Monster (A Supernatural Fanfiction) [1]

Chapter 8: "I'm gonna ruin this small moment we're having."

"So why psychology? I mean, wouldn't that just make you worse with hearing all of the negativity?" Dean pushed the needle through her skin and she winced, gulping. "Conversation usually helps." She clenched her eyes shut and nodded.

"Yeah, I kinda get that," Cassandra choked out. She sucked in a sharp breath and let Dean continue stitching up the gash on her stomach. He did his best to keep his gaze off of the scarring and her breasts, but it didn't help every time her chest heaved from the heavy, pain-filled breaths. "Uh, I've been able to distance myself from other people's feelings and emotions. It's mine that bring me down." Dean nodded in understanding.

"Does the college know about the past four years?" Cassandra shook her head, her eyes still closed. "So how did you hide the week long absences from them?"

"Bullshit lies. I had Sandy and my friend Amber bring me the assignments and notes and I did them there. My textbooks were harmless so they let me keep them." Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that I never wouldn't thought I'd be in a room with you shirtless, Miss Innocent Virgin." Cassandra ran her tongue across her teeth and leaned her head back on the table, sucking in a deep breath.

"Oh, I would totally smack you if you didn't have a needle in me and I didn't feel like I was gonna puke." Dean stopped, throwing his head back and laughing. "Don't laugh. Just stitch me up. We're going to be here a long time." Dean nodded his head to the side.

"I wouldn't mind that. I have to say, it's quite the view I have." Cassandra managed a smile. "And you want to know the best part?" Cassandra hummed in response, her eyes still closed and trying to ignore the pain as he pushed the needle through her skin. "You might have to take your pants off for me to stitch your thigh." She opened her eyes and lifted her head up, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you flirt with every girl or am I just special?"

"Well, I don't just stitch up and protect random women for hell of it." Cassandra snickered despite the pain.

"I think you can just rip my jeans more. It's not that bad and this outfit is already a goner. It's a shame, too."

"Yeah?" She nodded. "Why's that?"

"It's my favorite outfit." Dean leaned back and studied it. It was just her boots, black skinny jeans, a loose white shirt, a black lace bra, and her signature leather jacket.

"I'm sure it'd look amazing if it weren't torn to shreds," Dean replied. He tied off the last stitch and snipped the thread with the scissors, moving on to her arm.

"Damn demons."

"They are bastards. I'm proud of you, though." She furrowed her eyebrows as she watched him, pretty much numb to the pain now that the whiskey kicked in. Cassandra swore she was drunk, not that she'd know what that feels like. She had never had alcohol before. Her mom always offered her sips of wine but she refused them, claiming that alcohol was bad for her and that she wanted to stay as healthy as possible. If only tween Cassandra could see herself now.

"Why's that?"

"Because you fought off a demon and managed to de-ward yourself without knowing how any of your powers work. We'll have to have Cas ward you again but I'll make sure you're drunk when that happens. It seems painful for you," the blond explained. Cassandra nodded in agreement and stayed quiet, her eyes following Dean's movements as he stitched up her arm. He glanced up at her every now and again to make sure she was okay, his tongue pressed between his lips in concentration. Cassandra took that as her chance to really study Dean as she had never found the time before.

The light that illuminated the room in the night time reflected off of Dean's eyes, showing them off as a color that Cassandra could only describe as 'Disney Princess Green.' She bit back a chuckle at her thought, her gaze falling to his cheeks. Despite the stress and the lack of sleep that showed clearly in the dark circles under his disney princess eyes, freckles dotted his face. In her dream she could remember there being more so she assumed that they just faded over time considering she was pretty sure he didn't wear makeup. Cassandra watched as he tilted his head to the side, his jawline defined and sharp. If just his face looked this good then she couldn't imagine how good he looked shirtless.