[Log] we're singin' halleluja | and the edge in your affection broke my skin

[likedillinger]

Who: Dean and Claire Bennet (excheerleader )
What:  In which the cracks in Dean's armor start to really shine through, and he fulfills Cassandra's prophecy.
When:  Tuesday, post Dark Side of the Moon, immediately segueing in from this convo where Dean talks to Claire about heaven.
Where:  New York City, NY ; Dean's motel room
Note:  Banner made for me by marshgammon
Verse:  Brave New World

Dean had been pacing the length of the motel room restlessly as they spoke about Heaven, but he halted when Claire suggested they grab a beer instead of even bothering trying to respond to his statement that God had told them to give up.  He was immensely grateful that she didn't seem about to try to push him into reinterpreting the message into something it obviously wasn't: there was just no way to spin Joshua's message into something positive.  It'd been a slap in the face on every damn level.

Yesterday had just been one of those after another.

"Yeah, I grabbed some yesterday."  Before I got shot in the chest, he thought to himself with a grimace, as he headed towards the mini-fridge, and pulled out two bottles.  He held one out to her and cracked the lid off his own, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and finding a spot on the wall to stare at for a moment with furrowed brow.

"Anyway, it was... a helluva day," he finally said, following a moment where neither of them spoke.  After another pause, he chuckled.  "Ok, maybe bad choice of words."

Comments

yeah, this so isn't a two parter. ): I fail.

[cheerleader]

For all of the elapsed silence that had passed between them, Claire was positive that she had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Either that, or she had somehow died and was currently floating around in her own personal heaven, because Dean Winchester was kissing her. She was so taken by surprise at first that it was even happening, she wasn't sure how to react, and so her entire body went rigid. But as she sat there, and felt his hand against her face, and her lips pressed up against hers desperately, it slowly sank in that this was very much real. He was actually kissing her, and he hadn't seemed drunk on anything but the plentiful emotions in the room, so he was actually kissing her. Was he only doing it to shut her up? No...she hadn't been talking that much. She attempted to argue with herself that he couldn't want to be kissing her, couldn't want this to actually be happening, but in the end she knew that she didn't care the reason. All that mattered was that she was getting to experience this moment at all.

She made a very delighted little sound in the back of her throat as she turned off her brain and just acted on instinct, and she pressed up into the kiss, bringing her own hand up to his face so just so she could touch him and have the contact she had been wanting for so long now. She was tentative at first, unsure of what she was doing, and it showed in her awkward attempts to kiss him as she thought he wanted to be kissed. As each second crept by, more and more of her own desperation leaked through, overshadowing the softness that she had been kissing him with at first.

She was so elated that this was even happening at all that she didn't think about her friends, her family, or the boyfriend that she did care very much for. There weren't alarms going off in the back of her head that this was wrong, because she simply wasn't thinking, only reacting. She could only see Dean, feel Dean, taste Dean. It was a sensory overload, but she didn't care, as this was as close to getting drunk as she was ever going to be able to get.

Her hand dropped from his face and briefly made contact with his shoulder, before her fingertips ghosted down his side. Finding the top of his thigh a relatively stable place to hold onto, her other hand used the bed for support, and she moved up to rise on her knees, making the angle less awkward for the both of them. She managed to do this without slipping, hitting her head against his, or crashing their teeth together. If she wasn't so absorbed in the moment, she'd congratulate herself on a job well done.

She loved him, she was sure of that, and she knew that he wouldn't ever let himself feel the same way. Not couldn't, because she knew Dean Winchester was perfectly capable of love. He just wouldn't, and she had come to terms with that, no matter how much it hurt her. But for once, she wasn't coming in second to another woman, she was first. And no matter how desperate her actions were, her heart was soaring and she felt like she really was the only one who he wanted to be there. It wasn't the truth, she knew, but she was a lovesick teenage girl, and she was perfectly content to let the way her body felt lie to her and muddle the truth.

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

For one uncertain moment, Claire wasn't responding, just stiffened in surprise and he was afraid that maybe everything she'd said the other day had either changed, or wasn't the same for her when faced with the reality of him actually following through...

but then something seemed to click and she was suddenly responding so enthusiastically that it blasted away his moment of mental backpedaling. He responded to her exhalation with a guttural noise of his own, fingers curling against her cheek and jawline as he kissed her back. Her own innocent attempts to deliver what he "wanted" might have been awkward, but it didn't faze him. For all of her lack of experience, he was about as far in the other camp as you could get - he couldn't even remember what it was like to be awkward, or hesitant, and he countered her stumbles with confidence. It wasn't expert technique he was looking for here anyways. It was the emotion intermingled with her desire that he was desperate to drink off her lips, and that drove him to not even give her a real chance to breathe.

She repositioned herself to allow him easier access to her without breaking the kiss, an encouraging move, and as her hands slid down him, his own free hand wrapped around her upper back, grazing down along her spine to rest at the base of it and pull her insistently nearer. Angling himself to face her, his mouth plied hers open gently but firmly, to mingle his hot breath with hers, and rake his tongue along her bottom lip.

There probably should have been guilt coursing through him for this, not just on account of Sam or Percy, but for the way he felt as if he might be able to soak up all her feelings for him if he could just draw her tighter, kiss her more deeply. It was an almost vampiric sentiment - as if he could force himself into feeling something by drawing it out of her, without any real concern for what it was going to do to her in the wake of this. What it would leave behind. But he didn't feel entirely selfish - he kept telling himself how much this was what she wanted, what he could give to her, and the way she clung to him didn't do a lot to refute that perspective on it.

His fingertips dragged against her jaw greedily, and then his hand dropped to join his other at her waist, drifting down to the back of her thigh. Shifting his own knee further up onto the bed, he carefully tugged at her thigh to pull her in closer. Dean honestly didn't know how far was too far, or where he was planning on taking this, or much of anything, really. For all the thinking he'd been doing moments before, now his brain was just off. He figured, subconsciously if nowhere else, that when he'd gotten what he needed from this, he'd know.

And some of his desperation came from the other subconscious place in him - that knew he wasn't going to get that satisfaction, no matter what he did.

This was a battle - just like everything else in his life - against that little voice.

[cheerleader]

If it was emotion that he wanted, then he was getting plenty, as she currently was attempting to pour everything that she was feeling over into him. She wanted him to be able to feel something, anything, and for him to be able to say that for one moment it was real. She knew that he had been pretending for a long time now, because she had seen the real him during their fishing trips, or when they had been sitting around alone long enough for his guard to drop. And she was okay with who he was deep down, through all of the darkness and anger, there was just a scared guy who needed someone to take care of him and be there for him. He really needed a mother, but since she couldn't be that (especially given how she was now sprawled out on him like a wanton harlot) she was just going to have to do what she could for him.

So she let him move her how he wanted to, and she stayed in place when he tugged her up and in closer, and she just barely paused in her kissing to look down at where his hand was out of the corner of her eye, just to make sure it was actually happening. She still wasn't sure if any of this was real, because she didn't feel as if she was enough to him for it to actually be happening. If he hadn't wanted her before, what changed things now?

Oh...desperation. It was fueling the both of them right now, wasn't it?

It was with a little gasp that went from her and into him that she shifted, balancing herself with a grip on his shoulders. She became more and more wary as the kiss continued without a break, and he became more and more hungry and forceful. She didn't think that he would ever hurt her, despite the fact that she could heal, and she didn't think that he'd push her into doing anything. But the problem was that neither one of them were actually thinking, and the little alarms that should have been going off in her head weren't, which just left her feeling a mixture of confused and starving for more.

In the back of her mind, she was pretending that she was the only one who got to see him like this, that this moment made her special. Because as she clung to him, her mouth parted so he could violate it however he wished to, she wasn't feeling particularly special. She was feeling a little as if he was using her, but it was what he needed. And this was what you did for someone that you loved, wasn't it? You helped them, you gave them whatever they needed to be happy.

She shifted her hips a little as being so close to him became almost painfully uncomfortable, because of the tingling that was collecting at the base of her spine and beginning to move up toward her stomach, causing her senses to become live wires. Every little graze of his fingers against her jaw caused her to shiver, and every time she realized he was still holding her by her thigh she was thankful his mouth was busy with hers so he wouldn't hear the pleased noises she was making. She broke the kiss only for a brief instant, so she could whisper his name as an inquiry, wondering what he wanted from her.

She was willing to do almost anything to make him better, to make him feel as if he was a better man than he saw himself as. Of course, grinding down up against his thigh probably wasn't the best way to actually make either of them feel better. Thankfully, it was just her body's own natural reaction to what was going on, because she was pretty much horrified that she had actually just done that. It made her feel every bit like the inexperienced kid she actually was, but he didn't seem to care what she was, just as long as she was there. That actually caused a little pang to course through her, and it left her feeling desperate to feel as if she was beautiful to him, as if she was wanted. She was almost more desperate than him by this point, driven by just the need to feel as if she mattered to him for more than just a momentary distraction.

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

He heard his name murmured against his mouth as she broke the kiss - either for air, or for a second to take this in, or just to let that question hang there. His forehead tipped against hers, as he exhaled a long, shaky breath that surprised even him. He didn't feel any nerves over what they were doing, any of the guilt he'd expected to, and yet there was a kind of excess of emotion on his released breath that he couldn't deny. He couldn't recognize it as the fear that Claire knew it to be, and so his brow simply furrowed in bewilderment, pressed against hers, his expression almost pained.

He didn't offer a real response for a moment, letting his hand simply trace patterns against the back of her thigh where he gripped her still. The way she'd been rubbing down against him only seconds before had all engines revving below, regardless of the fact that this was Claire. Because as much as he might have called her 'kid' in the past, the curves pressed him against him were sure as hell nothing short of adult. His left hand, still clutching her against him, moved down to the hemline of her shirt, and he pressed the fabric upwards just enough for his fingers to dance along the skin there, feather-light.

"Claire," he finally managed to say, thickly, eyes flickering open again to search for hers. There was something almost pleading in her expression; he could see the need there, though he didn't know that it was for validation. He tilted his chin upwards for a moment, brushing his lips against her forehead, before meeting her gaze again.

What had she said the other day? That getting to have him, even for one night, would be something amazing to her, despite the injustice of it.

He figured she recognized that that was all he could give her, based on the way she'd said that before. It wouldn't be more than just this once.

"... No one's gotta know about Bon Jovi, right?" was what fell out of his mouth, a really miserable attempt at humor that also allowed him to avoid phrasing it for exactly what it was.

[cheerleader]

As his fingers crept up along her bare skin, she couldn't prevent her body from shivering in pleasure and her back from arching, although she tried to. She wasn't sure why she didn't want to come across as innocent, but she was trying her best to be everything she wasn't. Dean liked the girls that he picked up at the bars, the women who knew who they were and what they were doing. She had no idea who she was anymore, and had lost herself in trying to find some kind of meaning, and had become so entangled in helping Dean find her own that he was her purpose now. For the past few months she had existed to support him, she had lost her own drive to be anyone outside of him. It was a sudden realization that caused her to still, and she almost hated herself.

But throughout her self loathing she actually managed a soft laugh at the Bon Jovi remark, and she halfheartedly rolled her eyes. It wasn't his fault he was emotionally constipated, however, and so she didn't hold it against him for longer than a few seconds. Because as soon as it registered to her that he had kissed her forehead, and that he looked like he was just as confused as she was, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. This turned into a trail of kisses that went down his jaw and neck, to stop at the curve, where she just pressed her face into the area and let out a long breath of air.

She nuzzled in as close to him as she could possibly get, her fingers curling into the sides of his shirt, holding onto him as if he was somehow going to help her figure herself out. Because as much as he needed to be able to feel something, she needed to figure out what in the hell was going on, and figure out why she wasn't screaming at him to not do this. But she wasn't telling him not to, she wasn't even thinking that it was an option for her to be doing so. Because she wanted this, and she was too selfish to throw away one perfect moment. She never thought of him as being selfish for this, however, because she was the one that should have known better than to get herself in this position.

Another breath of air was released and she whispered words against his neck, ones that he would only hear if he was closely listening to her. "I love you, please don't break me."

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

Dean actually was relieved at her reaction to his comment, because the reaction was completely in character for her, and as much as she might think he wanted her to pretend to be something she wasn't, that wasn't what he was aiming for at all. It was her he needed right now, to bring him whatever solace he hoped to get from this. The feeling of her lips coursing down into the hollow of his neck caused his eyes to flicker closed again tightly, as he tried to steady his own breathing or at least shift so that she wouldn't find herself leaning against his now rather tight jeans.

He didn't know what he expected her to say - to joke back with him, or to deny him suddenly, or... anything but what actually tumbled out.

I love you.

It wasn't the first time she'd said it to him. But it was the first time she'd actually said it, stripped of any pretense or dissembling.

And to be completely and entirely honest, it was the first time a girl had actually said it to him and meant it like that... at all. There'd been girls who'd spilled it out before, sure, but that was always his hint to take off and run, because those girls were usually emotional barslut wrecks who thought his one night with them actually meant something, when it was all just fun to him. He'd never had anyone... hold him this way, like she was honest to god putting her heart in his hands. Even Cassie had kept more guarded than this. Claire was trusting him entirely.

It twisted something deep in his gut, the first real stab of guilt he'd had during this entire encounter, but at the same time, it was that, exactly that, which he realized he'd needed out of this. It was her love he wanted to siphon off from each touch, her forgiveness for every flaw in him. The sort of love he wanted to believe really existed in the universe, that just kept failing him. Unconditional love. Of family, or God, or this.

God's love wasn't real. Sam's wasn't what he'd thought it was. And there hadn't been anyone else in his life who hadn't ended up being driven away from him, or abandoning him, just like his "mother" had said to him in heaven.

Even if that kind of love did exist, he'd lost his faith that he deserved it, or would ever receive it.

But her faith in him right now was clear, and it sent shivers coursing through him as he just nodded, almost numbly, before sliding away enough to look down at her again.

He couldn't tell her he loved her back, because she'd know he was lying, or at the least, vastly stretching the truth. So he wouldn't offer her lies.

"I don't want to hurt you, Claire," was what he said instead, because it was more true than 'I'd never hurt you'. After all, what the hell was he doing right now? What he gave her was both hurting and helping her, satisfying her and ruining her, but he was hoping that the good outweighed the negatives. The back of his fingers brushed her cheek, and he kissed her again, though it was markedly gentler this time, as if he were afraid of what he might do. Afraid of getting caught back up in that raging desperate drive again. But still, he wasn't about to let her go, not yet, anyways, and his fingers moved further up the skin of her back, testing the waters.

[cheerleader]

"Not hurt. Break. You can't fix some things once they're broken." She explained slowly, trying to get him to understand exactly how much this meant to her, how much he meant to her. Of course he didn't want to hurt her, or cause her any pain, and she so blindly clung to those beliefs that she didn't let herself think anything bad was going to happen from this. She was so terrified and nervous that she was now trembling, but she let herself hold out hope that this was going to go okay. She had to, because he didn't have any hope left. That was why she was here, wasn't it?

He couldn't tell her that he even cared for her a little and that stung, making her glad that her eyes were closed as they kissed, so the tears that were building wouldn't escape. Because nothing said buzzkill better than tears, and the last thing she wanted was to cry on him during this. But it hurt so much to feel the way she did, and to know that nothing was ever going to come of it. He couldn't even say that he valued her, and she just silently accepted and took it. She was sacrificing her own dignity and happiness, and she was basically handing him over the key to her heart. But he wasn't going to take it, he was just going to steal it away from the guy who deserved it, and she was just going to let him. She didn't know if that made her stupid, a whore, or just plain pathetic. Probably a mixture of all three.

The fact that this kiss was gentle compared to the first one calmed her slightly, it made her feel that she could lie to herself and say that this was real. That he did love her, and he was just too afraid to say so, and that after tonight they were going to be happy and everyone would be happy for them. Lying to herself made it easier to push her own self-doubt away, and for her to warm up to him, but she never quite got back the hungry desperation she had during their first kiss. Now she was simply letting him touch her, and letting him kiss her, and she was a bundle of raw emotion that he could move around as he needed and wanted.

She was still warm against him and receptive, however, and her plentiful feelings for him still flooded out of her and into him. But she feared it wasn't going to be enough, that one girl in love with him wasn't going to change anything. If God wasn't listening, if he wasn't there for Dean, what hope did her feelings for him have of fixing what was wrong? She felt as if everything for everyone was riding on her in this motel room, and if she failed to make Dean happy and forgive himself, then she was going to fail all of the people that they both loved. The thought that she was failing them just by letting this happen hadn't occurred to her yet, she was still too busy trying to stop being tentative while attempting to stop sitting on the massively uncomfortable bulge in his pants.

At least she could take some pride in knowing she did that to him.

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

Dean could feel the change in her kiss, and her words echoed in his head, though it only served to confuse him even more. He thought she understood what this was going to be, but he realized she probably had no more idea than he did. What were they doing?

Was he giving her anything if this was all he had to offer?

Worried that she was going to get the wrong impression completely now (though what the fuck was the right impression in this situation?), his lips moved from hers, along her jawline, to brush against her earlobe.

"I've never lied about what you mean to me," he confided in a quiet murmur. "What you've brought... it's... new to me." He tried to convey the weight of what that meant in his emphasis, but he was never good with words in these scenarios. "I can't imagine... losin' it."

It was the closest he could get to telling her how much he loved her, if only in a way that varied from the way she loved him, but was no less important to him. He gave up on trying to explain it, instead draping lingering kisses down the skin of her neck. He found himself running into the collar of her flannel over-shirt, and his hands moved to seamlessly slide the shirt back off from her shoulders so that his lips didn't have to halt for long.

[cheerleader]

Those words were basically all that she had been wanting to hear for the longest time, and hearing them actually caused her to grin, brighter than she had in a very long time. Said grin lasted for as long as his words took to really sink in, and then her face just crumbled. She didn't want him to have to think about losing her, losing what she felt, that wasn't what she was trying to get across to him. She would always be there, regardless of what dumb thing he did. That was just who she was for him, and she didn't plan on letting that change so easily.

She had been squirming up against him as he kissed his way down along her neck, and as her top shirt was slid off she was left with an alarm going off in her head. Finally, she realized that this wasn't going anywhere good, and that he probably was going to have sex with her if she let this continue. And as much as she did love him, she couldn't go from kissing to having sex in the same night. She was willing to give him anything, but the last little piece of her innocence was something that she treasured and held onto, despite all of the bitching she often did about still being a virgin.

Being one was special to her, it made her special for a reason other than her ability. And it was because she loved Dean enough to remember that she needed to love herself as well, and she shifted, bringing her hands up to his face. "Dean, I-" Her voice cracked there, because she knew how disappointed in her he was going to be once she kept speaking.

"We can't do this." It broke her heart to say it, to refuse him, and she looked up at him and prayed he could see every single ounce of regret and fear written on her face. "I have to wait-"

A thought then entered her mind, of the list that went back to that terrible purity test. The list she had promised Percy that they would go through together. Her boyfriend, her wonderful, perfect boyfriend was at home and was probably waiting for her to text him. He would probably want to go and do something tomorrow, and he would be spending time with his cheating liar of a girlfriend. None of this was fair to Percy, especially since she did care for him. Of course, none of her words or actions with Dean really did much to prove that.

"Percy doesn't deserve this. And neither do you."

Because I want to do this with Percy, I want him to be my first, even if he won't be able to even look at me now.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she tried to form words, tried to give some kind of explanation, but there was just too much she wanted to say. So she swallowed her emotions like the men in her life had taught her to do these past few months and forced herself to inwardly angst over the fact she had ruined everything. She was petrified of what Dean's reaction was going to be, but she still kept her hold on his face, so he'd look at her and not over her head and at the wall.

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

He felt her hands on her face, gently pulling him away from where his lips and tongue curved against her shoulder, and he wasn't sure what to expect. But when his eyes met hers, he could see the difference written there: the sudden guilt and trepidation, and he knew it was nobody's fault but his that her eyes spoke volumes about both those things now.

We can't do this, she said, and he knew that she meant take this further, especially when she alluded to waiting. But there was still something of his own fear within him that caused him to momentarily misinterpret her saying he didn't deserve this. Of course she meant that he deserved more than just... some one night stand with another guy's girlfriend or something, but just the way it was phrased set off his own personal triggers.

Because he didn't deserve even this much from her. And he was just taking it anyways. His eyes did try to slide away from hers, but she wasn't having it, and so finally, they settled back searchingly upon her gaze.

Part of him wanted to agree with her - Percy's a good kid, but he couldn't bring himself to steer her down that line of conversation because it would mean the abrupt and sudden end of this, no argument. They couldn't go talking about her boyfriend and then right back down cheating lane. That was what it was, after all - cheating. He finally let the word enter his mind, but it was difficult to reconcile with the Claire he knew. And it didn't feel like cheating at anything. I mean, that made it sound so easy.

Watching her face like this, that wasn't easy. Sculpting these next words of his? Wasn't easy either.

"I'm probably bein' a real dick, doin' this to you," he admitted, slowly. "I know that. And you're the one who deserves better. But..." He hadn't meant for that to come out, that but, but there it was, and the rest just poured out, against his will.

"But Claire, I need this."

He hoped she wouldn't take it to mean he needed to... have sex with her right then, because as much as that might have been where things were going moments ago, he didn't consciously want them to. He meant he didn't needed her, what she had to offer him right now. It was a selfish thing to say, a horribly selfish thing, and he knew it but

he was so tired of being selfless, all the goddamn time.

He was tired of thinking about every single other person, the people he had to save, the people whose lives meant he couldn't just say yes to Michael and be done fighting, of thinking about Sammy and giving everything up for him only to find out...

He was just too tired to fight what he was craving, just this once.

[cheerleader]

I need this.

He needed her, the one time he had ever truly needed her and asked something of her, and she was failing him. He had such sadness in his eyes, and it actually caused her physical pain to understand that he was hurting because of her refusal. And that was really all she needed to hear to know that she had to stay with him, and find a way to make him feel loved without her doing anything wrong. Because it was wrong to turn Dean into the other guy, to do this to Percy. She was wrong, and she couldn't blame it on anyone or anything but herself.

But they didn't have to deal with anything but one another right now, and Claire put on a thin smile as she rose up to stand on her knees, so she could be at the right height to place a kiss to his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere." She promised him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. Another kiss was placed to the side of his mouth, but it was nothing but chaste, funny compared to how they had been going at it a few moments ago.

"I'm not ever going to leave you." She lowered herself to sit once again, her arms wrapping around him as tight as they could. "I love you, Dean Winchester, just for being you, and nothing is going to change that or take it away." Her head tipped back and she was able to offer him an actual smile, and although it was laced with heartbreak and sadness, it was also filled with adoration.

Her binding hug only lasted as long as it took her to say those things, and she pulled back just enough so she could look at his face. She wanted to remember his expression, to etch this moment into her memory so it would last forever. Her eyes slid closed as she brought a hand to his face, her fingertips tracing feather light touches across his skin. She was memorizing him, because she knew that she wasn't ever going to get this again, that she wasn't going to be allowed to have this with him.

And as much as she wanted to cry, she wasn't going to let herself, because she had to be the strong one in this. She had to take his sadness and somehow make it better, even if she was slowly realizing that there wasn't a way how to actually do that. No one else was going to be able to fix Dean, he was going to have to do it himself. But she didn't say these thoughts out loud and just continued trailing her fingers along his face, and down over his neck, and even further down across his chest.

It had been a long time since she had felt physical pain, but sitting there with him like this was causing her to feel worse than anything had ever stung her when she was younger. It felt as if someone was attempting to tear her heart out through her throat, and she wished that the hollow feeling from earlier would come back and replace it. She didn't want Dean to be causing her this kind of hurt, she didn't want to associate his face with feeling like her world was crashing down around her. But she had said before that she was willing to sacrifice herself in order to ensure Dean survived, and that she would be willing to endure any pain. So she considered this a test of what she had told Castiel, and she wanted to make sure that she passed it. She wondered if this was the being torn apart feeling that everyone warned her against, that they all said she would feel. She had been so stupid to think that she would be able to readily deal with it, because she wasn't sure that anything would ever make this right. It wasn't fair to Dean, and it really wasn't fair to her, and she was angry at herself for being selfish enough for allowing things to have gone as far as they did.

But he needed her, she wasn't going to leave him. She didn't have the power to actually abandon him, even if she wanted to. So she sat there, trying to show him the same thing she was earlier, but as innocently as possible. It was difficult to do when she really just wanted to cave in and give him what he thought he needed, but she refused to lower herself to being nothing more than just one of his many one night stands. She was worth more than that, and he definitely was worth more to her.

[cheerleader]

Her eyes were still closed and her fingers were traveling back up his body, not stopping until she felt his lips. They rested there, and she tipped her head to the side, her smile going from thin and wary to accepting. She wasn't able to mask the fact that she was cracking and hurting, but she accepted that she was going to have to feel those things. She didn't care that she did, she wanted to be brave and strong for him.

"I'll stay, but I can't have sex with you. I'm not ready, and I'm not going to put you into second place by turning you into the other guy. If this ever happens again, and I hope that it does someday, I want it to be because we're both first to each other."

She cracked open one eye then, and peered up at him as she put on her best smile. Through all of the pain and sadness she was feeling, there was also a hope underneath it all, that maybe at the end of all of the fighting he would decide that she was worth fighting for.

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

Just as greedily as he'd devoured her kisses earlier, Dean soaked in her words now. Her reassurances.

I'm not ever going to leave you.

I love you.

Nothing is going to change that or take it away.

It was pathetic how much that meant to him, because he usually did nothing more than make fun of this kind of sappy shit. But it did. Especially after his brief reunion with his mom, the only other real source he'd had of some form of that love, had been tainted and ruined by Zachariah's sick games. It'd only served to remind him how far away from it he felt, and now he soaked it up like a drowning man coming up for air. The way she smiled at him.

He was stealing it from her, he knew that much. Stealing stuff that didn't belong to him, that she should be saving and sharing with somebody else.

As her hands began to trace the outline of his features, his own eyes flickered closed again, and he sucked in a breath, trying to calm himself down, but refusing to pull her hands away. He couldn't believe she was still actually here, and the fact that she was, even after she'd admitted she shouldn't be, admitted she cared too much about her boyfriend or herself to... compromise everything, she was still here. She was still lovingly caressing his neck, his chest, his face. His hand reached up to gently capture hers when her fingers paused at his lips, and he opened his eyes again too, when she spoke.

Dean wasn't sure what to say to that at first, so he simply held her hand against his lips, before lighting a lasting kiss on her knuckle, eyes holding hers. He couldn't promise her what she wanted. He still wasn't sure he'd be comin' out the other end of this alive. And if he was, Sam and Claire would still be together, and he couldn't be with this Claire, and he wasn't sure he'd ever love her like she loved him. This was not going to be okay, no matter what.

So he wouldn't push her to do anything she didn't want to do now, but he'd hold on to her for this one night. As much as he could.

He tried to smile back, but it was just as forced and half-broken as hers.

"Claire, you don't have to ... sleep with me. That's not..." He still spoke against her hand, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know what I want. Just... stay here. Tonight."

Dean lowered her hand, still keeping it in his. He leaned his head down again, sweeping another kiss against her cheek and then turning his face so that his rested against hers. And so that she couldn't see his expression.

"Please."

[cheerleader]

She was grateful that he wasn't looking at her anymore, because his last plea tugged at her heart enough that she did start crying, despite her best attempts not to. She knew that he'd feel the tears, even if she was crying silently, not allowing herself to give out any sobs. Her cheek nuzzled up against his, and she held onto his hand with no intention of letting go.

"I'm here, Dean." She reassured him, her voice thick and heavy as she attempted to hide the fact that she was crying. It was obvious that she was, she didn't need to draw further attention to it.

"I'm staying." This was said more for her benefit than his, a statement of accepting that her life really sucked and that her one night with Dean was going to be the most depressing moment of her life.

She took in several steadying breaths as she realized she had begun to shake with the effort of not breaking down in an emotional downpour. She could do this, it was only one night. He needed her, and she really did need him just as much now that he understood exactly how she felt for him. When it came down to it, she was still just a scared little girl, and she needed the reassurance and the comfort probably more than he did. He was going to be able to bounce back and move on to the next girl, where it was going to take her a long while to get over this night, if she ever did.

"Do you think that if things were different, you could let yourself love me?" She wondered, surprising even herself by the way her voice didn't break and she didn't crumble in the midst of speaking. She had to know what he'd say, she needed to know so she could force herself to begin moving on.

He had said that he didn't know what he wanted, and she respected and understood that. But with what he was asking her to do, she didn't think just one question was going to hurt him. It couldn't be her always giving, and him taking what she had to offer. "I told Cas that I was ready to die for everyone we know, for you. There isn't anything more real or filled with love than that, is there? I just want to matter too, regardless of if Sam and Zebra are together."

Now she was making noises that gave away the fact she was crying, if her earlier tears streaming down her face and coming into contact with his weren't sign enough. She kept her face against his, and their hands intertwined, because even this minimal contact was so bitterly sweet that it helped confirm that all of this hurt was worth it.

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

She was crying now - he could tell immediately, as he wasn't that entirely wrapped up in himself right now to go without noticing. His lips just pressed against her cheek, again and again, parting as he drew out a shaky sigh. It was so wrong of him to keep her here tonight. And he could feel the burden it was putting on her now. Because he knew exactly how heavy his own burden was, the insane weight of it, that Cas had pointed out was more than any mortal man could shoulder.

And here he was, trying to dump it on to hers, and expect her to deal. To keep giving.

If he really pushed all his burdens on to her, let himself go right now, it would simply crush her. That was one of the reasons he didn't do this. Didn't open up. And it was only now becoming crystal clear to him how horrible of an idea it was to crack even for a moment and let someone else bear the weight that was his to carry.

So even if he wasn't sure it was the right thing to say, he couldn't stand just telling her the straight up truth when she asked him: that if things were different, he wouldn't have ever gotten this close to her. He could switch roles and be strong for her here, enough to get her to stop shaking, to stop her having to face the darkness that he constantly stared into.

His fingers wound through her hair as he considered what to say.

"Claire, you know I'd die to protect you too. I'd do anything I could. And you do matter. And if things were different..." His mouth dragged against her jaw again, just gently. Affectionately. "Who knows. I can't say I wouldn't. I mean... you're amazing, Claire. And you're... gorgeous and... smart." He wasn't reaching for compliments, just... unused to giving them, at least without them being just another part of flirtatious banter. He wanted her to know that he meant it. "And you're just one of the best people I've ever met. You give everything you have for everybody else. I respect the hell outta that."

His hand continued to stroke through her hair, pulling her tighter against him. "Don't cry, alright? I don't wanna make you cry."

[cheerleader]

"You're not making me cry. It's just life that is." That was the truth, at least. "I'm trying not to, it just...hurts." She was a little bewildered as she admitted that, because she was always so quick to point out to everyone that she couldn't feel pain at all.

His hand moving through her hair actually comforted her enough to not let herself keep crying. They only had this moment together, and once it was over, everything was going to be different. They could never go back to how they were, she wouldn't ever be allowed to just go off on fishing trips with him, and she'd never be able to even talk to him again without feeling overwhelming guilt. Knowing this was it, this was all there ever was going to be gave her a sense of urgency to cling to him a little tighter, to press a kiss to his chest.

"Don't be sad, please. Neither of us are allowed to be. I want to remember this as being perfect." Another kiss was placed, this time to the area above his heart. The sound and feel of it thumping gave her reassurance, something solid and real to ground herself with. Really, she just wanted to pretend that they were happy and this was perfect, which wasn't what Dean needed. He needed to talk, and to explain what his life was about, and he needed to share his burden with someone else who could support him. She was strong enough to, she knew that she was, she just had to get over being selfish for long enough to stop feeling sorry for herself.

"Tell me everything." She insisted before she could change her mind, lifting her head so she could make eye contact with him once again. She was calm now, and she had a resigned sense of strength. "I'm ready to know."

She pulled herself as close to him as their bodies would allow, and her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. Her hands balled into fists and then she moved her hands so his shirt curled around them as well, and she leaned forward to rest her chin on his shoulder. She realized that they were cuddling, and it almost made her want to laugh. She couldn't have sex with Dean, but she could get him to cuddle. That in itself was probably more amazing than the fact that they were going to sleep in the same bed and not sleep together. It was so amazing, that she actually allowed herself to laugh a little, and she turned her head so that her forehead was pressed up against his cheek and her face was buried up against his neck. It was comforting there, safe, it felt like she fit and belonged there.

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

He was relieved when her tears actually stemmed in time, and another empty smile tugged at his lips at her proclamation that she wanted this to be 'perfect'. Really, it should have been as far from perfect as possible, all things considered, but she still seemed as if she wanted to be here, and curled against him as if she could derive some real comfort from it.

When he felt her plant a kiss against his chest, where his heart was, his eyes swept down to catch her pressed against him, obviously listening to its beat. It sort of fascinated him, but he didn't want to get caught staring at her again, afraid he'd only end up wrecking her 'perfect moment' somehow. So he looked over her head, thumb twisting through a strand of pale blond hair idly.

Her next words however, caught his attention again, and he looked back down to meet her gaze, relieved to see her looking stronger again. But he still hesitated. It wasn't right of him to just pour out his whole story on to her. It'd only end with her cryin' again. Any sensible person would. As he searched for the words to explain that, she drew herself even closer, wrapping herself up in him, and his arms tightened around her instinctively. He leaned his cheek against her forehead - the word 'cuddling' not entering his mind at all. In his eyes, he was clinging to her because if he let go, he'd just end up drifting again, and he knew that moment was coming - just not when.

Castiel had urged him, after their return, to open up, to talk to someone, or feel something, or scream it out, and he'd tried then, and failed to find the words to explain what he was going through. How was it gonna be any different now?

"About what, Claire? ... Heaven?" He figured she didn't mean the whole story of his life, from start to finish, because it was just too much.

But he knew she was talking about more than just one event. She wanted him to talk about what he'd been feeling, and going through, and he groaned inwardly, just out of instinct. It'd never been easy for him, and he suspected it never would be.

[cheerleader]

"Everything. Tell me anything and everything." She urged, her words muffled by the fact her lips were pressed up against him. She just wanted to hear him talk, to have him confide in her. If he could share things with her that he couldn't with anyone else, that would be the best gift he could ever give her, and it would be helping him at the same time. They'd both end up getting a little something positive out of this, even if they had to go through a lot of sadness to get to this point.

It was very reluctantly that she removed her face from being pressed up against him, and turned so that their cheeks were touching, but she could speak and he'd actually be able to understand her. She wasn't ready to let him go, and she didn't want him to let go of her yet, but she did eye the rest of the bed and the pillows up at the top.

She attempted to move in that direction while still holding onto him, but that just didn't happen, and she pouted as she glanced up at Dean once again. Hopefully he'd just assume it was because she was still depressed, not because she just wanted him to go lay down with her and she had no idea how to silently get that message across. So she just quickly gave up and decided to work on getting him to talk instead. That was the more pressing issue here.

"I want you to tell me about Heaven, and about the things you've seen and done. I want to know about your darkest and worst moments, and about your best ones. I just want...I want to know and memorize you."

She looked up at the pillows once again, and gently nudged him to move in that direction. All of the emotions they had gone through had drained her, and she had no intention of letting him go, but she kind of wanted to lay down and hoped he wouldn't mind doing so. She had a feeling that just as long as she was there and he could hold her, he wouldn't care where they were.

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

Dean took the hint about relocating a lot faster than Claire expected, because he'd already been thinking the same thing himself. All these emotions were fucking tiring. So without any more warning, he kicked his shoes off, and slid backwards on the bed, pulling her with him. It took a moment for them to readjust properly as he settled against the pillows at the head of the bed, but he gave her all the time she needed to wind back up in him, this time pulling her body taut against his, stretched out beside him, one hand coming to rest on her lower back.

He thought over what she'd requested. It was a pretty damn tall order. He decided to just start with Heaven, since it was the freshest thing in his mind, and the most immediate wound.

He really wanted to explain Heaven right to her, in a way she could understand it, because he knew she'd never get to go there herself, and that thought depressed the hell out of him. Maybe in explaining it, she could at least fully imagine what it would be for her.

It was easiest to start at the beginning. For her sake, he figured he'd leave out the part about what it was like to get shot in the chest.

"These two hunters found me and Sam in our hotel... woke us up, and had already taken our guns from us and everything. Got the drop on us real good. Turned out I knew 'em. Called 'em out on it, and they... said a whole bunch of hunters are trackin' Sammy, tryin' to pop him for ... startin' the Apocalypse." Saying that out loud reawakened the anger he'd felt at that moment, not just because those assholes had come after his brother, but because they'd done it over something that was technically his fault. "They did Sam first, and didn't dare leave me standin', because they knew I sure as hell wouldn't stop til I found 'em."

His eyes were fixed on the blank TV screen across the way, and he could see a dim reflection of the two of them there. They looked like any other couple, having any other couple conversation. Except neither of those things were true. He frowned a bit, and skipped the next part.

"First thing I knew... I woke up in my car. Thought I was dreamin'. Kinda felt like a dream, y'know?"

[cheerleader]

Given her small size, she was easily tugged along with him to the head of the bed. As he readjusted, she took a minute to take off her shoes and socks, and threw them over onto the floor. She leaned over the edge of the bed for a few seconds, bracing herself with both hands as she inwardly gave herself courage. She could do this, nothing was going to happen, he wasn't going to let himself lose control. They were going to talk, and she was going to go home in the morning. She pushed herself to sit back up, and she looked over at him with a smile before she crawled over to lay with him.

She was surprised when he pulled her in close once again, although she probably shouldn't have been, and she rested her hands up against his chest. Every so often her fingers would idly fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, opening and then sealing one in and out of its buttonhole. It helped to keep her from clinging too much, and it also offered her something to keep her from talking while he did, as now it was his turn to have a lot of emotions and spill everything he needed to.

As he spoke about how he died, it left her with a bad taste in her mouth, and she realized that he was trying to be as vague about being shot as possible so it wouldn't worry her. That caused her to smile, even if it was still a sad one, and she shifted upward to rest her head on his arm, so she could slide in close and put her face back into its comfort spot up against his neck. She felt the most secure there, and so she really had no big desire to move.

She did, nod, however, as he spoke further, to let him know she was indeed still listening and hadn't fallen asleep so early. Once he was finished, she turned her head just long enough to speak, before nuzzling back into the warmth of him. "You just woke up in the Impala? Not that she isn't a great place to wake up in," She paused, realizing as soon as the words left her mouth how they sounded, "But yeah, that's a weird place to start your time in Heaven in."

She wondered how her Heaven would begin for her, and quickly realized that it was pointless to even really do that. Unless she magically lost her head, she didn't exactly stand a chance of getting to see her Heaven. And even if she did lose her head, she was paranoid that it would just grow back or something, that she really was doomed to live forever. The thought of that made her fingers twist tightly into his shirt, and she pressed herself in as close to him as possible.

"What did you see after you woke up? Was Sam there? Zebra, Elle, or Brooke?"

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, in the Impala," he confirmed, something of a real smile tinging his lips. "And I sure as hell would have been disappointed in heaven if my baby weren't up there waiting for me." Hey, there was a reason some guys wanted to be buried in their cars, and if Dean weren't sure his body was gonna end up on a pyre if he had a 'good death', he'd have been one of 'em.

Claire was pulling herself even tighter and he tried to focus on telling the story because, for her sake, it wasn't a good idea for him to concentrate on the physical end of things. His thumb idly brushed back and forth against her back as he continued.

"The radio was playin' 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door', because apparently they aren't without a sense of irony up there. And it was stormin'. Cold. I got outta the car and..." There was the slightest pause as he saw Sammy's little dark head rounding that corner again in his mind, and this time his smile finally glinted in his eyes as well, still staring forward. "And there was Sammy. He was... all of thirteen. Hair in his eyes and awkward as shit, and carryin' an old crate full of fireworks." He'd already given her the short version of this, but he figured the devil was in the details, to pardon a phrase. "And he says to me 'C'mon, let's go.' So I mean... I figured it was a dream, at that point, and went after him. So we go out to this field, that looked hella familiar, and he asks if I brought my lighter. I figure the answer's gonna be no - I haven't had that thing in years, but I reach in my pocket and there it was, exactly where it always used to be."

Dean was all but lost in remembering the moment now, though words couldn't really explain what it felt like to him. "And that was when it hit me exactly where we were. Not that I was in heaven, but that I'd been there. We started setting off fireworks, just like we had on the fourth of July in 1996. I'd... bought a bunch of fireworks illegally and snuck 'em out of the motel, with Sammy. Dad woulda killed us, but I wanted to give the kid a good time, have some fun with my kid brother. And Sam..." He trailed off, because this was the part of the story that really mattered to him, and that made it the part he just wanted to skip over tellin'.

[cheerleader]

Hearing him talk about younger Sam put a smile on her face, an honest to goodness one that he could probably feel against his skin. She laughed a little as she thought about what the size difference between the two must have been when Sam was thirteen, for once Dean was the taller one. As her warm breath hit him and bounced back into her own face, she just laughed more, and she was overcome by a sudden contented feeling. She was imagining what Dean had seen up in Heaven, and she was able to clearly see the two brothers together. And something about Dean being able to actually spend peaceful time with Sam was so valuable to even her, she couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him.

"Imagine that, you buying fireworks illegally and carrying around a lighter. You were what, though, if Sam was thirteen? Sixteen or seventeen?" She tried to imagine Dean being that young, tried to picture what he looked like and wondered if he acted the same way he did now. And wondering about ages made her think to how old she had been that particular fourth of July, and it made her eyes bulge a little as she realized the answer. "I...was still five on that day. I was a month away from being six. I don't really even remember what I did."

That put things in perspective to her, about not only how wrong it was for her to want Dean the way she did, but for how awkward it was for Sam and Zebra to be together. All of their lives were entirely screwed up, and she was glad that she had turned back into her comfort spot in order to mask the fact that she had caused herself to cringe.

"What did Sam do? You stopped telling the story." She urged him to continue speaking, so that neither of them would really sit and think about their age difference.

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

"Seventeen," he said, sounding as if he really had a hard time with that concept, that he was ever ... seventeen. Claire's sudden realization that she was only five when he was that age might've widened his eyes slightly, and they flashed down towards her, to read her expression. Was she horrified, realizing she'd been making out with a guy twelve years her senior moments before? Or more likely, was she horrified that that guy had kissed her in the first place? Yeah, it was probably messed up. But Claire had been through a lot more in her life than regular teenagers, and Dean never saw the measure of a person's age in terms of numbers (except where it was a legal concern). So while he might have felt uncomfortable for a moment, he was a lot more concerned about her judging him, than about whether it was wrong.

But then again, he chastised himself, Claire was still an innocent eighteen year old, when it came to sex. If she'd let him keep going, who knows what he might have done to strip that away.

Unsettled, he tried to scrabble back for the peace he found from the story he was telling.

"Sam uh, he thanked me. And... gave me a hug. It wasn't somethin' we did a lot, even then, but I mean, he was a kid, and he was just... grateful. And it... meant the world to me. It really did." He felt his heart clench up with emotion just remembering it now, even though it wasn't as clear as reliving it. "We just spent that whole night setting 'em off until we set the field on fire by accident, and had to run for it."

[cheerleader]

She chuckled, not surprised that the story ended that way. Of course the Winchester brothers would end up setting a field on fire, and running away from it. She found it cute, although she should have found it wrong and chastised him for being irresponsible, but she was feeling all warm and fuzzy after hearing about how touched he was that Sam had just hugged him and was grateful.

She was so touched that she slid down so she could wrap her arms around his waist, and she hugged him as tight as she could. She was grateful to have this moment, after all, more grateful than he would ever know. She had already told him how she felt, so she didn't want to make things depressing again by saying more, but a simple gesture like a hug could serve to let him know and comfort them both of them at the same time.

She pulled away after hugging him for nearly a full minute, and rolled over to lay on her belly, and brought her chin down to rest on his stomach. She peered up at him with a lopsided grin, feeling a little sheepish for the fact that she couldn't stop clinging to him or touching him. But he didn't seem to mind, so she wasn't going to pull away until he shoved her aside. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, before a blush rose to her cheeks and she averted her gaze.

"Soooo, what did you see next?"

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

Hearing her laugh at all, and seeing her smile helped remind him of why he was here with her in the first place. So when she embraced him like that, he buried his face down against her hair, kissing the top of her head, and just... letting himself enjoy her being there again. His hand slid down around her hip, and rested there, as he breathed in the scent of her hair. He realized he still wanted her, wasn't sure how long that had even been true, and tried really damn hard not to think about that question as she repositioned herself with her head on his stomach. He smiled back a little, noticing the way her cheeks flushed.

Best to keep talking.

"Well, the fireworks... dissolved into gunshots. From when we... anyways, then Sam was gone, so I went back to the car, and that's when... Cas started talkin' to me through the radio. Told me where I was. That it wasn't a dream. It was actually heaven. He told me to keep... following the road I was on to find Sammy. Sure enough it took me a house, and when I went inside, there was Sam, all cleaned up for Thanksgiving dinner. It was one of his memories - when he was eleven and ... " This was the part that was hard. Had been hard even to talk to Sam about at the time. "It was his first 'real' Thanksgiving. With this girl he knew, and her family. Apparently he didn't count the ones we had with Dad." The bitterness in his voice was palpable, and his fingers clenched against her slightly.

[cheerleader]

She could feel and hear the change in his mood, and she could understand why he was so bitter about the fact that Sam's first part of heaven was with another family. If it had been her up there, and she saw her own brother with another group of people, she would've been furious too, and she and Lyle weren't even that close. She had to wonder what it was like, to value someone so much that one little thing like a Thanksgiving could make you feel entirely betrayed and useless. The only person she currently felt that close and attached to was Dean, and she was positive that she hadn't shown up in his heaven at all. But why would she, she wasn't Sam or his mother. She wasn't his family, which was probably a good thing, based off of the kissing that had happened earlier.

"What were Thanksgivings like with your Dad?" She wondered, choosing to focus on things that Dean would consider happy memories, instead of talking about Sam.

She wanted to share a few of her own Thanksgiving memories with him, but this wasn't about her, so she bit at her lip to silence any further speaking. She glanced up at him one last time before turning her head so that she was using his stomach as a pillow. Her hands moved about behind her awkwardly, until she found his, and she fumbled to grab hold of him. But laying like that wasn't comfortable at all, and so she gave up trying to take hold of his hand, and instead just resumed her earlier activity of playing with the buttons on his shirt.

[like-dillinger.livejournal.com]

His question reminded her of Sam's accusations, and he kept his eyes on the bedspread as he responded.

"I dunno. He'd buy us some takeout, but we were still... together." Well, until Dad 'passed out' as Sam had pointed out. "It's not about the big square table and the fucking turkey. It's about being with the people you love. Or at least that's what I always thought." She was fumbling her hand around and he realized she was trying to put it in his, which helped take an edge off his anger for a moment. He raised his left hand to where she was fiddling with his shirt and slid his fingers around hers.

"Anyways, that's when the lights started flickering, and these search lights came on. We knew somethin' was... wrong, so I started callin' for Cas, and he got a hold of us through the TV. He can't... come back into heaven, anymore." His fault, that. But it had been Cas' choice, and he had to remember that. "He told us Zach was lookin' for us, to send us packin' back home so we could yes to Michael and Lucifer. But that we couldn't go until we found an angel called Joshua. Who talks to God. So Cas told us to follow the road, the... Access Mundi, that led to the garden at the center of heaven."

Once again, Dean found himself at a part he wanted to skip but he forced himself to talk anyways, fingers caressing hers, as he tried to focus back on the sensation instead of what he was saying. "Sam was surprised I even wanted to follow through, but... what choice did we have? I mean... God was the only option left we had. He was the only one who could... do anything to stop all this." She already knew how that story ended, which made it harder to admit how much hope he'd poured into that.

[cheerleader]

It was amazing to her, how things could have been so upsetting five or ten minutes ago, when now she was just filled with a warm sense of absolute contentment. It was nothing more than just the way they were laying, sprawled out together, talking about the things that he wouldn't with anyone else. That was what made her feel special, more than the fact that he had kissed her, more than the fact that he was voluntarily cuddling with her. It was such a chick flick moment, that she wanted to laugh at him, but she couldn't bring herself to do that, not when he was talking about something so serious.

"God may have abandoned you and everyone else, but you still have everyone else. You and Sam can say no without him there, you two can fight, you two can do anything." And she honestly believed that, with all of her heart, that the brothers were capable of doing whatever they set their minds to.

She looked over at their intertwined hands, and smiled a little at the sight of it. He was so sweet and docile when he really wanted to be. She didn't want to ruin that by being negative and talking about God, so she instead kept him talking about heaven. It was what was most important to him, it seemed, because of Sam.

"Family being together is what makes holidays important, Dean. I didn't exactly approved of the animals I wanted as pets that you brought for dinner to Easter, but I just didn't really eat and instead was glad because you and Per- because everyone was together."

Now she was feeling guilty again, and she swallowed that down, and became quiet and somber. She focused on thinking about the poor rabbit and duck that she was supposed to have gotten as a present, to be her pets, but instead were dinner. If she was able to keep talking to Dean after this, she'd never let him live that down.

"So...what other memories of yours did you see?"

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

Dean would have been pissed off if he knew that Claire was inwardly amused by this being a 'chick flick moment', so it was a damn good thing she kept her mouth shut on that particular opinion. Instead, he just felt vindicated when she agreed with him.

"Exactly. I don't know why he doesn't see it that way." He caught her slip about Percy, but he tried to just ignore it. "So anyways. We had to keep lookin' for that road, to get further into heaven, and... we found it in a closet." That was such a weird sentence that it caused him to laugh again. "Well technically it was this... Hot Wheels car on a track in the closet. But it was mine. I mean, from when I was... really young. Just a little kid. And then... there we were. In my bedroom. At our old house in Kansas." He struggled to keep his voice as steady as possible. "And my mom was there." Dean really wasn't sure how to explain this next part without it sounding stupid as hell.

"She made me lunch. Cut off my crusts. Sam wanted to... keep moving but..." He frowned deeply. "I didn't really want to leave. I miss her. Sam... doesn't even remember her, but I do."

[cheerleader]

"I think Sam doesn't think of family the same way you do because he doesn't remember your mom. And it sounds like he didn't really get along with your dad, so maybe he just wants the stereotypical two parents and two point five kids, complete with golden retriever and the white picket fence experience. I'm pretty sure that he'll get that with Claire, though." She shrugged, giving his hand a squeeze.

She thought about what his mom must look like, and what it must have been like for him as a kid. If Sam didn't even remember her, she must have died when they were really young. And as curious as she was, she wasn't going to ask when or how she died. "You'll get to be with her again, Dean. It may not be right away, but you'll eventually be back there, and then you won't have to leave her. But I can cut the crusts off your sandwiches until you get to go back home."

Because maybe that's what he saw his heaven as, was home. Once he got there, he wouldn't have to fight so much, and he wouldn't have to be so upset all the time. His mother could take care of him, and he could just be at peace. And really, that was what she wanted for him, was just to be happy and at ease.

"What was your mom like? If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

"Are you so sure? I mean... it'll work for awhile, but you girls... you're not gonna... age right? I mean you're always gonna look a lot like you do now. How long is Sam's life gonna be 'normal' because of that? And I know Claire's pretty touchy on that whole kids subject." He forced himself to stop, stop talking about Sam's future as if it were this impossible dream. He wanted the kid to be happy. He really did.

But he didn't know how to believe in it - or anything - anymore.

Claire's simple reassurances made him actually realize how much that was exactly what he wanted. To be back with her again. Soon. It was a startling thought, a sobering one.

Wanting to be in heaven. Wanting to be home. To have the fight be over. Wanting it more than anything.

"No, I don't mind," he said, surprised that this, at least, was easy. "She was... Don't take this wrong way, but... you and the other Claire, you always reminded of her. Like, when I met a younger her, when the angels chucked me into the past. She was... beautiful, and tough, and kind, and loyal, and... everything she could have been." He rubbed at his eyes, as he spoke the next part: "But in, uh, in that scene, in heaven, Dad called and... he was fightin' with Mom. They used to do that sometimes. Y'know, sometimes it could get pretty bad, but... "

"But I just held her and I told her it was gonna be okay. And that I loved her, and so did Dad. And I wasn't gonna leave her." The words were almost mumbled, and there was a burning near the surface of his cheeks he wasn't really accustomed to. He coughed quickly. "She said..." But no, he couldn't go any further. Some things were just his, and it was bad enough Sam had witnessed them.

"Anyways, I wish Sam could have known her. I wish... hell, a lot of things, but that most of all. That we could have saved her. Her and Dad. Hell, we'd give anything if we could do that." His stomach swam with nausea as he remembered only months ago when him and Sam had been ready to make that sacrifice. When he'd met Michael.

[cheerleader]

"There's a man with our ability, and he's over a hundred years old. He doesn't look like he's older than being in his mid-twenties. But I was also told that he developed his ability around that age. So no, I don't think we're going to age all that well." She wanted to laugh at the fact, just to try and show that it didn't bother her. But truthfully, it did, because it made her realize that she probably wasn't ever going to have the normal life that she was so sure that Dean would be able to get. It made her a little jealous.

She was quiet as she listened to him speak of his mother, and smiled as she heard how much he cared for the woman. It had been hard to watch her own mother burn down in the Primatech building, and she had only been around for a year or so. She couldn't imagine losing your mother at a young age, after having been with her your entire life. But the comparison of his mother to her made her grin, and it just reaffirmed that Dean really did need her to take care of him.

"You're a good son, and I wish Sam could have known her too. And I'm glad that I can be like her, that you think so highly of me." And that made the fact that he had just kissed her a little fucked up, but this was Dean and his life was just made of fucked up things. So she ignored the fact that she was a mother figure and just held him tightly to her.

"My parents came back, maybe your mom will too. Then you won't have to be without her anymore, and I won't have to try and take care of you all on my own."

[likedillinger.livejournal.com]

Dean tried to imagine for a second the possibility of himself reaching an older age down the line without getting killed first, and both Claires still looking exactly the way they did now. Sam would sure as hell come out looking creepy in that equation. He wished it could be a funnier hypothetical situation.

Once again, his need for validation caused his heart to squeeze with pride a bit when she assured him he was a "good son", and he tried to pretend it didn't affect him, but his fingers tightened a bit more through hers.

"Dad came back," he said quietly. "I don't know though. The way things were up there, I don't think it's likely." The truth was he didn't want to get his hopes up. There was no point.

"Plus, I wouldn't want her to have to take care of me, Claire. I can take care of myself." There was a hint of annoyance there, though he obviously didn't mean it.

[cheerleader]

"I know you can take care of yourself, but you need someone to..." What did he really need her around to do? Well sit and talk, obviously, but did he really need her around for anything other than that? Probably not, but she liked to think that he did, just because it made her feel better, and made her feel as if she actually had some kind of purpose in existing.

"Sometimes I think that it's my job to watch after you, you know? Like...it's my reason for being around, other than balancing out Zebra. I know you don't need it, but I definitely do. So just put up with it, okay?"

She looked down at their hands, and then back up at his face, and realized just how intimate this moment really was. This part was almost worse than the fact that there had been kissing, because he was almost more personal, and much more revealing. She felt terrible, because it couldn't ever be anything more than just this, but he was telling her so much that it made it all bittersweet.

"And I'm not going to give up hope that your mom will come back. I know that you want her, and you need her back. Even if you're too stubborn to admit it would be nice to have her still cut the crusts off your sandwiches."