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Gravity, 1/2, PG-13, Dean, Sam, GEN

The Eye

Title: Gravity
Author: Gaelicspirit
Characters: Dean, Sam, some baddies, and those of us who bounce
Rating: PG-13, There is some sexual content and language in this fic. This hasn't been beta'd. I hope you enjoy, and I appreciate any feedback. You guys help me grow.
Summary: One hunt, three moments. Dean feels the weight of his sacrifice as the horror and honesty of his life press down. Set after 3.05, Bedtime Stories, and inspired by Staind's Devil.
Disclaimer: Boys aren't mine and neither is the song. More's the pity.
Author's Note: In the song Devil, I heard Dean the way I saw him after Bedtime Stories… struggling through the ramifications of the deal, the reality of death, the loss of Sam. 


 

 

She sits alone again and tries her best not to pretend that all she used to live
for was the love that wasn't there
And every time she needs to do the things that she believes will fill the void
inside of her cuz he was never there

And she says,
"I swear I'm not the devil
though you think I am.
I swear I'm not the devil."
And she says,
"I swear I'm not the devil
Though you think I am.
I swear I'm not the devil."

 

He wouldn't be away for long, he knew that much. 

He needed to know where Sam was, but sometimes it hurt to be so close to him. It was too hard to explain to his brother what it was like to know that this was all going to be over in a few months. Dead in less than a year. No more fighting, no more hurting, no more war. It was liberating. He was free… right?

 

The bar was noisy, smoky, filled with people. Here he could be alone in the crowd. It was what he loved about bars—the anonymity. He felt eyes hit him holding varying levels of wariness or interest and knew that in those moments of brief observation he was whoever they wanted him to be. He was devil or angel, savior or sin. 

With a quick, unconscious dart of his tongue, he licked his lower lip, pulled it into his mouth, biting it as he scanned the darkened room with hooded eyes. 

 

He saw her almost immediately. 

She wore low-rise jeans that clung to the slim curve of her hip and outlined shapely, long legs. A black tank top set off creamy skin that glowed in the neon light of the Budweiser sign. Her hair was shorter than he usually liked, but it fanned out in rebellious tufts that he found oddly sexy. At first he thought it was brown but as she turned back to the bar after a wistful glance at the jukebox, her hair caught the lights from overhead and he saw streaks of red dancing through it. It gave her an air of boldness that belied the set of her shoulders.

 

He crossed to the empty stool two down from her, swung his leg over the circular black leather and settled his pockets on the seat. Catching the bartender's eye, he ordered a beer—El Sol, his favorite—and slid his eyes left, trying to catch her wandering gaze. He was surprised to see the sadness etched into her profile. She wasn't dressed for sorrow. She was dressed for action. The kind of action he wanted right now. 

The kind of action that helped
him forget.

 

Studying the rim of his bottle, he wondered if he should just leave. Head back to the motel. To Sam. To reality. A moment of escape may not be a luxury afforded to him anymore. The music on the jukebox changed again and he brought his head up, catching the roll of her neck from the corner of his eyes.

 

Hell with it…

 

Sliding one seat over, he rested his right elbow on the bar, his beer held secure in his grip, his left hand resting casually on his left knee.

 

"My name's Dean," he said, dropping his chin, watching her through his lashes. He knew how fast to move, how slow to breathe. He knew how to give them what they needed so that he could get what he wanted. 

 

She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, glancing over at him with surprise, clearly unaware of his proximity until he spoke. Her eyes were brown. He'd expected green. Their darkness swam a moment and he drew his head back slightly, feeling his shoulders tighten.

 

More and more demons are walking among us… it's a damn army…

 

She blinked and he realized that the darkness he saw there wasn't demonic—but it was familiar.

 

"Hi, Dean," she replied, her voice husky and hushed.

 

"Can I get you a drink?"

 

"One more and I'm gonna be sleeping on the bar," she chuckled. It was throaty and sad.

 

Heat began to build in his gut, the sensation a welcome change to the chill that had settled inside since he'd tasted dirt on the lips of the Crossroad Demon.

 

"Yeah, I know that feeling," he nodded. She hadn't told him her name. Would I remember your name?

 

"They're playing all the wrong songs," she said, dropping her eyes. Long, slim, ringless fingers toyed with the wide-mouthed shot glass in front of her. "I hate it when that happens."

 

He nodded again, his eyes on her throat, watching her swallow. He moved them slowly to her ears, noticing the silver hoops there, then traced them across her cheekbones as she turned to register his nod. He felt the heat in his belly coil into a knot of sudden need.

 

He took a chance. "You want to get away from the music?"

 

She looked squarely at him, the corners of her dark eyes tipping down in doubt. He knew instantly that she'd never left a bar with a stranger before, and he could sense her inclination to be good warring with her desire to fall, just once, into the gray area between right and wrong.

 

"You got some place in mind?" she asked.

 

He let his lips curl into a slow grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Anyplace, really. Anyplace but where he'd come from. Where his responsibility waited. Where his one joy and his one peace and his biggest heartache lay sleeping.

 

She licked her lips, then taking a deciding breath, she grabbed her purse. He put his hand over hers.

 

"I got it," he said, pulling out a bill and laying it on the bar.

 

She looked at the money. He saw her pulse tremble at the base of her throat and let his eyes drop to her knees, filling his vision with the curves set off by her simple attire. He waited. Without looking at him, she turned from the bar, slid from the stood and skimmed her hand into his, indicating he should lead them out.

 

He'd noted a motel two blocks down, between where he had been and where he'd needed to go. Pulling into a parking space, he turned off the car and sat silently next to her. The cool of the evening tempered his blood, allowed logic to quench need.

 

"We don't have to go in," he said softly.

 

"I want to," she answered, still not looking at him. "I want to feel... something."

 

He looked over at her, surprised to hear his heart echoed in a stranger's mouth. She met his eyes and he caught his breath, the darkness lurking there a mirror of his transgression. Nodding, he opened his door, listening as she stepped out and slammed her door closed. Silently, they approached the motel room. He inserted the key he'd picked up before heading to the bar—picked up for this very reason—and turned the lock.

 

He started to turn on the lights, then paused.

 

"Mind if we keep them off?" He asked as she stepped in behind him.

 

"No," she whispered, and he heard her purse hit the floor.

 

He closed the door. He could barely see her in the wan light filtering in from the parking lot. It created a pale, ghostly glow over her arms, neck, and face. She tilted her head, blinking at him. Waiting.

 

"I just... I can't go back right now," he said suddenly.

 

She nodded, somehow understanding him. "There's no one for me to go back to," she said.

 

"I almost lost my brother." He didn't know where the words were coming from or why he was saying them. "I got him back, but… now I'm gonna have to leave him."

 

"I'm sorry," she said, watching him.

 

He stepped forward, running his hands lightly up the sides of her soft arms, feeling the gooseflesh raise as he did so. She trembled. He stepped closer, moving his hands up to her shoulders, tucking his fingers under the straps of her tank top.

 

"It's okay to do this," she whispered. He nodded in the darkness. "It's okay to do this," she repeated, as though trying to convince herself of something.

 

He removed the space between them, feeling her softness crush up against his length, up against his heat. She was shaking. He fought himself, wanting to pull away and plunge into her at the same time.

 

"We can stop now, if you want," he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

 

"No," she shook her head, her cheek rubbing against his with the motion. She stepped out of her heels, dropping her mouth to the hollow of his throat. He felt her breath, hot on his skin. "No," she said again. "I want this."

 

Sliding the straps of her top off of her shoulders, he skimmed his hands up her neck, tucking his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck, and rested his palms on the warm skin of her face. Tipping her mouth up to his, he captured her lips in a slow, soft kiss, pressing deeper when he felt her hands on his shoulders, fingers gripping, searching.

 

He slid his tongue inside to brush tentatively across her teeth, releasing a low moan from the base of her throat. Taking that as a signal to continue, he walked her backward, slowly, until she was flush against the wall, his body holding her up, her hands gripping the muscles of his back.

 

She jerked her mouth from his, her eyes glittering in the faint light, bouncing from his wet mouth to his greedy eyes.

 

"Now," she said. "Do it now."

 

He didn't need further encouragement. He shoved her tank top down to her waist, filling his hands with her breasts and pulling her sigh into him.

 

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was lust in your eyes.

 

He fumbled with the zipper of her jeans, letting her shift her hips against his hand as she helped ease the denim from her body. As she stepped free, he reached between his shoulder blades, curled his shoulders inward, and pulled his T-shirt over his head, watching her fingers find the button-fly of his jeans.

 

She was barely breathing, her lower lip protruding in a sexy pout. As she unfastened his jeans, he dipped his head forward, pressing his bare skin to hers, catching that lip in his teeth, and then darting his mouth up quickly to cut off her air with a hungry kiss. He shuddered when her hands found him, pressing tight, fingers reaching through his boxers to stroke.

 

"Easy, sweetheart," he crooned into her mouth.

 

"This isn't wrong," she whispered, and he heard the tail end of a question on her breath… is it?

 

"You want to feel something," he reminded her, sliding his boxers free and stepping clear—keeping no more than two inches distance between them.

 

He pressed himself against her once more, relishing the differences in their bodies. Women were soft, supple. Their curves led him, guided him, thrilled him. The way she gave against the hard planes of his body made him shudder, causing him to forget what waited for him beyond the doors of the darkened room.

 

She pressed her lips to his chin, whispering her agreement. "I want to feel."

 

He let her fingers explore, let her touch him, tease him. Her fingers skidded, turned, brushed, grasped. 

He dropped his head to her shoulder as his knees threatened to give way from her touch, then pulled abruptly away, grabbing her wrist away from his heat and pressed her hands together above her head, against the wall. He ducked his head for a deep kiss, pressing into her belly when she bit, hard, on his lip.

 

Reaching down quickly, he cupped her backside, scooping her up and turning her to the bed. Sliding the protection he was never without into place, he climbed her body, prowling the space between her knees, his breath skipping over her hips, across her belly, his tongue tasting the trail until he reached her arched neck. He teased her neck with his teeth, grabbing her earlobe and tugging until she gasped, her fingernails clawing for purchase against his spine.

 

"I want to feel," she whispered in a half-sob.

 

Feel something other than this emptiness, something other than this false euphoria, something other than the passing of time, something other than fear… 

His heart echoed her plea as he buried himself inside of her.

 

She arched up, pressing her belly, her ribs, her hips against him. He cradled her close, giving her a moment to adjust to him, then began to rock.

 

No, it’s a pit of despair. Why do you think we want to come here?

 

He gasped, his muscles quaking as he held her, thrusting harder, faster. She clutched him, pressing her mouth to his neck, silencing her own cries, but releasing low moans at his motion. The heat built, tightening, pulling, bringing him to an edge, showing him the truth. Then with one final plunge he felt the release, stars cascading behind his eyes, arms quivering, breath stalling.

 

She held on to him; he felt her muscles tighten convulsively around him, gripping him with a warm, wet heat. He kissed her neck, rolling to his side so as not to crush her with his spent weight. She hesitated; he could see her move her arm across her bare breasts as if to cover them. He curved his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against him so that she could hide behind his body.

 

"I don't ever do this," she whispered.

 

I do, he thought.

 

He had never gotten close to anyone, save Cassie. And the end of that confession of feeling taught him why he'd never done it before and solidified the decision to never do it again. Why get close when you couldn't stay there? Why get close when you had no future? But he wanted to feel… he needed to be touched… he craved the climb and yearned for the fall… he had to remind himself that he was still real, he still mattered as a person, as a being, as someone other than a protector, a guardian.

 

He found what he needed in the arms of a stranger.

 

She shifted her head, and he felt her eyes on him. "I'm not a bad person."

 

"None of us are," he said, his voice rough from a sudden tightening of his throat. We're just trying to find something to fill the empty places inside of us.

 

When he dropped her back off at her car, he realized that once again, he hadn't gotten her name. And he was still empty, only now the emptiness had weight. He drove back to Sam.

Part Two can be found here: gaelicspirit.livejournal.com/4273.html

 

Comments

( 24 Tall Tales — Tell Me A Story )
novembersguest
Apr. 5th, 2008 12:37 am (UTC)
Yay!!!
Yay, I'm so happy you're posting your stuff!!! I can't wait until people begin to discover you hear to and, in case anyone is reading this, Gravity is an awesome read...I highly recommend!
novembersguest
Apr. 5th, 2008 12:38 am (UTC)
Re: Yay!!!
Well, obviously, I meant discover you here...*facepalms*
gaelicspirit
Apr. 5th, 2008 02:06 am (UTC)
Re: Yay!!!
*blush*

Thanks. You know how much I love you for this. Now... if I could just figure out the communities thing... *frowns fiercely at computer for it is all computer's fault*
novembersguest
Apr. 5th, 2008 02:11 am (UTC)
Re: Yay!!!
Well, a short-cut would be to post like you're posting it in your own journal, then up at the top near your icon, there should be a drop down box that will allow you to post to any community you belong to. Just make sure you've read each community's rules for posting :).

Does that help?
novembersguest
Apr. 5th, 2008 02:16 am (UTC)
Re: Yay!!!
Oh...and go see my journal...I have three new promo pics posted. A better version of that one I sent you :).
faithette
Apr. 5th, 2008 06:31 pm (UTC)
Wow, this is just beautiful!

I don't normally read het, but I couldn't NOT read this. Your prose is beautiful, your insight into Dean's headspace is spot on.

Thank you so much for posting this!

Is it okay if I friend you? I wanna be sure I don't miss any of your future postings :-)
gaelicspirit
Apr. 5th, 2008 07:26 pm (UTC)
I'd love it if you friended me. I'm still trying to figure out how to post in communities, and I'm glad this worked! Thanks for reading and commenting -- especially if you don't usually read het.

This is slightly different than my usual stuff, but I'm pleased you enjoyed it.

Slainte.
Gaelic
(Anonymous)
Apr. 5th, 2008 08:29 pm (UTC)
I am a big fan of yours! :) I have always enjoyed your stories. this one is no exception. - Sooo looking forward to more stories from you (and more chapters to this one). Longer stories are good :) :)
gaelicspirit
Apr. 5th, 2008 08:41 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much! I really appreciate you swinging by and taking time to comment.

This one only has the two chapters -- it was actually a one-shot that I couldn't fit into one post. I put both links on the community post, but both sections are also in my LJ.

I am currently working on a WIP called "In the Light" which is posting over at fanfic and when I get that done, I'm going to try to start posting more here.

Hope you enjoy. Best to you,
Gaelic
saberivojo
Apr. 6th, 2008 08:52 pm (UTC)
Sexy, needy, wanting. The sexy he has got, but I don't think the one night stands fill all the emptiness for Dean. Maybe though, that is enough. Friend?
gaelicspirit
Apr. 6th, 2008 08:54 pm (UTC)
Friend.

And thanks - I agree. It's going to take more than a one night stand to offer him the solace he needs. Hope you like the 2nd part.
yasminke
Apr. 6th, 2008 08:54 pm (UTC)
Welocme to the foray
This was lovely, very well-drawn and evocative.

On to part 2...
gaelicspirit
Apr. 6th, 2008 08:56 pm (UTC)
Re: Welocme to the foray
*grin*

Thanks. I'm very pleased you enjoyed it -- hope you like how the next few verses play out in Part 2.

Slainte.
yasminke
Apr. 6th, 2008 09:08 pm (UTC)
Re: Welocme to the foray
Done -- and I did. Your work is very descriptive, well-done.

Thanks for sharing it and I look forward to reading more from you.

gaelicspirit
Apr. 9th, 2008 09:34 pm (UTC)
Re: Welocme to the foray
No, no, thank you! And now... I feel I must have a Guiness after seeing your avatar. Brilliant!
yasminke
Apr. 10th, 2008 05:41 am (UTC)
Re: Welocme to the foray
Did I use the one of my second favourite drink? Huh. Actually, a Guinness sounds like a good idea since work is over for the day...
girlfan1979
Apr. 7th, 2008 10:30 pm (UTC)
Wow, this is really evokative!

And I'm glad to see you on LJ.
gaelicspirit
Apr. 9th, 2008 09:33 pm (UTC)
Thank you! Took me awhile, but I finally figured out how to post a few things. I'm pleased you enjoyed this first part.

Hope to see you more!

Gaelic
chemm80
Apr. 13th, 2008 02:03 am (UTC)
This is nice - it has a ...silky?...feel to it. Sorry - that's the best word I can think of. Makes me wonder what her secret is.
gaelicspirit
Apr. 13th, 2008 04:21 pm (UTC)
ooo -- I like that description. Silky. It goes with the colors I imagined wrapped around them in that motel room.

I got a comment from another reviewer that said this part was the strongest of the three -- the last part being the weakest, which I'm keeping in mind when I go forward trying to climb inside these character's heads.

Thanks for saying you wonder what her secret is. I do know -- I write a little bio for any of my OC's before I enter them into a storyline. But it was more how she affected Dean that was the focus. Her issues are sad and tragic and the point was they drove her to this moment in her life. But apparently she was real enough to make you wonder, which is thrilling to me.

Thanks for taking time to read this, and if you read the rest, I hope you enjoyed.
ruby_jelly
Jul. 28th, 2008 11:50 am (UTC)
Oh my! This is brilliant, evocative, so visually descriptive, and the insight into Dean's character - just broke my heart! Thank heavens there's another part, and off I go...nervously!
gaelicspirit
Aug. 2nd, 2008 06:49 pm (UTC)
Hi!

Thanks for your feedback on this part -- I really appreciate you taking time to read and I'm thrilled that you felt the words as you did. I hope you enjoyed the 2nd part as well.

Best to you,
Gaelic
amber1960
Feb. 22nd, 2010 09:58 pm (UTC)
Part 1
Just remembered I should be checking you out here and found this one. Lovely, sexy and sad all at once. Dean just has the knack of breaking my heart even when he's proving once again that he's the most attractive guy I can imagine, and you, my dear, are just encouraging him!
One typo spotted (I know this is old now but I can't help myself!) "she turned from the bar, slid from the stood" assume you meant "stool".
Shall now move onto part 2
gaelicspirit
Feb. 23rd, 2010 12:16 am (UTC)
Re: Part 1
Well hello! Thank you so, so much for taking time to check out this fic. You're right, it is "old" in the sense that I wrote it about two years ago...ish. But thank you for catching that typo! You were spot on. Sometimes my fingers get ahead of me, yeah? *grin*

I'm so pleased you enjoyed this first part -- every time I've listened to this song by Staind since writing this piece I see Dean with the (basically faceless) red-head driving out the demons in his head.

Off to see what you thought of Part 2...
( 24 Tall Tales — Tell Me A Story )

Time is Relative, Stories are Forever

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