Chapter Text
While Dean slept on the couch, Sam helped Riley move the mattresses back into the bedrooms. Well, he helped as much as he could. Riley had come back from the drive red around her eyes, her cheeks flushed pink, and he could tell she’d been crying. Not just tearing up either, but deep, full body, dehydrating, energy-depleting sobbing. Sam didn’t know what exactly had gone down and he didn’t want to ask. Whatever Dean had told her, had opened up a wound. And that wound was still gushing fresh crimson.
“How far have you guys got to travel? If you can tell me that much,” Riley asked in a throwaway manner, glancing at Sam over her shoulder while she put fresh sheets on the spare bed.
“We’re, uh, based in Kansas actually,” Sam leaned against the dresser and tried to take the weight off his leg.
“Kansas?” Riley asked, stopping to look at him.
“Yeah, what?”
“It’s just… it’s far, that’s all.”
“We drive all over, really. Our work takes us everywhere. It’s not that big a drive for us.”
“Right…”
Sam looked down at the floor.
“Listen, Sam,” Riley turned and sat on the bed, “There’s something wrong with Dean, isn’t there? Like… something really wrong.”
Sam felt himself well up. He chewed the inside of his lip and tried to look anywhere but her eyes.
“He won’t… he won’t want me talking about that.”
“It’s okay,” she nodded, “You just answered my question.”
“Riley -”
“I won’t say anything to him but just… take care of him,” she said it like a question, “please.”
“Yeah, of course,” he nodded, “Uh, did you want help with that?”
Riley shook her head, “Nah, I got it. Why don’t you go sit down for a bit. Get off that leg.”
“Sure,” Sam smiled, turning and leaving the room.
He limped down the hall, hanging onto the wall. He was starting to get dizzy from being upright for so long. Dean woke with a start when Sam flopped down beside him.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Dean ran a hand down his face, pulling the high flow down around his neck as he did it.
“‘S’okay,” he rasped, before coughing into his fist.
“Are you feeling any better at all?” Sam asked.
Dean groaned and then nodded, “Well, I don't feel like I'm on death's door if that's what you mean.”
“That’s a start, I guess.”
Dean looked down, noticing the mattresses were gone from the floor.
“Riley do this?”
“Yeah,” Sam confirmed, gently massaging his thigh below his wound.
Dean nodded, and grinned dopily, puffy tired eyes crinkling.
“Dude -“ Sam tried to stop him.
“I’m getting laid tonight.”
Sam barked a laugh and ended up coughing into a fist, when he was done he patted Dean’s knee.
“You deserve it.”
Dean's smile faltered a little, “Yeah…”
“Dean?”
“Yeah, Sammy?”
“You came back here. To see Riley.”
Dean nodded, pursing his lips and looking straight ahead at nothing.
“You never told me.”
“Wasn’t a time in my life I wanted to reminisce on, Sam.”
“Why? Why did you come to see her again?”
“I was in the area.”
“I don’t think I buy that. You could have stopped at a motel. You didn’t have to come here.”
“I was out of my head with fever, man. I didn’t know which way was up. I needed…” Dean trailed off, jaw clenching.
Sam looked down.
He needed someone to take care of him.
Dean cleared his throat and busied himself taking the nasal prongs off from around his neck.
“You loved her,” Sam said suddenly, earnestly, knowingly, “You still do, don’t you?”
Dean’s eyes met his and he knew he couldn’t say anymore. Shouldn’t say anymore. Because Dean was hanging on by a thread.
“Maybe we should stay,” he said after a while.
Dean shook his head and pressed his fingers into his eyes, “I can’t.”
“How bad is it?” Sam asked.
Dean looked at his brother, “It’s getting pretty bad.”
“And how’d you do behind the wheel of a car for all of half an hour?”
Dean huffed a pathetic laugh, sad and embarrassed, “I barely made it, man. But the longer we stay the worse it’s going to be. I can’t… I won’t let something happen to her. I couldn’t…” Dean broke off, emotion stealing his voice, stopping him from continuing.
Sam patted his knee again and nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, “For what it’s worth, Dean… I wish you could have this. I really do.”
Dean smirked and looked down, “Me too, Sammy.”
The sound of footsteps coming back down the hallway ended the conversation there.
“You guys ready for some lunch?” Riley asked softly, her hand finding the back of Dean's neck as she leant on the back of the couch. “I’ve got some chicken left over. I can do sandwiches?”
“Thanks, Riles. That’d be awesome,” Dean said, pushing his fingers into his eyes.
“Hey,” Sam said, “You okay?”
Dean didn’t answer but threw Sam a smile.
…
The day moved past in a haze. The boys weren’t well. Spending a lot of time in and out of sleep, medicated and pliant. But it was the mood that made the most impact. A black hole of despair she thought might swallow them all up. So they teetered at the edge, like a ball rolling around the rim, spiralling downwards, before it sped up to an impossible pace that couldn’t be sustained and finally dropped in.
They had their car, and they wouldn’t stay long, if they even stayed another night. That was why she’d hastily decided to put the mattresses back in the bedrooms. This might be her last chance before Dean Winchester slipped away… again.
They ate dinner together around the table. She’d cooked macaroni pasta bake and had a cherry pie in the oven. She hadn’t made that from scratch but she had limited time and she didn’t want to waste it in the kitchen.
The conversation had been halting and heavy. Trying to have a good time when at least two members of the party were emotionally falling apart, and two more were physically. And there were only three members. The boys both were struggling by the end of the meal from the sheer act of attempting to look well. A facade built over a crumbling foundation. Eventually everything had to break.
Dean forced down his pie and Sam got halfway through his sliver. They were now sitting on the couch. Riley made eyes at Dean and Dean flicked a look at Sam.
“Uh,” Sam mumbled, rising slowly to his feet, “Guess I’ll turn in. I’m beat.”
Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother.
“Goodnight, Riley. Thanks for dinner… for everything .”
“Any time, Sam,” she smiled at the younger Winchester and tried to hold his eye contact as Dean traced a finger up the outside of her thigh.
“Thought he’d never leave,” Dean grinned but she knew it was an act. That old fake bravado he thought he could hide behind. As if she didn’t know him well enough by now.
“Dean,” she felt her expression slipping towards despair, that black hole getting closer and closer.
Dean traced his finger along the edge of her jaw, his thumb finding her bottom lip. Like he was trying to commit her face to memory with the use of all of his senses.
She shifted down on the couch until her head was on the armrest, legs wrapped around Dean’s waist and she tugged on his t-shirt as he brought his weight down on top of her, pulling him closer.
Kissing him felt different now, and there were too many emotions to try and break it down. So she let go of everything else… and just felt him.
Dean's chest heaved suddenly and his throat clenched and he pushed off her, ducking his face into his shoulder with a few strangled coughs.
“Don’t do that,” she said, hand on his sternum.
“This ain’t gonna be… any fun for you if -“ he choked out between the stifled coughs.
“Hey, don’t care. I don’t want anything but you.”
Dean sat back and directed a few forceful coughs into his fist. He rubbed his knuckles against his chest.
“Let me,” Riley sat forward, spreading her hands across his ribcage.
“Riley -“
“I’ll take you, Dean… as is.”
…
Riley lay on the bed in her most scandalous red lace lingerie set. She sat up when Dean finally stepped out of the ensuite. He was clean shaven, hair styled, and wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. He’d redressed his shoulder and was looking fresh and clean, despite the shadows under his eyes.
“You look…” he trailed off, biting his bottom lip.
“Get over here, hotshot.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He smelt of her soap and shampoo. She spent a while between extracurricular activities massaging his chest and back. Feeling in between his ribs, under his shoulder blades, in the dip under his collarbone. Occasionally he’d let a moan of pleasure slip out when he let his guard down and she counted each one, considering it her victory.
When they’d finished satisfying each other's needs Dean found himself on the edge of the bed, struggling with his cough. She got up and threw on a robe and went to grab his pills.
She sat next to him on the bed, decanting all the medication. Antibiotics, painkillers, decongestants, cough syrup. Dean reached a hand out to still hers.
“If I take all of that I don’t know if I’ll be able to go again.”
Riley pressed her lips against his, smiling. She felt a tear escape.
“I don’t need you to.”
Dean huffed a small laugh and held out his hand. She could see it trembling a little and knew no matter how bad he felt he would have held out for her.
He took everything, looking more weary by the second. Riley had propped all her pillows up against the headboard and nestled back against them, pulling Dean along with her. His arms snaked around her waist, his head coming to rest in the nap of her neck. He had one leg in between hers. Feeling his heart beat against her, his lungs expanding and contracting, halting and noisy, his breath ghosting over her breasts… and he allowed himself to be held. She smiled to herself when she realised that all the sex in the world could never beat out the intimacy of this moment. Closing her eyes, she vowed as long as Dean held her, she would not fall asleep.
Within minutes she felt Dean relax into her even more, breaths evening out in sleep. He could only fight the pull of exhaustion for so long. His body was warm, and both their skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. Opening her eyes, the dim light caught on every dip and groove of Dean's muscular frame. Tried as she may, eventually into the wee hours of the morning, she fell asleep counting his heart beats.
…
Dean felt a hand on his back as he coughed himself awake against Riley’s chest. He controlled it as best he could, feeling her hold tightening around him, desperate. He wanted their last morning to be good.
He’d slept longer, and deeper than he had for a long time. Much better than he’d expected. He couldn’t even remember dreaming, and for that he was grateful.
“Morning,” he growled, his voice like gravel. He cleared his throat and rearranged himself to see Riley’s face.
“Morning, tiger,” Riley had a glint in her eye, and she gently brushed her fingers across his forehead, smoothing his hair. “You sleep okay?”
He winked, “Best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
“You’re welcome,” she smirked.
Dean leaned in and kissed her.
Riley bit her bottom lip and cast her eyes downward, “You know you don’t have to go. Not now. Not today.”
Dean relaxed into her, feeling equally at home in her arms, and the sick sense that he didn’t belong. This wasn’t his life. Could never be.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he swallowed, “I’d give anything not to have to go.”
Riley smiled, a peace and acceptance in her eyes even as her lips quaked.
“We would have died that night, if you didn’t -“
“You don’t have to thank me. But do me a favour and don’t get that close to death before you pick up the phone and call me.”
Dean smirked, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Seriously.”
Dean ran a hand through his hair, bringing it back to his mouth to muffle a cough in to.
“I, uh,” Dean cleared his throat, “I do love you, you know.”
Riley kissed his forehead, “The feeling is mutual.”
Dean dragged his finger up the side of her neck.
“Are you going to be okay?” She asked.
“You know, I don’t know. But I’m still kicking now, which is longer than I ever thought I would… so stranger things have happened.”
Riley smiled at him but it gave away her sadness.
Dean felt the clawing sensation in his chest and had to untangle himself from her to sit up straighter.
“Hang on,” he gasped, turning to plant his feet on the ground and cough into his bare elbow.
“Wait here. I’ll get you something,” Riley popped up and stepped into her panties, threw a singlet on.
Dean watched her dress through blurry eyes, struggling against the cough he’d held at bay for so long.
She pressed a bunch of tissues into his hand and left the room. When she came back, Dean had broken out in a sweat from the battle for breath.
“Thanks,” he croaked, taking the glass of water from her, wincing against the pain as he swallowed.
Riley crouched in front of him.
“You have to at least give me time to pack up all your stuff. You’re taking the high flow with you and I don’t want to hear you argue with me.”
Dean nodded, managing to smirk, “I need to… see how Sam is.”
“Neither of you are road ready.”
“We’ve travelled with worse,” he groaned, trying to suppress the flood of memories that came rushing back to him. “Car needs a clean,” Dean ran a hand across his face, cursing internally at the state they’d left his baby in.
“I’ll do it. You hang here for a bit and I’ll get you some breakfast,” Riley tugged a pair of denim shorts on.
“I’m not really that hungry.”
“Tough,” she raised her eyebrows at him as she did up the button.
“You’re bossy, you know that?”
“It has been said,” she smiled, planting a kiss on his forehead.
…
Dean must have fallen back asleep, because he woke up on Riley’s bed, the door pulled mostly shut and the sounds of conversation filtering in from the living room.
There was a lukewarm coffee mug on the nightstand and he took a sip, in an effort to calm the constant tickle. It was mildly successful. He sat up and scrubbed his hands through his hair. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up feeling good. It felt like he’d been sick for months. He heard Sam cough in the other room and sighed. They just couldn’t catch a break, could they?
He found his duffle on a chair by the wall, his clothes washed and neatly folded back inside. He grabbed out a henley and a pair of jeans and got dressed. Going to take a leak he realised the need to cough up his lungs was very close to taking over. He took care of business then leaned over the sink and coughed as hard as he could while still remaining upright. He hit his gag reflex finally but managed not to throw up.
“ Fuck ,” he moaned, breathless.
“Hey,” Riley was standing at the door, hip popped leaning on the doorframe. “You okay?”
Dean stepped back from the sink and stumbled slightly, a dizzy spell slamming into him.
Riley moved quickly, grabbing him round the waist.
“I’m good, just,” he rasped, “get my breath back.”
“Come sit down,” Riley’s big eyes were assessing him and her fingers went to his forehead, testing for fever.
He wanted to tell her to quit hovering but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when they were so close to walking out that door.
“I’m okay. How’s Sam?”
Riley followed him closely out into the living room, where Sam was sitting on the couch with his duffle next to him, rearranging his things, leg stretched out in front of him.
“Morning,” Sam nodded at him and Dean could swear he saw pity in his eyes and that really wasn’t helping.
“Morning, sunshine,” Dean grunted.
He made it to one of the dining table chairs and Riley finally stopped following him like he was going to collapse. Well, she probably has a good reason for that, he thought.
“How you feeling?” Sam winced as he jostled his leg, recovering his expression quickly.
“Tanned, rested and ready,” Dean winked.
Riley was grabbing Dean a fresh cup of coffee from the pot and Sam zipped up his bag.
“How about that leg?” Dean asked.
“Changed the dressing this morning. It’s healing,” Sam shrugged, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Dean groaned a reply and took the coffee Riley offered him.
Sam cleared his throat, “We should head out before noon if we want to make it anywhere by sundown. I don't think we should be driving through the night just yet.”
Dean pursed his lips and nodded, wondering where Sam was getting this authoritarian attitude from. He rubbed his eyes and set his coffee cup down, “You’re probably right, but you lost a lot of blood all over the front seat.”
“Back seat’s nearly just as bad, dude.”
Clearly Sam had been out to take a look while he’d grabbed a few more winks this morning.
“If you tell me what I can use on the upholstery I can give the seats a clean,” Riley suggested. “Might not be able to get much out of the carpets unless you’ve got an upholstery shampooer though.”
“Oh, we’re used to scrubbing blood off Baby,” Dean smirked, “‘S’all good.”
…
Baby sat glistening in Riley’s driveway. Riley had taken time to pack all their equipment and supplies up and clean as much of the car as could be done before they’d readied themselves to go. There was only two more things to be loaded into the car now, and that was them.
Sam nodded at Dean over the hood of the car before stooping to get in slowly, cautiously. Dean turned back to Riley.
“I’d tell you I don’t want you to go, but where’s that gonna get us?”
Dean looked down, away from her gaze.
“You know I’d rather not say goodbye,” Dean cleared his throat, “again.”
“I’ve always hated goodbyes.”
“Should we skip it then?”
“We should make that a rule at this point,” Riley smiled.
“I thought we did,” Dean returned the smile.
“You’ve got my number,” Riled added, smile faltering, “Use it.”
Dean nodded, sucking on his bottom lip.
“Look out for each other.”
Tears welled in her eyes and Dean had to look away as he pulled her into a hug. Her face pressed into his chest, he rested his chin on her head. When she pulled away she rose to his lips and they kissed like it might be their last. He wished things could be different, wished they could have the life they both dreamed of. But he knew better than to hope for that. When they broke from the kiss both of their cheeks were wet from tears. He looked from one eye to another, memorising her gaze, before smoothing a final kiss against her temple. Then, with a strength he didn’t know he had left, he turned and walked away.