A Little Wicked: A Supernatural Story

They Told Me You Were A Killer

You couldn't stand being in Dean's shared room, so you practically ran to your old room. You hadn't used it since the first time you slept with Dean. You slammed the door and lean back on it, finally letting the tears out you had been holding in. You take a shuddered breath as you walk to the edge of the bed. You sit, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. 

How did you get here? You thought you had everything in control. This was not how it was supposed to go. All you wanted was to live out Dean's life with him, happy and in love. The more you think about Dean's words, the harder it gets to breathe, your heart racing out of control. You pace back and forth, trying to get control over your breathing. There is a soft knock on the door. Your eyes shoot up, staring at the heavy wood. You try to steady your voice as best you can, "Sam, I can't right now. Please go away."

There is silence for a few seconds, and you wonder if he's walked away. Then you hear Dean's low and soft voice: "Freya, it's me."

Your hand is resting on the door, partially trying to be closer to him but also holding yourself up. You swallow harshly, "Dean, I can't..not right now. I can't talk yet." You put your back against the door and slide down to the floor, your body racked with silent sobs.

"Just listen, that's all. I'll do the talking." He rests his head and his hand against the door. "Yes, I'm angry and hurt, but...what I said was over the line. I find you, and then I think I've lost you, only to find out you're working with the bastard trying to kill us. You come to me and want me to stand by your side in all this, then kill yourself with a spell!" He says slowly.

"I told you, I wasn't in complete control of my mind." You whimper out.

"You have no idea how deeply I understand that." He replies. He has your attention now. How could Dean Winchester ever not be in control of himself? You stay quiet, letting him continue. "You don't know this, but I was in Hell for a long time. And I don't mean figuratively. I was trapped in Hell. For over a decade, Alastair had me on that rack. Every day before he would start the pain, he would make me an offer." You let out a low gasp as you imagine what he went through. "He would let me off the rack and end the pain if I took over the torture. I took it day after day, not giving in. After letting him in my head for longer than I care to remember, I gave in, I couldn't take it any longer. He had made it sound so easy, and after the first cut or two, it was. I knew this wasn't me; it was what he had made me into. It was so hard to try and stop, not to enjoy what I was doing. After almost 30 years, I lost who I was." He's silent for a minute but you can hear his breathing through the door, he was tryin to hide his crying. "I know it's not exactly the same, but I do know what it's like to be under someone's thumb for so long that you forget who you are. How hard it can be to break that programming."

You suddenly feel something drop on your hand; it's a tear. You had started crying and didn't realize it. Your heart broke for Dean and what he went through. You slowly stand up and wrap your fingers around the door knob. You gently pull it open, unsure if Dean is still sitting against the door. "Dean." You whisper. You look up into his eyes, only inches from yours.

 His uneven breathing gently crossing your lips. "Freya." he says gently.

Your eyes drift from his eyes to his lips, then back again. As soon as your eyes make contact again, his hands wrap around your neck, pulling your lips against his. The soft kiss conveys an apology for which he can't find the words. You don't reciprocate for a second, his angry words still swimming in your head, but slowly, your mouth melts with his. You ghost your tongue over his bottom lip asking for permission to deepen the kiss, accepting his silent apology.