Fic: Picking Up
Dec. 2nd, 2006 02:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serafina20Title Picking Up
Author![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serafina20
Fandom SPN
Pairing Dean/OFC
Rating Mature
Summary Dean and Rachel search for Sam.
Series Captured Soul, Kitsune, Another Kind of Trap, and The Greater Good.
Spoilers In My Time of Dying, Everybody Loves a Clown
Previous Parts
It was rare that their lives had downtime while on a hunt. It was always go hunt, go research, go back out, run away, run towards... basically, total and complete stress every minute. It wasn't easy and you had to learn to take every second of time you weren't running around for relaxation.
Right now they had some. Lunch had been demolished and thrown away. Clothes were being changed for more hunt-appropriate ones. Plans were being finalized, changed (when Sam pointed out he had the more dangerous job and therefore he should have the extra person as backup) and finalized again.
Sam was in the bathroom, primping or some shit. Dean and Rachel were mostly ready, although Rachel was doing her hair and had no shoes. The lack of shoes were due to Dean having her feet in his lap, massaging them. He couldn't quite say why he was doing it--it bordered a little too close to being romantic and mushy--but, on the other hand, he was trying to keep his hands off any other part, so the feet were a compromise.
He mostly still wasn't ready for sex. His body felt dead. Dirty. Tainted. But at night, when she was asleep and her hair was falling around her face and body, and her mouth was open and lashes long and throwing shadows on her cheeks.... Well. It was really easy to forget being tainted and just want to take her into his arms and show her what he was feeling.
But he couldn't. Hence the foot massage.
"So," Dean said, thumbs pressing into the bottom of Rachel's feet, "how's your head?"
She shrugged. Her fingers were busily flying, weaving her hair into a long braid. Dean had tried to stop her, but she'd logically pointed out that if they ran into trouble, she'd need to be able to move freely. No hair in her face. No hair to grab. Safe.
"It's fine. Hasn't hurt all day, not since I woke up. Finally."
"Good night's sleep, huh?"
"Surprisingly so." She wrapped a rubber band around the end of the braid. "Having Sam back took a lot off my mind."
"Yeah, mine too." He wiggled one of her toes. "Glad you're feeling better. I was starting to be afraid that, I don't know. The headaches were caused by the demon or something."
Rachel swallowed and looked down. "The nightmares might be," she said softly. She reached into the box of bobby pins next to her. Wrapped her braid around her head and pinned it in place. "Or they might just be nightmares."
"You ever see the demon?"
Her eyes were lowered. She chewed on her lip before answering. "Just in my dreams," she finally said.
"Not even when dad made whatever kind of deal he musta made with it? You didn't see him then?"
Rachel's eyes snapped up to him. Wide. Face pale.
"It's just, sometimes, when you're having nightmares, you say my dad's name. And I know he wasn't around very long for you to get to know him. I also know that stressful situations can form bonds real fast. And you have a tendency to stick your nose into things. So..."
"What makes you think your dad made a deal?
"Because we're not stupid," Sam said from the doorway to his room. He came inside and pulled a chair to the bed. Dropped into it. "Dad was fine, Dean wasn't. Suddenly Dean's awake, only Dad is dead and the Colt is gone." He cocked an eyebrow. "I went to Stanford you know."
"Right." Rachel licked her lips. Took her feet from Dean's lap and finished securing her hair. "No, I didn't see it. Not really."
"What did they say?"
She shrugged. "'bout what you think. Traded the Colt and himself for Dean. He wouldn't listen to me when I told him not to."
There was more. Dean could tell. Her face was too white. Her hands shook as she closed the box. And she wouldn't look at him.
"Did Dad force you along with him?" asked Sam.
"No." The set of her jaw clearly informed them she wasn't answering any more questions.
Fine. Dean didn't care anyway. She'd just confirmed what he'd already known, only with the added information that she'd been in on it somehow. Or there. Whatever. Rachel had been in danger, and what if Dad had offered her life for Dean's? Would she have gone along with it? Would she have had a choice?
Everything sucked right now. He hated being angry at Dad. He hated missing Dad. He hated feeling like he was dead inside, and he hated that the only thing that made him feel the slightest bit normal was the one thing he should never allow himself to have.
It wasn't fair.
After a few moments of silence, Rachel crawled to the foot of the bed and grabbed her socks. "I really wish we could go in tonight with a weapon," she said. "If I'm backing up Sam while he pokes around Cooper's trailer, it'd be nice to have something to back him up with."
He looked at her, mind still on the demon and his father. Although, he was distracted because he'd just realized that she looked sorta like Princess Leia with her hair up like that. And she was wearing a green shirt, like Leia had in Return of the Jedi. Which led to the distracting thought of what Rachel would look like if she wore another outfit from that movie.
And with that, his mind clicked on her request for a weapon (because if it didn't, he'd be forced to deal with a hardon with his brother in the room), so he said, "If we had a knife, we wouldn't have to split up. And you wouldn't be left with the dubious honor of back-up."
"Why do I hear quotation marks around the word back-up there?"
Sam sat on the bed next to Rachel and hooked his arm around her neck. "I trust you," he said, pulling her against him. "Just make sure you warn me if you see Cooper. I don't want to become demon chow."
"Cross my heart. Question is, what are you going to do against it?"
He sighed and shrugged. "That, we'll deal with later."
Rachel sighed and pulled away from Sam. Picked up her shoes and slipped them on. "I wish we had some brass bullets," she said as she tied them. "They might not work as well as a knife, but they might slow it down."
Dean looked at her. He felt suddenly... slow. Stupid. He couldn't believe he hadn't though of it before. "I have some," he said.
"What?"
"Brass bullets. I don't usually use them. I've got them sewed into my backpack. For emergencies." He got off the bed and grabbed his backpack. "I'll load them, let Rach carry the gun. That way, on the off chance Cooper's not the demon, he won't catch you with a gun and think you're trying to rob him."
"So what will he think?" Sam asked.
Dean suppressed a smirk. "Well, a man's got his needs, Sammy."
"Fuck you."
"No thanks," he muttered, ripping open the patch he'd sewn over the bullets. "Looks like I only have four." Dean looked up at Rachel. "You okay with this?
She nodded. "Yeah, of course. Although, are you sure you don't want it?"
He shook his head. "You're doing back-up. You need to have something besides a cell phone to back him up with. Anything happens, he attacks? You shoot." He unzipped the weapons' duffel and pulled out a gun. After he loaded it, he handed it to Rachel. "Don't miss."
Rachel took it. Her face was pale, but determined. "I won't."
Author
serafina20Fandom SPN
Pairing Dean/OFC
Rating Mature
Summary Dean and Rachel search for Sam.
Series Captured Soul, Kitsune, Another Kind of Trap, and The Greater Good.
Spoilers In My Time of Dying, Everybody Loves a Clown
Previous Parts
It was rare that their lives had downtime while on a hunt. It was always go hunt, go research, go back out, run away, run towards... basically, total and complete stress every minute. It wasn't easy and you had to learn to take every second of time you weren't running around for relaxation.
Right now they had some. Lunch had been demolished and thrown away. Clothes were being changed for more hunt-appropriate ones. Plans were being finalized, changed (when Sam pointed out he had the more dangerous job and therefore he should have the extra person as backup) and finalized again.
Sam was in the bathroom, primping or some shit. Dean and Rachel were mostly ready, although Rachel was doing her hair and had no shoes. The lack of shoes were due to Dean having her feet in his lap, massaging them. He couldn't quite say why he was doing it--it bordered a little too close to being romantic and mushy--but, on the other hand, he was trying to keep his hands off any other part, so the feet were a compromise.
He mostly still wasn't ready for sex. His body felt dead. Dirty. Tainted. But at night, when she was asleep and her hair was falling around her face and body, and her mouth was open and lashes long and throwing shadows on her cheeks.... Well. It was really easy to forget being tainted and just want to take her into his arms and show her what he was feeling.
But he couldn't. Hence the foot massage.
"So," Dean said, thumbs pressing into the bottom of Rachel's feet, "how's your head?"
She shrugged. Her fingers were busily flying, weaving her hair into a long braid. Dean had tried to stop her, but she'd logically pointed out that if they ran into trouble, she'd need to be able to move freely. No hair in her face. No hair to grab. Safe.
"It's fine. Hasn't hurt all day, not since I woke up. Finally."
"Good night's sleep, huh?"
"Surprisingly so." She wrapped a rubber band around the end of the braid. "Having Sam back took a lot off my mind."
"Yeah, mine too." He wiggled one of her toes. "Glad you're feeling better. I was starting to be afraid that, I don't know. The headaches were caused by the demon or something."
Rachel swallowed and looked down. "The nightmares might be," she said softly. She reached into the box of bobby pins next to her. Wrapped her braid around her head and pinned it in place. "Or they might just be nightmares."
"You ever see the demon?"
Her eyes were lowered. She chewed on her lip before answering. "Just in my dreams," she finally said.
"Not even when dad made whatever kind of deal he musta made with it? You didn't see him then?"
Rachel's eyes snapped up to him. Wide. Face pale.
"It's just, sometimes, when you're having nightmares, you say my dad's name. And I know he wasn't around very long for you to get to know him. I also know that stressful situations can form bonds real fast. And you have a tendency to stick your nose into things. So..."
"What makes you think your dad made a deal?
"Because we're not stupid," Sam said from the doorway to his room. He came inside and pulled a chair to the bed. Dropped into it. "Dad was fine, Dean wasn't. Suddenly Dean's awake, only Dad is dead and the Colt is gone." He cocked an eyebrow. "I went to Stanford you know."
"Right." Rachel licked her lips. Took her feet from Dean's lap and finished securing her hair. "No, I didn't see it. Not really."
"What did they say?"
She shrugged. "'bout what you think. Traded the Colt and himself for Dean. He wouldn't listen to me when I told him not to."
There was more. Dean could tell. Her face was too white. Her hands shook as she closed the box. And she wouldn't look at him.
"Did Dad force you along with him?" asked Sam.
"No." The set of her jaw clearly informed them she wasn't answering any more questions.
Fine. Dean didn't care anyway. She'd just confirmed what he'd already known, only with the added information that she'd been in on it somehow. Or there. Whatever. Rachel had been in danger, and what if Dad had offered her life for Dean's? Would she have gone along with it? Would she have had a choice?
Everything sucked right now. He hated being angry at Dad. He hated missing Dad. He hated feeling like he was dead inside, and he hated that the only thing that made him feel the slightest bit normal was the one thing he should never allow himself to have.
It wasn't fair.
After a few moments of silence, Rachel crawled to the foot of the bed and grabbed her socks. "I really wish we could go in tonight with a weapon," she said. "If I'm backing up Sam while he pokes around Cooper's trailer, it'd be nice to have something to back him up with."
He looked at her, mind still on the demon and his father. Although, he was distracted because he'd just realized that she looked sorta like Princess Leia with her hair up like that. And she was wearing a green shirt, like Leia had in Return of the Jedi. Which led to the distracting thought of what Rachel would look like if she wore another outfit from that movie.
And with that, his mind clicked on her request for a weapon (because if it didn't, he'd be forced to deal with a hardon with his brother in the room), so he said, "If we had a knife, we wouldn't have to split up. And you wouldn't be left with the dubious honor of back-up."
"Why do I hear quotation marks around the word back-up there?"
Sam sat on the bed next to Rachel and hooked his arm around her neck. "I trust you," he said, pulling her against him. "Just make sure you warn me if you see Cooper. I don't want to become demon chow."
"Cross my heart. Question is, what are you going to do against it?"
He sighed and shrugged. "That, we'll deal with later."
Rachel sighed and pulled away from Sam. Picked up her shoes and slipped them on. "I wish we had some brass bullets," she said as she tied them. "They might not work as well as a knife, but they might slow it down."
Dean looked at her. He felt suddenly... slow. Stupid. He couldn't believe he hadn't though of it before. "I have some," he said.
"What?"
"Brass bullets. I don't usually use them. I've got them sewed into my backpack. For emergencies." He got off the bed and grabbed his backpack. "I'll load them, let Rach carry the gun. That way, on the off chance Cooper's not the demon, he won't catch you with a gun and think you're trying to rob him."
"So what will he think?" Sam asked.
Dean suppressed a smirk. "Well, a man's got his needs, Sammy."
"Fuck you."
"No thanks," he muttered, ripping open the patch he'd sewn over the bullets. "Looks like I only have four." Dean looked up at Rachel. "You okay with this?
She nodded. "Yeah, of course. Although, are you sure you don't want it?"
He shook his head. "You're doing back-up. You need to have something besides a cell phone to back him up with. Anything happens, he attacks? You shoot." He unzipped the weapons' duffel and pulled out a gun. After he loaded it, he handed it to Rachel. "Don't miss."
Rachel took it. Her face was pale, but determined. "I won't."
