Fic: Lethe
Nov. 16th, 2008 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Title Lethe
Author![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serafina20
Fandom SPN
Pairing Dean/OFC
Rating Mature
Summary After disappearing for two weeks, Rachel turns up in a remote cabin with no memory.
Series Captured Soul, Kitsune, Another Kind of Trap, The Greater Good,and Picking Up
Notes: This takes place sometime during S2. Spoilers for everything up through then.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
"Heh."
Dean opened his eyes at the sound. Found the room around him bathed in a soft, golden light. It was something he was becoming increasingly familiar with. Rachel suffered monthly bouts of insomnia that kept her up reading, researching, or on her computer for most of the night. Nights they didn't hunt, at any rate. Whenever she made a sound, he was jarred awake. Not all the way, just enough to assure himself that nothing was wrong, then roll over and go back to sleep.
He just lay there a moment, allowing himself to be lulled by the familiarity of it all. When they'd gone to bed, he'd offered to stay in another room. He hadn't wanted to; two weeks of not knowing where she'd gone topped with finding out what had happened had left Dean a tad… clingy. Overprotective, yes, but also in need of reassurance himself. Needing to know she was there.
But. To Rachel, he was a stranger. And she'd been traumatized, even if she couldn't remember everything. It was in her, though, and he didn't want to hurt her further. So, he'd offered.
His relief when she'd turned down his offer had been nearly overwhelming. He'd tried to keep it hidden, but her eyes had sort of twinkled at him.
"You keep me calm," she'd said as they climbed into bed together. "I know you belong here, next to me. It's familiar."
So, he stayed.
Now, he lay next to her. Listened to her breath. Steady, even. Humming softly every few minutes. Clearing her throat.
She laughed again.
"What are you reading?" he asked, sitting up.
Rachel looked up from the book opened across her knees. Blushed at him, and smiled shyly. "I, uh. I found my diaries. I was reading them."
He rubbed his eyes. Yawned and propped himself on a pillow. "Anything interesting?"
"I guess. It's all familiar, even if I don't completely remember it. But, then, I don't know how much of my childhood I remember anyway." She trailed her fingers over the page.
"Sometimes everything from when I was young seems like kind of a blur," Dean said. He closed his eyes. "What really kills me is…" He trailed off, not wanting to voice it.
Rachel's fingers trailed through his hair. "How old were you when your mom died?"
Even with her mind gone, she could still read his.
Dean moved closer to her until he could rest his head in her lap. "Four."
She continued to massage his scalp. Combing through his hair, down his neck and back up. "Did many pictures of her survive?"
"No. A few that were in my dad's wallet." He licked his lips. "I can remember things. Sometimes I catch the scent of her shampoo or perfume and I get these really vivid flashes of her. I remember the lullaby she used to sing. Sometimes, I can still hear her singing it, but only just before I fall asleep." He swallowed. "Sometimes Dad would talk about her. To me. Not Sam so much. But, uh. The older I got, he'd say things about her, expecting me to remember. Agree. Add something. But I couldn't. I didn't remember."
"Maybe he was just trying to share her with you. So you had a piece of her."
"Never felt that way. He'd always get that disappointed look in his eyes when I didn't say anything. Like I'd failed him."
"Mary was the center of his world. Maybe when you didn't say anything, he thought… thought you didn't care. Didn't want to know. Or were uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly comfortable with sharing how he felt."
He opened his eyes and sat up. "How do you know that?"
Rachel blinked at him. Frowned, then shook her head. "I don't… I don't. I just was…. Well. You're not a huge talker, right?"
"Not really. More with you than others."
"I imagine you're a lot like your father. And it just seems to follow. That he was kind of unsure how to share her with you. Remind you, without getting lost and feeling sad."
Dean looked down at the journal lying open on the bed between them. "Maybe you're right." He sighed. "I wanted to hear, but it made me uncomfortable. I should have appreciated it more. Him more."
"I think everyone feels like that. Wishes they'd appreciated people and memories and… moments." She smiled sadly and rolled her eyes. "I guess, since everything is new, I better just start… making sure I appreciate everything now."
He took her hands in his. "It'll come back to you."
"I know."
"Hey." He caught her chin and raised it. Looked into her eyes. "It'll come back to you. And, on the off chance it doesn't, we'll make new memories."
She grinned, blushing. "And I'll appreciate every one of those."
He leaned forward and kissed her. "Yeah, you will." Kissed her again. When he pulled back, he picked up her diary. "'Dear Annie,'" he read. "Who's Annie?"
"According to the beginning of the journal, just the name of the diary. I wanted to pretend I was writing to someone. So, I chose Annie."
"Like… Little Orphan Annie, Annie?"
"Maybe. I don't know."
He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Girls are weird," he muttered. "'Dear Annie. Today was the first day of school. I'm in second grade. My teacher is Mrs. Guest. She said we'll be learning a lot this year and get really good at math and science, because that's what she likes. We're going to grow a plant. We have a class guinea pig named Piggy. He is red and yellow. Angie is in my class again. I am going to ignore her. Also, Katrina is in my class and we are sitting next to each other. We played hopscotch at recess even though I wanted to play haunted castle. Maybe tomorrow. Oh, well, I guess that is it. Bye.'" He looked up at Rachel and grinned. "I take it Angie and you didn't get along?"
"As far I as I can tell, she was my own personal bully. She came up a lot in the first journal."
"Ah, poor baby." He rubbed her knee. "You know she was just jealous."
"I'm sure." She rolled her eyes and took the journal from him. "'Dear Annie, Today Nathan was transferred into my class. He was too smart for first grade and there's only one second grade. So he's with me. We played haunted castle during recess and he got Angie to leave me alone. What was really good is now we get to do our homework together.'"
"You and Nathan were in the same class?"
"Obviously. He's super smart, even more than I am. He's already working on his master's."
"You read that somewhere?"
"No." Then her eyes widened. "No. Oh my God, I remembered something." A grin split her face, lighting the whole thing up. "Are me and Nathan close or something?"
He nodded, gazing at her. Restraining himself from jumping on her. "Yeah. You talk every couple days. E-mail back and forth. I think he's your best friend. You never really talk to other people like you do him. Not about your life or anything. Mostly just work. Except him."
"That's… kind of sad?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe. I guess. That's my life. And you seem happy, just, you know. Reserve. You said you were a loner." He leaned in and kissed her. "Besides. You have me."
"I do." She put a hand to his cheek and kissed him. "You're really cute."
"You're beautiful." He moved closer to her. Kissed her again, pulling her to him and laying back.
Her hair fell over her shoulders, curtaining them. He reached up and pulled it into a twist and swept it over one shoulder. Her face was flush as she gazed down at him.
"We don't have anything to do," he said. Dean reached up and cupped her face. Ran his thumb over her lips.
"What do you mean?" she asked as she turned into his hand, nuzzling.
"I mean… I can't think of the last time you and I weren't out working on something. Hunting. But we're not right now. Hunting. On a job."
"I'm the job."
"You're not a job. You're my life." He leaned up and kissed her. "My wife. Kissed her again, then lay back. "We should do something tomorrow. Go out. Have fun."
She looked unsure. "I thought I was supposed to be trying to remember."
"It's just making you crazy. Putting pressure on yourself is making you crazy. So. Let's do something fun. Go the movies or the mall. Take walk by a lake or something."
She gave him a lopsided smile. "Yeah. I think that'd be good. Fun." She bent down and kissed him. Carefully, like she wasn't sure what she was doing.
Dean watched her through his eyelashes. Watched as she kept her eyes opened. How she licked her lips when she broke the kiss, brow furrowed. Thinking. Tasting. Analyzing.
Then she leaned down again and kissed him. Differently than before. A real kiss, although still hesitant. Unsure. But growing in passion. And then…
Holy Crap.
Dean couldn't help the moan. Rachel's hands were on his neck and shoulders, stroking. Her mouth moved against his, tongue stroking, teeth nipping. And, Christ, it was good. It was almost better than before.
He broke the kiss. "Um. Uh, wow. Okay." He kissed her again. "Maybe we should, ah. Take a step back?"
Rachel's face was flush. She was breathing heavily, eyes slightly unfocused. "You're my husband."
"I'm also a stranger." Her hair had come out of the twist he'd put it in. He brushed it back from her face. "Besides, I've got plans. Our first time wasn't what you'd call romantic or anything. I figure this might be a kind of a do over. A chance to… you know. Be romantic and stuff."
"What? Having sex in my childhood bed, surrounded by My Little Ponies, and keeping quiet so my parents don't hear doesn't strike you as romantic?"
He laughed. Kissed her again. "Oddly enough, no."
Rachel nodded. Kissed him. And kept kissing him. They lay there for a long time, making out. Hands not straying anywhere but backs and arms and hair. Licking and nibbling and… fun.
They kept at it until they were both fuzzy and drunk on each other. Until Rachel was snuggled next to him, head on his shoulder. Her hair in his face, as usual. He stroked it, pushing it away and out of his mouth. Soothed her until she was asleep and he was close to following.
And as he drifted, Rachel in his arms and where she belonged, he couldn't help wonder where she'd learned to kiss like that. And, worse, who had taught her.
Author
serafina20Fandom SPN
Pairing Dean/OFC
Rating Mature
Summary After disappearing for two weeks, Rachel turns up in a remote cabin with no memory.
Series Captured Soul, Kitsune, Another Kind of Trap, The Greater Good,and Picking Up
Notes: This takes place sometime during S2. Spoilers for everything up through then.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
"Heh."
Dean opened his eyes at the sound. Found the room around him bathed in a soft, golden light. It was something he was becoming increasingly familiar with. Rachel suffered monthly bouts of insomnia that kept her up reading, researching, or on her computer for most of the night. Nights they didn't hunt, at any rate. Whenever she made a sound, he was jarred awake. Not all the way, just enough to assure himself that nothing was wrong, then roll over and go back to sleep.
He just lay there a moment, allowing himself to be lulled by the familiarity of it all. When they'd gone to bed, he'd offered to stay in another room. He hadn't wanted to; two weeks of not knowing where she'd gone topped with finding out what had happened had left Dean a tad… clingy. Overprotective, yes, but also in need of reassurance himself. Needing to know she was there.
But. To Rachel, he was a stranger. And she'd been traumatized, even if she couldn't remember everything. It was in her, though, and he didn't want to hurt her further. So, he'd offered.
His relief when she'd turned down his offer had been nearly overwhelming. He'd tried to keep it hidden, but her eyes had sort of twinkled at him.
"You keep me calm," she'd said as they climbed into bed together. "I know you belong here, next to me. It's familiar."
So, he stayed.
Now, he lay next to her. Listened to her breath. Steady, even. Humming softly every few minutes. Clearing her throat.
She laughed again.
"What are you reading?" he asked, sitting up.
Rachel looked up from the book opened across her knees. Blushed at him, and smiled shyly. "I, uh. I found my diaries. I was reading them."
He rubbed his eyes. Yawned and propped himself on a pillow. "Anything interesting?"
"I guess. It's all familiar, even if I don't completely remember it. But, then, I don't know how much of my childhood I remember anyway." She trailed her fingers over the page.
"Sometimes everything from when I was young seems like kind of a blur," Dean said. He closed his eyes. "What really kills me is…" He trailed off, not wanting to voice it.
Rachel's fingers trailed through his hair. "How old were you when your mom died?"
Even with her mind gone, she could still read his.
Dean moved closer to her until he could rest his head in her lap. "Four."
She continued to massage his scalp. Combing through his hair, down his neck and back up. "Did many pictures of her survive?"
"No. A few that were in my dad's wallet." He licked his lips. "I can remember things. Sometimes I catch the scent of her shampoo or perfume and I get these really vivid flashes of her. I remember the lullaby she used to sing. Sometimes, I can still hear her singing it, but only just before I fall asleep." He swallowed. "Sometimes Dad would talk about her. To me. Not Sam so much. But, uh. The older I got, he'd say things about her, expecting me to remember. Agree. Add something. But I couldn't. I didn't remember."
"Maybe he was just trying to share her with you. So you had a piece of her."
"Never felt that way. He'd always get that disappointed look in his eyes when I didn't say anything. Like I'd failed him."
"Mary was the center of his world. Maybe when you didn't say anything, he thought… thought you didn't care. Didn't want to know. Or were uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly comfortable with sharing how he felt."
He opened his eyes and sat up. "How do you know that?"
Rachel blinked at him. Frowned, then shook her head. "I don't… I don't. I just was…. Well. You're not a huge talker, right?"
"Not really. More with you than others."
"I imagine you're a lot like your father. And it just seems to follow. That he was kind of unsure how to share her with you. Remind you, without getting lost and feeling sad."
Dean looked down at the journal lying open on the bed between them. "Maybe you're right." He sighed. "I wanted to hear, but it made me uncomfortable. I should have appreciated it more. Him more."
"I think everyone feels like that. Wishes they'd appreciated people and memories and… moments." She smiled sadly and rolled her eyes. "I guess, since everything is new, I better just start… making sure I appreciate everything now."
He took her hands in his. "It'll come back to you."
"I know."
"Hey." He caught her chin and raised it. Looked into her eyes. "It'll come back to you. And, on the off chance it doesn't, we'll make new memories."
She grinned, blushing. "And I'll appreciate every one of those."
He leaned forward and kissed her. "Yeah, you will." Kissed her again. When he pulled back, he picked up her diary. "'Dear Annie,'" he read. "Who's Annie?"
"According to the beginning of the journal, just the name of the diary. I wanted to pretend I was writing to someone. So, I chose Annie."
"Like… Little Orphan Annie, Annie?"
"Maybe. I don't know."
He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Girls are weird," he muttered. "'Dear Annie. Today was the first day of school. I'm in second grade. My teacher is Mrs. Guest. She said we'll be learning a lot this year and get really good at math and science, because that's what she likes. We're going to grow a plant. We have a class guinea pig named Piggy. He is red and yellow. Angie is in my class again. I am going to ignore her. Also, Katrina is in my class and we are sitting next to each other. We played hopscotch at recess even though I wanted to play haunted castle. Maybe tomorrow. Oh, well, I guess that is it. Bye.'" He looked up at Rachel and grinned. "I take it Angie and you didn't get along?"
"As far I as I can tell, she was my own personal bully. She came up a lot in the first journal."
"Ah, poor baby." He rubbed her knee. "You know she was just jealous."
"I'm sure." She rolled her eyes and took the journal from him. "'Dear Annie, Today Nathan was transferred into my class. He was too smart for first grade and there's only one second grade. So he's with me. We played haunted castle during recess and he got Angie to leave me alone. What was really good is now we get to do our homework together.'"
"You and Nathan were in the same class?"
"Obviously. He's super smart, even more than I am. He's already working on his master's."
"You read that somewhere?"
"No." Then her eyes widened. "No. Oh my God, I remembered something." A grin split her face, lighting the whole thing up. "Are me and Nathan close or something?"
He nodded, gazing at her. Restraining himself from jumping on her. "Yeah. You talk every couple days. E-mail back and forth. I think he's your best friend. You never really talk to other people like you do him. Not about your life or anything. Mostly just work. Except him."
"That's… kind of sad?"
Dean shrugged. "Maybe. I guess. That's my life. And you seem happy, just, you know. Reserve. You said you were a loner." He leaned in and kissed her. "Besides. You have me."
"I do." She put a hand to his cheek and kissed him. "You're really cute."
"You're beautiful." He moved closer to her. Kissed her again, pulling her to him and laying back.
Her hair fell over her shoulders, curtaining them. He reached up and pulled it into a twist and swept it over one shoulder. Her face was flush as she gazed down at him.
"We don't have anything to do," he said. Dean reached up and cupped her face. Ran his thumb over her lips.
"What do you mean?" she asked as she turned into his hand, nuzzling.
"I mean… I can't think of the last time you and I weren't out working on something. Hunting. But we're not right now. Hunting. On a job."
"I'm the job."
"You're not a job. You're my life." He leaned up and kissed her. "My wife. Kissed her again, then lay back. "We should do something tomorrow. Go out. Have fun."
She looked unsure. "I thought I was supposed to be trying to remember."
"It's just making you crazy. Putting pressure on yourself is making you crazy. So. Let's do something fun. Go the movies or the mall. Take walk by a lake or something."
She gave him a lopsided smile. "Yeah. I think that'd be good. Fun." She bent down and kissed him. Carefully, like she wasn't sure what she was doing.
Dean watched her through his eyelashes. Watched as she kept her eyes opened. How she licked her lips when she broke the kiss, brow furrowed. Thinking. Tasting. Analyzing.
Then she leaned down again and kissed him. Differently than before. A real kiss, although still hesitant. Unsure. But growing in passion. And then…
Holy Crap.
Dean couldn't help the moan. Rachel's hands were on his neck and shoulders, stroking. Her mouth moved against his, tongue stroking, teeth nipping. And, Christ, it was good. It was almost better than before.
He broke the kiss. "Um. Uh, wow. Okay." He kissed her again. "Maybe we should, ah. Take a step back?"
Rachel's face was flush. She was breathing heavily, eyes slightly unfocused. "You're my husband."
"I'm also a stranger." Her hair had come out of the twist he'd put it in. He brushed it back from her face. "Besides, I've got plans. Our first time wasn't what you'd call romantic or anything. I figure this might be a kind of a do over. A chance to… you know. Be romantic and stuff."
"What? Having sex in my childhood bed, surrounded by My Little Ponies, and keeping quiet so my parents don't hear doesn't strike you as romantic?"
He laughed. Kissed her again. "Oddly enough, no."
Rachel nodded. Kissed him. And kept kissing him. They lay there for a long time, making out. Hands not straying anywhere but backs and arms and hair. Licking and nibbling and… fun.
They kept at it until they were both fuzzy and drunk on each other. Until Rachel was snuggled next to him, head on his shoulder. Her hair in his face, as usual. He stroked it, pushing it away and out of his mouth. Soothed her until she was asleep and he was close to following.
And as he drifted, Rachel in his arms and where she belonged, he couldn't help wonder where she'd learned to kiss like that. And, worse, who had taught her.
