Mythical Love

Six Years

The air is thick with exhaustion as we step into one of the countless dingy motels lining the highway, lost among the small, nameless towns barely worth a mention on the map. The flickering neon sign outside casts a dull glow into the room, where Sam lies unconscious on the bed for once, his long legs hanging over the edge, face down on the covers. Dean quietly throws a blanket over him, his movements careful and slow, while I lean heavily against the wall, my ankle too twisted to bear any weight. Dean switches off the lamp by Sam's bed, plunging that side of the room into darkness, before walking over to me. Without a word, he slips his shoulder under my arm, lifting me just enough so we can shuffle together toward the far side of the room, divided only by a thin, faded wall.

He lowers me gently onto the bed, and a low groan escapes me as pain flares through my body. He hands me my bag, and I fumble through it, searching for something comfortable to wear, while he peels off his gray shirt. Now standing in just his white wife-beater and jeans. His breaths are deep and loud as he too is exhausted after the day we had fighting a demon. 

"Turn around," I mutter, twirling a finger to gesture at him. He shoots me a pointed look.

"Nothing I haven't seen already, Yasmine," he says, teasing but worn, though I don't budge. He relents with a quiet, "Okay," and turns his back to me.

I keep my eyes on him as I change out of my button-up and pants, hissing slightly as I pull the dress pants under my rear, having to hop slightly on my bad ankle to get them off, I see his head twitch slightly at the sound of my hissing but remains facing the wall. My eyes bore into his muscular back that holds bruises from getting slammed onto the ceiling of the plane. After removing my bra I place my T-shirt and shorts over my body, folding the clothes messily and throwing them onto the chair.

"Alright," I whisper and he turns to face me. His movements are slow as his dark green eyes scan me, the yellow light from the lamp highlighting his muscles, making his tall frame feel even bigger as he looms over me and slowly sits down on the thin bedsheets beside me.

"How you feeling?" He asks, using his good hand to move some hair out of my face, revealing the bruises and stitches lining my forehead.

"I've definitely seen better days," I tell him honestly, cracking a small smile. "How about you?" 

"Peachy." He states with a weak smile but I lick my lips as I sigh.

"I'm talking about your dad." I remind him about what we found out earlier today. He looks away from me and places his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands as he lets out an angry breath.

"How do you think? We've spent weeks searching for him, I thought he was dead. All for him to be dodging my fucking calls," he spits out, his voice rising before he glances at Sam, stirring slightly in his sleep. Dean's gaze softens as he lowers his tone, the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry--I just can't believe it. I dragged you back to hunting and look, you got hurt today. And Sam..." He scoffs, looking away from me and over to the thin barrier that separates our bed from where Sam is fast asleep. "If I didn't take him away, Jessica wouldn't have died, her death is on my hands."

"Is that what you think? Dean, that was going to happen regardless. Sam wasn't with Jess at every waking moment, he left for classes, or to the store, whatever it was. Something targeted Sam and maybe that's connected with John, or your mother, but in no way was this your fault." I explain to him. His head twists to look at me, his lips roll into his mouth as he thinks of my words.

"I'm sorry for making you help me. Our deal is done, my father is alive, he's just pushing me away. I'll drop you back to your friend's house and you can continue on with your life as it was for the last six years tomorrow." His voice is full of regret as he places a warm hand on my knee. The room is silent, the sound of the radiator hissing feeling louder than ever as well as my heart pulsates in my chest. I look at his face, his brows droop as he looks down at his hand on my knee, his jaw is tense as he bites down at his lower lip. I close my eyes and sigh, knowing a part of me is happy but also cursing for the words that are floating around in my mind.