Fiction Secret

Title: Secret
Author: Restive Nature
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Supernatural. Those belong to Kripke and the CW.
Summary: “Name three children that you even know!”- Sam Winchester Season One Episode 3 “Dead In The Water”
Pairing: Dean/ Other


Secret

“There’s nothing here Dean,” Sam complained, shoving yet another newspaper to the side. It slid against his discarded plate, the remnants of another greasy meal congealing rapidly in unappetizing lumps.

Sam’s brother gave an undignified snort. “Yeah, it’s weird,” he agreed calmly. “You’d think in a town this size there’d have to be something.”

“But there obviously isn’t,” Sam continued his rant. “So can we go now?” His desperation to get back on the road and find their father, find the thing that had killed their mother and his girlfriend Jessica was showing. Not even a thin veneer of civility was showing.

Dean, who was not as oblivious as he pretended to be, knew this. Out of every person in Sam’s world, Dean knew him best. Never mind that they’d been separated for the last two years, when Sam had decided to leave the family business and go off to college. He’d raised the boy when their father had been too consumed with hunting and tracking or finding the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. He knew every nuance of Sam’s face, his gestures, and the inflections of his tone. Hell, he knew what Sam was going to say half the time before he even said it.

Dean had had a bit of a shock with the about face Sam had pulled after Jessica’s death. Now, unlike before, Sam was the one who was on the straight and narrow path of finding this demon bitch and killing the hell out of it. And Dean knew that Sam thought that he’d perplexed Dean with this attitude shift. But he hadn’t. If Sammy hadn’t responded like this, then Dean would have been worried. Because he knew how much Sam had loved Jess. How much love he still carried with him. And the guilt over her death. He only commented on the change, not because it flummoxed or surprised him, but because he wanted his brother to see that he couldn’t go on this way. It was fine for now. Righteous anger fuelled his baby brother and that was all well and good. But he couldn’t let it consume him.

But there was no way that he’d ever let on to Sam about that. No, if there was one thing Sam didn’t realize about his older brother, it was that he was a master of keeping secrets. Dean always commented that he’d learned everything from his father. But some days, he knew that his father could take a few lessons from him. And one of those secrets was the reason they’d stopped in this Podunk little town.

“I don’t know Sammy,” he smiled, stretching, arching his back as he flexed his fingers wide open. “I think I’m in the mood for some pie.”

Sam rolled his eyes and slumped backwards, his body thumping against the cracked vinyl seat of the booth they occupied. The sudden contact made the material creak in an ominous sound. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he took in the mutinous look on his brother’s face. How long could he stretch this out? How long did he have, hoping that she’d miraculously appear? How many excuses could he come up with, since a meal and hunting had been ruled out?

There was always a trip to the bathroom…

But then he might miss her. Dean wanted to smile, but kept it to himself. There was no power on earth that would allow him to slip and let Sam have an opening to this secret. Sure, he could come up with some lame excuse or an insult to throw his brother off the scent, but he just wasn’t up to it.

The closer they’d come in their cross country trek to this sleepy little town, the more anticipation thrummed through him. It was like a drumbeat in his head. A snare shot that thrashed around his mind. He knew that he’d timed things just right, when his watch had turned over to twelve o’clock noon and he’d declared he was hungry.

He could only hope that Sam didn’t notice when they’d swung past two other joints in his search for this greasy spoon. On the road, they were of the same opinion. One eatery was much like another. But this one was special. It was her favorite. Dean glanced up just in time to snag the waitress and charmingly ask for a list of pies that they had.

The young girl reeled off the list tiredly and Dean didn’t need to think it over. His waist was protesting the amount of food he’d inhaled just minutes ago, but he needed more time. And even Sam couldn’t protest a piece of good ol’ fashioned apple pie with ice cream.

Their waitress was back in a moment, since most of the rest of the lunch crowd had cleared out. But as she was leaving, he heard the bell over the door jangle. One glance was all it took to know that he’d hit pay dirt.

She walked in, cool as a long glass of lemonade on a hot sultry day. Her hips swung gently from side to side as her legs that went from here to eternity took long strides right past him and his brother. She’d changed her hair style. Dean wasn’t sure that he liked that. Her long red hair had been the feature that had first caught his attention. But the short spiky cut, he tried to recall the name of the haircut… a pixie cut, suited her face that was now covered in gold-framed glasses. The bright red of her hair had been darkened to a mahogany. It made her pale skin luminous. And though the lenses of the glasses he knew she didn’t need reflected back only the light of the overhead fluorescents, he knew that her eyes were a shade of hazel, similar to his own.

Just one glance and he knew this. He took it in, breathed it in more desperately than the air he needed to survive. And yet he gave away nothing. It was time for the final act. Knowing Sammy would barely notice the woman, he watched as his brother glanced up perfunctorily at the sound of the bell and just as casually dismissed the newcomer. She was dressed in skin tight blue jeans, a baby pink tee that should have clashed horribly with her hair, yet didn’t and brown cowboy boots. It looked like she’d just rolled out of bed and thrown the outfit on, but Dean knew there was very little about her that wasn’t planned. Very little.

And playing the part he was so very well acquainted with, Dean let his attention follow her path past their table, all the way up to the counter. As she leaned over to greet the waitress and the cook, both of whom she knew well, Dean grunted in appreciation as the denim material hugged her curves. He pulled his glance away and waggled his eyebrows playfully at Sam. He was rewarded with a typical rolling of Sam’s eyes.

But it didn’t matter, his brother’s attitude right now. Dean had what he wanted. She was safe, she was still here. And judging by the way she’d casually dismissed him and Sam, he’d taught her well. He could leave with the knowledge that his secret was safe.

But as he examined the situation from every angle, he realized that Sam would be suspicious if his sweet toothed brother didn’t even attempt to attack the pie that had just arrived. Daring another glance at the two woman, blonde waitress and redheaded seductress, giggling over something with their heads together, Dean used the side of his fork to slice through the front wedge of the pie, capturing some home churned vanilla ice cream with it. He lifted the utensil in front of his mouth and saluted his brother with it. Sam sighed audibly.

Dean smirked, knowing just what buttons to push with Sammy. “Think they’d be interested in a threesome?” he semi-whispered.

As he expected, Sam’s lips curled up in a sneer and he quickly threw a wadded up napkin at his older brother. “You’re such a pig Dean!”

“Takes one to know one, bitch,” he answered smartly.

“Jerk!” It was the time honored; standard reply and Dean would have had a heart attack if Sam ever said anything else. But come to think of it, Sam just might do that one day, just to shake his brother up. Dean was already thinking of more slurs to hurl at his brother just in case that day ever arrived. Wouldn’t do to be caught off guard.

Time passed as he savored the creamy confection, steeling himself not to think of the last time he’d eaten ice cream with her. There had been one container of mint chocolate chip and no spoons and it hadn’t mattered because as soon as she had sucked that first dripping mouthful from his finger, the ice cream had been abandoned by the side of the bed. And that was as far as he let himself go, because if he remembered the rest of that night, he wasn’t sure he could restrain himself from asking for just one more time with her.

Finally he’d picked up the last crumb from the plate with the back of his fork and savored it as he had the rest of the dessert. The drone of low voices from over at the counter rose in volume slightly, but he still couldn’t make out the words. A call from the cook in the back came and the waitress turned around to grab at her lunch, obviously boxed up to go.

The redhead stood and removed a checkbook from her back pocket and Dean was hard pressed to understand how it fit, as tight as those jeans were. She wrote out the amount and passed it over to the waitress. But as she folded it shut and turned it on it’s side to return it to her pocket, some tiny bit of paper fluttered out, landing on the floor.

Dean held his breath, wondering if Sammy had noticed, but his brother was intent on an article in the earlier discarded newspaper. The redhead took the Styrofoam box and her drink and called her farewells to her friends. She’d taken three steps, just passing their table when Dean acted.

He moved after she passed his seat and he bent over to snatch up the thick paper. As he turned it over, he knew then just how much of an angel she truly was. “Hey miss!” he called, straightening up. She turned; a detached curiousness on her face.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice light and clear. Dean walked back to the table, his hand slightly outstretched.

“You dropped this,” he informed her. She glanced down at his hands and her face brightened. “Cute kid,” he commented, his heart thrumming in his ears, just as it had been earlier. As he strove to get himself under control, he slanted the picture towards his brother who had been watching with mild interest, ready to jump in and defuse any situation his horn dog brother might get himself into. “Don’tcha think Sammy?”

Sam’s eyes flicked over the picture, then up at the woman. He grinned perfunctorily. “Real cute,” he echoed and then turned his face back to the paper, dismissing them.

The woman glanced down at her hands and then chuckled. They were full and she couldn’t take the picture. Dean carefully slid it onto the top of the Styrofoam container and she lifted her thumb just slightly so that it wouldn’t blow away.

“Thanks,” she smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t want to lose that.” She nodded in thanks and turned away. Dean didn’t want to watch her walk away again. So quickly, he turned to his brother and clapped his hands together.

“So you ready to go little brother?” he demanded in falsely hearty tones.

“Maybe after you pay the bill,”’ Sam pointed out smarmily. It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes and slinging his coat up off his seat and onto his solid frame, he dug out his wallet and another credit card in somebody else’s name. It wasn’t quite time to pay the piper yet and God willing, that day would never come.