Chapter 29 : Plan A

by

     Sam was quiet as I putzed around the messy room, cleaning up the mess the guys had made. I wasn't sure where the urge had come from as I had nearly fallen asleep holding onto Sam, but the moment I walked into the motel room, I was filled with a burst of energy that I couldn't shake.

     Maybe it was because I was angry at myself for the way I acted towards Cassie, or perhaps it was because I was mad at myself for letting myself get to the point where I got angry. I couldn't pinpoint it, but I knew it had to do with Dean, which angered me even more. The mere fact that I was more worried about him than I was the demon or finishing what I had set out to do nearly brought me to my knees.

     "Are you going to go to sleep anytime soon?" Sam asked as he rolled over onto his side and stared at me. "You've been pacing for over an hour."

     "Sorry," I muttered. "I'm not really tired."

     Sam was silent as he watched me drop the empty beer bottles and food containers into the garbage. He had helped me for a bit, but it was late, and even though I knew he wanted to get some sleep, I couldn't unwind.

     "You shouldn't let him get to you."

     "What?" Sam stared at me as if I knew exactly what he was talking about. I was pretty sure I did, but I still wasn't about to tell him that. "Don't," I muttered as I plopped down on the edge of his bed.

     "I'm just saying." He put his hands in the air. "He was really upset when he thought you bailed on us again."

     I laughed. "Dean? Upset? Does the man even know how to cry?"

     "He can blubber like a baby from time to time," Sam said with a smile. We sat quietly for a moment as he pondered something, and just as I was about to stand up, he finally spoke. "Can I ask you something?"

     I nodded.

    "Why did you decide to come back? Was it Dean or my dad?"

     My eyes widened, and I took a deep breath, not expecting the night to turn so serious. I remembered telling myself the boys didn't need to know my story, but things seemed to be different now, and it was about time they knew at least a small portion of my life. At least the part that had nothing to do with the demon deal or their dad.

     "I want the same thing as yous. My whole life has led up to killing that bastard, and you two are just a lot more tolerable than your father," I said with a chuckle. He seemed to understand the reasoning and laughed as well. "Look, I know -"

     We both looked up as the door swung open. Dean stood there holding his key and gave a forced smile as he walked in. His eyes narrowed as he realized I was sitting at the bottom of Sam's bed, and without a word, he began rummaging through his duffel bag.

     "How was dinner?" Sam asked him, raising a brow at him while he thought I wasn't looking. 

     Dean grunted, not really answering as he pulled out a grey shirt and sniffed it. His eyes rolled deep into the back of his head, and he groaned as his glare landed on me. "Did you spray my bag with your perfume again?"

     "If you have a problem with it, maybe you should do your laundry."

      "Maybe you should get your own room."

      "I wish I could, but sadly that's not gonna happen. So, I guess I'll be keeping your brother company for the next few nights." I said as I slipped gracefully into my leather jacket. I tugged at the sleeves. Thankful that it no longer hung loosely from my once frail body, and a small smile played across my lips until I realized the two brothers were staring at me awkwardly. "What?" Sam chuckled, and Dean glared at him. "Seriously?"

     "You said it."

     "Said what exactly?" I scoffed at him. Dean's lips tightened, and I could see Sam shift uncomfortably out of the corner of my eye as he tried to scoot himself out of Dean's view. It took me a few minutes to register his accusations, and even though Sam was nothing short of an adorable giant, it was evident that moody assholes were, unfortunately, more my type. "You're a child. Have fun with Casey."

     "It's Cassie!" 

     "That's what I said," I snapped at him as I pulled open the front door. I was done with the conversation. I was done with his company. Coming back was hard enough after what I had almost done, but coming back to this was enough to make me want to track down the closest bar and ruin the few days of sobriety I had started. 

     "And you call me a child?" 

     "Sam, I'll be back later," I said, ignoring the overbearing manchild hovering close to me as I filled my pockets with a few crumpled bills and my phone. "Call me if you need me, and don't shoot me if I come stumbling in."

     Sam nodded, and I stepped through the door, pulling the door behind me. I jerked back slightly as Dean's hand grabbed the door, but I didn't bother stopping. My fingers slid from the door, gently brushing his, and I pulled my hood up and headed towards my bike as he locked the door and made his way towards his car. 

     I stood by my bike, glancing up and down the main road. I had been so focused on finding the boys and finishing this job that I hadn't even scoped out the bar as I usually did. It was always the first thing I did when I rode into a town for a job, and I always made sure it was within walking distance in case I found a friend or was far too unstable to drive back, but I wasn't even sure at the moment if a drink was what I really wanted. 

     I didn't have to bury the pain under a numbness anymore. I didn't have to drink myself into a stupor to fall asleep or to keep away the nightmares. The moment Azazel touched my head, it was gone. The pain. The numbness. The desperate need to be touched in ways that would make my parents cringe from the grave. 

     I didn't need any of it, but a part of me still wanted it. 

     "Andy. Wait."

     Despite the flutter in my chest, I groaned heavily and set my helmet down on my seat. The door lights from the row of rooms lit up his somber face, and I could tell that he had a lot to say even though he made no move to speak. 

     "You don't have to say anything Dean," I said to him after a moment too long of silence. 

     "Yeah. I do."

     I shook my head at him. "No. You don't. I'm sorry for being a bitch to your girlfriend. Okay? So, just drop it."

     "She's not my girlfriend," he said. His voice was far too convincing, and I tensed as he rounded the front of his car and walked towards me. "And even if she was, you said what happened between us was a mistake."