Supernatural Fic (4/?)

[serafina20]

Title Another Kind of Trap (4/?)
Author serafina20
Rating R
Spoilers everything through Devil's Trap
Summary The Winchesters need help after the events of Devil's Trap. Luckily, Sam has made arrangements for this eventuality. He just failed to inform Rachel Adams of his plans. Sequel to Captured Soul and   Kitsune
Pairing Dean/OFC

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

"You are such a moron," Rachel whispered.  She sat in the chair next to Dean's bed once more, purse at her feet, hands on the bed.  "You weren't supposed to wake up when I wasn't here.  I have so many things I need to explain.  You would have to be contrary."  She took his hand and kissed it.

 

Then she sat back.  She'd brought the journals with her to the hospital so she could continue to go through them.  Right now, she opened Dean's.  She hadn't finished John's yet, but she needed a break from it.  About a year after Mary's death, the entries got very angry.  As difficult as it had been to read his grief, his anger was even harder.  She needed a break.

 

Dean's journal was much  more straightforward than John's, at least at first.  Mostly, he simply recorded what he fought, where he fought it, and how he killed it.  Sometimes, he had personal notes.  Sam's name came up a lot.  And, every time they changed towns, Dean had an entry.  A lot of times those entries included a list of names and a few phone numbers.  Friends, she guess.

 

After Sam had left, the frequency of the personal entries increased.  Rachel skimmed them, mostly.  She didn't want to intrude.  When Cassie's name started appearing, though, she couldn't help but read a little more closely.  Each word was like a knife to her heart.  She knew she shouldn't torture herself, but she couldn't help it, even though she refused to think of Cassie as competition

 

She did read the entries about Dean's one-night stands.  Apparently, he hadn't lied about not enjoying them all that much.  She'd always figured he'd been patronizing her.

 

Years of places, demons, ghosts, and the like.  And then, there was her name. 

 

She was a good girl.  She didn't read anything about her, except his initial thoughts about her being involved in the first case (he'd admitted, grudgingly even to himself, that she'd done an okay job).  And there was a page that had three words on it: She's a virgin?!?!?!?

 

Was it really that surprising?

 

Reading through the journal, Rachel learned a few things about Dean.  One: he preferred printing to cursive.  Two: all his doodles had some sort of weapon.  Three: he was a fantastic speller. And, four: hunting, while a passion, was not the priority Rachel had assumed it was.  He loved it, but before anything else came family.

 

Rachel skipped to the end.  If she stayed here, she'd give into temptation and read more about herself.  So, the last entry.

 

It obviously had been written in the car, based on the handwriting.  Dean had written about the exorcism he and Sam had done on a girl named Meg.  It was a rather stark entry, just the facts.  What they'd done, questions they'd asked, what she'd said.  Straightforward.

 

And then, the last line: "I spent all that time hating the sight of her face, the sound of her voice, and it wasn't even her.  That demon made me hurt someone completely innocent.  How do I live with something like that?"

 

Rachel sighed.  "More experienced men have been taken in by demons," she whispered.  She took her hand again.

 

It tightened.

 

Her throat tightened.  "Dean?  Are you awake?"

 

"Mmmm.  Yeah."  He moved his head from side to side and swallowed.  "Water."

 

Rachel slipped her hand from his and poured him a glass.  "Here."

 

"Thanks."  Dean opened his eyes.  As he drank, he looked blurrily at her.

 

Her face heated under his scrutiny.  She knew she looked like a mess.  Her hair was falling out of her braid and her clothes were all rumpled.  Uncertain, she twisted her ring around her finger.

 

Dean put the empty cup on the tray.  "At least I know you.  When he said I was married, I was afraid I wouldn't even know my wife.  I know you."  He swallowed again.  "Actually, I was afraid it might be some kind of trick.  Like, some stranger who was possessed or something was trying to stay close to me by passing itself off as my wife."  He took her hand and threaded their fingers together.

 

That was.... "How do you know I'm not possessed?  Doesn't it make sense that a demon would posses someone you know?"  Why did she say that?  Why was she being stupid?  God.

 

He rolled his eyes.  "Please.  You've got a cross around your neck.  And some kind of bag.  Freak.  And there's another cross on your hand."

 

"But..."

 

"Your hair is a mess.  There's ink on your cheek.   And on your jeans.  You look like you slept in your clothes for three days straight.  No demon would ever be caught dead looking like that."

 

"Not even to lull you into a false sense of security?"

 

He rolled his eyes again and took her by the wrist.  Before Rachel could stop him, he pulled her to the bed and raised the back so he was sitting upright. 

 

His breath stunk.  His lips were chapped.  But just the feel of them pressed against hers was enough to make her melt.

 

She sat down hard on the bed.  "Dean..."

 

"Nope.  Not a demon."  He caressed her cheek with her thumb.  "Why don't I remember us getting married?"

 

"Because..."

 

"Of the accident, I know.  But it's weird.  I can remember meeting you.  I remember how annoying you are.  I remember the whole thing with that fox demon.  I remember seeing you graduate."

 

"You were there?"

 

He gave her a look. 

 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

 

"Okay, your dad sent Sam the tape of your graduation since we couldn't make it.  And we couldn't make it because of getting our asses handed to us in Chicago by the demon possessing Meg."  He glanced at the journal Rachel had set on the bed.  "Did you read about her?"

 

She nodded.  "Sorry about reading it.  I've spent the last two days trying to figure out what happened to you guys."

 

"I figured."

 

"I didn't read anything personal."

 

"Oh, don't lie, you freak.  You totally read personal stuff."

 

Her cheeks flushed.  "Well, not too much.  Oh.  Cassie called this morning."

 

Dean's eyes darkened.  "Is she okay?  I called the other day... I called you too."  He frowned.  "I called you the other day to warn you.  That bitch demon was killing friends of the family.  I was worried she'd..."  He looked at her, confusion written across his face.  "I remember all this.  Everything.  So why don't I remember marrying you?"

 

"Because we didn't get married."

 

Dean frowned.  He looked at his ring, then Rachel's.  "Well, *that* I remember."

 

"You remember not marrying me?"

 

"I remember a lot of times I didn't marry you.  Some of my fondest memories involve not marrying you, come to think of it."

 

Rachel smacked his leg.  "You are such a jerk!"

 

"Hey!  I've just been through a very traumatic experience here.  And I'm in the hospital.  Be kind."

 

"Like you were kind to me last time I was in the hospital?" she said.

 

His smile faded.  "Now that's really not fair."

 

She pulled the rubber band out of her hair, feeling like shit.   "I know.  I'm just… the past few days have been hard.  At least you got to sleep through them."

 

"You think waking up to find out my brother and father are in comas and that I'm married is easy?"

 

"No.  No, of course, not, just..."  She sighed.  Her head ached.  "I shouldn't have said that.  Sorry."

 

Dean rubbed his eyes.  "Look, I'm all fuzzed in the head right now, so I'm not thinking straight.  But maybe I didn't handle that whole thing right."

 

"You think?"

 

"I was trying to protect you."

 

"Me, or yourself?"

 

"Hey, it's not like I never think of other people.  All my life, I've been taught to look after my family.  Save those who don't know from what's out there.  Don't try to paint me as some selfish jerk, okay?  I care.  I care a lot."  He glared at her a moment, then crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.  "Don't make me into some one-dimensional figure."

 

Rachel scooted closer to him and pulled her legs under her.  After a moment's hesitation, she straddled his hips.  "Dean," she said, cupping his face.

 

His jaw tightened.  His eyes didn't open.

 

"I know how much you care.  I didn't mean to imply that you didn't.  It's just, you drive me crazy sometimes.  You call and we talk, and then for weeks, I don't hear anything.  You were jealous of Kit, you were so nice to me after what happened.  You made it seem like you were interested in trying something with me.  And then, I say one wrong thing..."

 

"It wasn't just one wrong thing," he said, opening his eyes.  "It's what that wrong thing was."

 

"I know..."

 

"No!"  He grabbed her wrists and tried to sit up.  The pain was immediately evident in his face, but he held on.  "No, you don't know.  You don't know what it's like seeing someone pinned to the ceiling, bleeding from their abdomen a moment before they burst into flames.  You don't know what it's like to have your entire world turned upside-down because the woman you loved was *killed* right before your eyes.  You don't know, Rachel.  And excuse me if I am trying to protect myself, but I think it's justified.  I've already lost enough in my life.  I don't need to lose you, too."

 

For the millionth time since she'd gotten the call, her eyes filmed with tears.  She blinked them away best she could.  "Three days ago, I got a call telling me my husband, his brother, and his father were in the hospital, all unconscious.  About a month or so ago, Sam called and told me that you two were in some city outside of Chicago, had been attacked by devas, and you'd lost so much blood, you'd been admitted to the hospital.  And, sure enough, you called not three hours later, from the hospital, just to talk.  Again not telling me why you sounded so exhausted, or what had happened, or even where you were.  Just to talk."

 

"So?"

 

"I don't know what my point is."  She extracted her wrists from Dean's grasped and rubbed her eyes.  Her head ached.  "Just, maybe, you fight so hard to protect so many people.  You care, but you don't save anything for yourself.  It's not fair."

 

"Life isn't fair, baby."

 

"You're already afraid to lose me as it is.  You called and told me to get out of the country."

 

"That demon bitch killed my friends.  She killed Pastor Jim!"  His voice cracked.

 

Pastor Jim.  Rachel remembered the name from John's journal.  "I'm sorry."

 

He made a dismissive gesture.  "Whatever.  My point is, I was just trying to protect people who might be in danger.  That's all.  It was nothing personal."

 

"You called Cassie."

 

Dean flinched.  "I don't want to talk about Cassie."

 

"She called you."

 

"So you said."

 

"I told her what happened.  She was worried."

 

"Of course she was worried.  She's my ex-girlfriend.  We parted on good terms.  What, you think she's heartless or something?"

 

"No, of course not.  In fact, I need to call her. Tell her you woke up.  Or, uh, maybe you should.  I'm sure you two have a lot to say to each other."  Rachel moved to climb off him, but he stopped her by putting her hands on her waist.

 

"Rach, this isn't about her. I'm not choosing her over you or something.  It's not about that, so don't get all mopey on me."

 

She wouldn't look at him.  "I'm not."

 

"Yes, you are."

 

"Dean..."

 

He suddenly pulled her into his body, arms coming around her back.  A small, pained noise escaped his throat, and he shifted her off his chest.

 

She obligingly moved so she was next to him, and took the comfort he offered, resting her head on his shoulder.  "I'm sorry," she whispered.  "I'm just tired and stressed.  I've been running on coffee and adrenaline for the past few days."

 

"Yeah, it occurred to me."  He squeezed her shoulder.  "What happened anyway?  What's with the rings and everyone thinking we're married?"

 

"I'm sorry about that."

 

"I'm not angry."

 

"Yeah, why aren't you?" she asked, lifting her head.  "I expected you to freak. I've felt sick since I first got the call, partly because of what happened, and partly because I could only imagine how you were going to react."

 

"Obviously you don't know me as well as all that."

 

"Obviously.  So, why are you taking this so well?"

 

He hitched a shoulder.  A look of pain crossed his face.  He moved Rachel off his shoulder.  "Well, it's  not like I haven’t thought of it before.  Getting married, I mean.  My dad seemed to like it."

 

"I guess I never figured you for the marrying type."

 

"I don't like casual sex or one night stands.  I like flirting, yes, and kissing and fooling around, but even that I'd give up for a woman I could spend my life with."  He pinched her arm.  "So.  How did the hospital end up thinking you were that woman?"

 

Her cheeks burned.  Family first, right.  Why was she even surprised?

 

"Sam."

 

"Sam?"

 

"Yeah.  He forged a marriage license that says we're married.  I finally got to see it.  We were supposedly married on April 16."

 

"Good day.  Where?"

 

"New Haven.  Anyway, sometime later it seems he got it into his head that he should make me his health care proxy.  Yours too, but for whatever reason he didn't toss the marriage certificate."

 

"Why would he make it?  I don't understand?"

 

She swallowed, stomach churning again.  There was no way to tell how Dean was going to react.  "I'm thinking money."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Lets face it, Dean, I've money.  I have the means to protect you guys if something like this happens.  If you're all unconscious, there's no way you'll be able to pass off a fake credit card.  Sam was smart.  He knew that one day you guys might need someone who could be counted on in an emergency, both financially and... supernaturally?" she finished lamely.

 

Dean closed his eyes.  "That's embarrassing."

 

She stroked his hair. "It shouldn't be."

 

"Please.  Either my brother is whoring me out, or taking advantage of my feelings, or he's just rubbing in the fact that Dad never made plans to protect us if something happened."

 

"Or he was just trying to protect his family the only way he knew how.  Maybe it has nothing to do with your dad.  And, okay, yeah, it was a little presumptuous to make us married.  But, on the other hand, you seem to get hurt a lot.  And that marriage license, along with some manipulation from my father, got you covered by my insurance, so, in actuality, you're a lot cheaper than your brother."

 

Dean snorted.  "That's what everyone seems to think."  He opened his eyes.  "Look, I need you to promise me something, though."

 

"Um, okay.  What?"

 

"This heart thing I've got going on.  If it turns out like last time, and there's nothing they can do, just... don't do anything.  Don't let Sam look for faith healers or demons or anything to make me better through anything that's not a regular human doctor.  And I don't want too many of those, either, because apparently you're going to be paying for it all, and I don't want you to waste your money on a useless cause."

 

"Dean..."

 

"I'd rather you'd save it for a nice funeral.  Well, cremation.  And then funeral.  I'll write up exactly what I want, and I'm trusting you to get it right.  You are obsessively anal about details, right?"

 

"Dean..."

 

"Just promise, Rachel."

 

Lump in her throat, Rachel nodded.  It felt like there was a knife slashing down from her right temple through her neck.  "Yeah," she managed to force out.  "I promise.  But the doctor said you'll be all right."

 

"I know.  He also said I might need a fucking pacemaker."

 

"I knew you wouldn't be happy about that."

 

"No.  But I guess it's better than the alternative."  Dean pulled her close and ran his thumb down her cheek, following a wet trail.  "Don't.  It probably won't happen anytime soon, all right?  But as long as you're my wife, I figure I can get in some of the stuff I've been wanting to ask for, but didn't know who to ask."

 

"We're not really married."

 

"Thank God.  If I ever do get married, I want to at least remember it."  He threaded his fingers through hers again.  "Nice rings.  You pick them?"

 

She nodded.  "I went to a pawn shop.  They had these.  Don't take yours off.  I had a priest bless it, so it offers extra protection."

 

"I won't."  He laid his head back and closed his eyes.  "You seen my dad today?"

 

"No, not yet.  I saw Sam.  He's doing well.  They say that he'll probably wake up any time now.  I was going to go back and visit him later."

 

"What about Dad?"

 

"Well.  I called an old friend of your family's.  I got her name from your dad's journal, and her number was in his cell phone.  We talked, and she thought it might be better if I stayed away from him until she can figure out if he's still possessed."

 

The eyes opened.  He looked tired, eyes sliding in and out of focus.  But he was fighting it.  "I don't think he is.  I saw the demon go out of him."

 

"Did you exorcise him?"

 

"No.  It left on its own.  Sam shot it in the leg, and my dad got control over his body.  Dad told Sam to shoot him, and I... Sam didn't.  And then, all the sudden, the demon just flew out of his body."

 

"Why?"

 

"I don't know.  You think it might be a trick?"

 

"Well, boy, that's what I'm here to find out," a voice said in the doorway. 

 

Rachel turned.  A strong looking black woman strode into the room.  She had a huge purse slung over one shoulder.  One hand on her hip.  One eyebrow raised.  The look she gave Dean could peel paint.

 

"Dean Winchester, you better take your hand of that child's leg right this minute," she said. "No way you gonna take advantage of your brother's mistakes."

 

Dean immediately pulled away his hand.  "Missouri," he said, voice flat.

 

"That's right.  Good to see you awake."  She smiled at him.  "Now what exactly have you boys done now?"