told her. He wanted to make sure that she knew that he was here, he was going to wait as long as she needed. She was brave enough to tell him what happened to her, so it was his job to make sure she felt safe and happy.

“You can always say no, and you don't have to apologize for it either. You want me to stop? Fuckin’ punch me.” Dean said, dead serious. Cheryl smiled a little bit and squinted up at him, her eyelashes were sopping wet. “I don't want to punch you…” She whispered. Dean pursed his lips together and stared down at her sweetly. Then, he got an idea. “Hm, why don't we have a safe word? Like – outside of sex. So if things were getting too heavy for you or you're uncomfortable, you can say it and we will stop.” He suggested.

Cheryl perked up, “A safe word? Like what?”

“Anything you want. You pick.”

“Okay… what about… binky?”

“Binky?”

“Yeah – when would we ever say binky?”

“Good point. Binky it is then.”

Dean continued to stroke her hair and his lips thinned into a straight line. “Is… there, uh, anything you wanna talk about?” He asked. Cheryl shook her head and continued to rest on his chest comfortably. “No… can we just… stay like this for a while?”

He smiled, “Of course.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl was eternally grateful that Dean had not made anything weird, he treated her the exact same as before, and she appreciated it.

She was in the middle of doing her eyeliner in front of the bathroom mirror when a knock sounded at the door. Cheryl opened the door and poked her head out, grinning when the person at the door was Dean. “Come in.” She said before returning her attention to her makeup. Dean stepped inside and closed the door behind him, he was in a simple suit – the pants didn't match the jacket and the tie was blue and striped with white. “Hey, how are you doing?” He asked softly. Cheryl smiled and raised her brows as she inspected his outfit in the mirror. “Good… you look cute.”

“Cute? Seriously?” He scoffed. Cheryl let out a little giggle and turned to face him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Cute.” She repeated. Dean smirked and stared down at her, if she wanted to call him cute, he'd be cute, for her. “Your makeup looks good.” He whispered. He gestured towards her smokey eye and pouted his lips together. “The, uh, eyeshadow? Looks cool.”

“Oh, gracias.” Cheryl smiled.

“Yeah, no problem.” Dean nodded. He adjusted his tie and raised his chin, briefly admiring himself in the mirror. “Sam and I are gonna head out and question the victim's family. Do you want me to grab you anything on the way back?” He asked.

Cheryl hummed, “Um, maybe a coffee?” She glanced up at him and smiled again when he leaned down to kiss her. It was quick and sweet, which she liked. They haven't had any heavy makeout sessions since the conversation in the Impala, Dean didn't want to make her uncomfortable. “Sure thing, sweetheart.” He muttered against her lips. He fixed his tie one last time before shimmying past Cheryl and leaving the bathroom. “See you soon.” He said before closing the door, leaving her to finish her makeup in privacy. Cheryl couldn't help but beam, things weren't weird anymore, they were together, and he made her happy. “See you…” She murmured.

Sam and Dean inspected a photograph of the young woman who fell victimized by what they thought was some water-bound ghost. The old woman who they were interviewing – her Aunt – was a little confused about why she had to answer all of these questions again.

“I don't understand. I already went over all of this with the other detectives.” She sighed. Dean let out a discreet nervous chuckle and nodded in understanding. “Right, yes. But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department – different departments.” He grinned hopefully, he didn't want her to question their reliability anymore. Sam’s lips thinned, “So… Mrs. Case.”

“Please,” She smiled, batting her eyelashes at Sam. “Ms. Case.”

“Okay… um, Ms. Case, um, you were the one who found your niece, correct?”

“Yes, I came home. She was in the shower.”

“Drowned?” Sam asked.

“So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?”

“How would you describe Sheila's behaviour in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary, or…?”

Gert, the old woman, squinted at the two of them before her eyes widened as she dawned on the realization. She gasped, “Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?” Dean's brows shot up before he nodded fervently, “Yep. Absolutely. That's – Alex and us, we're like this.” He laughed awkwardly. Gert smiled wide, her eyes crinkled as she did which made her crow's feet more prominent. “Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort. But I’m sorry. I thought the case was solved.” She replied.

“Uh, well – no. Not yet.” Sam said.

Gert pursed her thin ruby-stained lips together, “I see…”

“So, anyways, we were talking about your niece.” Sam continued.

“Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat.”

“A boat?” Dean asked.

“Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. Do you think it could be a ... ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship.” Gert didn't even bother to look at Dean, she only stared intently at Sam. All Dean could think was: what a cougar.

Sam swallowed hard and his brows knitted together, he was a little thrown off by her infatuation with him – and vaguely uncomfortable. “Well… um… could be.” He replied. Gert nodded and held her chin high, “You let me know if there's anything I can do for you,” Slowly, Gert traced her finger up Sam's hand and under the cuff of his suit. When he flinched, she smirked. “Anything at all.” She said.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean and Sam strolled along the docks, paying no attention to the large array of boats that crowded the water. Dean clicked his tongue and shook his head, “What a crazy old broad…” He muttered under his breath.

“Why? Because she believes in ghosts?” Sam questioned with a raised brow. Dean smirked and shot him a look, “Look at you, stickin’ up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound.” Sam snorted and tucked his hands into his pockets, hearing that from his brother was amusing. “Yeah? Says you. You can't even ask out the girl you like.”

Dean grit his teeth, “Bite me.” Jokes on him, he did ask out the girl he likes, and she said yes. All of Sam's teasing was just plain wrong now, and he got a kick out of it.

“Yeah, you wish. So, who's this Alex you think?” Sam asked. Dean shrugged and pouted his lips together, he didn't really care. As long as they didn't get in the way of each other. “Doesn't change our job.” He replied. He glanced up at Sam, “And what looked like a ghost ship too, right?”

“Yeah, it's not the first one spotted either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings.”

“So whatever's happening, it's just getting started.” Dean sighed.

Sam's nostrils flared, “Yeah… and the lore –there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman – almost all of them are death omens.”

“So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?”

“Basically.” Sam sighed. “I gotta I.D. the boat.”

“That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?” Dean snorted.

“I checked that too, actually. Over one hundred and fifty.” Sam replied. Dean's face fell and he swallowed hard, well – that made their job unnecessarily hard. “Shit.” He muttered under his breath as they approached where he parked the Impala. When all they saw was an empty parking spot, Dean glanced around frantically. “This is where we parked the car, right?” He asked.

“I thought so.”

“Where's my car?”

“Did you feed the metre?” Sam questioned, a little smug. Dean clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared, this was the worst thing that could possibly happen – losing the Impala. “Yes! I fed the metre! Sam, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!” He yelled, his voice starting to rise in pitch.

“Hey – hey – hey! Calm down, Dea–”

“I am calmed down!” Dean yelled. He hunched over and began to hyperventilate, overwhelmed by the possibility that someone stole his car. “Someone stole my–” He let out a strained breath and clutched his knees. Sam glanced around before noticing that Dean was gasping for air and he rushed to his side. “Woah! Dean, take it easy.” He soothed. Sam knew that they'd find the Impala, it was an easy car to spot – sleek and hard to miss. Plus, it wasn't like they didn't have any other forms of transportation. Carlos had his truck, and Cheryl was working on getting her bike up and running. It being out of commission for so long killed the battery and she had to do some minor repairs that she had been putting off.

“The sixty-seven Impala? Was that yours?” Bela asked as she sauntered towards the pair, a smug grin on her face. Bela – that bitch. “I'm sorry, I had that car towed.” She said coolly. Dean's face contorted and he clenched his fists, “You what?!” He shouted.

“Well, it was in a tow-away zone.”

“No, it wasn't!”

“It was when I finished with it.” She flipped her silky pale brown hair off of her shoulder and smirked. The last time she saw them, she stole lotto tickets from them – and they had won a pretty penny. Dean's brows knitted together and his nose wrinkled, “What the hell are you even doing here?” He demanded.

Bela shrugged, “A little yachting.”

“You're Alex. You're working with that old lady.” Sam breathed.

She smirked, “Gert's a dear old friend.”

Dean scoffed, “Yeah, right. What's your angle?”

“There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats.”

“And let me guess, it's all a con. None of it is real.”

“The comfort I provide them is authentic.”

Sam looked her up and down with nothing but judgment in his eyes. “How do you sleep at night?” He questioned, meaning it to be more rhetoric than anything. Bela smirked and held her chin high, “On silk sheets, rolling naked in money.” She answered. Dean's brows knitted together and his lip curled, he didn't mean to picture it – and the thought disgusted him. He'd much rather picture his girlfriend.

His girlfriend. Dean grinned, he was still getting used to calling Cheryl his girlfriend.

Bela tilted her head and pouted her lips together, “Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?”

“You shot me!” He hissed through his teeth.

“I barely grazed you.”

“You do know what's going on around here. This ghost-ship thing, it is real.” Dean said, chanting the topic. Sam was being a bit of a drama queen about being shot by Bela, all he needed was a band-aid after the fact. Bela sighed and rolled her eyes, glad that he brought that up. “I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way.”

“It isn't,” Dean said firmly.

“She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers. Look... just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you... before they find the arsenal in the trunk.” Bela took a few steps away from them before spinning on her heel. “Ciao.” She grinned before walking off.

Dean glared venomously at her and grit his teeth, he was still ticked off by the fact that she had his car towed. “Can I shoot her?” He asked Sam bitterly. Sam, who was also glaring at Bela, shook his head and glanced around. “Not in public.” He answered in a murmur.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Thankfully, Dean had gotten the Impala back before going back to the motel – and he had gotten Cheryl a coffee as she requested. A sugary vanilla frappuccino with loads of whipped cream. To him, it was nauseating, but she liked it and that was all that mattered.

Dean set her drink down in front of her and then passed Carlos a berry smoothie. Cheryl smiled up at him, “Gracias, Dean.” She said gratefully. Carlos nodded as he gulped back maybe about a quarter of the drink. “Yeah,” he burped, “thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Dean replied. He glanced over at Sam as he passed him to go to one of the private bedrooms in the room to change. Carlos wanted to splurge on the one with private bedrooms, which wasn't much of a big deal because Dean would just sneak into Cheryl's room after everyone had gone to bed. It was actually kind of perfect.

“Remember that chick Bela I told you about? Yeah, she's here and the bitch had my car towed.” Dean grumbled as he plopped down on the sofa. Cheryl's eyes widened and her lips parted, “Seriously? Did you get it back?”

“Oh yeah, she's in the parking lot – but I had to pay a shit ton for the tow.”

“Oh my God, that sucks.” Cherly sighed, shaking her head. Carlos didn't say anything, he only pulled out his wallet and fished out about two hundred bucks. He didn't know how much the tow cost, nor did he care. “This enough?” He asked as he tossed the cash at Dean. Dean stared at the cash in his lap with wide eyes before glancing up at Carlos. “Uh, yeah – why?”

“I like to help the less fortunate.” Carlos grinned. He sipped on his smoothie and set it down, “Plus, you got me this so I oughta repay you. I hate having debts.”

“It was like… three bucks man…”

“Then you owe me a shit ton of smoothies.”

Cheryl sent Carlos a warning look, “Enough, Carlos. He doesn't owe you anything because you decided to give him money.”

He sighed, “I know, just teasing.” When Cheryl had looked away, Carlos deadpanned at Dean and slowly shook his head. Silently telling him that he wasn't just teasing. Cheryl flipped through the pages of notes she took, it was mostly on drowning-related incidents in the area. “What did you guys get from the family?” She asked in a hum. Sam, who had finally come out of his room in fresh, comfortable clothes, answered for Dean. “Well, she believes in ghosts and said that her niece saw a ghost ship before she died.”

Cheryl cocked a brow, “A ghost ship?”

“Uh-huh.” Dean sighed before forcing himself to change himself. He'd rather not lounge in a suit for the rest of the day.

Cheryl pursed her lips together and looked back at Carlos, “Let's look into some old ship documentation – wrecks, maybe we can find something.” She suggested. Sam pulled out a chair parallel to Cheryl and sat down at the table. “Yeah, we can get started. Why don't you and Dean go get some dinner?” Sam suggested. She had to act nonchalant now, she couldn't show that she was excited to spend alone time with Dean – to spend alone time with her boyfriend. “Alright,” She sighed. “Text me what you guys want, we're gonna stop at the drugstore too. I need nicotine patches.” She said. Carlos raised a brow, “You're gonna try to quit smoking again?”

“Might as well.”

“Good for you.” He smiled.

Cheryl passed Sam her pages of notes littered with grammar and spelling mistakes. “Might help.” She said. When Dean came out of his room, sporting his blue jeans, grey shirt and blue overshirt, Cheryl greeted him with a smile. “Get your shoes on, we're grabbing food and going to the store.”

“Oh sweet, I'm fucking starving.” He grinned as he rubbed his stomach. Cheryl shrugged on a grey sweatshirt and smiled faintly, “Yes, I know. You haven't eaten since lunch I suspect.” She said, and she was right. The only thing he's had to eat today was eggs and bacon, and a cheeseburger at lunch. Dean didn't get a soda like he wanted either – Cheryl made him drink water. Cheryl slipped on some sneakers and glanced back at Sam and Carlos. “Remember to text me your orders, guys. Or you aren't getting anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. On it.” Carlos mumbled.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean had one hand on the steering wheel, and the other was set on Cheryl's thigh comfortably. “Whatcha need from the store?” Dean asked. Cheryl stared out the window and placed her hand over top of his. “Nicotine patches, I'm gonna try to quit again.”

“Oh sweet, any reason?”

“I just want to, it's a bad habit.”

“Well, I'm proud of you, babe.” He smiled, sending her a quick look. Cheryl flushed and wrapped her fingers around his, loosely holding his hand. “Gracias, cariño.”

“What does that one mean?”

“Dear.” Cheryl hummed. She squeezed his hand before releasing it as he pulled into a parking spot in front of a diner. “You can get soda only if you get water from the store, you don't drink enough water and it worries me.”

“Baby, I'm fine – beer has water.”

“Not enough! Your piss is probably mustard yellow, and it's not normal.”

“It isn't?”

Cheryl's jaw dropped and her brows furrowed, she only stared at him – in a state of complete shock. Dean only grinned and climbed out of the Impala, “Close your mouth, I'm kiddin’, babe.” He chuckled.

“You better be, mister. I'm gonna be on your ass now – you have to drink water.”

“But it tastes so gross!”

“It tastes like nothing!”

“Exactly! Nothing is gross!” He groaned. Cheryl rolled her eyes and walked alongside him, their hands brushed against one another every so often, but she didn't move to hold it. She didn't like PDA, she didn't like to see it and she didn't like to participate in it. Maybe her opinion would change once they grew more serious, but as of now, it was a definite no. “You're such a baby, water tastes good.” She teased. Dean let out a heavy playful sigh and held the door open for her as he was the one who reached it first.

“To you, maybe. You're really gonna force me to drink water?” Dean asked with a cocked brow. Cheryl nodded and smiled up at him proudly, “Mhm, it's good for you, cariño. I care about you, and I want you to be healthy.”

“Fuck, I guess I'll start drinking water then.”

“Good boy.” Cheryl grinned. Dean let out a tiny nervous chuckle and followed her to the front counter where you could make to-go orders. He could easily predict what Cheryl was going to order, a BLT with avocado and a large fry. It was her favourite meal, and he was growing to like it too.

Dean stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and leaned down to whisper into her ear: “You think they have pie?”

“I don't know, ask.” She whispered back. A particularly attractive waitress with platinum blonde hair with pink streaks greeted them from the other side of the counter. The waitress was ogling Dean, which Cheryl did not like at all. “What can I get for ya?” The waitress hummed, chewing on her fruity gum obnoxiously. Cheryl's eyes narrowed and she discreetly looked the woman up and down. “Uh, just a BLT combo, and two hamburger combos.” She glanced up at Dean and nudged him gently with her elbow. He didn't tell her what he wanted, and he was a big boy, he could order himself. Dean sent the waitress his typical boyish grin, the same grin that made Cheryl swoon for him at first. “Oh, uh, a BLT combo too, please.” He said.

“Sure thing, sugar.” The waitress winked. Cheryl's brows knitted together and she wrinkled her nose, now that was gross. While she didn't like that the waitress was flirting with her boyfriend, she trusted Dean.

Once the waitress left after they paid, Cheryl leaned against the counter and stared up at Dean. “That was weird. Could you tell she was flirting?” She asked. Dean pursed his lips together and nodded as he shrugged. He did notice, but he didn't care. “Yeah, shoulda told her I have a hot girlfriend.” He grinned. Cheryl couldn't help but smile and ducked her eyes down to her shoes. “Maybe next time.”

“Hey, maybe I could grab your ass as we're leaving? That sends a pretty clear message.”

“No, no. It's okay, it's just weird is all. For some reason, I thought that once we were official, you wouldn't be flirted with anymore.”

“Oh, well, I don't pay attention to it anymore. I've got my eyes solely on you, babe. Nobody else.” Dean said, a light smirk on his face. Cheryl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her bottom lip. He never failed to make her feel secure – to feel wanted. And once she told him about what her Father did to her, he went above and beyond to make her feel safe and secure.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl had just drifted off when Dean crept into her room at around twelve in the morning, she was all wrapped up in the blankets as she didn't expect that he was coming anymore since he took so long. Dean quietly clicked the door shut behind him and scanned the dark room, smiling faintly when he noticed the lump of blankets and Cheryl's thick hair poking out. He then snuck over to his side of the bed that he had wordlessly claimed, set his half-full bottle of water on the nightstand, and climbed under the covers with her.

Dean looped his arms around her waist and nestled his chin into the crook of her neck. She got cold quite easily, she always liked to cuddle with Dean because he was practically a space heater. Cheryl stirred and mumbled something indiscreetly before she turned to face him. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest. So much for spooning – but Dean found that he much preferred this. Something about her wanting to hug him – be close to him – made him feel wanted. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked her hair, reluctantly closing his eyes and succumbing to some much-needed sleep.

Dean's dreams of Cheryl died down once they started to date. Actually: he found that he dreamt nothing now. Which was a bit of a relief, because now that he was sleeping next to her – cuddling with her, it'd be much more noticeable if he had any explicit dreams.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Outside of a wealthy-looking penthouse, there were police officers littered about, and Bela was impersonating a reporter as she questioned the victim's brother.

Mr. Warren sucked in a breath and ran his hands through his hair which was sticky with sweat. “No. The police said that he drowned, but ... I don't u-understand how…” He stammered, trying to ignore the tape recorder Bela had outstretched towards him. She nodded in understanding and her brows furrowed as she tried to seem sympathetic. “I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Warren. Now, if you could just tell me one more time about the ship your brother saw.” She soothed. Before Mr. Warren could even answer her, Sam, Dean and Cheryl all in professional wear sauntered up with fake badges raised.

Dean clenched his jaw and glared down at Bela, “Ma'am, I think this man has been through enough. You should go.” He said, a little smug. Bela wrinkled her nose and straightened her posture, she still had the tape recorder outstretched towards the man. “But I just have a couple of more questions.” She argued.

“I think the police hold priority over a reporter,” Cheryl replied coldly. Bela scowled at her and tucked her tongue into her cheek, she had never met Cheryl before, but if she was with the Winchester's, she was clearly just as annoying. But finally, she relented. “Thank you for your time,” Bela said bitterly before turning on her heel and leaving.

Cheryl put a hand over her chest and frowned deeply, “I am so sorry that you had to deal with someone trying to monetize your trauma. I can't imagine how you must feel.”

“Oh… thank you.” Mr. Warren trailed off. Cheryl nodded and crossed her arms against her chest, she was great at working people. Way better than Sam, surprisingly. “Yes… my sincerest condolences, so I heard you say your brother saw a ship?” She asked.

“Yeah, that's right.” He nodded. Dean raised his brows, “Did he tell you what it looked like at all?” Maybe if they got a detailed profile of the ship, they'd be able to identify it more easily and figure out its lore. “It was, uh... like the old Yankee Clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging. Angel figurehead on the bow.” Mr. Warren explained.

“That's a lot of detail for a ship your brother saw.” Sam pointed out.

“We were out for a night drive. I saw it too.”

Cheryl's lips parted and her eyes briefly met Sam's before they went to Dean's. If he saw the ship – that meant he was the next to go. She swallowed hard and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gracefully. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Dean nudged her and discreetly gestured across the road where Bela was talking to some real officers and pointing at them. Shit. She ratted them out. Dean shoved his hands into his pants pockets and sent Mr. Warren a curt nod. “Thank you, we'll be in touch.” He said. Dean was the first to turn to leave, and Sam and Cheryl followed suit.

Cheryl kept up with Dean's quick pace, and her heels scraped against the ground. “That was Bela?” She asked. He nodded once and spared her a glance, “Yeah.”

“Oh… well, she's pretty.”

He scoffed, “Looks can be deceiving.” He shook his head and climbed into the Impala. “You know, she almost got Sammy killed with that rabbit's foot stunt.”

“I was gonna be fine…” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah, if it weren't for me, you woulda died.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Birds chirped and flew over the trees, the sun was barely poking out from the clouds and the bare branches. The Impala was still hidden by the foliage somehow though, the woods provided great cover. Before coming here, they stopped at the motel, changed, and dropped Cheryl off at the library with Carlos so that they could ID the boat given the fact that they had a description of it now. Sam and Dean were going to stake out Mr. Warren's house since he was the next predicted victim, maybe they could save him.

Sam was loading a shotgun with rock salt, and Dean was doing the same. They were silent for the most part, but Sam decided to break that silence. “When are you going to tell Cheryl about the deal?” He asked. Dean's lips thinned into a straight line and he let out a deep sigh. He didn't want to tell her – but a part of him knew that she deserved to know. “I'm workin’ on it, it ain't exactly easy to say hey, by the way, I made a deal with a demon to save Sammy's life and now I have less than a year left to live,” Dean replied in a grumble.

“I mean, you could just say that.”

“I'm not gonna tell her like that!”

“Look, Cheryl and Carlos may be able to help too – I mean, Carlos is a Delgado and all so maybe his family knows something.”

“Sammy! I told you there's no way outta this thing! You will die. I can't have that, I can't.”

“Dean… there's gotta be a way around it.”

“Well, there isn't. Stop tryna find a way, and I'll tell Cheryl soon.” Dean barked out.

Sam sighed and set the loaded shotgun back into the trunk, he already told Cheryl about the deal – quite a bit ago. He half expected Dean to tell her sooner honestly, but now that he hasn't, it was becoming an issue. “I already told Cheryl about it. A while ago, actually. She knows, but she doesn't know any of the details.” Sam confessed. Dean stopped what he was doing immediately and his blood went cold. Sam… told Cheryl… about the deal? He clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared, and he tossed the shotgun into the trunk. “You told her, huh?” He breathed as he turned to face him. When Sam nodded, he didn't hesitate to clock him right in the jaw.

Sam let out a pained grunt and stroked the spot where Dean's knuckles met his jaw. Dean swallowed hard and staggered back, “You had no fuckin’ right.” He growled. He jutted his thumb into his chest, “I was gonna tell her! You didn't even give me a chance!” He yelled.

“She deserved to know!” Sam bellowed back.

“She deserved to hear it from me!”

They both went silent, and the air was so tense that a knife could cut through it. Dean's anger continued to fester, but instead of punching Sam again, he clenched his fists so tight that his fingernails left half-moon marks in his palms. “You know, I think you and Carlos should do the stake out instead,” Dean said through grit teeth. “Since, you know, I now have to explain everything to Cher.”

“Sounds good to me.” Sam spat back.

“Good.” He hissed.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

“So, why are you and I staking out this place instead of you and Dean?” Carlos asked as he shot Sam a quick look. Sam's lips thinned into a straight line and he continued to stare out the windshield of the truck. His priority right now was to save this guy – hence why they were parked outside of his house. “We got into a fight, he was pretty upset,” Sam answered quietly.

“Damn, what about?”

“I, uh, shouldn't tell you. He got mad at me for telling someone about his predicament.”

“Oh,” Carlos snorted, “so it's a brother thing? I get it, I have an older brother – he's fuckin’ ten years older than me.”

Sam's brows shot up, “Really?”

“Yeah, he's an esteemed plastic surgeon. Dad is crazy proud and stuff.”

“Oh… so he's not a hunter?”

“Does both, sometimes. He likes to buy haunted houses, get rid of the ghosts, renovate them and sell ‘em again.”

“That's, uh, nice. Does he make a lot?” Sam asked. Carlos nodded and leaned back to sit more comfortably in the driver's seat. “Usually, you know, if you're smart, hunting can be a paid gig. Not all of the time, but some of the time.” He replied.

“I guess so…” Sam trailed off. He didn't know that Carlos had an older brother – that he was a little brother himself too. He wondered if Carlos got into fights with his brother like he did with Dean, if his brother was as reckless as Dean. He turned his attention to the penthouse before them, his eyes widening as none other than Mr. Warren came marching toward the truck.

Dean sat on the edge of the bathtub as he watched Cheryl perform her nightly skincare routine. She patted her face dry with a dusty grey hand towel and glanced down at Dean. His slightly sullen expression and the furrow of his brows told her that he wasn't in a good mood. Cheryl frowned and set the cloth down. “What's on your mind, cariño?” She asked. His eyes flickered up to meet hers and his lips parted before they pursed together. She knew about the deal, and she didn't ask him about it or anything. Did she not care?

“We have to talk,” Dean finally said. He swallowed hard when her face dropped and she nodded. Cheryl slowly went to sit next to him, their thighs were pressed against one another. “Okay,” she exhaled, “what about?” Dean leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he stroked the light stubble on his chin and sighed deeply. “I know Sam told you about the deal I made with the Crossroads demon. What did he tell you?” He questioned. Cheryl bit her bottom lip, hard. She was scared that he was mad at her – but she was more scared about the details of his deal. “That's all he told me,” Cheryl whispered, “he said you made a deal and had a year left.”

“That's right.” He nodded once. Dean reluctantly craned his neck to meet her prying, desperate eyes. He knew what they were asking – he knew what she wanted to know: why did he make the deal?

“Sam died,” Dean said hoarsely. “Made the deal to bring him back – I couldn't lose him, Cher. I couldn't.” He stared down at the floor and focused on the little cracks in the white tiles and the little bits of dirt stuck in the grout. Cheryl exhaled sharply and covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers. The deafening silence dragged on as Cheryl processed what Dean had said. Sam died. She inhaled deeply and picked the skin off of her lips before letting her hand fall to rest in her lap. “Is there any way to get out of it?” She finally asked. Dean shook his head firmly and sat up straight. “No, there isn't. If we try – Sam dies. There's no way around it, so don't try to get me out of this.”

“I don't want to lose you again.” Cheryl blurted out tearfully. She clasped her hands together and squeezed them tight. “A year is so short… that can't be all we have, there has to be a way–”

“Cheryl, sweetheart, there isn't.”

Cheryl sighed and rubbed her temples, it was different hearing it from Dean. “I understand why you did it, it's just… hard.” She whispered hoarsely. She cared for Dean, she cared about his fate – and going to Hell was not a good fate. Dean nodded again and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip. “It's my job to protect Sammy, he… I can't – I can't live in a world without him.” He muttered.

“I know,” Cheryl whispered. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know, I know you can't.” She closed her eyes and smiled faintly when he wrapped an arm around her. “Guess we have to live life to its fullest then, huh? You should make a bucket list of things that we can do together.”

“That sounds nice…” Dean murmured.

Cheryl pressed her lips to his cheek and smiled up at him, “Let's go lay in bed… we can listen to some music on my Walkman.”

“What about the rest of your routine?”

“That doesn't matter, you matter.”

Now here they were, under the covers and they each had an earbud in their ear. This tape was a mix of Bon Jovi and Metallica with a bit of KISS. Dean had his head on Cheryl's chest, and she was gently scratching at his scalp and stroking his hair. He will admit, it was nice being cared for like this without expecting anything in return. The song that was quietly playing slowly faded as it ended and Dean's eyes fluttered shut just as I Was Made For Lovin’ You by KISS started to play.

“Your music taste isn't all that bad.” He murmured against her chest. Cheryl smiled and continued to scratch at his scalp pleasantly. She knew that he was complimenting her music taste, not insulting it. “Gracias, cariño.” She whispered. Dean nodded once and inhaled deeply, her chest may be the best pillow he's ever had. Comfortable, plush, and she smelt good. “These are comfy.” Dean sighed.

“My boobs?”

“Mhmmm…” He hummed happily. “They are like pillows.” Dean added. Cheryl rolled her eyes playfully and rubbed the skin behind his ears, intending to give him a nice head massage. “Go to sleep, weirdo.”

“Yes ma'am…”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Sam and Carlos weren't able to save Mr. Warren, the ghost – he killed him right before their eyes, sitting in the passenger seat of Mr. Warren's car. They couldn't save everyone, of course not, but that didn't change the fact that they felt quite guilty over his death. Guilty that they couldn't save him.

Cheryl grinned down at her phone as she read Dean's text. She felt her cheeks heating up – and she crossed one leg over the other. I'd give anything to kiss you right now, he said. It was quite tame, but it still made her blush like crazy. Cheryl nibbled on her bottom lip as she texted him back, saying, come and do it then. Dean's eyes darkened before they flickered up to meet Cheryl's mischievous expression. They were in the “living room” with Carlos and Sam – they were supposed to be helping IDing the boat but chose to text each other instead.

Minx, Dean replied.

You love it. She typed back. Dean swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and swivelled his thumbs over the keypad as he debated his next response. But before he could type anything, a knock at the front door sounded.

Everyone, Cheryl, Carlos, Dean, and Sam, all shared a confused look because of the knock. They weren't expecting anyone, and they didn't ask for a maid or anything either. Dean let out a sigh mixed with a groan and flipped his phone shut as he went to answer the door. As soon as he opened it, he wished that he hadn't, because none other than Bela grinning smugly, was on the other side of the door.

#Spotify #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc

6 notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 22 days

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 16

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Summary: Cheryl and Dean find themselves at a frat party on Halloween in hunt for a ghost.

W.C: 5742

Warnings: N/A

[A/N] this chapter was so fun to write!!! Cheryl's Halloween costume is a reference to the movie Bandidas that Salma Hayek stared in

Masterlist | AO3

They'd been tracking this ghost in California for a couple of days now, it had killed the previous couple that resided in an old home. A poltergeist, a quick salt and burn, nothing to worry about. The poltergeist had a schedule it liked to stick to. It came around every year on October thirty-first, Halloween, which was today, and it killed whoever resided in the home. But, the house was now owned by a fraternity, and luckily for them, they were throwing a Halloween party that gave them the perfect chance to end the ghost for good.

Cheryl set a beige cowboy hat on her head and adjusted her hair. She had claimed the bathroom, she was a woman, and she got first dibs anyway. She wanted something practical but sexy to wear for this case, so obviously she had to choose the cowgirl costume. It showed off plenty of cleavage but had a proper pair of pants so she could still move around. Cheryl pouted her lips together and swiped some lip gloss along her bottom lip. She felt good about herself – desirable – maybe Dean would finally kiss her. He was a man, it was his job to make the first move. It was a little old-fashioned, but it was what she liked in romantic relationships. She liked to be treated like a princess – within reason.

“Cher, you ready?” Dean's voice sounded from outside the door. He was a little buzzed, she could tell because he slurred her name a little. But, she found Dean worked better when he was a little buzzed – plus, it was a frat party they were going to. They had to blend in. Cheryl tucked her clear lip gloss into one of the pockets on the sides of her jeans and fluffed up her hair one final time. “Yeah! Just a second.” She called back. She didn't tell Dean what she decided to dress as, she decided to keep it a surprise. It made him a little ticked off at first – because she bought him and Sam matching costumes as well. Mario and Luigi. But, he was excited to see what she chose. Maybe a sexy nurse, or cop, or a devil! The choices were endless.

The door clicked open and Dean's eyes widened when Cheryl stepped out of the bathroom looking gorgeous as ever. A cowgirl… He flushed and tugged at the collar of his shirt, he only decided to wear the hat from his Mario costume, the other stuff was too small. “C–Cher.” He stammered, cringing when his voice cracked. Cheryl only smiled and did a small twirl for him, flaunting her backside to him which only made his butterflies worse. “You like?” She asked.

“Yeah!” He answered quickly. Dean swiped his tongue across his bottom lip as he focused on her ass in those jeans. They were high-waisted, tight around the butt but the legs were wide and flared with plenty of pockets and cow print accents. She looked great. “You look…”

“Hot?”

“Beautiful.” He corrected. Cheryl blushed and tucked her hair behind her ears. She couldn't help but smile, being called beautiful made her feel beautiful. “Gracias.” She whispered.

Her arms awkwardly dropped to her sides and she bit her lower lip. “Where's the rest of your costume?” She asked.

“Didn't fit.” He answered, tucking his hands into his pockets. Cheryl frowned and looked everywhere but at Dean, she was a little shy after his compliment. “Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't sure what would fit.”

“It's okay,” He smiled, “Sammy and Carlos are waiting for us outside, let's go.”

Cheryl nodded, “Okay, you know – today is the Day of the Dead? It's a Mexican holiday.”

“Oh yeah, I've heard of that. What do you do on the Day of the Dead?” He asked.

“We honour the family members that are no longer with us, visit their plots and decorate them with sugar skulls and flowers. My Mother and Rosità and I used to wear costumes that we made together and baked all day before we got together with family.” Cheryl explained. She glanced up at him, smiling when she saw that he was listening to her every word intently. “You'd like it, I think.”

Dean smiled gently, “It sounds nice.”

“You'd also like what we do for Christmas, we have parades – parties, we even set off fireworks. It's a big deal.” She raved. Dean cocked a brow and took his hands out of his pockets. “Yeah? Do you miss it? Mexico I mean.”

“Sometimes… not really though.”

“Why not?”

“Bad memories.” She answered simply. Silently telling him that she didn't want to talk about Mexico anymore.

Dean paced towards the door and grasped the door handle. He held the door open for Cheryl before walking out himself, he had to be chivalrous. He has to court her.

Cheryl quickly thanked him before jogging over to Carlos. He had on a pirate's hat with a skull and crossbones on the front. She was a little disappointed that his costume was so boring. “Hey,” She whispered, “did you get the stuff?” She asked. Carlos nodded and glanced around before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small tin. He handed it to her and she cracked open the tin, grinning when she saw half a dozen pre-rolled joints. “Sweet, it's safe, right?”

“Of course, it is. Alejandro sent it, it's medical stuff.” He replied with a scoff. Cheryl pursed her lips together and nodded, it's been a while since she smoked weed, but she was excited to try it again. She glanced back up at Carlos, “Can I take one now?”

“I mean, if you want. I'd save it for later though.” He said.

Cheryl sighed, “Yeah… you're right.” She closed the lid and made sure it clicked shut before passing it back to Carlos. Hunting while high was a bad idea.

She tucked her hands into her back pockets and tilted her head, “Is Sam gonna ride with you?” She questioned. Carlos nodded and looked back at the motel, “Yeah, he decided to change out of his costume when he learned that Dean was just gonna wear the hat.” He turned to look back down at her and grinned knowingly. “You and Dean are gonna ride together… alone… huh?”

She blushed, “Guess so… it's probably gonna be awkward though.”

“Oh, no it won't. Don't be dramatic. You know what you should ask him – ask him why he's such a bitch.”

“Carlos!”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl glanced over at Dean and her lips thinned, they'd been silent for the majority of the car ride, and things were getting awkward now. She glanced down at her thighs and sucked in a breath, trying to think of a conversation starter. She swallowed hard and pursed her lips together. “A–are you excited for the party?” She asked.

“Yeah, never been to a frat party.” He grinned.

“Seriously? I would've thought that you totally have gone to one before.”

“Never went to college, remember?” Dean chuckled. He set one of his hands on his thigh and tapped his fingers against his jeans. “Are you excited?”

“Sorta, it's mostly a job for us.”

“True.”

They fell into another spell of silence, but this time it was a little less awkward. They were almost at the frat house, just a couple more minutes and they were fine. Carlos and Sam were good buffers – they made things less awkward. She and Dean were good friends – great friends – before she caught feelings, and now things were weird. Things were mostly fine when they were drunk together – but they couldn't be drunk all of the time. Cheryl glanced up at him, suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of anxiety. Did he know that she liked him? Was he trying to tell her that he wasn't interested? Was he mad at her? Cheryl shyly looked down at her feet, “Are you mad at me?” She asked quietly.

Dean's eyes widened and his heart dropped, why did she think that he was mad at her? “I– no, no I'm not mad at you, Cher. Why the hell do you think I'm mad at you?”

“I dunno… we just… we don't talk like we used to. Everything is so awkward now – and it's like… ugh, I don't know.”

“Things are just complicated right now, it's nothing you did.” He muttered. He crept down the street in the Impala, looking for an empty parking spot. The streets were lined with cars, probably for the frat party. Cheryl sighed, “Oh… well, if there's anything that I can do for you, let me know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.”

Cheryl knew that the complicated thing was likely about the deal that he made. She didn't know why he made the deal, only that he had a year left. To be honest, she was waiting for him to tell her on his own time, but it was taking a lot longer than she hoped. All she knew was that he had a year left because of a demon deal, and she wanted to make the most of that year. She wanted to be with him if he'd still have her after everything.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Okay, I got the salt, lighter and gasoline,” Sam said as he checked through the backpack he was going to carry around the party. Cheryl nodded and crossed her arms square against her chest, they knew which house it was – lights were flashing from inside the house and music was blaring. It seemed the neighbours were either at the party or didn't care. “Do we know where the body is?” She asked. Sam and Carlos both shook their heads, all they knew was that Margaret May's remains were somewhere in the house. “Our best guess is the attic or the walls.”

Dean's eyebrows raised, “The walls?”

“Margaret May was a schizophrenic woman in the mid eighteen hundreds, husband's of mentally ill wives often kept them in hidden rooms behind the walls,” Carlos replied.

Cheryl frowned, “That's so sad…”

“Yeah, if you were still my wife I would have stuffed you in the walls a long time ago.” Carlos snorted. Cheryl rolled her eyes and ignored his comment, “Okay, anyway. So our best bet is a secret room behind the walls?”

“Yup,” Sam said. He swung the backpack over so he could loop his arm through the last strap. “We should split up, cover more ground in the house. It's huge and busy.” Sam added. Carlos nodded in agreement and glanced down at Cheryl and Dean. He and Sam discussed on the way over a perfect plan to get them to talk to each other and work together. It was fool-proof, nothing could go wrong. “Sam and I will check out the first floor and the basement, you guys check upstairs.” He smirked. Dean cocked a brow, seemingly not noticing that Cheryl flushed and was glaring at Carlos. “You guys are gettin’ pretty close, huh?” He asked, his eyes landing on Sam who only shrugged.

“Yeah, Carlos is cool.”

“Yeah,” Carlos jutted his thumb towards Sam, “and he's better than you.”

Dean's lips thinned, “Yeah, all right.”

“Carlos, stop being rude to Dean. He has done nothing to you, so quit it.” Cheryl hissed. She has had it with Carlos being mean to Dean, it wasn't funny anymore. He sighed, “Okay, I'm sorry, Dean.”

“Uh, thanks.” He replied. Carlos gestured towards Cheryl and pursed his lips together. “I'm doing you a favour anyway, she can see ghosts and all.” He said nonchalantly, assuming that they already knew. Sam and Dean's jaws went slack and their eyes widened. Cheryl could see ghosts? “She can do what–” Dean started.

Cheryl raised her hands quickly, “Barely – it's just a little clairvoyance. All of the women in my family have the gift, some stronger than others.” She explained. “I'm more in tune with energies than seeing the actual ghosts.”

“What the fuck?” Dean squinted. A chick who could sense ghosts – a hunter who could sense ghosts, was hot. Cheryl just became even sexier to him somehow.

“So you can sense energies?” Sam asked. “Does it make the job easier for you?”

“Sometimes, most of the time I clue in too late, don't realize or it isn't useful.” She explained. Cheryl let her arms fall to rest at her side and exhaled heavily. “But enough about me, we should head inside, the faster we get rid of this thing, the sooner we can party.” She said giddily.

“I like the way you think,” Dean smirked. He glanced at Sam and Carlos, “You heard her, let's get going.”

They walked up the front steps to the house, all excited for their own reasons. A very drunk young man with bleached yellow hair and ski goggles sat perched on a stool by the open front door. He belched, “Hey! No entry if you ain't got anything good.” They could give them the weed that they have… but Cheryl did not want to do that. She glanced around and pouted her lips together before taking a step forward. She lifted the hem of her shirt along with her bra, flashing the frat bro for a couple of seconds before lowering her shirt again. He seemed starstruck for a couple of seconds, his mouth hung open and his eyes were still settled on her chest. Quickly, the frat bro shook his head and grinned. “Go on in.” He said.

Cheryl smiled wide and turned on her heel to face the three boys. “Come on.” She chirped before strolling into the house. Dean and Sam were a little starstruck themselves, Carlos on the other hand was used to her antics. Sam looked over at Dean and snorted, “Hey, maybe you'll get your turn soon.” He joked.

“Shut the hell up.” Dean huffed.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Neon lights flashed and EDM music blared through the house, it felt as if it were shaking the floorboards. Cheryl wrinkled her nose and stepped over a puddle of chunky vomit. They could just barely hear some sexual moaning over the music – which was to be expected. People had sex at parties. “God, this was never my scene.” She muttered.

“What?!” Dean yelled. He raised his finger to his ear and yelled again: “I can't hear you!”

“I said this was never my scene!”

“Oh!” He sucked in a breath and squinted down at her, this music was really loud. “I still can't hear you!” He said. Cheryl sighed and rolled her eyes, she looked around for any room that didn't have sex sounds coming from it. Without another thought, Cheryl took his hand and pulled him into an empty closet across the hall.

Thankfully, it was a little spacious, given the fact that it was a walk-in – but with all of the useless crap on the shelves, it sort of squished them together. Cheryl panted and bit her lip, “Oh geez…” She whispered. Dean let out a little groan and backed as far away from her as he could. It didn't do much, but at least he wasn't touching her anymore. “Right, what were you saying so we can get outta here?” He asked hoarsely. He could barely see her, except for when little flashes of blue and green lights would shine from the crack under the door. Those would illuminate her face and make her lips gleam. “Oh… I was just saying that this isn't really my scene.” She replied. Cheryl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “And we've searched most of the upstairs, except for some of the rooms… and you know why. I don't think the secret room is up here.”

He sighed, “Maybe… we should go find Sam and Carlos. Maybe they found the room.”

Dean grasped the doorknob and attempted to twist it, but it wouldn't budge. His brows furrowed and he pulled on it hard, “What the fuck – this thing is locked.” He growled.

“What? No, it's not.” Cheryl took a turn trying to get the door open but to no avail. Her lips parted and she flicked her eyes up to meet his, and in unison, they both said: “Shit.”

Sam aimed the flashlight down either end of the dimly lit basement littered with Halloween decorations. “What do you think they're doing?” He asked. Carlos let out a laugh and peeked under the stairs, there were many things that they could be doing. “Probably fucking.” He answered.

Sam wrinkled his nose, “Ew.”

“Hey, you know it's likely.”

“I mean, yeah. But it's gross thinking about it. That's my brother and friend.”

“Oh, yeah. I know.” He snorted. “But hey, if it makes ‘em happy.” He said. Sam nodded in agreement, if Cheryl and Dean were happy together (finally), he was happy for them. He'd seen them act like weird teenagers with crushes for way too long.

“Who do you think is gonna kiss who first?” Sam asked. Carlos pursed his lips together and shrugged, it could be either of them. “Cheryl, surprisingly.”

“Really? I think Dean will.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

“How much?”

“An even twenty.” He shrugged. Carlos outstretched his hand for them to “shake on it,” a common thing he did when making bets. Sam took his hand and squeezed it as he shook it, “Deal.”

Dean and Cheryl sat side-by-side, which was the last thing that either of them wanted. She had butterflies in her stomach and goosebumps on her skin, and his ears were tinged red and his heart was beating a million miles an hour. They tried getting out, yelling for help, and calling Sam and Carlos numerous times, but nothing. The music was too loud, and they were stuck in here for the time being. At least when they were stuck in the basement with Casey, they had room to roam. “So, um…” Cheryl started. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled on it, focusing on the lights under the crack under the door. “Have you ever thought about going to a concert? Like Metallica or something?”

“Uh, nah,” Dean answered.

“Really? Why?”

“Dunno, nobody I liked happened to be playing at the same time I was there.”

“Oh,” Cheryl whispered.

“I'd like to go to a concert, maybe for Bon Jovi or Def Leppard.” She said. Cheryl reluctantly glanced up at him and smiled faintly. Dean cocked a brow and grinned, “Def Leppard is good… Pour Some Sugar On Me… Woman… Hysteria… Love Bites…” He trailed off.

“You like Def Leppard?”

“Wouldn't be my first choice, but yeah.”

“Your first choice is probably Led Zeppelin, huh?” Cheryl smiled.

“You remembered that?”

“Yup, it's all you ever play in the Impala most of the time. Hard to forget.”

Dean chuckled, “Guess so…” He inhaled deeply and glanced around the cramped closet. “So, uh,” He looked back at her, “how's your Mom?”

“Oh, she's good. She finally got a phone so we talk a lot now.”

“She didn't have a phone before?”

“Had to sell it for some of Rosità's funeral costs.”

“Oh.”

Cheryl picked at the chipped nail polish on her fingernails and chewed on her bottom lip. She had gotten so used to not being around or hearing from her Mom all the time, she forgot that she missed her until they started talking over the phone weekly. “You know, she keeps asking about you.” She said.

Dean's brows shot up, “Oh yeah? What does she say?” He asked.

“Mostly asks how you are, if you're eating good ‘n stuff… she also asks if we're dating.” Dean was silent for a moment, it was nice that Maria cared to ask how he was, but what got him was her thinking that they were together. To be honest, he liked that she thought that. “...Do you want to be?” He asked hoarsely. Her breath caught and her eyes widened, she couldn't believe her ears. “What?”

“Do you wanna… you know. Date?” Dean repeated. He felt like a loser asking a girl out like this, this wasn't flirty or sexy. Hell – it was so bad that he'd understand if she said no.

Cheryl's eyes flickered up to his face, searching it for any sign of deceit, but when she saw nothing but sincerity, her heart soared. Her tongue swiped across her bottom lip and she slowly nodded. “Si… I do.” She whispered finally. Dean leaned closer to her as if he were a moth to a flame, completely enamoured by her. “Yeah?” He breathed. His breath fanned across her lips and she nodded again. Instead of tensing, she relaxed. “Si, and I promise you I won't leave this time. It's my fault we never got to go on that date, ojos de angel…” She purred softly. He grinned gently, his gaze still stuck on her face. He's wanted to hear that for so long, that promise. A promise that she wouldn't leave. “What does that mean? Ojos de angel?” He asked. Cheryl crept closer to his face, “Guess.”

“Sweetheart?” Dean whispered.

She smiled softly, “No…”

He could feel the warmth coming from her mouth now, she was so close, yet so far from where he wanted. Dean swallowed, “Darling?”

“No…” Cheryl stared up at him through her lashes, “It means angel eyes.” She said. And at last, she gently pressed her lips against his, and he could have sworn that the Earth had stopped spinning on its axis.

Sam jumped when an animatronic clown suddenly came to life and crackled beside him. “Holy shit–” He stammered, stumbling back into a laughing Carlos. Sam hates clowns, and he hates them even more when they jump out at him. Carlos wheezed and slapped his stomach, “Oh fuck! That was glorious.”

“It was not!” Sam said, exasperated.

“Chicken shit scared of clowns!” He snorted. Carlos shook his head and ran his fingers through the ends of his tightly curly hair. “Oh man, phew. That was funny.” He sighed.

A ghastly-looking woman descended the stairs in a white nightgown. She had frazzled hair sunken eyes, and deep laceration marks and rashes around her wrists. Her cracked blue lips parted as she glanced around the room. A ghost haunting a fraternity house, how humorous.

A man with skull face paint smeared all over his face looked the woman up and down before giving her a thumbs up. “Sick costume!” He exclaimed. The woman tilted her head and squinted at him, he looked real enough, but the facepaint was what confused her. “I am not ill.” She echoed. The frat bros brows knitted together and he nodded slowly. “Uh, okay…” He muttered. As the man walked away, she raised her chin before fading away into nothing, as if she were never there. It was time for the hunt: the hunt of those residing in the house. It was her house, her home, and there were strangers in it. She had to protect her home.

Unfortunately for Sam and Carlos, they didn't notice the ghost's appearance. It was a Halloween party, with tons of people, it'd be impressive if they did notice her.

Cheryl straddled Dean's lap, her lips working over his fervently and with such passion that Dean thought it may be a dream. He threaded his hands through her hair and urged her closer to him, desperate to feel every inch of her soft skin. “Cher…” He murmured. Cheryl cupped his cheek and stroked it sweetly as she pulled back briefly. “You okay?” She asked gently. Even though she doubted that he wanted to stop, she still wanted to make sure. His comfort meant everything to her. Dean grinned and nodded, “Oh yeah, I'm perfect.” He said before leaning in to kiss her again. His hands settled on her hips and he started to get a little too excited when she pressed her hands square against his chest and pinned him to the shelves.

Dean panted against her lips and his brows furrowed when a weird sphere object dug into his lower back. At first, he tried to ignore it, but it was getting pretty annoying. He pecked her lips one last time and reluctantly pulled back, “Hold on,” He grumbled.

“What's wrong?” Cheryl asked. He reached behind him and felt at the little knob. “Something's digging into my back,” Dean muttered. He twisted it and the wall behind him gave out unexpectedly. Dean fell back and smoked his head and fingers off of the shelf when he ducked Cheryl's head down to his chest so she wouldn't get hurt. “Holy fuck.” Dean groaned. Cheryl gasped and her eyes widened, she had lost her hat during their makeout session and fall, but that was the least of her worries.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Cheryl asked. He blinked hard and glanced up at her, “Think so.” He muttered. Now that he confirmed he was okay, she was hyper-aware of the fact that she was completely on top of him. Her knees were on either side of his hips, her chest pressed against him, and their noses centimetres apart from each other. Sure, they had just shared their first kiss, but they were far from where being on top of one another would happen. Cheryl flushed deeply, “Sorry.” Dean only smirked, “Nah, I like a woman on top. It's… hot.”

“Dean, we are not having sex in here.”

“Hey, you mentioned it. Not me.” He raised his hands in defence. Cheryl rolled her eyes and looked up to the wall that seemingly just caved in. “Wait…” She whispered. Cheryl slid off of him and army crawled towards the small dark opening. “I think this is the secret room!”

She crawled through the door and climbed to her feet, feeling around the ripped wallpaper to try and find a light switch. “Dean!” Cheryl whisper-shouted. Suddenly, his hot breath fanned down her neck, “What?” He whispered back. Cheryl flinched and clenched her jaw, “Don't do that. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He snorted. He reached into his pocket and flicked open his lighter. The tiny flame illuminated a small portion of the room, they could see the vague outlines of furniture. Cheryl glanced around and rubbed her dust-covered hands on her pants. She felt around the dresser in the corner of the room and let out a relieved sigh when she grasped a candle stick. “Here, I found a candle. Light me up.” She outstretched her hands towards Dean and he quickly flicked the flame from the lighter over the candle wick which caught fire almost immediately.

“Gracias.” Cheryl smiled faintly. Dean sent her a nod and brushed past her, continuing to search the room. “So, why do you think Marge is killing all these folks who buy the house?” He asked in an attempt to make conversation.

“Her name is Margaret, and she was a mentally ill woman whose husband abused her and kept her locked up in this room… she probably thinks people are trying to hurt her.” Dean was silent for a moment, a little taken aback by the empathy she had for the ghost. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and nodded slowly. “Yeah, maybe. But hey, at least she'll be at rest when we salt and burn her bones, right?”

When Cheryl didn't reply, he spun around to look at her. His brows raised when he noticed that she stood over a small bed in the corner. In the bed lay brittle bones draped in the nightgown that Margaret died in. She had leather cuffs looped around her wrists that were attached to the bed. Margaret May, the schizophrenic woman who was terribly mistreated by the man who was supposed to love and protect her. Margaret May, starved to death after her husband strapped her down and abandoned the home. Cheryl's lips thinned and she set the candlestick into a candle holder on the nightstand. “Help me move the bed away from the wall, don't want the house to catch fire.” She sighed. Dean flipped the lighter shut and tucked it into his pocket before moving to the headboard of the bed. “You get the footboard.” He said, jutting his chin forward.

Cheryl crouched down and tucked her fingers under the base of the bed and Dean did the same. They counted to three before both lifting at the same time and shimmying back to set the bed down in the middle of the room. Cheryl swallowed hard and crossed her arms against her chest, “Do you mind if I say a prayer for her?” She asked quietly.

“No, uh, go ahead…” He murmured. Cheryl nodded and took a hesitant step forward, crossing herself and then the remains of Margaret. She whispered in Spanish a Catholic prayer, a way of showing respect for Margaret.

The candle on the nightstand flickered and the creaking of the rocking chair facing the back wall started to sound. Cheryl's eyes widened and she slowly turned, the apparition of Margaret sat in the rocking chair. Her fluffy hair poked through the bars of the chair and all she did was hum. Dean gulped and shot Cheryl a look, Margaret was a bit unpredictable as a human, even more so now. “My love, my love, my love…” Margaret hummed. She stopped rocking in the chair and stopped humming. “Where is my husband? I miss him.” She croaked. She looked over her shoulder at Cheryl and Dean and blinked slowly. “There are people in my home, I am scared. I need my husband.”

Cheryl straightened her posture, “Your husband? He went to work, Margaret, he'll be home soon.” She soothed. Margaret beamed and rose out of her spot, padding towards Cheryl carefully. “Really? Oh… I best go to bed then. He will be home when I wake up and he will send our guests away.”

Without another word, Margaret climbed into bed and became one with her remains. The candle stopped flickering almost immediately, and the eerie vibe was no longer in the room. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly the bed erupted into flames. He jumped back, his eyes blown wide. A ghost had never taken care of its remains before, this was a first. Cheryl exhaled sharply and squinted at the flames. “She wanted to go…” She whispered, slightly shocked. Dean's lips parted and he swallowed, “I haven't ever seen a ghost do that before, have you?”

“No… I haven't.”

Dean's phone buzzed in his pocket and he hastily fished it out, not even bothering to look at who was calling before picking up. “Sam?!”

“Oof, wrong.” Carlos chuckled. Dean's face fell and his lips thinned into a straight line. Carlos sighed, “Where the hell are you guys?”

“Found the room upstairs, burned the old gals bones. The door we came in through is locked though so can ya come let us out?”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

None of them were in the mood to stick around for the rest of the party, so they decided to go back to the motel and turn in early. Sam and Carlos went to grab food after changing, leaving Cheryl and Dean alone yet again.

Cheryl set a pink rose in front of a small oval photo frame with a portrait of a beaming young woman with eyes full of life. Carefully, she lit the small tea light and set it beside the photograph and clasped her hands in her lap before smiling softly. The shower squeaked as the water stopped running, but she wasn't worried about Dean finding her like this. Honouring her sister's memory.

“Rosità… I miss you.” She started hoarsely. Cheryl tucked her hair behind her ear and stared into her dark eyes in the photograph. “Mom does too. I'm sure she lit a candle for you today.” She added. The bathroom door swung open and Dean emerged, rubbing his head with a towel aggressively to dry his short hair. He glanced up, and when he noticed the small altar that Cheryl was sitting in front of, he stopped. “Hey… what's that?” He asked.

“A memorial. For Rosità.” Cheryl answered with a soft smile. Dean pursed his lips together and nodded slowly before coming to park next to her on the edge of the bed. He'd never seen a picture of Rosità before, she looked quite like Cheryl. Just… happier.

She inhaled deeply and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She changed into something more comfortable while Dean was showering – an oversized t-shirt (courtesy to Carlos) and sweats. “I have an extra candle… if you wanna light one for your Dad.” Cheryl offered. Dean scoffed and shook his head before tossing the wet towel onto an empty chair. “Nah, thanks though.” He answered.

They fell into a spell of silence, but this time it wasn't as awkward. Cheryl swiped her tongue across her bottom lip before biting it. “So, we kissed.” She whispered. He nodded and pursed his lips together, “We did…”

Silence again.

“I liked it.” Cheryl confessed. She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes and showing nothing but sincerity. “I like you.” She added. Dean swallowed hard and his heart started to race, he felt the same… it was just hard to say. So, all he said was: “Me too.” Dean averted his eyes to his feet and set a hand on his knee. “It wasn't just the closet talkin’. I wanna… you know, date you.” He said finally.

“Can I ask what that means?”

“What?”

“Like… is it open… are you gonna hook up with other girls – because I'm not for that.”

“Fuck no!” He blurted. Dean's lips thinned and his brows furrowed, he didn't want to be seeing anyone else. He didn't want to hook up with other girls anymore. “I'd like to be exclusive…”

“Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“If you want labels… yeah. I guess boyfriend and girlfriend.” He grinned a little. Cheryl smiled and lifted her hand to set it on his thigh. “Yes, I'd like that.”

He dipped down and peered into her eyes, a soft smile on his face. “So…” He trailed off.

“So?” Cheryl beamed.

“Can I kiss you this time?” Dean asked. Somehow, her elated grin widened and she nodded excitedly. “Si… you may,” Cheryl whispered against his lips. Without wasting another second, he pressed his lips against hers and cupped her face in his hands, holding her as if she were porcelain. And for the first time in a while, Dean felt alive.

#Spotify #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc

8 notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 29 days

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 15

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Summary: While on a case in Ohio, Cheryl's attempts to seduce Dean become increasingly more frequent.

W.C: 13326

Warnings: Gambling, sexual themes, heavy flirting, death, and violence.

[A/N] writing smut is my strong suit if you can't tell.

Masterlist | AO3

Cheryl pushed her sunglasses up to sit properly on her nose, and she smiled wide as they rolled to a stop in front of Bobby's house. “Oh, Carlos! You'll love Bobby. He's just great.” She gushed. Carlos let out a humorous snort and pulled his keys out of the ignition. “Yeah, you said that about Dean too.”

“Don't start, Carlos. He's nice and I like him.”

“You like him? Like – have a crush?”

“Um… well, sort of I guess.” Cheryl shrugged. “I'm trying to figure out how to ask him out… and I’m in a bit of a time crunch so if you have some tips that'd be greatly appreciated.” She said as she hopped out of the truck. Carlos ran a hand through his hair and slammed the truck door shut, immediately sticking his hands into his pants pockets once they were free. “Just grab his dick and ask him to fuck, that'll make him swoon.” He said dryly.

“Shut the fuck up,” She hissed as Sam and Dean sauntered towards them from the Impala parked in front of them.

“What you guys talkin’ about?” Dean asked with a mischievous grin. Carlos stared down at him as if he were a pest – vermin. “You.” He answered. Cheryl's eyes widened comically and her jaw went slack. Of course, he wouldn't lie – of course, he'd tell Dean that they were talking about him. “I –” Her eyes landed on Bobby who was descending the porch steps – her saving grace. “Bobbyyy!” Cheryl cheered, pumping her fists in the air. “I brought you a Delgado heir!” She yelled. She gestured towards Carlos and gave a curt bow as if she were a medieval peasant presenting the Duke.

Bobby's brows shot up and he had a grin that stretched ear to ear. “Hey! Cheryl! You're all right! How have ya been?”

“Oh, you know. Been as okay as I can be.” She chuckled. Cheryl tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and glanced up at Carlos who joined her side. “Bobby, this is Carlos Delgado. The man I was married to, he is the son of Isabela and Danny.”

Carlos extended his hand towards Bobby, “Pleased to meet you, sir. I've heard good things.” He smiled politely. Bobby enveloped his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Carlos. You look just like your Mother.” He said.

“Oh. I know. It's her fault I'm so tall.” He laughed. He pursed his lips together and glanced down at Dean, “But, you know, it's a blessing ‘cause I can put this lil’ guy in his place.”

Dean's eyes narrowed as Bobby laughed at his “joke,” but Cheryl linked her arm with his, catching his attention. “Don't mind him,” She whispered. Dean raised his brows and peered down at her, ignoring Sam's eyes pressing into the back of his head. It was so obvious that he was staring at them – he could feel it. Cheryl then grinned, “You're a big guy compared to me, and I like big guys.”

Dean smirked, “Oh yeah? Well–”

“Let's go inside, Dean.” Sam cut off as he brushed past him, purposefully knocking against his shoulder. He reluctantly unhooked Cheryl's arm from his and sent her an apologetic look. She dismissed it with a subtle smile, “Oh, don't worry. We can chat later, when we're alone.” She said innocently before skipping off to join Carlos and Bobby as they headed inside. Dean was left there starstruck. She was definitely flirting with him – no doubt about it. And – she wanted to talk to him alone. He hoped it meant what he thought it meant.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Bobby sat at a desk, inspecting the Colt which was taken all apart with a magnifying glass before glancing at a drawn diagram of its parts. Dean was working on melting some metal into bullets, they were hoping that this would be a good substitute for the demon-killing bullets.

“Hey,” Sam said as he entered the room with Cheryl trailing behind him. Dean glanced up, his lips parting as his gaze settled on Cheryl. “Hey, what's up?” He asked.

“We overlooked Bobby's notes, it looks like there are some omens in Ohio. Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop.” Sam explained.

“Well, that's thrilling.” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. Cheryl plopped down on the couch next to Carlos and leaned into his side. Carlos wrapped an arm around her shoulders as if it were natural and continued to read one of Bobby's books on tombs. “Plus, some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out. Might be demonic omens.” Sam added, glancing back at Cheryl and Carlos. He had to do a double take, his brows furrowed in confusion and he slowly turned back to face Dean who was watching them intently.

Dean wrinkled his nose and gritted his teeth before returning his gaze to Sam. “Or it could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker.” He replied.

“Yeah, but it's our best lead since Lincoln.”

“Where in Ohio?” Dean asked, cocking a brow.

“Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the Rust Belt.” Sam answered. Cheryl ran her fingers through her hair before peeling herself from Carlos’ side. Dean sighed sadly, “There's got to be a demon or two in South Beach.”

She raised her brows in disbelief, “It's September.”

He shrugged, “Hey, anything to see some hot chicks in bikinis.” Cheryl grinned and leaned down, urging her shoulders closer to push her breasts together. Dean's eyes darkened before they flitted down to peek at her cleavage. God, she is sexy. “You could just ask me to wear a bikini for you… have ourselves a private fashion show.” She purred lowly. He cocked his head to the side and smirked knowingly, acting as if they were in their own little world. “You know, I think I may take you up on that offer…”

Carlos sighed and flipped over the page, beginning to read the next section of the book. “Cheryl, stop acting like a whore. It's impolite in front of our host.” Cheryl's head snapped over to him in an instant, her eyes blown wide. Then, she wrinkled her nose and walked back to sit on the opposite end of the couch. “I'm not a whore…” She murmured sadly, crossing her arms against her chest. “Of course, you're not,” He said without even looking up from the book that he was engrossed in. “Which is why I told you to stop acting like one.”

Sam raised his brows and sucked in a sharp breath before turning his attention to Bobby who hadn't even seemed to notice what just happened. “How's it going, Bobby?” He asked, referring to the Colt. He smacked his lips together once and set the body down on the table. “Slow.” He replied.

“Eh, I tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that.” Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head. Cheryl had to agree with him, it was sad seeing the Colt taken apart – useless. Bobby let out a scoff, “Well, the only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick.”

“So what makes it tick?” Sam asked. Bobby's eyes narrowed venomously and he glared up at Sam, his nostrils flaring. Sam let out an amused laugh and raised his hands in resignation. Dean grinned and climbed to his feet, grabbing his jacket off of the back of his chair. “So, if we want to go check out these omens in Ohio,” He started teasingly. “You think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?”

“Well, it won't kill demons by then,” He smacked the butt of the gun against the desk, “but I can promise you it'll kill you.”

Dean and Sam both laughed. They enjoyed pushing Bobby's buttons. His reactions were always funny. “All right, come on, we're wasting the daylight,” Dean said. He glanced over at Cheryl and Carlos and gestured for them to get up and get going. Carlos sighed and set the book on the table as he got up, then offered Cheryl a hand to help her up – which she gratefully accepted. “Thank you for having us, it was nice to meet you.” Carlos smiled at Bobby.

“Yes, thank you for having us.” Cheryl nodded before following Carlos outside. Bobby raised his brows and glanced up at Sam and Dean, he pointed his pen towards them. “I like ‘em.”

Sam let out a small laugh, “All right, see you, Bobby.” They both started to head out, both shrugging on their coats. Bobby's head shot up, “Hey! You boys run into anything – anything – you call me.” He called out. They nodded.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl grasped the little arm and twisted it, rolling down the window in the truck. It was too hot – so hot that her skin was sticking to the seat. “I want him to ask me out – but if I have to do it myself, I will.” She sighed. Carlos tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and glanced over at her. He assumed Cheryl had feelings for Dean because she talked about him a lot when they were apart, and because she looked at him like he was God himself. “I say just go for it, what have you got to lose? He's clearly into you.” He said.

“Well – how do I know that he actually likes me – what if he only wants to sleep with me?”

“Oh my God, you have issues…” He muttered under his breath. Carlos inhaled deeply before speaking again, “I'm gonna be real with you, he probably definitely does want to have sex with you. Badly. But – you know, considering how butt hurt he was about you leaving and that he asked you out before, he likely still likes you.”

“You think so? Really?” She asked, her eyes full of hope. Carlos nodded and pursed his lips together, he wouldn't lie to Cheryl – especially about something like this. Even though he didn't like Dean, if he made Cheryl happy, he'd let him continue. “Oh yeah, you know, if you're so unsure you should try to get him goin’. Or – you know, make him jealous.”

Cheryl's brows raised, “Jealous? How? Should I like – makeout with someone?”

He shrugged, “I mean if you want to. But I think you should do something more subtle than that. You don't want him to think that you don't like him.”

“He literally hooked up with a girl three days ago, which is why I'm so unsure if he likes me because if he did – why would he be hooking up with other women?”

“Look, it doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't like you. White people are weird. Just take it as a guy having needs, doesn't mean he doesn't want you.”

“Hm… okay…” She trailed off, rubbing her chin in thought. She stared out the open window, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Carlos’ words eased her worries greatly, but they were still there.

Dean let out a loud grumble, sending a disapproving glare Sam's way. “We're just flirting – there's no feelings behind it, Sammy.” He said. Sam let out a bark of laughter and hunched forward, his entire body shaking – he was amused by Dean's words. “Dude! Are you being serious right now? You totally like her and she totally likes you! You looked like you were ready to kill Carlos when they barely cuddled on the sofa.”

“No, I didn't! I don't care–”

“Uh, yeah you do. You're all jealous because they were married and they're close.” Sam grinned. Dean clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles went white. His feelings were embarrassing. He felt all mushy and gushy when he thought about her – it was humiliating – it should be the other way around.

“Okay! What if I do like her? So what? Nothin’ is gonna happen, my fate is sealed, I'm gonna die. There's no point.” He huffed.

Sam's brows shot up “And you'd rather do nothing than have a few good months with her?” His eyes narrowed accusingly and then he grinned as he dawned on the realization. “You're scared.” He gasped.

“What?! No, I'm not!”

“You are! You're scared that she'll reject you!”

Dean scoffed, “I don't get rejected.”

“Okay – whatever. But I think you should tell her how you feel, she's pretty. She isn't gonna be on the market forever, Dean.”

The thought of some other guy going out with Cheryl, kissing her, holding her – taking her to bed, was sickening. It was utterly ridiculous that he was getting this worked up over her, but he was drawn to her. Her looks, her personality, her spirit, her soul. Maybe there was some higher power at work here – maybe there wasn't. Dean knew what he wanted, and he wanted her. He wanted to be the guy to take her out, kiss her, hold her, and go to bed with her at night, and he'll be damned if he never even tried.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean set his bag on the floor and glanced around the room, chuckling lowly when he noticed a mirror on the ceiling above the bed. That would make for some good fun. Cheryl decided to sleep with them again, and she was even fine with having to share a bed (with him he hoped.) While he and Sam went to the Church, Carlos and Cheryl went to the motel to get a head start on some research.

The door across the hall flew open and both Sam and Dean turned to see who was there. Dean's eyes widened, “Richie. I don't believe it.” He said in disbelief. The short stubby man wearing a Hawaiian shirt with the front buttons undone and a white fedora glanced up just as a tall blonde woman in a skimpy outfit joined him by the door frame. “Hey, Dean... Winchester, right?” He inquired. He seemed like he was doing some sort of fake Italian accent, it was quite obnoxious. Dean nodded and looked towards the blonde woman, watching as Richie handed her a wad of cash. “This is my, uh, sister. Cheryl.” He lied. Dean's brows shot up and he dragged his eyes up the woman's form. Long legs that were shown off due to her miniskirt and her small perky breasts that were noticeable because of her purple halter top. “Cheryl.” He repeated. He liked his Cheryl better. Richie shrugged and let out a little nervous chuckle as the blonde Cheryl strutted down the hallway. “Well, you know, step-sister.”

Dean pouted his lips together and nodded slowly, scratching the spot above his ear. “Well,” He hummed. He stepped back from the door and pointed towards Sam. “Come on in. This is my brother, Sam.” He introduced.

“Hey. How you doing?” Richie asked.

“Not too bad. How do you two know each other?” Sam questioned with a raised brow sent Dean's way.

“You were in school.” Dean answered simply.

“It was that succubus, in Canarise, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, man. You should have seen the rack on this broad. Fuckin' tragedy when I had to gank her.” Richie snickered.

Before Dean could retort back that he in fact was the one to kill the succubus and not Richie, Cheryl's voice echoed in the doorway. “Oh sweet, I found you guys.” She breathed out in relief. Richie spun around with wide eyes and looked her up and down before smirking. “Well, who's this?” He asked flirtatiously. Cheryl's brows furrowed and she shot Sam and Dean a confused look. This guy was barely taller than she was – and he was already grating on her nerves with his flirting. Dean's eyes narrowed and he untucked his hands from his pockets. “That's Cheryl... My‐”

“Girlfriend.” She interrupted with a cool smile. Maybe if she pretended to be Dean's girlfriend, this guy would back off. Sam and Dean clearly knew the man, she'd rather not have to put up with him and the endless flirting.

She extended a hand towards the man and ignored Sam and Dean's shocked looks. “I'm Dean's girlfriend, Cheryl Jones. Nice to meet you.” She smiled coldly. Richie nodded slowly as if he were in disbelief and shook her hand. “Wow, Dean, you got lucky.” He marvelled, craning back to look at him. Dean glanced down at his feet to mask his grin, it felt a little surreal having Cheryl call herself his girlfriend. “Yeah, I did.” He admitted. When he glanced back up, his eyes met Cheryl's. She was staring up at him through her lashes intently like she was in a museum studying an art piece. Dean swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and tore his eyes away from her. “Richie, know what? I told you then and I'll tell you again – you're not cut out for this job. You're gonna get yourself killed.” He said, referring to the succubus case with Richie.

Richie's phone started to chime in his pocket and he quickly picked up the phone. “Hey, talk to me,” He said. He raised his brows at Dean, “FYI Winchester – words hurt.” He turned away from them and Cheryl went to Dean's side. “Yeah?” He said to the person on the phone before pausing. “No, it's not a good time, babe, later.” He said. Richie flipped his phone shut just as Dean decided to play into his and Cheryl's whole dating thing, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side. “So you find anything in this town, anyway?” Dean questioned.

“Ah, no. I got nothing. Oh, wait a minute. You mean as in demons and whatnot?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“No, I got nothing.”

“What about your sister back there?” Dean asked teasingly with a cocked brow.

“Oh, honestly? She definitely had the devil in her, but she wasn't no demon, you know what I'm saying?” Richie chuckled humorously. When nobody laughed nor even smiled, Richie wiped the proud grin clean off of his face. “Right. Seriously. Church guy, hobby-shop guy – they were lunch meat by the time I got there. Hey, maybe they were possessed, but I can't prove it.”

“Yeah, that's where we are, too. You know, let's just say that demons are possessing people in this town. You know, raising hell.” Sam said as he side-eyed Cheryl and Dean. Their relationship status would have been confusing to him had they not had that conversation in the Impala. Dean's brows knitted together, “Yeah, but why would a demon blow its brains out?”

“Probably just for fun, demons like to wreak havoc and it'd not affect it – only the vessel it possesses,” Cheryl explained.

“Your chick's spot on, man,” Richie said. Cheryl's eyes narrowed venomously and she clenched her jaw, she was not something to have. And she certainly wasn't just a chick. “You mean Cheryl is spot on. I have a name. I am not just Dean's chick.” She spat before tearing free from Dean's side and marching off to the bathroom.

They all watched as she locked herself inside, Sam was a little amused by Cheryl's call out, Dean was annoyed at Richie, and Richie was a little embarrassed. Dean inhaled deeply and his nostrils flared, “Anybody else left in the town that fits the profile – you know, nice guy turned douche, still breathing?” He questioned. Richie straightened his hat and smoothed out his button-up, still recovering from Cheryl's confrontation. “There's, uh, Trotter.” He replied quietly.

“Who's that?”

“Well, he used to be head of the Rotary Club. And then people say he turned a bastard all of a sudden? Brought in the gambling, the hookers. ... Ah, he practically owns this whole town.”

“Know where we can find him?” Sammy said.

“Oh, he'll be at his bar in a few hours.”

Cheryl sat on the toilet hunched over, her breasts were pressed as flat as they could be against her thighs and she was breathing slow and deep. A knock sounded against the door again and she let out a groan. “What?”

“It's me, Carlos. I have your clothes.” He said through the door. Cheryl practically jumped to her feet to unlock the door for him and ushered him inside. “Okay – are Sam and Dean outside?” She asked.

“No, I caught them just as they were leaving for the bar. Sam let me in.”

“Good! I need your help picking out an outfit for the bar, something that will make Dean's eyes bulge out of his head.” She mimicked the motions of her eyes bugging out by making circles with her fingers and placing them over her eyes. Carlos laughed and shook his head, “Hah! Just show up naked.”

“I don't wanna get arrested, Carlos.” She sneered. He rolled his eyes and set her bags down on the white tiled floor. “Okay, okay. What are you going for?”

“I don't know! I just – I want him to look at me. None of the other girls.” She said, slashing at her chest erratically.

Carlos smirked knowingly and crossed his arms against his chest. She wanted Dean to look at her, and he knew just how to achieve that. “If you want him to look at you,” He kicked her bag to the side. Cheryl's eyes widened and she let out a fearful gasp, she had nice clothes in there. Carlos raised his brows, “If you want him to look at you,” He said more firmly to grab her attention. “You have to wear his clothes.”

“But he's so possessive over his stuff – he'll get mad at me if I wear his clothes.”

“Oh nah, trust me. It's a universal thing. Seeing a girl you're interested in wearing your clothes gets a guy going.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay then…”

Dean snorted and leaned close to Sam so that he could hear him over the loud chatter and music. He pointed at the woman bartender, more specifically her behind. “No way Richie gets a girl like that. I mean, look at her. You could fit that ass on a nickel.”

“Who's ass?” Cheryl spoke up from behind them. Dean spun around, flushing with embarrassment. But, he was taken aback by her appearance. She was wearing his simple grey T-shirt – he could tell because it fit her like a dress and had a tiny hole near the collar. “I-” He pursed his lips together and ran a hand through his hair. “Uh, is that my shirt?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

“No! No – no it's not. It… looks good on you.”

She smiled up at him, “Gracias, I thought so too.” She ran her hands down the fabric of the shirt, feeling her curves and hips. Dean let out a little breath that ended up sounding like a humiliating squeak.

Cheryl turned her gaze up towards Sam, “Was he talking about the bartender?”

“Yup.” He answered. Cheryl's nostrils flared and she sucked on her inner cheek as she peeked between them at the bartender. “Oh, she's hot,” She breathed. “I'm gonna get a drink and play some pool.” She murmured as she brushed in between them, never taking her eyes off of the woman for even a second. As soon as she was out of earshot, Sam started to snicker. “Oh – it looks good on you.” He mocked.

“Shut up, Sammy!” Dean barked.

He only continued to laugh, “Oh, man! You should have seen your face! You are so whipped!”

“Yeah, yeah. Quit your chortling.” He growled under his breath. Sam pretended to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. He found Dean having a crush to be very funny.

“Knew you boys would find your way here. They all do.” Father Gil spoke up. He was parked at a bar stool nursing what looked like a whiskey sour. The boys immediately straightened their posture and Sam stuck his arms to his side. “Father – I – what are you doing here?” Sam questioned, his brows furrowing.

“Like it or not, you go where your flock is.” He sighed. The bartender that Dean was ogling earlier came to refresh Father Gil's drink. Her face was even prettier than her ass – dark hair and dark eyes that had smokey black eyeshadow smeared around them intricately. “Plus, the clergy drinks for free.” She purred.

“True, and a certain bartender owes me a confession.” Father Gil chuckled. He slammed back the rest of his drink and set the empty cup down on the counter. “Not in this lifetime, Father.” She grinned

“I better see your butt on Sunday.” He said as he waved his finger at her. He slid off of the barstool and glanced over at Dean, raising his brows so high that they disappeared in his fluffy grey hair. “Nickel or no nickel.” He said as he left the bar.

The bartender flashed them a flirtatious smile, “What can I get you, boys?”

“What's your specialty?” Dean asked.

“I make a mean hurricane.” She smirked. She flipped her long silky hair off of her shoulder and batted her eyelashes. Bartenders always flirted, it was good for tips. Dean grinned and tucked his hands into his pockets, “I guess we'll see about that.” He said. Sam let out a snort and looked Dean up and down. His drink of choice was never a fruity cocktail. He preferred “manly” drinks like whiskey or beer. “You drink hurricanes?” He asked in disbelief.

“I do now.”

“He was talking about the bartender's ass.” Cheryl mumbled sadly as she circled the pool table. Carlos sighed and tilted his head to the side, watching her with careful eyes. He'd kick Dean's ass six ways to Sunday if Cheryl wouldn't get mad at him for it. “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” He asked. Cheryl shrugged and set the pool stick back on the hooks on the wall. “She was hot, I get it.”

“Girl, you have got to respect yourself some more. You're a beautiful, smart, kind, and funny woman. You deserve to be loved and feel wanted. You deserve to be treated well.”

Cheryl's lips thinned into a straight line and she shyly looked up at him. She wanted to believe him, and she did, but she didn't think that she was desirable for anything outside of her body. Some traumas never leave you, even the things that you wish would go.

“He's not my boyfriend or anything so I can't expect him to not check other girls out.” She shrugged. Carlos rolled his eyes so far that it looked like they disappeared in the back of his head. “You're embarrassing. Tell him you like him or I will.”

She gasped, “You wouldn't dare.”

“I can and I will, this is painful to watch.”

“Carlos! Please don't – I will do it! Soon!”

“Calm your tits girl, I won't.” Carlos snorted. A sickly-looking man with shaggy and greasy grey hair slowly marched up to the pool table. “Hi, John.” He said in a monotone voice. The man next to Cheryl trying to figure out his next move glanced up. He raised his brows, “Reggie, is everything okay with you?”

“I don't know, I'm not feeling myself today.” He reached into his coat pocket and alarm bells started to go off in Carlos’ head.

As soon as he saw the gun, and Reggie aiming it straight at John who Cheryl was next to, his suspensions were confirmed. He darted towards Cheryl just as the gun fired, the bullet flying straight through Reggie's head. His full body jutted back before he fell to the floor and Cheryl gasped, taking a few staggered steps back. The crowd erupted into panicked chaos, screaming and rushing to the nearest exit. Carlos wrapped an arm around Cheryl and shielded her head with his hand and pulled her to the floor. Reggie tucked the barrel of the gun under his chin, ready to blow his brains out when Dean tackled him to the ground. Sam sprinkled holy water on Reggie's face from his flask and his brows knitted together when it had no effect. He shook his head from side to side as the cold water shocked him and groaned. “What are you doing?! He slept with my wife! That bastard slept with my wife!” He screamed. Sam sucked in a breath and glanced around the bar at the remaining panicked patrons. “Somebody call nine-one-one!” He yelled.

Cheryl sat on a barstool set against the wall in between Dean and Carlos. She watched as the cops cuffed Reggie and hauled him out of the bar, then as the EMTs wheeled John's lifeless body out in a bodybag on a stretcher. Sam nibbled on his thumbnail before letting his hand fall to rest in his lap. “Too many cops, I say we roll.” He whispered.

Dean shook his head, “Just be cool. Poor jerk. The only thing possessing him was a sixer of Pabst.” He whispered back.

“So, what's the deal, then? People in this town getting possessed or not?” Sam asked.

“I don't know. Maybe it is just what it is – a town full of scumbags.”

“I doubt that.” Cheryl sighed. Dean glanced down at her and bumped her arm with his elbow. She was right beside the guy when he got shot, and from what he saw she was pretty startled. “You okay?” He asked gently.

She smiled, “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“I – uh, yeah?” He answered with furrowed brows. He didn't know why she was asking him that, it was every average day.

A police officer strolled up to them, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Hey, you boys ready for your mugshots?” He asked, glancing between Sam and Dean. Their eyes widened comically and their hearts stopped beating. Mugshots – no, no, no, no, no. “The photographer's gonna be here in a few, and... take your picture for the local paper.” The cop reassured with a smile. He was just kidding, of course. “Be an honour, officer. What a thrill!” Dean cheered, relief filling him to his core.

Sam's lips thinned, “Yup, time to go.” He said as he quickly rose out of his seat.

“Wait a second, wait a second.”

“What?”

“Where's Richie?”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean stared down at his phone, annoyed by the beep after Richie's voice-mail. He grits his teeth and flips his phone shut. He had a burger in front of him that he hadn't even touched yet. Cheryl gently rubbed his shoulder and set a fresh beer down beside his plate. “Didn't pick up?”

“Nope.”

“Oh… well, he's probably alright – he's just… hooking up with the bartender.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean grasped the beer bottle and took a swig. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“Anything for my pretend boyfriend.” She winked. Dean smiled faintly and glanced back down at his plate full of food. They fell into an awkward silence, and when Dean looked back up, Cheryl was already staring at him. He swallowed hard and swiped his tongue across his bottom lip which made her breath catch.

“Uh, how's your week been?” He asked through a heavy exhale.

“You've been with me this entire week.” She deadpanned.

“Yeah – well, you did go out a couple of times.” Dean's lips thinned and he took another sip from his beer. “Any fun hookups?” He asked hesitantly.

“No, hookups aren't my thing.”

He was full of hope now, “Really?”

“Mhm,” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced up as Sam and Carlos sat next to them. Carlos had gotten her water much to her dismay, but she probably should slow down for the night. Cheryl sipped on it bitterly and stared at him through the rim of the glass. “¿Agua?” She scoffed.

“Si, has bebido demasiados tragos.”

(“Yes, you have had too many drinks.”)

“Fuck off.” She heaved as she set the glass down.

Dean glanced over at Sam, he was still worried about Richie. He could feel his forehead creasing. “I think Richie got himself into some deep shit.” He confessed.

Sam sighed, “Dean, you're assuming he's missing. I mean, maybe he just bailed.”

“He's a moron. I mean, he's a sweet moron, but he's not a coward. He wouldn't just bail. I have to go find him.”

“All right. Meanwhile, I think I'm gonna trail this Trotter guy.”

“Who's Trotter?” Carlos questioned with a cocked brow.

“He owns the whole town, he was the one who brought in all the hookers and gambling,” Sam answered. Carlos pouted his lips together and nodded slowly, his long fingers tracing the crystallized cup. “All right, I'll come with you. You're more tolerable than Shortie over here.” He said, jutting his head in Dean's direction.

“Carlos,” Cheryl warned. She pointed her finger just under his chin before snatching it away. She has had it with all of his rude remarks towards Dean. Carlos rolled his eyes and dramatically swung his head towards Dean. “My apologies, Mr. Winchester.” He cooed. Cheryl rolled her eyes and finished the rest of her water before sliding off her chair. “I'm tired, I'm going back to the room.”

“Oh, goodnight Cheryl.” Sam smiled.

“I'll come with you,” Dean quickly offered. Cheryl couldn't help but smile, she felt a little special. He wanted to end the night early and leave with her rather than pick up girls. “Okay.” She whispered. Carlos gulped back some of his water and stole some fries off of Dean's untouched plate. “I'll stay here with Sam, we gotta plot, right?” He said.

“Uh, yeah.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl studied her cards splayed out in her hands and then glanced over the edge of them to try and predict Dean's next move. It was an intense game, they were tied and whoever won this match won the entire game. He grinned and met her eyes, “Do you have any fours?” She shook her head proudly and held her chin high, she was a pro at this game. “Goldfish.”

“It's go fish, Cher.”

“Oh – go fish.” She corrected. Dean chuckled humorously and leaned forward to pluck a card from the pile stacked in the middle of the bed. Cheryl let out a cheerful giggle, so far she was kicking Dean's ass. “You are sucking!” She adjusted herself to sit cross-legged, accidentally giving him a glimpse of her cards. He smiled and returned his eyes to her face, “I kinda forgot how to play, to be honest.”

“Good thing we're not betting anything then.”

Dean let out another chuckle and hung his head, “Okay, okay. It's your turn.”

“Okay! Ummm… do you have any aces?” She asked. She tilted her head and stared up at him hopefully, she really wanted to win. He briefly glanced through his cards before letting out a heavy sigh and nodding. “Yup, one ace for little Miss. Cheryl.” He passed the card to her and she happily took her card and set it in a neat pile by her knee. “So far I am winning!” She said cheerily.

“Yeah, we still got two more cards to play. Just you wait.” He smirked knowingly. He knew what cards she had, a queen and a ten. He just so happened to have the same cards as her. Luck of the draw.

“Do you have a nine?”

“Nope!” She grinned ear to ear. “Go fish!” Dean let out a loud groan and snatched another card from the deck. Cheryl tucked her hair behind her ears, a few strands had fallen out of her high ponytail. “You have any queens?” Dean rolled his eyes and playfully threw the card at her. “Did you look at my cards?” He asked accusingly.

“No! I swear!” She giggled. He cocked a brow and looked her up and down which only made her laugh more. “I'm not a cheater!”

“Alright…” He said unconvinced. He had two cards left, and Cheryl had one. He was sure she wouldn't notice. “Do you have any sixes?”

“Go fish.” She said smugly.

“Dammit.”

Cheryl smiled and stared up at him through her lashes, “Do you have a ten?”

“Are you fucking kidding!?” He groaned before slapping the card face up in front of her. She let out a gleeful laugh and set her card on top of it, now empty-handed. “I win!” She cheered.

“Only because you cheated.” He scoffed.

“I didn't! Seriously!”

“Okay, okay. Whatever you say, cheater.” Dean smirked. She raised her brows and leaned forward, “I was going to give you a second place prize… but not if you're being such a sore loser.” She said huskily. His eyes darkened and his lips parted when she bit her own lip. “What's the prize?”

“A kiss.” She whispered. Cheryl leaned forward and Dean's breath got caught in his throat. He eagerly hurried forward, and just as their lips were about to touch, she swerved and planted a kiss on his cheek instead. “I never said on the lips,” She said, her breath hot against his skin. Cheryl licked her lips and slid off of the bed, “I'm gonna go smoke, clean this up por favor?” She asked sweetly and gestured towards the cards splayed out on the bed. Dean only nodded, still a little delirious. Cheryl smiled, “Gracias, ojos de angel.” He had goosebumps all over his skin and his heart was going a thousand miles an hour. Cheryl kept him on his toes, that's for sure.

He sucked in a breath and jumped to his feet, “Cher,” He said a little louder than he intended. Cheryl spun around, the oversized hoodie that she was wearing was slipping off of her shoulders. “Yeah?” She responded a little too quickly for her liking. His lips thinned and he tapped his foot against the ground anxiously. Then, he slashed through the air with his hand. “Nevermind… enjoy your cigarette.” He muttered before racing to the bathroom.

As soon as the door was locked, Dean let out a heavy pant and ran his hands through his hair. They came back to the motel. They played go fish. She kissed his cheek. He almost confessed his feelings for her. Dean palmed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mother fucker…” He mumbled under his breath. He leaned to rest his elbows on the counter and continued to rub his face. He so desperately wanted to man up and ask her out – but he couldn't. Part of him was hesitant, he was scared that she would leave again. It was stupid. Sam would laugh at him nonstop if he saw what just happened.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Dean barely said anything to Cheryl or Sam before they went to bed that night. He only listened to Sam and Carlos’ plan for Trotter and told them each goodnight. Everything was fine until long after they all went to sleep. Dean had a dream, a dream about Cheryl.

His lips mapped every inch of her writhing body, suckling at the most sensitive spots and leaving little love bites. Cheryl arched her back into him and let out a pleasurable moan. “Oh… mi amor…” She sighed, making Dean grin. His tongue ducked out and he slowly traced the tip of it up her bare stomach to the apex of her breasts. “Mi amor, huh?”

She nodded and shuddered. “Yes…”

“I like it when you speak Spanish,” He murmured as he peppered kisses along her neck. He took her ear lobe between his teeth and rolled it, enjoying the cool silver of her hoop earrings against his tongue. She moaned again and it sounded absolutely intoxicating. Dean let out a groan when his cock throbbed against the tight confines of his jeans. Cheryl seemingly knew that he was as hard as a rock because she quickly worked the belt of his jeans free and tugged his pants down his hips.

“Please.” She whined. She caught his lips in a searing kiss and spread her legs wider for him. “Please, Dean.” Cheryl repeated, a little more needy this time. “I need you.” She said.

“I need you too,” He murmured against her lips as he hastily pushed her cherry-red panties to the side. Cheryl placed one of her hands on his ass as if she were trying to push him inside of her, and it worked.

As soon as he was inside of her – her walls throbbing around him greedily and he began to pound into her. Cheryl tossed her head back and let out a loud moan, and Dean took the opportunity to suck hickeys onto her neck. She felt good – so, so, so good. “Fuck,” He stuttered out, his voice falling into a soft whimper. She panted against his shoulder, “Faster Dean – faster – por favor, please.” She begged. Cheryl crossed one of her arms over his back and pulled him closer to her as he increased his pace. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted to be close to him.

Dean moaned against her lips and hiked one of her legs up to hook around his hip so he could go deeper. “Sweetheart,” He gasped. “You… you…” He moaned again. “You sound beautiful. You feel amazing.” He kissed her again, this time much more passionately. With need and fervent. “Please don't leave me.” He pleaded. Cheryl gently caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. “I won't, I promise.”

Dean's eyes snapped open and he inhaled deeply, immediately smacking his hand over his face and dragging it down. His hard cock throbbed against his pyjama pants and he groaned. “Fucking hell…” He muttered. He ruffled up his already messy hair and snatched Cheryl's pillow to place over his tent. She wasn't in bed, thank God, but Sam was sitting on the edge of the other bed lacing his boots up. “Bad dream?” Sam asked. Dean scoffed and reluctantly sat up, pressing his back against the headboard. “No.” He adjusted the pillow to cover himself more comfortably. “It was a very good dream actually.” He added.

“Yeah, tell me all about it when I get back from a coffee run.” Sam chuckled. He glanced at him from over his shoulder, “Do you know what Carlos likes?”

Dean snorted and shrugged, “Why the hell would I know? Ask Cher.”

“I did, she said he likes smoothies. But I'm not sure what kind of smoothie he likes.”

“Just get him a damn banana and strawberry smoothie, it's fine.” Dean huffed out.

As soon as Sam left, Dean sprang out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. Unfortunately for him, it was locked. He pounded against the door with a closed fist and grunted. “Cher! Come on! I gotta piss!” He lied easily. Cheryl groaned obnoxiously and booted the door with what he thought was her foot. The door rattled from the impact of her hit, but Dean knocked on the door again. “I'm doing my eyeliner! Just wait a second!” She snapped.

“Cher, I swear, my dick is abouta explode!”

“Oh my God!” She yelled. The doorknob clicked as she unlocked it, and the door flew open. She stormed out of the bathroom with her makeup bag in hand. “I'll just do my makeup in the reflection of the TV then. You're a boy! Pee outside!” She sneered.

“There's literally a mirror on the ceiling!”

“I can't see myself properly!”

Dean grumbled something incoherently under his breath before stomping into the bathroom. His dick was still rock hard, but it was nothing a good ol’ cold shower couldn't fix. He tore off his clothes and turned the shower tap on before climbing inside. The cool water was a shock almost immediately – making him tense up and clench his jaw. He'd much rather have this than have to wank one out to Cheryl. It was weird, she was his friend. Slowly, he relaxed and his blood was no longer pumping in his ears (and elsewhere.) This was fine, it was fine. It's not like he can control his dreams. He had a sex dream about Cheryl (again), it's not like she'd ever find out. He blew out a heavy sigh through pursed lips, even in his dreams she looked beautiful. She even tasted good, but he didn't have a real-life comparison for that. His thoughts were just thoughts, no one would ever find out.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

They all had their plans formulated, Sam and Carlos would go scout out Trotter and see what he was up to, while Cheryl and Dean would deal with the bartender. Thanks to Sammy being a tech whizz, they tracked Richie's cellphone to a basement which was leased by Casey (the bartender.) Dean would flirt with her, go back to her place and deal with her while Cheryl waited across the street in case things went south. Everything was going perfectly – until Casey showed zero interest in Dean and kept flirting with Cheryl.

Dean sipped on his beer bitterly from across the bar as he watched the bartender run her fingers through Cheryl's silky smooth hair. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, it was too dangerous for Cheryl to go in there solo. He couldn't watch her get hurt.

Cheryl however, was confident in her abilities. She chuckled softly and leaned in closer, “You know, I never took you for the type to like girls. You seem like you like strictly dick.”

Casey swiped her tongue across her lips, “That's no way to live life, especially when there are girls as hot as you.”

Cheryl grinned, “I agree, say, why don't we get out of here and have some fun?”

“You read my mind,” Casey purred. “Let's go to my place, I have fun toys.”

“I like toys.” She breathed as she shrugged her red leather coat back on. Much to Dean's dismay, Cheryl and Casey left the bar together and Cheryl didn't even give him a single look. He decided right then and there that not only was he going to follow her to the place as planned, but he was going to follow them inside the house.

Carlos and Sam were splayed flat against the wall between the cracked open door of Trotter's office. He was talking to his assistant about things that weren't that useful to them, like what to order for lunch. Carlos rolled his eyes and rubbed his chin, he was a little fed up with the unnecessary chatting. Suddenly, Sam's phone started to chime in his pocket and both of their eyes widened. He fumbled before reaching inside of his pocket flipping his phone open and pressing it to his ear. “Sammy.” Dean said, his voice hushed.

“I can't talk right now.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just, uh ... meet us at the bar in thirty minutes, okay?” He whispered before hanging up. There was some shuffling towards the door from the inside of the room. Carlos and Sam quickly raced down the hallway and ducked behind another wall.

The door creaked as Trotter's assistant pushed the door open to glance down either end of the hallway. Thankfully, they were speedy enough to get out of view. Carlos clenched his jaw and shot Sam a mean glare, “You kept your ringer on?”

“I thought I turned it off…” He murmured.

“Well, you didn't,” Carlos growled through clenched teeth. He poked his head out to peer down the hallway, catching Trotter and his assistant leaving in a hurry. This was their chance.

“Come on,” Carlos whispered to Sam before sneaking down the hallway. He made sure to keep his steps quiet, coming down on his heel first instead of his toes. When they made it into the hidden safety of the office, Sam quietly clicked the door shut before they started to search the place for any clues. Carlos rifled through the desk, flipping through papers and documents. He spotted a pack of mint gum and stole a piece, loudly unwrapping it before popping it into his mouth. Sam's brows furrowed, “Did you just take some gum?” He asked.

“Yeah, you want some?”

“No… thanks.” He sighed, wrinkling his nose. Sam returned his attention to the books on the bookshelf, fanning through some of them to see if there was anything hidden in them. There was nothing listed on the calendar posted on the wall, nothing suspicious about the set of keys on the desk, this guy had nothing on him.

Suddenly, Trotter's assistant grasped Sam's shoulder and spun him around before lurching his arm back to clock him in the face. Sam quickly ducked and knocked him to the floor, punching him right in the nose a couple of times. Blood spewed from his nose onto the floor, and then he felt the cold barrel of a gun press against his neck. Slowly, Sam raised his hands and let out a heavy breath. “What are you doing here?” Trotter demanded, pressing the gun deeper into his skin.

“I think maybe you know,” Carlos said as he chewed the gum obnoxiously. He took his hands out of his pockets and stared down at Trotter. Trotter's brows furrowed and he turned his head, he didn't see Carlos in here… “Yeah? Well, I'm calling the cops!” He yelled, a little smug. Then his eyes narrowed as he noticed Carlos chewing gum and the open pack on his desk. “Did you… take my gum?” He asked.

Carlos snorted, “Yeah.” He said humorously.

Given the fact that Trotter was distracted, Sam took this chance to elbow him in the face and disarm him. He ripped the gun from his unpracticed hands with ease and aimed it at him. “Back up!” Sam ordered. Trotter's assistant scrambled to his feet and raised his hands while Trotter himself staggered back. “Money is in the safe! Take it and go!” He pleaded. Carlos’ brows knitted together and his nose wrinkled in confusion. They didn't want his money, but it was a nice offer. “We don't want your money,” Sam said. “I just got to be sure.” Without taking his eyes off of the pair for even a single moment, he reached into his pocket and fished out his silver flask full of holy water. He unscrewed the cap with one hand and threw the water at both the assistant and Trotter.

They both flinched from the shock of the cold water, and Trotter's brows furrowed as he wiped his face dry with his hand. “What kinda psychos are you guys!?” He yelled in disbelief. Carlos’ lips curled and he sucked some air through clenched teeth. They were following the wrong lead, had things gone south, they would've been in deep shit. “Oh, you know what! This is a prank,” Carlos chuckled. He gestured around and slowly backed up, ushering Sam out the door. “Yeah, cameras are everywhere. You'll be on our show! Channel 18.” He winked. Carlos grasped the doorknob and sent them a thumbs-up. “You guys did great.” He smiled before yanking the door shut.

Dean kept a good distance from Cheryl and Casey as he followed them down the stone stairs that led to the basement. He found a separate way into the main floor – an unlocked back door which he quietly crept inside. The same way he came in earlier today when he drew a devil's trap under the rug. The place sort of looked like an old dungeon with all of the stone and bars on the high windows.

When their backs were still turned towards him, he stealthily ducked behind a heavy and large bookcase with many old books and candles. Silently, he slid a book a little to the left so he could peek out the crack in the shelf and watch them. For Cheryl's safety, of course.

Cheryl glanced around and shrugged her coat off as Casey fluffed up a pillow on her bed in the centre of the room. “It's nice here.” Cheryl echoed. It certainly was not, but she wasn't going to tell her that. It was very clearly a demon's lair. Casey grinned and sauntered to Cheryl, her lips pressed against hers, giving her a soft yet quick kiss. Cheryl returned the kiss, bringing her hand up to cup her cheek. Her feet scuffed against the edge of the rug, meaning Casey was definitely inside the devil's trap. Such a shame, Cheryl thought. She's a good kisser.

Dean clenched his jaw and watched the two of them kiss with resentment. It was like his biggest nightmare and fantasy all mixed into one. Girl-on-girl action was hot – but when Cheryl was the girl kissing someone else, it wasn't enjoyable, not at all. He was jealous. Very jealous.

Cheryl pulled back from Casey and grinned coolly, “So,” She started.

“So?” Casey raised her brows, amused.

“Where are you hiding Richie?” Cheryl asked nonchalantly. She circled the rug and glanced around as if she were looking for him. “I assume he's dead, he deserves a proper burial, don't you think?” Cheryl said. Casey's eyes grew wide and she let out a low growl before lunging towards Cheryl. She was thrown back right onto her ass by an invisible force. Cheryl raised her brows, this devil's trap was stronger than she thought. Kudos to Dean. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “Devil's trap.” She said. Cheryl knelt to the floor and lifted one of the corners of the rug revealing a devil's trap painted in black. Casey's nostrils flared, “Impressive.” She replied shortly.

She smirked, “Isn't it?”

Cheryl clapped her hands together, “Here's what's gonna happen,” She began. She pointed her finger at Casey, “You're gonna go back to Hell.”

She cackled, “I don't think so.” She closed her eyes and raised her chin as if she were medicating and breathed deeply. A small breeze started to billow around, blowing Cheryl's hair off her shoulders. She squinted her eyes shut and the chandelier above Casey began to swing from the ceiling. The crystal glass that hung from the chandelier clanged against each other. If it wasn't such a bad situation, it'd sound like a soft song.

The wind grew stronger, and a giant crack formed in the floor at her feet and steadily spread towards the door that led upstairs. Tiny little cracks spread out from it, engulfing the door frame before the bricks fell, trapping them all inside. Cheryl turned and her eyes widened briefly, well that wasn't good. Casey laughed and laughed at Cheryl like she was making fun of her to someone else in the room. Cheryl grit her teeth, “What are you laughing at, you're still trapped.”

“So are you,” She smirked. Her eyes slowly dragged towards the bookshelf. “And so is he.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

“You are the worst!” Cheryl yelled at Dean, pointing her finger right at his chest. She couldn't believe that he dared to follow her inside of the house. She had this handled – everything was going to turn out fine. Dean scoffed, “Look at what you got yourself into! You'd be trapped here with that bitch all alone if I didn't follow you!” He shouted back.

“I had it handled! I am not some little weak woman that you need to protect!”

“I didn't say that!”

“Your actions did!” Cheryl spun around and ran her hands through her hair and let out a groan. Casey only sat on the edge of the bed, watching them intently with a huge grin on her face. “You two remind me of my parents.”

Dean grit his teeth, “All you demons have such smart mouths.”

“It's a gift.” She replied.

“Yeah, well. Let's see if you're smiling when we send your ass back to Hell.” Dean said.

She cocked her head to the side, “Go for it.”

“Stop being so smug,” Cheryl hissed. “In case you didn't know, Latin is quite similar to Spanish and I'm fluent in Spanish. I can send you back to Hell easily.”

“Then why aren't you?” Casey smirked. Cheryl opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it and crossed her arms against her chest. She swayed her hips and pursed her lips together, she will admit she was a little out of practice when it came to exorcisms. This was her first case in over a year. “Because… uh, Dean wants to perform the ritual! Don't you? Since, you know, you followed me.”

His eyes narrowed, “Yeah… I do. But why can't you?”

“Oh, because I'm being so gracious and generous by letting you do it!”

“What if I want to be gracious and generous?”

Casey smiled, “Neither of you remember, do you?”

Dean chuckled and crossed his arms, “Of course we do! …uh, spiritus immunde ... un, uh…” He trailed off, failing to remember the next part. He scratched the top of his head and pursed his lips together. Cheryl nudged his arm, “I think it starts with spiritus immunde, undolare, pasonitote… I don't remember the rest.”

“Dammit, Cheryl!”

“Hey! You don't remember either, dick!”

Casey tilted her head, “Guess you should have paid more attention in Latin class.”

Cheryl smirked smugly and closed her eyes, “Jokes on you, I didn't graduate.”

This was just great, being trapped with a demon. Surely Sam and Carlos would notice something and come find them, but they didn't know how long that was going to take.

Sam tapped his fingers against the bar counter and glanced back at the door for the third time. Cheryl and Dean had made no appearance yet, and he was growing a little worried. Carlos sipped on his water and followed Sam's eyes. “Uh, maybe they're running late?” He suggested.

“Maybe…” He looked back to the bartender as he set down a glass of root beer for him. “Thanks… hey, you remember the guy and girl I was here with yesterday?” He asked the barkeep.

“The big hero who jumped Reggie and the Latina?” He confirmed. Sam cringed and Carlos’ eyes narrowed, that was one way to put it. “Uh… yeah, have you seen them around today?”

“Maybe. Depends.” The barkeep shrugged. Sam's brows furrowed in childlike confusion and he once again tapped his fingers against the counter, trying to resist the urge to chew on his nails. “Depends on what?” He asked. The barkeep cocked a brow and Carlos rolled his eyes, reaching for his wallet snug in his back pocket. “This town and their money…” He scoffed as he fingered out a couple of twenties and handed them to the bartender.

The bartender quickly snatched them up and shoved them into his pocket. “The Latina left with Casey an hour ago, your guy followed them out. I think they were unicorn hunting.”

“U-unicorn hunting?” Sam questioned. Carlos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Looking for a third.” He answered.

Sam flushed, “Oh, well – any idea where they went?” He asked the barkeep again.

“Her place… for Bible study.”

“Got an address?”

The barkeep's lips curled and he looked them up and down with judgement in his eyes. “What's wrong with you? You think I'm gonna give you a co-worker's address, just so you can go over there and get your freaky peeping-tom rocks off?” He scolded. Without missing a beat, Carlos slid another twenty across the bar counter to him. He grinned, “Corner of Piermont and Clinton. Have fun.” He tucked the bill into his pocket once again, happy to have made sixty bucks off of these pervs.

Dean pushed a heavy wine cask against the wall directly under the barred window. Some sunbeams were streaming through it, daylight. They'd been trapped here with this demon for nearly twelve hours now and they all felt themselves slowly going insane.

Dean climbed on top of the cask and stretched out his arm towards the window, desperately trying to get a cell signal. This place was so deep in the ground that they couldn't even contact anyone to come and get them. Dean grit his teeth and let out a low groan when he couldn't get a signal. Casey cooed, “Why don't you relax?”

“Why don't you kiss my ass.” He shot back.

She smirked, “Why, Dean, you're a poet. I had no idea. Look, we won't have any effect on the outcome of this. We might as well be civil.”

Dean scoffed, “Civil, huh? Killing Richie – that was, that was civil? The guy was harmless.”

“The knife he pulled on me? Didn't look so harmless.” She said coolly. Cheryl sighed and leaned forward to rest her chin on her knees that were pulled to her chest. She had parked herself on the floor with her back to the wall some time ago, and she hasn't moved since.

Dean hopped off of the wine cask and circled the rug, watching Casey intently. “A knife wouldn't hurt you.” He spat back. Casey pursed her lips together and nodded slowly in agreement. “No… but it would damage this body. And Casey has such a fine body, I wouldn't want to see it ripped.”

He chuckled, “A demon with a heart. Wow.” He glanced over at Cheryl briefly, his lips thinning at her hunched-over form. She was a little pale, was she sick? His eyes dragged back to Casey who sat on the edge of the bed tauntingly. “There's a bunch of dead people in town who disagree with you.” He said.

She raised her hands in mock surrender, “Hey, I didn't pull any triggers.”

“Yeah? You did something.”

“You want to know what I did – what I really did? I had lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Me and Trotter. He had a cheeseburger, I had a salad, and I just pointed out the money that could be made with a few businesses that cater to harmless vice. So Trotter built it, and, man, did they come. Supposedly God-fearing folk, waist-deep in booze, sex, gambling. I barely lifted a finger.” Casey replied.

He scoffed, “That's it?”

“You don't get it. All you gotta do is nudge humans in the right direction. Some whiskey here, a hooker there, and they'll walk right into hell with big, fat smiles on their faces. Your kind is corrupt, Dean. Weak.” Her lips stretched up into a menacing grin that showed nothing but confidence. “Our will’s stronger, that's why we'll win.”

“And that's how it ends?”

“No. It's how it begins.”

The front door crept open and Sam and Carlos slipped through the small crack before clicking the door shut. They both glanced around the dark place, the drapes were shut and there was a thin layer of dust on every surface. Nobody's been here for a while.

Carlos strolled down the narrow hallway, noticing a small end table with a photo in the centre of it. He pursed his lips together as he noticed that it was Casey in the photo with a man. As he inspected it closer, he saw that she was wearing a cross necklace. How ironic. His eyes narrowed as he saw a little bit of faint yellow powder poking out from under the frame. Carefully, he touched his fingertips to the powder and raised it to his nose.

Sulphur.

“Dean, I feel a little lightheaded.” Cheryl whispered. His eyes widened and his brows shot up and he almost immediately knelt to the floor. “What? Why?”

She nodded, “Period cramps.” She answered. Her period cramps were so incapacitating that she'd stay in bed the whole day – sometimes it'd be so bad that she'd even vomit. The first time Dean witnessed it, he thought she contracted the flu. Casey tilted her head to the side and swung her legs back and forth. “You know what helps with cramps? Orgasms.”

Cheryl flushed deeply, “Mind your business.”

She smirked, “You're one to talk, you hunters are always waltzing into places and sticking your noses where it doesn't belong.”

“Maybe stay where you belong.”

“That's ironic coming from you.” Casey sneered. Cheryl's eyes narrowed venomously at her comment, and once Dean had clued into what she meant, he spoke up.

“You know, being a racist demon doesn't make you any more likeable.” He growled.

“I'm not racist.”

“I'm not buying it.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Demons lie.” Dean answered simply. Casey cocked a brow as he helped Cheryl to her feet and rubbed her back in small circles. It's been a long time since she had period cramps of her own, but she remembered them being horrendous. “Some do,” Casey breathed. “Others are true believers.”

“Believers in what?” Cheryl scoffed, gripping Dean's hand with such strength that he thought she might break it. Casey rolled her eyes, “What, you think humans have an exclusive on a higher power?”

Dean's lips parted, “You have a God?”

“Sure, his name is Lucifer.”

“You mean the Devil.” Cheryl deadpanned.

“Your word, not ours. Lucifer means light bringer. Look it up. Once he was the most beautiful of all God's angels, But God demanded that he bow down before Man, and when he refused, God banished him.”

Cheryl's nostrils flared. That's not how the story goes, Lucifer wanted free will for humans who didn't want to worship God. But there were many tales, who knew what was really true? “So, Lucifer is real?” He asked.

Casey nodded, “Well, no one's actually seen him, but they say that he made us into what we are, and they say that he'll return.”

“Oh, so he really is your God, huh? Never seen him but so dead set on him being real?” Dean grinned. Cheryl let go of Dean's hand and rubbed her hands on her jeans. She was a little clammy, and it felt a little weird holding hands in front of a demon. Casey's eyes dragged up the two of them, “I've heard about the prophecy, I didn't believe it at first, but now that I've met you I think that I do.”

Cheryl cocked a brow, “The prophecy? Of what?” She asked inconspicuously.

She grinned, “The ultimate vessel.”

Sam pressed his phone to his ear, unfortunately, he had gotten Bobby's voice mail. But they were in a bit of a pickle, he'd listen to the voice-mail eventually and come help them. Carlos held the bar door open for Sam before walking through it himself. “Bobby, it's Sam. We have a big problem. Carlos found some sulphur, and now we can't find Cheryl and Dean. Call me as soon as you get this.” Sam said into the phone before flipping it shut and tucking it into his pocket.

He approached the bar counter and swallowed hard, “Hey, excuse me. Um, they weren't there.” Sam said to the same barkeep they talked to earlier. The barkeep pouted his lips together and shrugged, he didn't care that they didn't find who they were looking for. It didn't affect him one bit, and he was sixty bucks richer. “I guess you got to catch your jollies another night. Here. Why don't you have a drink ... and relax?”

Sam slapped his hands against the counter, clearly fed up with everyone near him and in this town. “I don't want to relax! What is it with the people in this town?” He said, exasperated. Carlos patted his shoulder and sighed, he felt bad for him. He wanted to find Cheryl as much as he did – he didn't care much for Dean though. “Come on, Sam.” He jutted his head in the direction of a booth in the corner where Father Gil had parked himself. “Let's go talk to him.” Carlos whispered.

They shouldered their way through the crowd, hoping to make it to Father Gil before he decided to leave. Once Sam reached the table, he started to speak. “Hey, uh, Father Gil. Can we talk to you for a second?”

Casey stretched across the bed, arching her back languorously. She caught Dean's eyes and smirked, “Why, Dean, if I didn't know better, I'd say that was lust in your eyes. Well, it would be one way to spend the time ... but I don't think you'd respect me in the morning.”

He clenched his jaw, “That's okay.” He said quickly, rejecting her offer. The last thing he wanted to do was have sex with a demon in front of Cheryl. “I mean, hey, I barely respect you now.” He paused, “hey, can I ask you a question?” He asked.

She smiled, “I'm an open book.”

“So, the gate opened. The demon army was let out. What now, huh? I'm not seeing a big, honking plan here.”

“Honestly, there was a plan. Azazel was a tyrant, but... he held us all together.”

“Azrael?” Cheryl spoke up. Casey rolled her eyes and slumped back onto the bed, grateful that they at least had the courtesy to draw the devils trap around the bed. “What, you think his friends just called him “yellow eyes”? He had a name. After you did him in, it all fell apart.” She sighed.

Dean smiled proudly, “Sorry about that,” He chuckled, “so, what? No chain of command?”

“There was. It was Sam. Sam was supposed to be the grand pooh-bah and lead the big army, but ... he hasn't exactly stepped up to the plate, has he?”

Cheryl exhaled a sigh of relief and rubbed her forehead with her palm. She was grateful that Sam hadn't stepped up or whatever that meant. They'd caught her up over the events over the past year, except for why Dean made a deal – and Dean didn't even know that she knew he did that. “Thank God for that.” Cheryl said. Casey rolled her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear, clearly everything that Cheryl said aggravated the hell out of her. “Again with God. You think this is a good thing? Now you've got chaos, a war without a front, hundreds of demons all jockeying for power, all fighting for the crown. Most of them are gunning for Sam.” She scoffed. Cheryl's eyes briefly met Dean's and she swallowed hard, she didn't know what that exactly meant. Whether it was that demons wanted to kill Sam or not, she didn't like how it sounded one bit.

“So you know the bartender Casey pretty well, right?” Sam asked. Carlos and Sam sat across from Father Gil in the booth. Sam was eagerly leaning forward, his hands clasped together on the table while Carlos leaned back against the backrest of the booth. Their body language was vastly different, Sam seemed more interested in what the Father had to say than Carlos. Father Gil nodded, “Since she was in pigtails.” He replied.

“Well, um, she and my friend… and my brother… They left last night. Together.”

“Ah. Well ... not that I approve, but they are consenting adults.”

“Right.” Sam breathed.

“I – I'm sorry. You said brother. I thought the two of you were insurance investigators?”

“Family business,” Carlos quickly interjected. “Yeah, uh, I'm their manager. And their cousin. Our friend – she's my wife.”

“Wife? And she's committing adultery?” Father Gil asked, his brows shooting up. Carlos chuckled, “I know, I know. I'm pissed. I mean like – come on?”

Sam side-eyed Carlos and his lips thinned, sometimes he was over the top with his lies and excuses, but they worked funnily enough. “Anyways, um, so – so, I went to Casey's apartment, and they weren't there. I – I – I just have this feeling that they... that they might be in trouble.” Sam stuttered.

“What kind of trouble?”

“Just ... trouble. Look, please, Father, I – I need your help. Is there anything you could tell me about Casey – anyplace she'd go, maybe…?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Yes, there is a place. Let me get my jacket.” Father Gil answered as he rose out of his seat, grabbing his jacket off of the hook screwed into the booth. Carlos’ eyes widened and he quickly rose out of his seat as well, “Father, we appreciate the help but we can do this ourselves.” He explained.

“Nonsense, if Casey is in trouble, I should come with you.” Father Gil turned his back to them and shrugged his coat on. His eyes flashed a putrid void like black, engulfing the entire eye before flickering back to normal. A demon. Unfortunately for Sam and Carlos, they didn't notice. “Shall we go?” Father Gil smiled.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Father Gil's brown station wagon rolled up in front of Casey's house, parking in front of the sidewalk that led up to the front steps. Sam and Carlos were quick to hop out of the car and rush up to the house. “Dean?! Cheryl!?” Sam bellowed, glancing down either end of the shrubs perched under the big bay windows at the front of the house.

They walked along the side of the house before stopping at this big storm shelter which had chains and a padlock around the handles. “Dean! Cheryl!” Sam called out, pounding against the door with closed fists. Carlos yanked at the padlock, but it didn't want to budge. Finally, their voices echoed from inside the storm shelter. “Sam?” Dean yelled.

“Dean!”

“Sammy! We're in here! The basement caved in!” Carlos let out a sigh of relief and leaned down to peek through a small window, noticing bars on the inside of the window and that the window itself was caked in a thin layer of dirt. “Hold on guys! We're coming!” Carlos said. “Us and Father Gil!”

“Father Gil?” Cheryl questioned. They were silent for a moment before Dean's wary voice sounded again. “Sammy, be careful!”

“Rude.” Carlos yelled back.

Sam turned and Father Gil loomed behind him, his eyes black as coals. Sam's eyes widened, and before he could even do anything, he threw Sam into the windshield of the Impala. Suddenly, a bullet whizzed past Father Gil's ear and smashed into a statue covered in ivy by the fence post. The man behind the gun was none other than Bobby, he had come to their rescue, thankfully. Father Gil growled and flung his hand out, sending both Bobby and Carlos flying into the fence. Their weight combined knocked it down, the wood crunching and splitting. The Father didn't wait for them to regain their strength, instead, he stormed inside of the house and smashed the basement door open and began to push the rocks away from the entrance. Demon strength came in handy.

Sam groaned and rolled off of the Impala, “Bobby, Carlos, you okay?” He asked. Bobby nodded and climbed to his feet, he'd feel that tomorrow – in his back probably. “Yeah, go.”

“How did you know where–”

“Go!” Bobby yelled, tossing him the rebuilt Colt. A soft wind blew through the air and Sam's blood went cold. Ruby rounded a light pole and wrinkled her nose. “He said go, Sam!” She hissed.

As the bangs and smashing grew more forceful and booming, Cheryl instinctively backed up into Dean's side. That certainly was Sam or Carlos… it was something, not someone. “Dean…” She whispered, her eyes growing wide as she noticed that Casey had moved from her spot on the bed and waited by the edge of the devil's trap.

Dean ushered her behind him and his eyes narrowed as the final set of bricks smashed to pieces and Father Gil emerged from the stairway. He simply waved his finger, sending Cheryl and Dean flying back into the wall. Father Gil sauntered towards Casey with purpose, and Casey raised her hands when he almost reached the rug. “Stop!” She yelled. She pointed down to the floor, silently telling him that she was stuck in a devil's trap and the same would happen to him if he went any further. Father Gil knelt on the floor and slammed his fist down, cracking the stone floor right down the centre and through the devil's trap, setting her free. Casey jumped out of the circle into his arms and worked her lips over his passionately. Dean and Cheryl wrinkled their noses in disgust, “You two?” Dean asked in disbelief as he helped Cheryl to her feet. Cheryl covered her mouth with her hand to hide her judgemental smile. “Ew…” She muttered. Father Gil reluctantly pulled away from Casey and hugged her to his side. “For centuries. We've been to Hell and back together, literally.”

“Leave him be.” Casey chuckled.

Sam barreled down the stairs and aimed the Colt at the back of Father Gil's head. He didn't hesitate to squeeze the trigger, and the bullet flew right through his head. Lighting omitted from his eyes and flashed within his body before he collapsed to the floor lifeless. One less demon out of the way. Sam wasted no time to point the gun at Casey, “Sam wait!” Dean yelled, but it was too late. He had already fired, and now both Father Gil and Casey lay dead within the circle. Their blood pooled together, and Cheryl could no longer tell whose blood was whose. She frowned, these people were now dead. She felt a little bad, even if they caused them some misfortune.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Shortly after Cheryl and Dean packed their things up and went to put their stuff in their respective vehicles, leaving Sam in the motel room, Ruby came to say hello again. She stood behind him with her arms crossed and tilted her head, her golden hair sliding off of her shoulders. “Leaving so soon? We haven't had a chance to celebrate.” She said coolly. Sam's lips thinned into a straight line and he didn't even bother to turn to look at her. “Yeah, well, you can celebrate without me.”

“You're not gonna get all pouty on me now, are you? Come on! You killed two demons today.” She grinned, proud of Sam.

“Yeah, well, maybe you don't care, but I killed two humans, too.”

“Sam, you know what happens when demons piggyback humans. They leave them rode hard and put up wet. Chances are those two would have died a slow, sticky death. You probably did them a favor.”

Sam's nose wrinkled in distaste and he shot her a rude glare. “Did them a favor? You're a cold bitch, you know that?” He spat.

“Yeah, and this cold bitch has saved your ass a couple of times now. Some respect might be nice. Especially if you want me to help you out with Dean and his little problem.”

“You know what? You keep dangling that, but last I checked, Dean's still going to Hell.”

“Everything in its own time, Sam. But there’s a quid pro quo here. We're in a war.”

“Right. But for some reason, you're fighting on our team. Now, tell me, why is that again?”

“Go screw yourself, that's why.” Ruby hissed. Sam's nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He was quite ticked off by Ruby's presence – all she did was say she knew how to help Dean, but never told him how she could. Ruby straightened her posture and raised her chin, “I don't have to justify my actions to you, Sam. If you don't want my help, fine. Then give me the gun and I'll pass it on to someone who will use it.” She said.

Slowly, Sam pulled the Colt from his pocket and raised it, aiming it for Ruby. “Maybe I'll just use it on you.” He growled. Ruby showed no signs of fear, she only looked amused, grinning at him like a child who just learned the alphabet. She shrugged nonchalantly, Go ahead, if that makes you happy. "It's not gonna do much for Dean, though.” Sam grit his teeth before reluctantly lowering the Colt, maybe she was lying, maybe she was telling the truth. He didn't know, but he couldn't risk it. Ruby chuckled proudly, “Ah hah. That's my boy. This won't be easy, Sam. You're gonna have to do things that go against that gentle nature of yours. There'll be collateral damage... But, it has to be done.”

“Well, I don't have to like it.” He grumbled.

“No. You wouldn't be Sam if you did. On the bright side, I'll be there with you. That little fallen angel on your shoulder.”

#Spotify #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc

15 notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 1 month

Text

29K notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 1 month

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 14

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Summary: Still having no luck finding a case, Cheryl decides to have a "sleepover" in the boys' room... and shares a bed with Dean.

W.C: 4096

Warnings: N/A

[A/N] THEY'RE SO CUTE RAHHHH... also I was watching new girl while writing the most of this, can you tell?

Masterlist | AO3

Cheryl awoke with her cheek pressed to the carpet and her dress all haphazard and bunched up to her hips. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp breath, quick to pull down her dress to cover herself. She still had panties on… but there were more pressing matters than whether or not she was wearing underwear.

She was wearing her new dress – the black sparkly one she bought for fun nights out. As she glanced around the fancy hotel room, taking in the various empty bottles of alcohol and people passed out on the bed, sofa, and floor next to her – she wondered what she got herself into. Cheryl tucked a strand of her frizzy hair behind her ear and staggered to her feet, a wave of nausea hitting her almost immediately. “Holy fuck…” She mumbled as she clapped a hand over her mouth, hoping that it'd somehow prevent her need to puke. Cheryl stumbled to the front door, miraculously not stepping on the people passed out on the floor. She ran a hand through her hair and glanced around, suddenly remembering that she needed her purse.

Cheryl ran a hand through her tangled hair and blinked rapidly as she searched the room with her eyes for her things. Her purse was just poking out a heap of coats and pants. The silver chained handle glinted in the morning sunlight, and she bit down on her bottom lip. She kind of needed her purse – it had her (fake) ID, phone, and tons of cash. Cheryl sighed and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in annoyance. This was just her luck. Cheryl tiptoed around a slumbering man, carefully avoiding his outstretched legs and his long silky blond hair. “Jesucristo…” She muttered under her breath as she began to gently lift the clothes into a separate pile. Cheryl then grasped the handle of her purse and tugged it free from the pile, letting out a little gasp when she stumbled back and almost stepped right on the blond man's head.

Cheryl whispered a Spanish curse word under her breath and placed her hand over her racing heart. She was not being as stealthy as she'd like – in fact, she was being loud. But, once she had snuck out, she didn't bother not to stomp and stumble down the hall to the elevator. Cheryl wiped her nose on the back of her hand before pushing the button that'd take her to the main floor. She should probably call someone, she wasn't exactly sure which hotel she was at and how to get back to the guys. She dug through her purse for her phone, her lips thinning when all she could feel was napkins and her clunky wallet. Finally, in the little side pocket that was zippered shut, she found her cellphone – but God was not on her side today. It was dead.

“Fuck!” She groaned, stopping her heel against the ground in an annoyed manner. Cheryl pouted her lips together and inhaled deeply once the elevator doors opened. She could find a pay phone easily – or ask to borrow someone's phone. She needed to call Carlos and ask him to come pick her up – calling Dean would just be humiliating, she'd rather deal with Carlos’ talk about AA. She's only been “normal” with Sam and Dean for a little over a week. And it's been weird with Dean, oddly sexual… quite flirty when they were alone together. She kind of didn't want him to think she hooked up with someone last night, that was the one thing she knew that she didn't do last night. Cheryl honestly didn't know why she cared whether or not he assumed that, it wasn't like he was still into her or anything.

After a while of searching for a payphone, she found a booth just outside a 7/11 gas station. Thankfully, she had some spare change for once and could use the phone. Cheryl dialled Carlos’ number and pressed the receiver to her ear. “Por favor… please be awake.” She whispered hoarsely. The phone rang once before Carlos’ hesitant voice came over the line. “Hello?” He said.

“Carlos! It's me, Cheryl. My phone died. Can you come pick me up?” She asked.

Carlos sighed, “Yeah, sure. Where are you?” Cheryl's eyes started to dart around for any telling street signs or landmarks. 7/11's were pretty common, she couldn't just say she was at a 7/11. “Ummm, it says Third Street and there's a big casino across the street – Cowboys Club. I'm at 7/11.”

“Alright, I'm on my way.”

Cheryl leaned back against the plush passenger seat of Carlos’ truck. She started out the window, keeping completely silent. She knew that Carlos was probably going to talk to her about AA later, and she wasn't really in the mood for it. “I'm going to sleep in Sam and Dean's room tonight, I miss sleeping with them.” She said. Carlos pursed his lips together and nodded slowly, gently squeezing the steering wheel. “Sounds good.” He replied simply. “We're still workin’ on finding a case, no luck so far.”

“Shit really? This has been the longest we've gone without one…” She huffed out.

“Tell me about it,” Carlos grumbled as he weaved into the motel parking lot. “Want me to bring your stuff to their room?”

"Sí, por favor.” Cheryl smiled.

Cheryl skipped towards Sam and Dean's room, her heels scraping against the concrete. She was excited to see them – giddy even, she felt like a teen girl having her first sleepover with her friends again. With a closed fist, she knocked on the door. “Sam! Dean! Let me in, it's cold!” She whined. It barely took a second for Dean to open the door for her. He looked her up and down and grinned, “Fun night?”

“Don't remember, now move your fat ass it's cold!” She grumbled, pushing past him to get inside the warmth of the motel room. Dean cocked a brow, “You don't remember? Must've really been fun then.” He commented. Cheryl groaned she didn't want to talk about her night out with Dean – it felt… weird. “I'm sleeping here tonight with you guys, Carlos is getting annoying with all his bed hogging.”

“You guys share a bed?”

“Yeah, we were married, it's not that big of a deal.” Cheryl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tossed her purse onto one of the beds. Dean's jaw hardened and he nodded slowly, their closeness made him a little jealous – especially because they used to be married. When Cheryl talked about her ex-husband, he didn't think that he'd look or be anything like Carlos.

Cheryl crossed her arms against her chest, “We can share a bed, right?” She asked. Dean's brows shot up, she wanted to share a bed with him. She was quite reluctant before – she only really shared a bed with Sam when she had to. “Yeah, yeah sure.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Cheryl smiled, “Sweet, I'm gonna take a quick shower. Carlos is bringing my stuff over so please let him in.” She said.

Cheryl squirted some of Dean's three-in-one body wash into her palm and began to lather it up in her hair. She'd never use three in one on her own accord, it was plain gross – and she couldn't use Sam's things because he got a little crazy over his hair stuff. Cheryl hummed to herself as she washed her hair, she was mostly pondering where they should go to dinner tonight. Probably a diner – again – but she was craving some authentic Mexican food. Cheryl rinsed out her hair and then worked on washing her body – she refused to use the washcloth that was hung over the bath spout, so she used her hands. She didn't even want to imagine what that washcloth had seen.

Dean pursed his lips together as he stared at Cheryl's two very large bags full of clothes. Before – she only had one duffel that wasn't even packed full, now she had an entire store in her bags. “Dean!” Cheryl poked her head out from the bathroom door. He glanced over at her and cocked a confused brow when she seemed to be hiding behind the door. “What?”

“I need to grab some clothes, close your eyes. You ain't getting a peek at my goods.”

“You don't have a towel?”

“Of course, I have a towel! But – what if I drop it or something? Just close your eyes, please!” She pleaded. Dean grinned and let out a heavy sigh, then he reluctantly closed his eyes. “Are they closed?” She asked.

“Yeah, Cher. They're closed.” He sighed.

“Are you sure?”

“Get some fucking clothes!”

“Okay! Geez…” Cheryl muttered as she sprinted across the room. She clutched the towel to her shivering naked form and searched through her bag for some fresh clothes.

“Where's Sam?” She asked.

“Library.”

“Why?”

“Researching for a case.” He replied simply. Cheryl plucked out a pair of black cotton underwear and a matching bra. “Oh, so it's just us? What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno, can't we just stay here?” Dean groaned. Cheryl scoffed and quickly shimmied her underwear on from under the towel. Once her bra was on, she was a little more relaxed but she still didn't want Dean to look at her. “No! That's boring… you know, we should do some laundry. Your clothes smell a little musty.” She grinned. Dean's face fell and his nostrils flared in annoyance, he didn't smell musty… Did he? “Hey, my natural musk smells good.” He argued. Cheryl rolled her eyes and pulled her old grey graphic T over her head, “No, Dean. It's gross,” She sighed and smoothed out her shirt, “Okay, you can look now.”

Dean cracked his eyes open and ran his tongue across his bottom lip. She was wearing a cute little mini skirt, black tights, and a grey t-shirt with some stylized rips around the shoulders. “You look hot.” He mused. Cheryl rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her damp hair. “Yeah, you too sweet cheeks.” She teased. She pouted her lips together and pointed at him, “Before we go to the laundromat, we're going to the store. Your three-in-one is a crime and we're gonna get you some proper stuff.”

“Three-in-one is more efficient!” Dean argued.

“It's disgusting, is what it is.”

Dean dragged his boots against the tiled floor, and his hands were shoved into his coat pockets as if he were a difficult toddler. Cheryl shot him a glare before turning her attention to another Old Spice product to sniff. “Oh, this one smells good. Here.” She said as she held it up to his nose. Dean wrinkled his nose in slight distaste, it was alright – it smelt a little weird though. “It's fine, I guess.” He muttered. Whatever got him out of here faster – they spent way too much time sniffing shampoos for him. Cheryl even made him get a loofah.

She pursed her lips together and set the bottle of body wash back onto the shelf. There was this one that had waves and palm trees on it – and when she smelt it, it seemed like something Dean would enjoy. “Okay, what about this one?” She asked as she handed it to him. Dean sighed and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before snatching it from her hands and smelling it. Surprisingly, he quite liked how it smelt. “This one's good, can we go now?” He asked as he tossed the bottle into the basket Cheryl was carrying. She nodded and glanced around the shop, “Yeah, hold on. I just wanna get some makeup wipes.”

“And then we can go do our damn laundry?” Dean asked. Cheryl smiled subtly and nodded once again, “Yes, and then we can go to the laundromat.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

They each had the last of their clothes in the dryer, Dean had gone to the bathroom – giving Cheryl the perfect chance to fold his clothes. He never folds them, just tosses them into his duffel without a care in the world – it is one of her biggest pet peeves about him.

Cheryl folded even his boxer briefs without another thought, it was just his underwear. It was no big deal… She bit her bottom lip and gently set it back in his duffel now full of clean clothes. She didn't mean to start thinking about his… package… but she did. Cheryl silenced her thoughts, telling herself that he was just her friend and that she was being weird. “What the hell are you doing?” Dean asked in a confused tone. Cheryl jumped and dropped a pair of his socks that she was rolling like she was a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Um…” She glanced around for any sort of lie she could tell, but when nothing popped into her mind, she reluctantly told the truth. “Folding your clothes…”

“Cher…” He started, crossing his arms against his chest. She rolled her eyes and waved him off, completely dismissing him. “Oh, it's just clothes Dean!”

“My clothes – they are my clothes. You aren't my Mother–”

“I never said that I was your Mother,” She interrupted with a sneer. “I'm just doing something nice for you, get over it. You deserve to be treated nicely.”

Dean swallowed hard and thinned his lips, people doing things for him felt weird. He's always been so independent – he rarely had anyone do anything as simple as laundry for him. It felt oddly domestic. “Well – let me fold your clothes then.” He said.

Cheryl snorted and shook her head, “No, you can't fold for shit.”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do for you in return?”

She pursed her lips together and hummed, “Mmm… nothing?” Cheryl craned her neck back to look at him, a faint smile on her face. “It's okay, Dean. Let me do this for you.”

He sighed and glanced down at his feet, she was making it harder and harder each day. Harder to not like her – harder to not want her. Her selfless kindness was something that he envied but found himself drawn to, she was a good person with issues. He wished he was anything like her, he wished she wanted him like he wanted her.

The dryer beeped and stopped tumbling around her clothes, Cheryl was quick to pry the door open and press a warm shirt to her cheek. She let out a content sigh and her eyes fluttered shut, “I love clothes fresh out of the dryer, they are so warm.” She whispered as she dragged the shirt up and down her cheek. Dean cocked a brow and leaned against the dryer, “Is it really so good that you need to do that?”

“Yes! It is!” She quickly fisted out another t-shirt for him and leapt to her feet to smush it into his cheek. Dean's hand instinctively flew up to hold the shirt to his cheek, but he had accidentally placed his hand right over top of hers. She didn't seem to mind, her smile only grew. “Isn't it nice?” She asked. Dean's lips parted and he nodded slowly, it was nice. Nice and warm, soft – it smelt like her. It smelt good. “Yeah, it is.”

Cheryl set the last pair of Dean's folded jeans into his duffel and zipped it up. Folding was a tedious task, but she found it relaxing – and she liked to do things for people. Things that will make their life easier. “I'm done here if you are.” She hummed out, sparing Dean a quick look. He flipped his phone shut and tucked it into his pants pocket. “Yeah, we gotta pick up Sammy from the library though.”

“Sounds good.” She beamed.

“I think this is the first time I've gotten to sit in the front seat when Sam's here.” Cheryl marvelled. Dean pouted his lips together and looked at Sam through the rearview mirror. “You'd get it more often if you called shotgun.”

She gasped, “For real?”

“You're cuter company than Bigfoot over there.” He smirked. Cheryl chuckled and slapped his arm playfully, which made him laugh as well. Sam raised his brows and glanced between the two of them, their obnoxious flirting was getting pretty gross. They were like teenagers. He ran a hand through his hair and slumped back flush against the seat. “Uh, no luck with Dean's thing. But I think I found us a case.” Sam said. Dean clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel tight, no luck with his thing. He told him to stop looking for a way out of this thing. Cheryl pouted her lips together, “What's Dean's thing?” She asked innocently.

“Nothing.” Dean sharply dismissed. “It's nothing. What lead have ya got, Sammy?”

“Well, Bobby did. He said we should head up to his place in the morning.”

“Oh, Bobby? I love Bobby.” Cheryl smiled.

“You met him once.” Dean snorted.

“And he was cool!”

“Did Bobby tell you what he's got for us?” Dean inquired. Sam shook his head and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. He didn't tell him what he got for them… but he did tell him what he was doing. “No – but, uh, he told me he's trying to rebuild the Colt.” He said. Dean nearly crashed into the car right in front of them – thankfully, he slammed onto the brakes just in time, which made everyone lurch forward. Cheryl gasped and shot Dean a quick scowl before turning her full body to peer back at Sam. “Rebuilding the Colt? But I thought you guys used the last bullet on your demon.”

“Yeah, we did. But he's trying to rebuild it – or fix it. I don't know,” Sam explained, waving his hands around as he talked. Dean rubbed his chin and swiped his tongue across his lips. This was news to him – he didn't even know it was possible to try and rebuild the Colt. “Well, we're leavin’ first thing in the morning.”

“With Carlos.” Cheryl conceded with a nod.

“With Carlos – what – why?” Dean asked with a snort. Cheryl wrinkled her nose and her brows furrowed, she wasn't just going to leave Carlos behind. Wherever she went, he went, and wherever he went, she went. “Because he is, he's a fucking Delgado in case you forgot. He's coming whether you like it or not.”

Sam sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I have to agree with Cheryl, Dean. Plus, Bobby would love to meet another Delgado.”

“That guy has it out for me!” Dean said, exasperated. Cheryl let out a bark of laughter and shook her head in dismissal. Carlos would never have it out for Dean. He's better than that. “Oh, he does not! He just doesn't like you yet, which makes sense because I didn't like you at first.”

Dean's jaw went slack, “What?”

“Oh come on! You knew!”

“No, Cher! I didn't!”

Sam chuckled, “Even I knew.”

“You guys suck.” Dean grunted under his breath.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl sprawled out across Dean's bed, her head resting on her hand which was propped up by her elbow. They'd sent Dean on a food run, just for anything good and fast. He knew what they liked.

Cheryl glanced over at Sam and bit off a generous piece of her Twizzler, then chewed and swallowed it before speaking. “What is Dean's thing?” She questioned. Sam's eyes widened briefly and his head snapped up from the book he was reading. He swallowed and sat up straight, he didn't know how to answer her. Dean hasn't told her about his deal yet, and while he believed that he should be able to do it in his own time, he also believed that Cheryl had a right to know if she was going to stick around. “Um,” He marked his page and set his book down on the side table by his bed. “He, uh, well…”

Cheryl raised her brows expectantly, “He what? What did he do this time?”

“He made a deal, Cheryl… with a demon. He got a year left to live – and that was almost a month ago.”

Cheryl's blood went cold and she stopped breathing – she forgot to. Dean had made a deal and he was going to die. She fell back onto the bed and placed her hand over her mouth as tears began to well in her eyes. “And… you were trying to find a way to get him out of his deal?” She asked in a whisper.

Sam's lips thinned, “Yeah, no luck so far… he's been no help, he doesn't seem to care.”

“Of course not,” She sighed, blinking away her tears. She rubbed her eyes with the butt of her palm and sniffled deeply. “Oh… he's such an idiot.” She wavered.

“Hey, we'll find a way. We will.” Sam soothed. Cheryl nodded and sat up in bed, still rubbing her eyes. She didn't want Dean to die – that means they had so little time together now. There wasn't any time for her to work up the courage to do the things that she wanted. That was if they didn't find a way to save him – but regardless, she'd rather have the best year of her life with him than do nothing because they hoped he'd live. She wasn't going to leave him because she was scared. She wasn't going to have any regrets.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

The room was black, there was nothing to be heard except for the quiet hum of the radiator by the window kicking into gear. Cheryl listened to her breathing and stared up at the ceiling intently. She counted all of the cracks and water stains at least three times – it wasn't fun anymore. Her hands stayed folded against her chest when she turned her head to look at Dean. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbled on it as she thought back to the deal he made.

1 year left.

No regrets.

“Dean?” She whispered. Cheryl flipped onto her side and gently poked his arm before curling into herself. It was comfortable curling up into a small ball to sleep. Dean murmured something incoherent under his breath and lazily pulled his head over to the sound of her voice. “Hm?” He hummed tiredly, cracking his eyes open to look at her. Cheryl flushed out of embarrassment, she wouldn't have tried to talk to him if she had known he was asleep. She thought that he was awake too. “Lo siento, go back to sleep.” She whispered. Dean pursed his lips together and let out a low groan as he shook his head. He rubbed his eyes and then turned onto his side to face her as well. “Nah… I was restin’ my eyes. What's up?” His voice was still ridden with sleep, all husky and deep. It made her stomach flutter.

“Can't sleep.” She said. It was a half-truth, so it wasn't like she was completely lying. She just left out the part explaining why she can't sleep. “I'm excited for the case, I wonder what Bobby got for us.”

“Me too.” He replied in a murmur. She smiled faintly and discreetly scooted closer to him. She could feel the heat radiating off of him… and she was like a moth to a flame. Completely enamoured. “Is Sam asleep?”

“Who? Bigfoot?”

“Dean.”

He chuckled, “Yeah. Yeah. He's asleep. Out like a light.” Cheryl nodded slowly and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling once again, and Dean did the same. Their hands were inches away from each other, she could sense it – and when she snuck a peek down, her suspensions were confirmed.

Cheryl's eyes fluttered shut and she inhaled deeply, she was suddenly feeling very tired. Slowly, but surely, Cheryl delicately traced her fingers along the inside of his wrist and palm before lacing their fingers together. She ran her thumb across the back of his hand and lulled her head to the side. “If you tell anyone that we held hands, I have two people in my phone that will kill you. Literally kill you.” She said. Dean grinned and glanced down at their joined hands, marvelling at how her hands were so soft despite the life that they lived. He swore to never tell another soul about their hand-holding.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc #Spotify

10 notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 1 month

Text

How many of you guys who read my oc x Dean fic are from tiktok? Or did you find it via Tumblr hashtags?

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfiction

0 notes

bitchinfawkseh · 1 month

Text

Can u stop

Do I need to say more?

#supernatural #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester #supernatural bobby #spn dean #winchester

12 notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 1 month

Text

superofessional!

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn fanart #i love this

2K notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 1 month

Text

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural fanart #spn fanart #so good!!!!!#i love this

2K notes · View notes

bitchinfawkseh · 1 month

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 13

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Summary: It's been one year since Sam and Dean last saw Cheryl. When she suddenly shows up, baring an apology for her absence, Dean is hurt and reluctant to forgive her.

W.C: 6146

Warnings: Alcoholism, depression, one mention of drugs, arguing/fights.

[A/N] Here's to my return! Expect regular weekly updates on Fridays! Tell me what you guys think, and thank you for reading 😉

Masterlist | AO3

One year later…

Aside from the odd text or quick phone call, Cheryl barely contacted Sam and Dean. After all they had been through together, she abandoned them – left them as if they were nothing. In hindsight, they knew they wouldn't realistically be able to always be there for Cheryl. They had no real home, no jobs, nothing that was real or theirs aside from the Impala. Deep down they knew that she needed stability to heal, but they didn't know why she wanted them to leave. Why their presence made her depressed. Dean was especially hurt, he'd open himself up, asked her out, and said that he wanted to go on numerous dates with her – all for her to leave him. That would be the last time he attempts to start something with her.

Dean wrapped his lips around the mouth of the beer bottle, taking a generous swig before he slammed it onto the sticky bar table. Eleven months, three weeks and two days. Those were all he had left to live since he made a deal to save Sam. Since then, he'd been living life to its fullest – drinking, hooking up with random women, gambling and recklessly getting into bar fights.

He belched and let out a low chuckle when Sam sent him a disgusted look. “Hey, it's natural.” He excused. Sam sighed and shook his head in dismissal, the least he could have done was cover his mouth. “Whatever…” He mumbled. He tapped his fingers against their Dad's journal, briefly forgetting the current page that he was studying. “I talked to Cheryl today,” Sam announced. Dean's face fell and his nostrils flared in annoyance, he didn't want to hear about her. Not after she abandoned them like that. When he didn't reply or ask how she was, Sam just started to tell him what they talked about. “Her, uh, friend. Marisol died a while ago, she said she hasn't called because of the funeral and stuff.” He said. Dean's lips thinned into a straight line and his heart sank, he felt… sad for her despite it all. “We… talked some more. She asked me why you keep dodging her calls,” Sam continued. “I told her I don't know, but you should talk to her dude. I can't keep lying for you.”

“You don't have to, tell her I don't wanna talk to her,” Dean grumbled angrily. Sam's face softened briefly, he knew his brother's feelings towards Cheryl – he went from being absolutely smitten to wanting nothing to do with her. And he didn't blame him, for a while, he didn't want anything to do with her either. That was until she finally communicated with him (because she was able) why she didn't want to have them around, why she'd rather be alone with Carlos.

While it was still a shitty thing that she did, Sam understood why she did it, and he forgave her. Dean on the other hand was completely unwilling to even hear her out. Hence why he was ignoring her calls and texts. “Look… Dean…” Sam started. Maybe he could try to convince Dean to talk to her, or (hopefully) get him to see things from Cheryl's point of view. If Sam was incapacitated like she was, he could definitely see himself doing the same thing she did. “You should talk to her, hear her out. I mean, you gotta think, the doctor said she shouldn't have lived. That'd mess me up if I was told that.” Sam reasoned. Dean sighed and rubbed his chin, his light stubble scratched his fingertips pleasantly. While he had some sort of point, his anger was too strong to let him relent his hatred for her at the moment. “I'm not in the mood, Sammy. Let's just drink, alright?”

That night, Dean drunkenly dreamt of Cheryl. He blamed it on Sam bringing her up before he got plastered, but even a baby would know that's not true. He dreams of her more than he'd like to admit.

A field of vibrant tulips waved in the breeze, it was almost as if they were saying hello. For miles, all that surrounded them was tulips and grass. It was peaceful. It was home.

Dean sat on the front porch steps of Bobby's house, they overlooked the tulip field. He hugged his knees to his chest and paid attention to his breathing. The slow rise and fall of his chest. “You know, my favourite colour is red.” Cheryl mused, gently bumping his arm with her elbow. Dean's lips stretched up into a gentle smile, and he turned his gaze towards her. “I know. I remember.” He replied. Cheryl smiled wide, her eyes crinkled with slight joy at the fact. He remembered everything about her. “Of course you do.” She teased. He chuckled softly and shook his head slowly. She remembered everything about him.

“I made an apple pie for dessert.” She announced. Dean licked his lips and waggled his brows, which made her giggle. He appreciated her cooking, everything she made down to cup-of-noodles tasted wonderful. “You'll have to wait, it's cooling.” Cheryl grinned. He leaned closer to her and lightly grazed his fingers across the skin of her cheek before he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Silver hoops.

“That's fine.” He whispered. Cheryl turned to stare down at her knees, she pouted her lips together ever so slightly, it was hardly noticeable. Dean noticed. She sucked a sharp breath and abruptly met his gaze, sadness painted across her face. “I'm sorry.” She said.

Dean's eyes snapped open and he blinked rapidly as he came to. The dream was still fresh in his mind, it was as if he were face-to-face with Cheryl again. Her eyes, her hair, her cheeks, her lips. They all felt so real. He was shocked that he remembered her little quirks too, like her smile lines or how she pouts her lips together when she's focused. Dean rubbed his eyes and let out a groan as he reluctantly sat up in bed. An instant hangover headache hit him like a freight train, leaving him irritable and tired.

“Shit.” He grumbled under his breath as a wave of pain swam up his back. If he was going to die, at least he wouldn't have to deal with hangovers anymore. Although going to Hell may be worse than a hangover… joking about his doomed fate kept him sane, even if it made Sammy uncomfortable.

“Finally,” Sam spoke up. He rose out of the small chair that he had taken camp in hours prior and sauntered towards the bed. “You stink.” He muttered and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Dean rolled his eyes and threw the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He probably was a little musty, the last time he remembered showering was after their last encounter with Bela, which was three days ago. Sam glanced at the clock on the nightstand briefly and thinned his lips. “Uh, go shower. I know a cool breakfast place that serves Nutella pancakes.” He said. Dean cocked a brow and looked him up and down, Sam seemed like he was in a rush. “What's got your panties all up in a twist?” He smirked. Sam's brows knitted together and he swiped his tongue across his front teeth. If he told Dean what he was planning, he'd refuse to show up. “Nothing, just hungry. Hurry up.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Why did you wanna come here again?” Dean asked with a cocked brow as they strolled into the Mom and Pop diner. These things were all over the country, there was nothing special about them at this point. Sam shrugged and glanced down either end of the diner, “Nutella pancakes.” He muttered. Once his eyes settled on a booth tucked back into the far corner and the top of a head full of dark hair, he immediately started in that direction. “Hey, let's sit there.” Sam called back to Dean. He raised his brows and pursed his lips together, Sam never really cared about where they sat. Nor did he care about things like Nutella pancakes. “Mmmkay…” Dean mumbled as he followed Sam.

Cheryl anxiously tapped her fiery red fingernails on the simple white cup that held her coffee. She was excited to see Sam and Dean again, but also very nervous – she hoped that Dean would be happy to see her. But she knew that he wouldn't be happy to see her, and she understood why. She wouldn't be happy if he did this to her. Some part of her hoped that he still liked her, and found her pretty, especially now since she looked and was so different. Her hair is shorter and black now, she's much skinnier, and her wardrobe is impressive, to say the least. Being bedridden for months and having access to Carlos’ debit card made her shopping addiction a hundred times worse. Once she was able to be a person again, she started to visit bars more frequently, get wasted, and have sex with strangers – all because she was scared that she wasted her life. It wasn't until some guy offered her some coke that she snapped out of it, and boy was she ashamed of herself. Cheryl felt disgusted for letting herself have meaningless sex, that's not what it ever was to her. Sex is supposed to be intimate, and loving… you're supposed to do it with someone you care about – not random men and women. With whatever dignity she had left, she decided to stop having sex altogether until she was ready for something real.

Carlos says that she should go to some AA meetings with him, but she hasn't been able to admit that she has a problem yet.

She took a tiny sip of her coffee, enjoying the sweet taste that hit her tongue almost immediately. Cheryl set the cup down and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her heart nearly jumped into her throat when she saw Sam begin to pace over to her. He's here. He came – with Dean. She wondered what Sam must've told him to get him to come here. Cheryl quickly jumped to her feet to greet the two of them, an awkward smile on her face. “Hey…” She mumbled.

Dean's eyes widened as soon as they landed on Cheryl, taking in her new appearance. She was much slimmer, had shoulder-length jet-black hair, and her outfit was – well. Different. Flared blue jeans paired with a tube top that matched her nails and a dark leather coat with tassels. Her accessories went well with it too, small white triangular sunglasses were perched on the top of her head, and she was wearing her infamous silver hoops. If he weren't gawking at her, he probably would've lost his shit much sooner. Finally, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. What the hell did she want?

Cheryl sucked in a desperate breath when she saw Dean take a couple of steps back. “Please wait! Five minutes, please. I would just like to talk…” She begged. Sam frowned and turned to look at Dean, it was easy for him to voice his hate for Cheryl. He was always preaching how he didn't like her anymore and that he didn't like her all that much to begin with – but that was merely a lie. “C'mon, Dean.” He started. When Dean's accusing eyes meet Sam's, he grits his teeth. “Don't have any regrets,” Sam whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Don't have any regrets when you die is what he meant. Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before reluctantly going to sit at the booth. When he brushed past Sam, he sent him a glare. “I'm gonna kick your ass later for this.” He growled under his breath.

Cheryl flashed the boys an awkward smile as she watched Dean gobble up the breakfast sandwich with extra bacon that she bought him. Sam was picking at his plate of eggs and toast, but he returned her smile. She glanced down at her thighs and tried to ignore her rapid heart rate that was causing her too much anxiety. “I'd like to start off by saying that I'm sorry,” She exhaled. “I… I didn't intend to abandon you guys, just after the crash and the coma… and then everything else… I was scared I guess. I felt weak and vulnerable – I thought you guys would've seen me differently. Like, you wouldn't think that I was a good hunter anymore or you wouldn't take me seriously.” She rambled. She clenched her fists, and let out a shaky breath, she hoped to God that Dean would listen and forgive her. “And not that this is any sort of excuse, but I got really bad there for a while. I wish I had gone about it better, I really do. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” Cheryl frowned.

Dean sighed and screwed his eyes shut, while her explanation made sense, part of him couldn't bring himself to forgive her. “You could've told us.” He said, shaking his head. “You could've fucking told us what the hell was goin’ on with you rather than kickin’ us to the damn curb!” He nearly shouted. Cheryl blinked in surprise and swallowed hard, her lips pursing as she did. “Dean, I'm sorry. I really am. Can we talk more?” She asked gently. Dean scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, she didn't deserve the light of day – let alone his time. “Nah, as far as I'm concerned, your five minutes is up.” He grumbled before storming out of the diner. Cheryl's heart jumped into her throat, and her eyes glazed with tears as she watched Dean leave. She thought that she might be able to convince him to forgive her, but it turned out she was wrong. Sam sucked in a sharp breath and turned his full body to watch Dean leave. “I'll talk to him,” He comforted. He waved his hands and practically leaped out of his seat, and took a couple of steps backwards. “I will, okay? I'll call you later.” Sam said. Cheryl only nodded and hung her head, her hair masked her pained expression and the one tear that managed to slip. She felt stupid for believing that Dean would understand.

––––––––––––––––––––––––

Cheryl's muffled sobs echoed off of the paper-thin walls in the motel room, her face was buried into one of the pillows on the bed. Carlos stroked her hair and brought his knees to his broad chest. “I'll fucking kill him.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Cheryl shook her head wildly, “No!” She whimpered painfully. That was the last thing she wanted Carlos to do. “I deserve it, I shouldn't have left them…”

“You don't deserve this shit, what the fuck are you talking about? You almost died trying to save his ungrateful ass, and this is how he's repaying you?” He growled as he gritted his teeth.

“Stop!” She pleaded. She turned her head, squinting as the light made her sore eyes burn. She hadn't heard from Sam yet, and she's been crying since she got back from the diner. Cheryl wasn't sure how much time passed, but it felt like hours.

“I miss him, Carlos.” Cheryl wavered as she tucked her hands under her chin. His lips thinned into a straight line, and his eyes softened, he knew how much she thought of him. Cheryl talked about Dean all the time, she'd tell stories – or talk about the things he liked. He couldn't believe that she was letting Dean treat her like trash, she had gone through every person's worst nightmare and he was adding onto it without a care in the world. “I know you do, I know.” Carlos sighed, even though he didn't understand why she did. Cheryl sniffled deeply and rubbed her eyes with closed fists. “He's just mad, he'll get over it.” She whispered.

His jaw dropped, “You're gonna keep being friends with him after this?”

“Of course, I will,” Cheryl scoffed as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. While she didn't like to admit it, Dean meant too much to her for her to give up their friendship like this. He changed her, and left his mark on her soul – no matter how much pain it sometimes caused. “He's my friend, we're just going through a tough time right now.”

“Tough time is an understatement,” Carlos mumbled under his breath.

Cheryl rolled her eyes and sniffled again as she wiped her eyes, cringing when she realized her mascara and eyeliner were smudged. “I'm gonna clean up and go out, don't wait up.” She sighed. Cheryl slid off of the edge of the bed, and ran her fingers through her tangled hair, ruffling it up a bit. Carlos raised his brows and his lips parted, “You're going out? To like a bar?” He asked. “Yeah, I need a fucking drink. Is that illegal?” She huffed out. Before Carlos could say anything else, she had locked herself in the bathroom and started running the shower. He knew she wasn't showering – she was just trying to ignore him. If her good qualities didn't make up so much for her few bad ones, he would've dropped her long ago.

Once she was cleaned up, Cheryl changed into something more comfortable – sporting her infamous cherry red leather coat and black skinny jeans. While she owned a lot of clothes now, she still found herself going back to that one specific outfit. She tossed a lip balm into her chunky faux leather purse with silver chains as the handle. Cheryl also managed to shove her sketchbook inside, but she couldn't close the clasp, unfortunately. She wasn't quite used to carrying around a purse, she thought if she picked one that she liked the look of it'd be easier – she was sadly mistaken. Carlos cocked a brow and sat up on his elbows, his long legs sprawled out off of the edge of the bed. “When are you gonna be back?” He asked hesitantly. He didn't want to set her off and send her on some sort of bender because she was determined to prove a point. When it came to handling Cheryl and her obvious alcoholism, he had to be gentle. Cheryl shrugged, “Dunno, probably around 12. Don't wait up.” She replied.

“Alright,” Carlos sighed. “I'll just stay here and be all lonely and depressed.”

She chuckled softly, “Shut up you loser.”

He groaned and slumped back into the mattress, rolling around dramatically as if to emphasize his point. Cheryl grinned and rolled her eyes playfully as she pulled her purse to hang comfortably on her shoulder. “Alright, bye now.” She mused. Carlos puckered his lips together and proceeded to make obnoxious kissing sounds. “Miss you already, baby cakes.”

“Oh my God! Stop!”

A good while after Cheryl left for one of the only two bars in the town, Carlos had set off on a mission of his own. He was gonna set Dean straight – preferably with violence but he doubted it'd go that way. All he had with him was a bat in the bed of his truck and that was all he needed. He reckoned from the stories that Cheryl told, all he had to do was merely threaten destroying his precious Impala to get his ass in line.

He perused around town on the hunt for Dean's distinct Impala parked outside anywhere – a motel would be preferable, but who knew what he was up to on a Friday night at nine. Carlos pursed his lips together as the little beaded swans and lilies that hung from the rearview mirror clashed together as he stopped at a red light. He had a little mouse that was attached to his keys as well, courtesy to Marisol. She loved all things that involved arts and crafts – she even ended up getting into candle making at some point. Carlos still had boxes full of random scented candles without labels littered around his house, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of them. It was the last thing Marisol made for him until she got too weak to do anything but lay in bed. Carlos swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and glanced around either end of the street. “Where is this little fucker?” He muttered under his breath.

Finally, out of the corner of his eye, he managed to catch the sleek body of the Impala glinting under a streetlight in the parking lot of one of the trashiest motels in town. Without a second thought, Carlos swerved over the curb and a patch of grass into the parking lot, ignoring the various cars honking at him and people flipping him off. There was nothing that was going to get in his way now, he was going to teach Dean a lesson. A well-deserved one too.

Carlos slammed the door shut and stomped towards the truck bed, fisting out the baseball bat eagerly. The bat was more for show, but if Dean put up a fight he'd be more than happy to. Maybe take out his kneecaps or perhaps a nice hit to the gut. Whatever he can manage to get, Cheryl said that Dean's a fast runner.

Rather than having to go through the hassle of bribing the front desk clerk for where the Winchester's room was, he spent a lot more time than he'd like to admit knocking on each door. Carlos flashed the older-looking woman a nice smile, and discreetly tucked the bat behind his broad back. “Sorry miss, wrong room. Do you know which room the people who own the black Impala in the lot are staying in?” He asked. Her paper-thin thin drawn-on eyebrows shot up, and she poked her head out the door to peer down the sidewalk that led to another set of rooms. “Um, the two tall white guys?” She confirmed. Carlos nodded, “Yup, they're my buddies.”

“Oh, uh, I think it's the far one. Room twenty-one or around that.”

“Thank you so much, gorgeous.” Carlos grinned, sending her a flirtatious wink. The woman flushed and cupped her cheek, she swayed her hips giddily and returned his grin. “No problem, mister.”

“See you around,” Carlos said before rushing down the walk. Shamelessly flirting with random people brought him a sense of joy, especially because he'd never see them again and it'd never go anywhere. He hoped to God that Marisol couldn't see him right now, he was not doing well and he would be ashamed if she were to see how he is.

He knocked on the door of rooms nineteen and twenty, there was no answer. Twenty-one, no answer. Twenty-two, however, had a familiar grumbly voice groan from the inside of the room, and then there was shuffling towards the closed door. Carlos swallowed, and his jaw hardened, his grip on the bat tightened as the locks made clicking noises as who he hoped was Dean prepared to open the door. Then, he was suddenly face-to-face with the man responsible for Cheryl's tears. Carlos’ eyes narrowed, and Dean's eyes widened. He raised the end of the bat to his chin and his brows shot up, “I'm gonna fuck you up, bolillo.”

“Shit!” Dean barked out in a panic.

He attempted to force the door shut, but Carlos was a much bigger guy than him – he was at least six foot-five and had muscles that made him look even more menacing. Carlos simply urged the door open with his arm, and it flew back against the wall with a loud thud. There was a tiny hole in the wall that just barely gave them a glimpse of the fluffy pink insulation from where the doorknob smashed into it. There was no doorstopper, it was the motel's fault. Dean stumbled back and raised his hands in defense. “Woah! Dude! Calm down!” He practically shouted. Sam sprang from his spot on the edge of the bed and planted himself between the two of them. Dean had no chance against Carlos, especially if he had a bat. “Carlos! What's going on?!” Sam questioned. He grit his teeth, and once again pointed the bat toward Dean who poked his head out from behind Sam. “You're an ungrateful piece of shit!” Carlos yelled.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

“You feel good about yourself, huh? Constantly ignoring Cheryl, shitting on her, making her cry?!” He fumed, waving the baseball bat around to emphasize his point. Dean didn't move, he didn't speak. Of course, this was all about her, her guard dog. “She almost died trying to save your life in case you forgot! God forbid she has some feelings towards that! God forbid she does what she needs to do to heal!”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That's not-”

“It's not what? Hmm?” Carlos mocked. “You all butt hurt that the girl you had a fat crush on decided to care for her well-being over yours? Grow the fuck up!”

“Carlos.” Sam pleaded. Carlos’ eyes snapped over to him in an instant, and he clenched his jaw. He desperately wanted to diffuse the situation between the two of them, he had been talking to Dean about Cheryl all day – convincing him to forgive her. He thought he had gotten pretty close until Carlos showed up.

Carlos then sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head slowly. He had to calm down, if Cheryl found out that he got all violent with Dean, she'd attack him with a lot more than her words and a bat. “You were all she talked about, all she thought about. She felt awful about leaving you guys, and I got through sobs today when she explained to you why she left. And the fact that you can't get over yourself and be whatever you guys were before, is sad.” Carlos’ lips thinned, and his brows furrowed as Dean's sullen expression only grew worse. He hoped he felt guilty, he should feel guilty. “She deserves better, so either be better, or be a man, and cut it off properly.”

Everyone was silent, the only sound in the room was the quiet ticking of the clock and electricity softly buzzing. Dean could hear his heart pounding in his ears, blood pumping, he was oddly aware of every hair on his body. He did feel guilty, he felt awful. He made Cheryl cry – and she was trying to help him when they all nearly died. The doctors said that she absorbed a lot of the impact in the crash, but due to his injuries from the demon, he was still in critical condition. And then, his Dad died. Because of him. For him. Suddenly, there was this overwhelming crushing weight on his chest. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, “Where is she?” He asked. “Cheryl, where is Cheryl?” He corrected as if neither of them would know who he was referring to. Carlos’ thinned to slits, it looked as if he were trying to blow Dean up with his mind. “What, you're gonna go and make her cry some more?”

“No, no… I wanna – I'm gonna talk to her, and… say sorry n’ shit.” Dean reluctantly grumbled. Sam's eyes briefly widened, and he shot him a surprised look. But before Dean could see it, he quickly wiped it off of his face – he didn't want to discourage him. He had to be as neutral as possible about this if he wanted Dean to go through with it.

Carlos cocked a brow and looked him up and down. He was wary to believe him – but again, Cheryl would tell him if anything bad happened. “...The bar.” He answered simply.

“Which one?”

“Figure it out, there's only two. If you care, you'll find her.” Carlos snorted. He didn't know which one she was at, but it was funny to think about Dean running around like a headless chicken. It brought him great joy. Sam on the other hand was impressed that all it took was some yelling and name-calling to get Dean to stop being a prick. Maybe it had to come from Carlos all along though – he likely wouldn't listen to him if he were the one to yell at his stupid brother. Dean nodded once and threw his jacket on in a quick haste. He scooped up his car keys from the side table, and without a single word, he left on the hunt for Cheryl.

Sam's eyes landed on Carlos as soon as the door clicked shut, overwhelmed with the feeling of sudden awkwardness. He didn't know what to say – or what to do even. He couldn't exactly ask him to leave without it being a little weird and impolite, so he waited for Carlos to do something. Carlos pouted his lips together and swung his arms back and forth. He sucked on his inner cheek, which made a loud squelching noise. “So…” He started. Carlos cleared his throat and glanced over at Sam. “You lift?”

Dean sped down the road, he ignored a red light which earned him some rightful honks from other cars. He felt like he was driving around in circles – he couldn't remember where the bars in town were. Let alone what they were called. The radio crackled as the signal grew unsteady, his brows knitted together, and he gave it a hard smack. A static sound was omitted from the radio until it settled. It was quiet, and then a guitar began to softly riff – the beginning of Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi. Dean exhaled sharply, and grit his teeth as he reluctantly returned his eyes to the road. A bright red sign illuminated a shady parking lot full of motorbikes, and trucks.

A bar.

The Rosebud.

There was no question about it, Cheryl was drinking at the Rosebud. He didn't even need to explain himself – why he knew she was there. It was plain obvious. Dean pulled into a parking spot, not caring whether or not he was parked within the lines. He didn't see Cheryl's bike anywhere, so he hoped that she either walked or got a car in the past year.

Cheryl tilted her head as she shaded the ruffles in the dress that she had just drawn. She liked to work with ruffles and tulle, they were so fun to fluff up – especially to draw. Right now, she was working on a wedding dress. Floral lace on the bodice with little pearls that trailed along the sweetheart neckline. She wasn't sure if she should keep the pearls on the bodice however, she may scatter them around in the skirt instead. She tapped the end of the pencil against the page and finished off the rest of her rum and coke. She's had two drinks so far, she limited herself to four. The wooden stool she was sitting in that was placed at a tall round table was quite uncomfortable. Cheryl found herself constantly wiggling to relieve the ache in her lower back and her butt. She originally chose this table because it had a bowl full of pistachios in the middle of the table, and because it was tucked back in the corner away from prying eyes.

Patrons chatted and laughed, making it difficult to hear what songs were playing over the speakers. Dean glanced around the bar, his eyes searching through the mass of people for a familiar face. For her face. He brushed past a woman with a head full of frizzy blonde hair and obnoxious dangly earrings with red tassels. She sent him a look that was asking for him to talk to her – take her to bed, and while he was tempted, he'd rather not. He flashed her a polite grin before continuing to push through the crowd. Finally, his eyes skimmed past Cheryl parked in the corner of the room sitting at a table alone. His heart clenched and he sucked in a breath, she had her nose in some sort of book – maybe she was writing or researching a case. Dean swallowed the growing lump in his throat and pursued forward. Now that he was closer and he wasn't busy being mad at her, he thought that she looked very beautiful.

“Can I buy the pretty lady a drink?” He smirked as he claimed the spot across from her. Cheryl's eyes widened, and her lips parted, her head snapped up in an instant and she was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief. “What?” She breathed. Dean waggled his brows and shrugged his shoulders, “You still drink whiskey?” He asked. Cheryl nodded slowly and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Uh, yeah. Sometimes.”

“Oh yeah? What are you into now?”

“Rum and coke… sometimes tequila.”

“Oh, sweet. Tequila comes from Mexico, right?”

“Yes, originally…” Cheryl trailed off. Her brows furrowed in confusion and she set the pencil down onto her sketchbook. “What are you doing here? I thought – I thought you hated me.” She said hoarsely. Dean sighed and bowed his head like he was ashamed. Ashamed that he made her think such a thing. “Nah, I don't hate you. I was just… pissed off.”

Cheryl snorted, “Really? I couldn't tell.”

“Look, I… I dunno, I was hurt I guess… and pissed off that you left us.” Dean started. He was ready to apologize for being unnecessarily rude to her. She had already apologized more than enough times to him if he included all of the texts and voice-mails she sent him over the recent months. Cheryl's lips thinned, and she nodded slowly in understanding. “I know, I know I hurt you and I'm so sorry for that Dean.” She said softly. He rubbed his chin and screwed his eyes shut, she kept saying sorry. All she did was say sorry for something that wasn't even that bad – she was healing the way she needed to. “Nah… I get it, I get it. I would've done the same thing if I was in your situation probably.” He muttered, shaking his head to dismiss her apology.

“Really?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I would have.”

Then, there was an awkward silence between the two of them. They hadn't seen each other in a while, hadn't spoken – they weren't sure what to talk about or how to act. Cheryl had her eyes fixed on her sketchpad and vigorously bounced her knee. Dean tilted his head and raised his brows as his gaze settled on her drawing. It was good – very good and detailed, it looked like it came straight out of a fashion magazine. “Holy shit, did you draw that?” He blurted out. Cheryl flushed before nodding, she was very secretive about her art. She didn't think it was that good, and she was quite insecure about her creations. She worried that people might not think they are pretty or original, or worse – she lacks talent. “Oh, um, yeah. Do you like it?” She asked shyly as she slid it across the table for him to inspect.

Dean's brows shot up and he pursed his lips together, it looked amazing – the shading that provided the look of texture and shadow made it look almost 3D. “Hell yeah, this is great, Cheryl. You got any more?”

“Si, I do.” She smiled. “You can flip through it, don't judge though – some of it is bad.”

“I doubt that,” He scoffed as he leafed through the pages of her sketchbook. Most of her designs were dresses – cocktail dresses, black tie dresses, wedding dresses, and prom dresses galore. Dean pointed to a hot pink dress that was coloured in with glittery pen and had a high slit up to the thigh, “See, now that's sexy.”

“Yeah, I was going for slutty Barbie.” She grinned. Dean chuckled and he had a wide grin that stretched from ear to ear. He's missed her humour, and he hadn't even realized it. “Well, you definitely got that. I like slutty Barbie.” He winked. Cheryl rolled her eyes playfully and brushed him off, “Typical man.” She teased.

They fell into another spell of silence, but this time it was comfortable, natural. Cheryl tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiled faintly. “I missed you.” She confessed as she clasped her hands together in her lap. Dean matched her smile and nodded slowly, he was glad that she missed him. Secretly, he missed her too. He had the occasional dream about her, usually after he drank, and that made him miss her despite his anger towards her at the time. “You gonna stick around? …Like before? Riding around and huntin’ monsters?”

Cheryl cocked her head, “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc #Spotify

11 notes · View notes