“What’s this about you running because you think that you’re only going to put me in danger if you had stayed?” Dean asked as he approached you. That was the first thing he said to you after not seeing you for months. No, “Hey sweetheart, I missed you.” No, “Where the hell have you been?” Or “What the hell were you thinking?”
You stared at him vacantly for a second. You hadn’t been expecting your first encounter with Dean to be like that when he finally did catch up with you.
You took a deep breath, closing your eyes, planning your words carefully. “Dean, I have the mark. I’m getting,”
“Worse. I know,” he said, cutting you off. “I still don’t see how that meant you had to run?” He asked, irritation starting to creep into his voice.
There was the flare of anger you had been expecting. You sighed almost in relief.
“Dean, I don’t know what this thing is doing to me,” you confessed, gesturing toward your arm. “I just know that it wants blood. What happens when it gets so bad and you’re the only blood around that it can have? Do you think it will give a fuck that I love you?”
Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t meant for those words to slip out. Dean knew you cared about him. He knew there was something deeper there too, but love was a whole different ball game.
You watched his eyebrows knit together as he ran a finger over his bottom lip then reached out for your hand, pulling you close to him.
“Haven’t you learned by now that every time we try to do something separately it goes to hell?” he asked, his eyes pleading with you as his other hand landed on your hip, pulling your hips firmly against his. “You’re always safest with me. Period,” he almost growled, his hand releasing yours and coming to rest on your face. “The mark and whatever effects may come with it can kiss my ass,” he finished.
You dared to look into his eyes and saw the truth in his words, the pleading behind his eyes.
“Dean, I know how this ends. One of us is going to die.”
He brushed your hair behind your ear. “And it won’t be you,” he all but whispered before his lips met yours in a bruising kiss, his nose pressing into your face with force. The electricity that shot through you at the contact was enough to make you light headed, causing you to grab onto Dean’s jacket and hold him to you.
You pulled away and looked into his eyes.
“And it won’t be you,” you promised back, kissing him fiercely before turning on your heels and walking away one last time.
Or so you thought. When Dean Winchester made up his mind, there was no stopping him, not even the Mark of Cain.