"Is anything that comes out of your mouth the truth?"
"You wouldn't believe me, even if I answered that honestly."
•
As soon as you learn that the things that go bump in the night are real, the line between truth and fiction begins to blur.
That's t...
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Chapter 8
Pushing back the curtains of the motel room with one hand, Ali smiled softly out at the bright dawn that had broken over the sleepy little town of Blackrock, bringing with it a breath of clean, fresh morning air.
Her bag was packed, her torn jacket sleeve rolled to hide the ragged hole the spirit had left in it the night before, and in the bed behind her, Sam still slept soundly.
Even the scalding shower she had taken hadn't been enough to chase away the lingering memory of his hands on her skin, the feeling of deliciously firm muscle beneath her own fingers, his scent, his taste. The intoxicating release of days of pent up mutual frustration and longing. Not that any of those memories were in any way unpleasant, but in this moment, they were a distraction. In another life, perhaps, she would have been free to slip back into the bed beside his warm body, to nestle herself back into the crook of his arm where she had woken not long ago in a haze of satisfaction and pleasant aches. Part of her truly wanted to, she realised with a small, sad smile as she glanced back at him.
She couldn't allow herself to, though. She liked him, and that in itself was a danger. Sam Winchester was the strangest and most endearing hunter she had ever met. Equal parts gentle and fierce – both sides he had thoroughly exposed to her the night before – she could not shake the feeling that there was so much more to learn about him. More than what she had learned exploring him during the night. There was depth in those hazel eyes, glimpses of unspoken pain that resonated with something within her own soul. Something that made her want to spill her own secrets in exchange for his.
As much as the thought of leaving him now brought regret, letting herself stay longer would only bring pain. She would still have to leave, whether it was tomorrow, in a week, a month or when the day finally came that her time ran out. Each of those options would be more painful than the last, and not only for her. It was easier to leave now.
Bending to tug on her black leather boots, she caught the motion of him stirring in the motel bed out of the corner of her eye. His fingers closed over the empty space where she had lain, searching for her as a small frown creased his forehead. She should go now, she thought, before he woke.
Turning to catch up her bag and sling it on to her shoulder, she cast a last glance around the room, making sure the only thing she was leaving was the beautiful hunk of unconscious man in her bed.
"Ali?"
Ah, not so unconscious after all.
"Morning, Sam." She smiled softly, turning to look at where he had sat up in the bed, running one hand lazily through his hair as the tangled sheets bunched at his hips. It had to be a sin to look that tempting, first thing in the morning.
"Y're leaving?" He frowned as he took in her fully dressed appearance, the black duffle bag casually slung over her shoulder and the regretful smile playing on her lips. "I thought..."
