Bound By Fire

7: The Truth Comes Calling

The tension between us had been building since the moment we first kissed. The quiet moments that followed, with me wrapped in Dean's arm's, had been a welcome break from the storm raging outside the bunker walls. But that tension? It never really left. It was still there, simmering under the surface, waiting to bubble over. 

And it did.

After our conversation, after we laid everything bare- how we felt, how things had changed- it was like something inside both of us broke free. The uncertainty between us vanished, and in its place, there was only the raw need to be close. Closer than we'd ever been.

The kiss started slow, Dean's lips moving against mine with a tenderness that made my heart race. But it didn't stay slow for long. His hands, rough but warm, moved down my back, pulling me against him as the kiss deepened. The heat between us grew quickly, burning away any hesitation, any thought of holding back.

Before I knew it, we were tangled in each other, our bodies pressed together in a way that left no space, no room for anything but us. My fingers gripped the back of his shirt, desperate, hungry for more. And Dean? He didn't hesitate. His hands were everywhere, pulling me closer, taking what he wanted- but also giving me what I needed.

There was no rush, but there was an urgency, a desperation in how we moved together, like we couldn't get enough of each other. The soft moans, the quiet gasps, the feel of his skin against mine- it was overwhelming in the best way possible way. We'd been holding back for so long, pretending that whatever this was didn't matter. But now, here we were, letting it all out.

It was a release. For both of us.

And when it was over, when we finally collapsed back into each other's arms, the quiet was filled with something else- something more than just lust or need. It was an understanding, a bond we hadn't allowed ourselves to feel before. This was real. This was us.

Dean brushed his fingers through my hair, his breathing still uneven, and I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of him, into the comfort he always seemed to provide. For a little while, I forgot about the thing hunting me.

But it wasn't long before reality came crashing back.

A knock sounded from the door, and Dean tensed, his protective instincts kicking in immediately. I shifted, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over myself just as Sam walked into the room, looking more than a little uncomfortable. 

"Sorry to interrupt," Sam said awkwardly clearing his throat. His eyes darted between the two of us before quickly settling on Dean. "I think I've figured out what's been after Stella." 

Dean was up in an instant, grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it over his head. "What is it?"

Sam walked further into the room, holding up a dusty old book he'd clearly been pouring over for ours. "It's not just a spirit or a demon. It's somethings a lot worse. I think it's an angra. A primordial spirit, tied to fate."

I frowned, sitting up and wrapping the blanket around myself. "What does that mean?"

Sam sighed, look at me with a grim expression. "It's ancient. Really old, like pre-biblical old. The angra are believed to be spirits of chaos, tied to death and fate. They don't just haunt people. They go after someone when their time is up, like fate itself is sending them after you."

Dean's face darkened. "So this thing thinks it's her time?"

Sam nodded, his eyes filled with worry. 
"Yeah, and the problem is, if it's an angra, we can't just get rid of it with salt and iron. It's more powerful than that. We're going to have to find a way to break its hold on Stella."

I felt my stomach twist at his words. Fate? Was I really running from my own death? The fear crept back in, stronger than before, but I pushed it down. I had to. There had to be a way out of this. Dean wouldn't let it end like this. He couldn't 

"So what do we do?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Sam flipped through the book, his expression thoughtful. "The lore is spotty, but from what I've gathered, these things are relentless. They don't stop until they claim their target. The only way to get rid of it is to break whatever tie it has to you."

Dean crossed his arms, his jaw clenched. "And how do we do that?"

Sam hesitated, glancing between us before answering. "We have to figure out why its coming after her. Why now. There's always a reason. Something that triggered it, something that tied it to her."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Why me? Why now? What had I done to trigger something like that?

But before I could even begin to process it, the air in the room shifted. It was subtle at first, a slight chill that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But then it grew stronger, colder, and I felt it- the oppressive presence I'd felt before, creeping into the room like a thick fog. 

The angra was here.

"Dean-" I started to say, but I didn't even have time to finish the thought before a gust of icy wind slammed into me, knocking me back onto the bed. I gasped, the air rushing from my lungs as a dark figure began to materialize in the room, its form shifting and writing like a living shadow.

Dean lunched for the shotgun, firing off a round of salt at the entity, but it barely flinched. The blast tore through its shadowy form, but the angra kept coming, relentless. It was like the air itself was being sucked out of the room, the pressure building until it was suffocating. 

"Stella!" Dean shouted, his voice strained with panic as he moved toward me.

But before he could reach me, the angra struck. A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest, like ice-cold fingers digging into my skin, and I cried out, clutching at my ribs as the force of it knocked me sideways. The room spun, my vision blurring as I struggled to breathe.

Through the haze, I could hear Dean yelling, could feel the warmth of his hand on mine, trying to pull me out of the grip of the angra. But the pain was overwhelming, suffocating. And then, just as quickly as it had come, the pressure vanished, leaving me gasping for air, curled up in Dean's arms. 

"Stella! Hey, hey, stay with me." Dean's voice was frantic as he cradled me against his chest, his fingers brushing my hair back from my face.

I coughed, wincing at the pain that still lingered in my chest. "Dean... I know what it is."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. The angra hadn't just chosen me randomly. It wasn't just after me for no reason.

"I triggered it" I whispered, my voice hoarse. "It's not just fate. It's punishment"

Dean's brow furrowed, confusion crossing his face. "Punishment? For what?"

I looked into his eyes, my chest tightening with the weight of the truth. "For surviving when I wasn't supposed to."

The words hung in the air, heavy and full of meaning. I could see the realization dawn in Dean's eyes, the pieces finally clicking into place. This wasn't just about a random spirit. This was about me defying fate- surviving when I shouldn't have. And now, fate was coming to collect.