Fiction WiC24- Wonderdrug

Title: When It Changes
Author: Restive Nature
Genre: Crossover
Type: WiP
Shows: Dark Angel and Supernatural
Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.
Story Rating: PG-13 up to NC-17 for language, violence and sexual situations. (All higher rated material will be contained in its own chapter and clearly marked at the beginning of the chapter. PG versions of these chapters will also be available.)
Chapter Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations
Timeline/ Spoilers: This story takes place predominantly in the Supernatural timeline. This means that the Dark Angel structure of post-pulse America does not fit in. The massive changes will be that Manticore is decades ahead of itself and the characters from DA are born much earlier than portrayed on the show. There is no Pulse occurring. Any other changes to the structures or episodes of the shows will be (hopefully) explained within the story itself.
Pairing: Dean/ Max (At long last!!!)

Summary: Change can be a choice and you never know where the road you choose to take will lead you.

When It Changes

Chapter Twenty-four

Wonderdrug

The crowd that whistled and talked laughed and sang ebbed around them. The bright glittering colors of the festivities seemed muted by the half-lit lamps placed strategically around the room. Here and there sparkling gold sequins glinted and then faded. Silver sparkled around throats and fingers to then quickly disappeared as the owner moved to the beat of the pulsing undertone of rhythm.

Max was seated at the bar, her eyes hooded as she took in the swirl and noise of the party. She arched her neck gracefully, like a seeking swan. There was a scent in the air tonight, familiar and in its own way comforting.

Dean approached her from behind. But it was no surprise to her. She half turned her head, not quite searching for him, just aware that he was there. But even as he sidled up behind her and leaned down to whisper greetings in her ear, she still jumped as his breath tickled in her ear.

“Brand new year,” he whispered easily to her, the deep tone vibrating through them, they felt more than they heard.

Max turned in her seat to smile up at him. “Dean,” she breathed, obviously very pleased to see him.

“Hey Maxie,” Dean returned quietly, his eyes half-hooded as he tilted his head down towards her. His lip quirked up at the corner, not smirking but tempting. As if he had a secret he was waiting for her to ask about. Max breathed in deeply, her chest rising slowly.

“So,” he continued slowly. “You feel like partying some more, or are you ready to get out of here?”

“And why would I want to leave?” Max asked teasingly.

“Maybe so we can start celebrating something else,” Dean brushed a curled strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Max leaned her cheek into the palm of his hand for a moment. He leaned forward, his body shifting closer to hers. “It’s not every day that you turn eighteen. Happy birthday Maxie.”

Max sighed happily, her smile beaming up at him. The crowd, the lights, the noise began to fade away.  “You remembered?”

“How could I forget,” Dean groaned softly, moving even closer to her. “We’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, haven’t we?”

“A long time,” Max agreed, gasping softly as his fingers traced the curve of her jaw. Those fingers followed the line of her neck, tickling at her shoulder as he caressed down her arm to gently take her hand. He pulled her from her stool until she was standing before him.

“So do you want to stay here, or do you want to come with me and get your gift?” Dean asked softly, a hint of teasing in his voice. Max blinked slowly.

“I guess that depends on what it is,” she replied with a small grin. She waited a pause. “So, what is it?”

“The only way you’re going to find out is if you come with me,” Dean tugged lightly on her hand. He began to back away from her, her hand still in his grip. Max allowed him to get an arm’s length away, feeling a small tug before she gave in and followed. He never turned around, just kept walking confidently backwards. The room blurred and shifted and neither seemed to notice. Candles replaced the lamps, the scent of spring flowers wafting through the room replaced the harsh scent of the multitude of perfumes from before. Slowing his steps, Dean waited for Max to catch up with him.

“So where’s my present?” she asked lightly, glancing around the room they were now in. Dean pulled her in closely, lifting the hand he still held to rest on the fabric covering his chest. Max could feel the heavy strong beat as his heart thudded beneath his ribs.

Dean glanced down at their entwined hands. “It’s right here Max,” he whispered. Max stared up at his face, a moment passing before her face softened in understanding. Dean drew in a deep, shakily breath. “I love you Max. I think I always have. I was just waiting…”

Max didn’t respond, though her face softened as she regarded him intently. Dean licked at his lower lip nervously before she dazzled him with a brilliant smile. “This,” she smiled up at him, “is most definitely, the best gift I’ve ever been given. Before he could respond, she had tilted her face up to his, her lips pressing softly against his. Her hand, still in his moved from between them and he let her hand go, wrapping his other arm around her waist. Her now free hand caressed his cheek as her lips nipped softly at the corner of his mouth. Dean pulled back to search her eyes. They held a glint of mischievousness and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“So do I get to unwrap you now?” she asked impishly. He swallowed once, and then his lips formed their own lazy grin.

“By all means,” he responded, his voice deepening as desire curled through him. “Go right ahead.”

Running her fingers once again over the broad expanse of his chest, Max slowly slid her fingers under the lapels of the jacket that Dean was wearing. Pushing gently, she moved it off his shoulders. Dean stayed still, hesitant to move, scared that she might stop. Max let the jacket slide off his arms to land in a heap on the floor. Neither cared. Her hands moved back to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one at a time before creeping her fingers down to the next. Dean shivered as the movements tickled his skin through the fabric. When the shirt hung open, she repeated her actions, pushing the material away, to hang off his shoulders.

Max tilted her head to the side, leaned in closer to him, delicately inhaling the musky aroma that was purely him. She glanced up shyly at him through fluttering lashes before she very slowly and deliberately placed her lips against his chest, right over his still pounding heart.

Dean’s hands come up of their own volition to thread through her hair, holding her to him. She chuckled under her breath as her hands moved to begin unbuckling his belt. Her deft fingers made short work of it and Dean could feel the tug and pull as she slid it free from the loops it was worked through. The button of his pants popped under the pressure of her thumb and the delicious sensation of the zipper dragging against his erection made him groan softly. Max echoed him moments later as her tiny hand brushed against his hip as she sought to push the heavy material out of her way. Dean rolled his hips with the motion, his desire swollen cock aching to seek her out. She smiled again, a feminine grin full of promised delights. Dean dropped his head to seek out her full, pouty lips again, his hands grasping gently at strands of hair.

Max deepened the kiss after only a moment, her hands still working to push his pants down over his hips. Dean slid his feet out from his shoes and was sliding them out of the way as the material began to pool somewhere around his knees. Max’s hand dropped from his hip to slide over the back of his thigh, tugging and he obediently lifted his foot so that he could free himself from the awkward restraint

He automatically repeated the motion with his other leg, and then pushed the pants away with his toe. But instead of resuming her quest with her hands, Max held him still and when sure he’d remain, backed a few steps away.

“Max?” Dean asked huskily, just a little unsure.

“You know,” she murmured, fingering a strap on her dress. “It occurs to me Dean, that your birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

“A few weeks,” Dean grunted, his lips curving into another knowing smile. “Does this mean I get to open my gift a little early?” He took one step after her, closer to the bed behind her and she tilted her chin up, challenging.

“It only seems fair,” she nodded slowly. Her finger moved from the strap she’d been idly toying with and pivoted on one foot. The hair that she’d left to curl riotously down her back swung in waves with the movement. In two steps, Dean was pressed against her once more. His right hand caught the length of hair and pushed it out of his way, catching a glimmer of the tattoo emblazoned across her skin. Dean ducked his head and nuzzled the back of her neck. His lips skimmed across the dark ink that was an integral part of who his Max had once been, long ago, before she had become his.

His heart flooded with tenderness as she shivered softly at the caress. Those bars seemed to fade from her skin the longer he touched her. The pain and torture and fear her stepfather had embedded in her psyche, beginning to recede under what he’d given her. Family, trust, caring and finally love.

Dragging his hand slowly down her cloth covered side; Dean slid his hand around her waist, his hand coming to rest comfortably on her hip as he held her still. He leaned his chest away from her back so that his free hand could reach the tiny zipper that held her dress together.

The sound was loud in the stillness of the room, their breathes held until the dragging sound stopped, the material peeling away from the skin it had adhered to. Max let her shoulders drop and the thin straps succumbed to a momentary gravity, dropping away from her shoulders. Dean let his eyelids droop as he watched in fascination as the rest of the material slipped away. The deep rose colored gown flowed over his hand at her waist and he slowly pulled back. Max moved restlessly before him, her hips wiggling to shake the dress from her body. Dean groaned, unable to wait when she was moving like that. But one last shimmy and the dress was on the floor. Dean barely noticed the scrap of lace that still remained.

Max stepped back to his embrace again, her head still tilted to the side, exposing her neck to him. Her hand back behind her, grasped at his waist, pulling him close. Dean molded his body against hers, gasping in relief

His hands smoothed the skin over her ribs before coming up to cup her breasts. He tucked his chin into the curve of her neck, content to just feel her against him. Content to know that they had all the time in the world, no matter how much he wanted her this very second. Content to let his desire build and in turn stoke hers until she was consumed by it.

He pressed a kiss under her ear and he felt her cheek twitch up in a smile. He nuzzled her again, feeling oddly protective of her in this state, so tiny in his arms, as if she could break apart at any moment.

Dean?” Max whispered suddenly.

“Yeah baby?” he murmured as his fingers skimmed over hardening nipples. She shuddered so delicately when he did that.

“Did you hear that?”

Hear what?” he asked, barely paying attention to anything but the sound of her shaky breath, the thrumming of his pulse in his ears.

“That.”

He paused, focusing on the annoyance that suddenly buzzed loudly in the room. Now that she’d pointed it out, it was all he could hear. “Ignore it,” he commanded softly. He knew instinctively what it was.

“I can’t,” Max answered plaintively, carefully trying to slip loose from his embrace. “And neither should you.” He refused to release her, but Max bent at the waist, searching the bed before her for something.

“Max,” he whispered, his fingers slipping down to her hips again. They curled inward, desperate to hang on. “Don’t go.”

He could hear the desperation, the pleading in his voice and her response was a tinkle of laughter. He felt his heart drop.

“I’ll always be here,” she assured him, leaning back against him once more, her cell phone in her hand. “Always, until the moment you wake. Waiting until you sleep again.”

*****           

Max heard the chirp of her phone, soft, since she had turned the volume on the ringer down when they’d gotten back to the motel. John had called them a few days ago to let them know that his case was taking longer than he had thought it would, but that he’d be there for her birthday. She had wanted to keep the phone on just in case he needed them.

But picking it up, she frowned. It wasn’t her Dad calling; it was an unfamiliar number, with a California area code. She switched the phone on immediately. “Hello?”

“Hey Max,” came her brother’s voice. Max’s frown deepened and she heard a much closer snort. She glanced across the short distance from her bed to her brother’s. Dean was blinking up at her, a displeased frown on his face.

“Hey Sammy,” she returned softly. “What’s going on?” ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed to her eldest brother. Dean’s eyes fluttered close and he grunted in acknowledgement.

“Nothing,” Sam chirped. “Can’t I call and wish my baby sister a Happy New Year?”

“Thanks,” Max murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. “But Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really, really late here,” she informed him. There was a pause on the other end.

“Oh crap,” he apologized sheepishly. “I didn’t think about the time difference. It’s only one here. I thought you guys would still be up, celebrating the New Year.”

“Dean and I were at a party earlier,” Max chuckled. “After the ball dropped it all got kind of boring so we headed back to our room.”

“What about Dad?” Sam asked cautiously.

“He’s out on another case,” Max supplied. “He’s meeting us, well later today actually.” An interesting thought occurred to her and she just had to ask. “Sam? Are you drunk?”

“Not really,” came the ready admission. Max giggled slightly under her breath. “Hang on a sec.” There was a muffled conversation before he came back on the line. “So the other reason I called, was to let you know that I sent you a birthday gift. It should be waiting at the Post Office in Lawrence.”

“Thanks,” Max replied succinctly, and then let her curiosity get the better of her. “Who was that?”

“Who was what?”

“That person you were just talking to,” Max clarified.

“A friend,” Sam evaded.

“A female friend?” Max asked slyly. She heard her brother sigh, the noise suddenly echoed in the room. She glanced over at Dean again, to see his eyes slitted open, keeping a hazy track on her end of the conversation. She gave him a small grin which he returned briefly.

“Uh, yeah.”

“And does this female friend have a name?”

“It’s Jess,” Sam heaved another sigh. “Jessica Moore.”

“Oh look out world!” Max teased. “Our Sammy’s finally getting’ busy!” She heard the snort from Dean followed by a sleepy chuckle.

“Hey!” Sam protested immediately. ”Quit it! We’re not even like that.”

“Really?” Max scoffed. “That is so lame Sam.”

“No seriously,” Sam interjected. “Look, we just have a class together and we know some of the same people. And we all decided to come to this party together.”

“And when the clock changed at midnight, which Cinderella were you kissing, oh Charming One?”

There was a wry chuckle. “You are strange,” Sam insisted. “You know what, go back to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow when I can argue more coherently.”

“You mean when you’re sober,” Max corrected gently, still teasing. “And I wasn’t asleep in the first place.”

“Do you ever sleep anymore?” Sam demanded suddenly.

“Only when Dad and Dean start lecturing me about the evils of dating,” Max chuckled, wrinkling her nose at her half-awake brother. He rolled his eyes. “But anyway, I’ll talk to you tomorrow then. Or did you mean later today?”

“Better make it tomorrow,” Sam grunted.

“It’s going to take you that long to sober up?” Max taunted.

“No,” Sam protested vehemently, and then his tone softened marginally. “Well… maybe.”

“I love you Sam,” Max laughed. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Max.”

She hung up the phone and returned it to the bedside table. Noticing that she’d lost the page in the book that she was reading, she debated trying to find it again, or forcing some shut eye.

“Hey,” the word came soft and sleepily. She glanced over at Dean, his face half buried still in his pillow.

“Yeah?”

“Happy Birthday, Maxie.”

“Thank you,” she smiled gently at him. He looked so… much like a little boy with his eyes half-closed and his hair all tousled. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mm’kay,” he complied and he was out even before she’d had a chance to snap off the lamp.

*****  
       
By the time John finally arrived, Dean and Max were nearly starving. He’d been in contact all day while he drove to meet them, offering up lame excuse after lame excuse to Max. Dean had a better idea of what his father was up to, but all the same, he was a little ticked that his father had cut things so close. The man had made a promise to be there for Max’s eighteenth birthday and come hell or high water, he was going to keep it.

Finally, when he was about half an hour out, he’d called the kids to go ahead and find a restaurant and he’d just meet them there. Dean had allowed Max to choose and they were now waiting at a mellow family dining establishment that boasted all you could eat seafood. And not only were they waiting on John, but the appetizer that they hoped would tide them over until he arrived.

“Gah,” Max groaned, fiddling with the ice in her soft drink. “I wish they’d hurry up.”

“I know,” Dean sympathized. “Really crappy service here.”

“It’s not that bad,” Max grimaced, glancing around at all the tables. “They’re just busy.” Here or there sat a few empty tables. But the rest were filled, mostly by noisy families. Dean had tried to convince her to choose something else, but she was in the mood for seafood. Occasionally one saw just couples and until John arrived, she surmised that when people looked at her and Dean, that was what they saw as well. Just a happy young couple in a back corner combo booth/ table, just out for an evening meal.

It was just as the waiter brought out the combo appetizer platter that John finally arrived. Dean glanced up as the waiter brought the food with a small apology on his lips, his gaze slid past the guy momentarily and he saw his father approach. John stopped and spoke with the waiting hostess at the front, gestured to the kids and the woman nodded. Max, who had been reaching for a spicy wing, looked up in concern at her brother.

“Food Dean,” she prompted. “Come on. Eat!”

“Dad’s here,” he warned.

“Good,” was all she could say.

John stood back as the waiter moved away from the table. He caught sight of John waiting and realized at once that John was the last member of the party. “Can I get a coffee please?” John asked quietly. The waiter, Tom, by name nodded and headed off back to work. John turned to the kids.

“Hey Max,” he greeted. Max smiled up at him, unable to answer with her mouth full. He turned to his son. “Come with me Dean.”

Dean’s jaw gaped slightly and he gestured at the platter. “Dad!” he half-whined. “Food just got here.”

“It’ll keep,” John smirked. “And this’ll just take a minute.” He didn’t wait to see if Dean would comply. He simply turned and walked back to the doors he’d just entered minutes ago. Dean let out a long suffering sigh while sending a semi-evil glare at his father’s back.

“Here,” Max giggled, holding up a cheesy nacho, piled with beef, lettuce, salsa and sour cream. Dean obligingly opened his mouth to take it, then stood, his hand catching at the morsel.

“You’re an angel,” he mumbled through the food, before taking off after his father. ”Don’t eat it all!”

When he reached the outer doors, he saw that John had been able to park across the street. He was at the truck and Dean felt slightly apprehensive. He checked the traffic then jay-walked across the street. He came up to the vehicle just as John began removing brown paper covered boxes.

“What’s this?” he demanded. John grinned at his son.

“Presents,” he replied succinctly.

“How much crap did you get her?” Dean demanded incredulously, taking in the numerous packages.

“Just a couple things,” John replied mildly. “I told you I was stopping by the post office to see if Sam had sent her anything.”

“Yeah,” Dean scoffed. “He called us at three in the morning today to tell her that he had.” He continued to explain, having caught his father’s disbelieving stare. “He was “slightly tipsy”,” Dean made air quotes, “and forgot about the time difference.”

“Uh huh,” John chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t just Sam. I swung by Bobby’s place a while ago and he had a little something for her. And there were a couple boxes from Sam, a letter from Molly, some cards I think and let’s see, what else. There was a package from Jim and some stuff from some friends of hers.”

“Jeeze,” Dean sighed. “She just has all the luck.” Admittedly, he was slightly jealous of the way that Max was able to make and keep her friends. He understood about Jim, Bobby and Molly. But he caught sight of Justine’s name, and Max hadn’t seen her in like, three years. And there was a vaguely familiar name that Dean didn’t recognize at all. There was something from that moony eyed kid with the telekinetic sister.

“That’s why I needed you out here,” John smiled as he began stacking packages in his son’s arms. “Can’t carry all this stuff myself.”

“Why didn’t you just wait until we got back to the motel?” Dean demanded as he father pulled out a few more bags, before slamming the passenger door shut.

“Because then we don’t have to clean up all the paper and shit,” John shrugged. He led Dean back across the street and into the restaurant.  There was a hesitant smile on the hostess’ face as she took them in. “My daughter’s birthday,” John explained briefly as he walked by her. She gave an understanding murmur and went back to helping other customers.

Max sat in her seat, eying the portion of food still on the plate. She’d been tempted to keep eating, saving some food for Dad and Dean. But she felt kind of awkward, sitting there on her own, eating. So after the wing, she’d left the rest alone, hoping they wouldn’t take overly long. And they didn’t. She heard their voices returning just a few minutes later.  She turned in her seat and her mouth formed an ‘oh’ of surprise. Both their arms were loaded down with boxes and a few bags.

“What’s this?” she demanded when John stopped at the table.

“It’s your birthday party,” He grinned. “What did you think it was? Scoot over.”

Max scooted over on the bench seat so that John could set the two bags he had beside her. He set the boxes on the far side of the table, easily within her reach and then turned to take the packages from Dean. While his son wasn’t drowning in boxes, there were still a good number of them, one of which was extremely heavy.

Grateful that he didn’t have to carry the boxes any further, Dean returned to his seat, extremely pleased to see that Max had waited for them. He pulled out the chair beside him for their father, since John had placed all the other packages next to Max. John sank down into it and reached for the unclaimed cup of coffee that he assumed must be his, especially since Dean and Max already had drinks before them.

In seconds, the waiter had returned expectantly, his pen and order pad waiting. John wasn’t particularly fussy and glanced over the menu waiting there with a practiced eye. He let Dean and Max order their main dishes before giving his own request. As soon as Tom returned to the kitchen to put in the order, John joined Dean in picking out something from the combo platter to munch on. He’d driven straight through that day, with only necessary pit stops.

“So this is all for me?” Max asked disbelievingly. John nodded.

“I finished up about when I expected to,” he explained, a twinkle in his eyes. “So I figured I’d swing over and pick up a few things. And Bobby called, so I had to head over to his place as well. He popped a nacho in his mouth, dusted off his hands and leaned back in his seat. Once he’d swallowed, he waved a negligent hand towards the bag of mail. “I didn’t have a chance to sort the mail, so you might find some stuff of ours in there. But I should think the cards would be pretty easy to pick out.”

“Go ahead,” Dean urged, scooping up some barbecue sauce with his finger that had run off a buffalo wing. “May as well keep us occupied while we wait for the rest of the food.”

Max laughed and reached for the napkin beside her plate. She wiped her fingers off, determined not to get her cards greasy. She dipped into the bag and upon seeing the multitude of mail, wondered if she should dump it on the table. Deciding against deluging their eating surface, she instead brought out a handful and quickly began separating them into three piles. The post office had obligingly wrapped some bundles with elastic bands. She removed these and used them to hold together John and Dean’s piles. Occasionally, one or the other of the men would look at something they were interested in, but for the most part, their mail could wait.

Once she’d separated things, she stuffed John and Dean’s piles neatly back into the sack and then quickly re-sorted her pile. All the magazines, flyers, credit card offers and sundry other tings that post office boxes attracted, were put back. But that still left her with a nice pile of letters and cards.

“Here’s Molly’s,” she announced, as she slid her finger under the corner of the sealed flap.

“There’s a package that goes with it, I think,” John gestured to the pile. He reached across the table and located the moderate sized, lightweight box. Max smiled her thanks and pulled the card from the envelope. As she opened it, something slipped out that she caught automatically. Not glancing at it, she read the card, a pleased grin searing across her face.

“She wants us to try and come visit this summer if we can,” Max announced. Dean and John nodded. They had a standing invitation with the woman. Max brought the sheet of heavier paper up to see and pursed her lips. “Nice! A gift certificate to that huge ass book store chain.” She tucked the certificate back into the card and reached for the package that went with it. It was just then Tom came back, carrying what looked to be a large box. Max’s startled eyes darted to her family, but they were as mystified as she.

“For the paper and stuff,” Tom grinned as he set a large empty box next to Max. “I thought it’d look better than putting one of our trash bins next to you. The group laughed and Max obligingly dumped the brown paper in it as she unwrapped the box Molly had sent. Inside were two packages. The larger was a hand knit sweater set, done in white with silver metallic thread shot through it. The smaller was a brooch that Molly had owned that Max had admired a few times. She was surprised to see it until she read the note that Molly had sent with it, explaining that none of her kids were interested in having it and Molly knew how much Max liked it. And since the colors were set off wonderfully by the white yarn she’d used, she hoped Max liked it. And she did, though she wasn’t sure where she’d end up wearing it. It was too nice for the majority of the work they did. She shared that thought with John and Dean, then laughed over the sudden thought of being all dressed up like some snooty lawyer, with a set of smarmy glasses on her face, conning her way to some information. The guys smiled indulgently and waited for her to open the next package.

It took a little while to get through the rest of the envelopes. She seemed to have a knack at making friends everywhere they stopped. And she had become an unfailing pen pal to a lot of troubled kids. From her friend Justine, there was a clothing chain gift certificate. From Jack, the young man from Rutland, there was another CD of songs that he and his band had recorded, some covers, some new stuff. A lot of greetings and good wishes.

Max had just opened the package from Bobby when their main meals arrived. She stopped working at the box and paused to dig into her shrimp scampi. She was deliberately drawing this out, both males knew, but they didn’t mind. They were just glad to see her really enjoying herself.

“So what did Bobby get you?” John asked, once they’d downed a few mouthfuls of food.

Max, who was carefully removing the tape from the edges of the small box, shrugged. Once she’d opened it, the first thing that caught her eye was a thin pile of photographs. Puzzled, she drew them out, but once she realized what the subject of the pictures was, another smile lit her face. She flipped through the four photographs. “Cool! I didn’t know that he was taking pictures that day,” she exclaimed. She handed the pictures to John who smiled immediately at the sight of the day that Bobby had conned the kids into giving Rumsfeld a long overdue bath. John nudged Dean with his elbow, letting him see the picture. It was just typical that his eldest had been hiding behind a towel, to avoid the dog’s splashing, so most of his face was hidden. Otherwise, it was a really good shot of Sam and Max. Behind that were pictures of Max training the puppy.

“Hey,” Dean grinned. “There’s a cover story for ya. Max Winchester, professional traveling pet trainer.”

“Since Bobby never actually paid me for it, you could hardly call me a professional,” Max groaned. Her fingers were digging out the tissue wrapped portion of the package. Her nimble fingers unwound the massive amounts of thin paper and she gave an appreciative grunt. “Oh nice. This was sweet of him.” She held up the necklace that had fallen into her hand.

“For protection,” John nodded, seeing the pentagram design.

“And the cord is long enough that I can wear it under my shirt if I want,” Max nodded. She took a moment to do exactly that. Once done, she took another few bites of scampi, and then laid the photos back in the box to savor again later.

“Here, open Jim’s,” John urged, pushing another smaller box towards his daughter. Max complied and wasn’t surprised by the sweet natured missive or the Celtic knot necklace. It was a standard gift, some form of protection from the Pastor, when members of his “special” flock reached the age of adulthood. Max had an inkling of what the gift would be because both Sam and Dean had received one as well. And as far as Max knew, Dean had never taken his off since the day it had arrived. And while Dean’s was in gold, the pastor seemed to think that silver was more appropriate for her.

“I don’t know Dad,” she grumbled. “I’m starting to wonder that everyone is worried that now that I’ve hit eighteen I’m gonna go all Wild Bunch on ya.”

The two men in her life chuckled over that. John waved a hand, and then reached for his coffee. “No, I told you before; kids have a certain amount of immunity to things.”

“Although in some cases it’s being a kid that draws the nasties in,” Dean interrupted.

“But once you reach adulthood, you’re on your own, so to speak,” John finished.

“I know,” Max tilted her head to the side. Like Bobby’s gift, she knew she should put the necklace on. But wearing two necklaces of such different makes seemed a little like overkill.

“Bobby did say that you didn’t have to wear that like a necklace, if you don’t want to,” John informed her. “You can shorten the cord and wear it a different way. Just as long as it gets worn.”

“Oh cool,” Max wrinkled her nose in pleasure, already envisioning how to turn it into an anklet or bracelet. Probably an anklet, since that way she could tuck it into her boots with no fear of losing it or having it torn off.

Soon enough, dinner and dessert had been finished and Max had only the family gifts left. Since Sam’s were still sitting near enough, she decided to open those first. Dean and John, who’d been relaxing after sating themselves on the food, leaned forward marginally, interested in seeing what Sam had picked out for his little sister.

Max pulled the larger package towards herself and tore into the package. When she caught a glimpse of what was inside, she laughed a little and shook her head.

“What?” Dean demanded. “What is it?”

“It’s not a birthday present,” Max mumbled, then grinned up at the males. “A couple weeks ago Sam and I were talking about the college courses he took last semester. Some of them sounded interesting, so he promised that he’d send me the course books when he was done with them, in case I wanted to look them over.” That said she pulled out one of the course manuals. There was a post-it note attached to the top of it and she read it quickly. “Oh,” she murmured. “Sam also found a few that the book store wouldn’t take back. Advanced math and an art history book. And genetics. Excellent!”

John and Dean exchanged mildly alarmed looks. John cleared his throat and Max glanced up from where she was perusing the index of the art book.

“Is that something you’re interested in?” John asked carefully, mindful of keeping his tone neutral. He sure as hell wasn’t going to drive another child away by freaking out at this ambition towards normality. Sometimes it took him a while, but he did learn from his mistakes.

Max frowned, knowing exactly what they were worried about. ”Not really,” she sighed. “I mean, I really don’t like the idea of sitting in classes day after day, taking notes and doing assignments when I could be out doing other far more important things.” Both men breathed a quick sigh of relief. “But on the other hand,” Max continued and noticed dryly, the surge of panic in their eyes. “We also talked about the possibility of me taking a few online courses through one of the satellite colleges.”

“Online?” John repeated.

“Hey that’d be kind of cool,” Dean enthused. Given the choice between Max heading off to college in Sam’s footsteps, or indulging her interest with learning via the internet, Dean knew exactly what he’d prefer.  “What sort of stuff can you sign up for?”

“Well you’ve seen those ads on TV,” Max reminded him. “Business degrees, secretarial stuff. I suppose if you looked hard enough, you could find just about anything you wanted to.”

“And is that what you want to do?” John teased. “Become a secretary?”

“Oh hell no,” Max giggled. “Couldn’t you just see it? The first time my boss told me to make coffee, I’d tell him where to stuff it.” They all shared a good laugh over that. She was right. The Winchester clan was a little too independent for the type of character required to work in the more mundane fields. Max set her books aside and reached for the other package Sam had sent. It was opened just as quickly as the others and Max smiled when she saw it. “This seems to be my night for jewelry,” she commented as she lifted the silver charm bracelet from its moorings. Sam seemed to have already gone ahead and bought some charms to go with it. Max fingered the little silver motorcycle as she looked over what Sam had chosen as memorials of their life.

Each one brought a smile to her face. But finally, she set it aside and looked up expectantly at her father and brother. John grinned and pushed the two boxes nearest him towards her.

“No more jewelry,” he promised her with a small grunt.

“It’s okay,” Max chuckled. “I think I could like jewelry. But other stuff is good too. So,” she drawled as she began unwrapping the paper on the smaller box. “Practical, pretty, functional or fun?”

“Open them and find out,” John shrugged. He shared a glance with Dean, though neither had told the other what they’d planned on getting the girl. It took mere moments and then she was pulling a non-descript white box out. She arched an eyebrow at her father, until she noticed a designer make and model on it. Then she tore into it, excited.

“You got me that phone I wanted,” she crowed as she pulled out the sleekly designed phone that she had been bugging her father for. She truly had thought that he hadn’t been listening. Most especially since she already had a cell phone.

“Well,” John sighed. “You made a good point about all the extra features that it had. And they threw in the hands free set with it.” He motioned to the smaller package that had fallen out. “And the guy at the store said that you can set it to answer automatically when you’re using that thing. That way, we can keep in touch with you without you having to pull over.”

Max seemed to be barely listening as she studied over the new phone. She knew that John wouldn’t have gotten her the phone if he really didn’t think it practical. It was turning into something of a habit with them lately. They could only keep their cell phone plans for so long before someone clued in to the fact that the owner wasn’t quite on the up and up, especially since they were paying for them for the most part with their fake credit cards. She figured that it must be about time for her to do the same. And even as she thought it, she caught sight of the little card included that listed her new number. She’d have to remember to give it to Sam when she called him the next day to thank him for the gifts.

“Are you gonna finish opening things, or have you had enough?” Dean teased. Max glanced up, startled it seemed at the reminder that there was still more. She flashed a smile his way before carefully setting the cell phone back down. The second package from John, wrapped in his exacting manner, was flat and large and if she had to guess, she would have said that it was clothing of some kind.

It was, but certainly not what she’d been expecting. When she pulled the camel colored suede coat from the box, her eyes went large. “Oh Dad,” she breathed, holding it up to herself and looking over the way the material shimmered in the slight ripples of folds. “It’s gorgeous.”

“You like it then?” John asked, letting out a sigh of relief. “I kept the receipt, just in case…”

“Oh no,” Max shook her head, and then pushed back her chair to stand up. “It’s perfect.” Making sure she was clear of the table, she swung the coat around her, pulling it on. As John had hoped, it fit perfectly. Max smoothed the material against her midsection, then began buttoning it up. Once accomplished, she pivoted around and glanced over her shoulder, then turned to face her family once more. “How does it look?”

“Amazing,” Dean answered softly, his eyes gleaming. Max returned to her seat and held her arm out to her father.

“Can you cut the tags off please?” she asked sweetly. John complied, using the steak knife still on his plate. Once she’d removed the tiny bits of plastic, she busied herself smoothing her fingers up and down one arm, grinning in abandonment at the textured feel of the refined material.

“Okay,” Dean cleared his throat and sitting up straight. His hand delved into the inner pocket of his coat that was hanging off the back of his seat. “Unless Dad has anything else,” he paused while his father shook his head, “then last gift.” He pushed a small box across the table. “Hope you like it.”

Max picked up the unwrapped box, a puzzled frown on her face, like she was trying to remember something. Slowly, she pulled the white ribbon that had been tied around it to keep it shut. Once she worked off the top, she sucked in her breath, her eyes going wide before they darted up to her brother. “How did you-?” she began. She shook her head helplessly. “I only looked at these, for like, a second. And that was almost a year ago.”

John was leaning forward, trying to appear casual, though he was being gnawed at by his curiosity.

“Well yeah,” Dean half-shrugged. “But when you actually look at stuff like that for that long, it must have meant something,” he continued enigmatically. He grinned at his little sister. “So, did I do good?”

“Beyond good,” Max giggled. “I still can’t believe…” At that point she once more pushed her chair away, this time coming around to hug her brother fiercely. And then John saw what all the fuss was about. Clenched tightly in her hand was a jeweler’s box, containing of all things, a pair of diamond earrings. His eyes narrowed at that brief flash.

“Oh!” Max straightened up, pushing away from her brother. “I have to go try them on. I’ll be right back.” She headed away from them, presumably towards the bathroom. John waited until she was out of earshot before rounding on his son.

“You bought her earrings?” he demanded softly. Dean returned his gaze that had been following Max’s progress, back to his father.

“What?” he demanded after a moment, growing uncomfortable under his father’s direct stare.

“Diamond earrings?” John reiterated. John searched his son’s earnest face. Didn’t the boy realize that that wasn’t the sort of gift that a brother usually bought for his sister?

“What?” Dean demanded again. “You saw her Dad. She loves ‘em. And It’s not like she has a lot of really nice stuff. I just thought she might like to have something like that…” he trailed off, trying to justify the purchase. Before John could respond, Max had returned. She retook her seat and carefully tucked her hair behind her ears so they could get a good look.

John realized that with the way Max’s eyes were glowing, she didn’t really need that approval. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to convince her that she shouldn’t keep them, even if he had an excuse as to why.

“So how do they look?” Max asked impishly, swinging her head slightly so that the dangling pieces swung to and fro.

“Perfect,” Dean assured her immediately, his grin matching her own.

John knew he mumbled something, hoping that he sounded pleased, though in a way, he was anything but. When his son reached out to squeeze Max’s hand and the pair shared a meaningful moment, the clarity of the choice of this gift shot through John’s brain. He struggled with it for a moment before finally admitting what he’d been trying to avoid seeing. Unless he was in hundreds of ways mistaken, Dean had just thoroughly and irrevocably marked his territory. The most prominent question that remained in his brain was… did Dean even realize what he had done?


*****                  

Dean pressed his foot a little harder on the accelerator. He could admit to himself that despite everything that had just happened, he was in a pretty damn good mood. Granted, an old sort of friend of the family had died, but he could deal with that. The only memories he really had of the guy were him palling around with his dad after work. It was the guy’s mom that really held the place in Dean’s heart, given that she used to stuff him and Sammy full of cookies while she was babysitting them.

But right now, he had his car, his tunes, the windows rolled down. He was heading to California, land of sunshine to celebrate his birthday the next day with his family. He smirked in the emptiness of the car. Maybe he’d even let Max talk him into stopping by to see Sammy and actually stopping and talking to the kid this go around.

A sign on the highway caught his attention. Only ten more miles until he hit the Californian border. Then on to Los Angeles. From what his dad had said, John and Max were coming up from Arizona. Less distance than he had to travel, so they’d probably make it to their meeting point before he did, but that was okay.

He still wasn’t sure why John had taken Max with him on this last hunt. According to what she’d said it was a simple salt and burn. Hell, maybe the old man missed her company. Dean hated to admit it, but he knew the feeling well this last go around. Yeah, he was definitely eager to see them.

He slowed down the Impala minutely as he crossed over the border, moving one hand from the wheel to roll down his window. Once it was al the way down, he turned his head slightly to inhale deeply the aroma that the state seemed to permeate every time he was in it.

With a full on smile, Dean once again accelerated. Yeah, things were definitely a lot greener in these pastures.

*****      

John sat at the bar he’d chosen to meet Dean in, perusing the information he’d garnered earlier that afternoon. He and Max had pulled into town just that afternoon. They’d debated choosing a motel and Max’s crankiness had been the deciding factor. But after an hour long nap, she’d been up and bouncing around, raring to go. They’d gotten dinner and John was yet again amazed by the amount of energy running through his daughter. Some of it translated into chattiness, talking about their current case in the city and what John had found out, what she had gotten Dean for his birthday, the case they should go to next and a whole load of other things that John could barely keep up with. Some of the energy however, translated into flirting. She flirted with the waiter. She caught the eye of another patron. She added a deliberate wiggle to her walk as they headed back out to the truck. As much as it annoyed and yes, worried John, he knew that there wasn’t really a lot he could do about it. The girl was an adult now. At least she’d proved to him over the years that she did have a good lot of sense and a fairly level head most of the time. If she felt like flirting, then he’d let her flirt. He’d just grit his teeth and try not to think about what those perverted little scumbags were most likely thinking about doing to his daughter. Yep, he’d just grit his teeth and have another beer.

John watched covertly, turning slightly in his seat to do so as Max played a game of pool with a young man. As far as he could tell, the kid was being polite. When he’d first approached Max, the kid had said something that had caused Max to laugh uproariously. She’d gestured to him and John had heard the words ‘my dad’ ring out of her mouth. Well, that at least kept the kid from getting too rambunctious. He just hoped that she got this out of her system before Dean arrived. There were a number of ways that could go and he really didn’t want to contemplate any of them.

Which was one of the reasons why he’d insisted on taking Max with him on this last hunt. He wanted to get a little time and distance between the two. It wasn’t so much that he was worried, just that the situation was fraught with potential disaster. It also gave him time to think over what he instinctively had picked up on. To figure out how he felt about it. Time to gauge where Max was at, which was definitely nowhere close to what Dean was up to. He just hoped that Dean had managed to cool his… ardor somewhat.

Of course it was too much to hope for, since Dean and Max called each other all the time. Sometimes three or four times a day just to check in with each other and chat.

John just hoped and prayed that they got out of here tonight without any major hissy fits, bar fights or God forbid, gunplay.

“Hey Dad!” his eldest son’s greeting stung him like a wasp suddenly. John hadn’t even realized that the kid was there; his thoughts had been so busily centered on the immediate future. But it was time to sink or swim.

“Hey Dean,” John grinned. “Beer?” Dean nodded and slid into the stool next to his father’s. John motioned at the bartender who obligingly brought two more beers. Dean took a long pull, and then set his back on the counter.

“Where’s Max?” he asked, his tone sounding overeager to John’s ears.

“Oh, she’s around,” he replied as casually as he could. “She was playing pool for a while.” Both men turned toward the pool table, which was now surrounded by some larger, burlier males.

“I’m right here,” her voice piped up from John’s right. They swiveled around,

Standing to his right, was Max and directly behind her was the young man that John had seen her with earlier. He flashed a quick look at his son, to see Dean’s eyes narrowing dangerously. But it disappeared the moment Max stepped around him to greet her brother.

“Hey Dean,” she smiled. Dean accepted her hug with one arm around her shoulder.

“Hey Maxie,” he returned, though John could just hear the slight edge to his voice. “Who’s your friend?”

Max slipped from his arm and gestured to the young man. “This is Brian. He’s gonna teach me how to play foosball.”

The young man, Brian, smiled at them and nodded politely to John. “Sir.” His attention was caught as the bartender returned with his order. A beer and a soft drink. John nodded as politely as he could muster.

“Come on,” Max ordered, catching the guy’s wrist and dragging him off. “Let’s go.”

Dean and John watched the pair’s progression, winding through various groups that were in their way until they reached the foosball table. “Well that was rude,” Dean grunted, picking up his beer again.

“What was?” John half-smiled and tried to hide it.

“Could have at least given us a chance to talk to him,” Dean shrugged, carefully avoiding his father’s eyes. “You know, find out what kind of sleazebag is hitting on a teenage girl.”

John laughed involuntarily and hastily turned it into a cough. “She’s eighteen Dean,” he protested good-naturedly. “It’s not like the cops are going bust in here and arrest him for child molestation.” He eyed his son carefully. “Besides, this is good for her. She can’t spend all her time cooped up with us. Admit it; it’d be enough to drive anyone batty.”

“What’s wrong with us?” Dean demanded indignantly.

“Nothing,” John shrugged. “But a girl can get pretty sick of being around her father and her brother twenty-four seven.” That point hit him, John realized as his son’s shoulders sagged a little. “So,” John drawled, looking to distract Dean from the drama his son seemed bent on creating. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

Dean swung around, leaning back against the counter. He took another thoughtful pull from his beer bottle. “Dunno,” he mumbled. “Same as usual, I guess.” Suddenly he straightened up. “What the hell?”

John turned his head quickly, wondering what had upset his son now. “What?”

“What the hell is she playing at?” Dean demanded indignantly. John focused through the multitude of people to see his daughter leaning over the foosball table, with Brian behind her, his hands guiding her arms. John could see space between the pair, obviously Brian wasn’t going to get too frisky with Max’s father and older brother there watching over her. But still, he had to quash his own momentary urge to give the kid a pointed lesson in acceptable behavior.

“If Max doesn’t like it, she’ll take care of it,” he told his son pointedly, glaring at him. “Dean, leave it alone!” His voice was raised imperceptibly, but he knew from the way Dean’s butt hit the stool again, that he’d managed to inject enough authority into his voice to help snap Dean out of this. He leaned in closer to the boy. “She’s not doing anything that thousands of other young women haven’t done. She has met someone she likes and is getting to know him. And right now, given the choice of doing it in front of me or out on some back road, I sure as hell know what I prefer. And you are not helping the situation by getting pissy about it!”

John could see by the flush on Dean’s cheeks and the guilty evasion of the eyes that he’d made his point. But he also realized that it wasn’t hitting deeply enough. They continued to try and talk of other mundane things, like the solo hunt Dean had been on. But it wasn’t enough. He noticed the furtive glances that Dean sent Max’s way. It was like watching an animal guarding its mate from potential threat. He could literally see Dean bristle every time Brian or even some random male passed close by her.

John was definitely fighting a losing battle. The question was, did he keep up this rearguard action, or did he give in as gracefully as he could and deal with the fallout when it came?

“Oh that’s just too fucking much!” Dean exclaimed. “Even you can’t let him get away with that!”

Okay, fallout time.

“What’s going on now?” John asked wearily, his shoulders slightly hunched as he toyed with the rim of his beer bottle.

“He’s letting her drink,” Dean squawked. John rolled his eyes.

“Not like it’s gonna kill her,” he grumbled.

“That’s it,” Dean declared, rising from his stool seat. “I’m taking her home.”

He only made it two steps before John’s arm shot out to drag him to a stop. Dean turned to angrily make his case, only to be presented with a motel key and a resigned looking father.

“Room Six,” was all John said before returning to the drink he was nursing.

Dean hesitated a moment. There was something about his father’s posture that nagged at him for a moment. He studied the older man, trying to decipher what it was. Suddenly it hit him. The defeated slouch of John’s shoulders. Dean was about to ask his old man what the hell he was moping about, when a familiar laugh rang out and his head snapped towards Max’s direction again. Figuring that he could deal with his father’s issues later, he resumed his course to his younger sibling.

“Okay,” he stated as equanimitably as he could manage, reaching for the beer bottle that Max was tipping up to her mouth. “That’s about enough of that.”

“Dean!” Max protested as the bottle was unceremoniously yanked from her hand.

“Play time is over kiddies,” Dean announced, setting the bottle on the rim of the foosball table. He caught Max’s elbow as she rounded on him. “Let’s go.”

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded of him, angry.

“We’re going home,” he told her pointedly.

“Why?” Max snarled. “What is your problem?” She twisted her arm, slipping free of his pinching grasp. Dean wisely pointed at the bottle on the table.

“That’s my problem,” he snarled back. “Or have you forgotten that you’re not quite legal yet?”

“Really?” Max scoffed. She thrust her chin out defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You, dear big brother, you are going to lecture me on legalities?”

Dean’s face darkened and he shot a warning look at Brian. “If you like living, you’ll have the good sense to vamanos your ass out of here. Now!”

The quiet, serious tone that the warning was delivered in had the immediate effect of pushing the kid back.

“Yeah, I- uh, I’ll just go,” Brian stammered. “There, I’ll, um, yeah.” And with that the kid fled.

“You know, I was talking to him,” Max pointed out with a low growl.

“Don’t care,” Dean snarked back shortly. Once again he hooked her under the elbow and started to forcibly drag her from the sphere of bad influence. “We’re leaving.”

“I don’t want to,” Max protested shrilly. It was enough to make some patrons look over in concern. Dean, catching those dark glances, stopped and turned to address her.

“Max, you can either come now, or I swear to God I will throw you over my shoulder,” he stated, his voice deep, quiet and low. “What’s it going to be?” For a moment, he thought he would have to go through with his threat, but she finally gave in, much less gracefully than usual. But at least she headed out of the bar.

“What about Dad?” she demanded once they were in the slightly cooler atmosphere of the parking lot.

“He’s got his own ride,” Dean shrugged, unlocking the Impala’s passenger side for her. “Get in.” Max threw him another glare but did as he commanded. Dean shut the door behind her and quickly made his way around the vehicle. For some reason, he really didn’t feel like sticking around this place.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Max demanded haughtily as Dean was deciding which way to turn. He sent her a withering glare, and then pulled out onto the street. He knew that the motel his father had chosen wouldn’t be too far away. And since the address was listed on the motel keychain, it wouldn’t be too hard to find.

“Shut up,” Dean warned, definitely not in the mood for verbal warfare.

“No, I won’t shut up,” Max retorted, anger causing a heightened flush in her cheeks. “What the hell is wrong with you Dean? Did you suddenly flush your brain down the toilet? Nobody appreciates the cave man tactics.”

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he flared at the slur. “What the hell is wrong with you? What, you hit eighteen and suddenly you’re-!” He cut himself off. Saying it out loud, admitting it would mean that he had to face it.

“That I’m what?” Max demanded, pushing hard to find out the cause of this unfamiliar attitude in her brother. “Growing up? Having a life outside of you and Dad? What? What the hell have I done that is so vile?”

“Nothing,” Dean protested, determinedly avoiding looking at her. If he didn’t look at her, then he wouldn’t see the hurt in her eyes. If he didn’t see the hurt in her eyes, then he could hang on to this anger. Because if he didn’t hang onto this anger, Dean was afraid to contemplate what lie underneath. “Just… let me drive.”

There was a moment of silence before his sister huffed out her response.

“Fine!”

The rest of the drive was made in silence. Max didn’t bother to point out that there was a much faster, shorter route that Dean could have taken. If he wanted to drive aimlessly around the city, that was fine by her. Just fine. All she had to do was concentrate on anything but why he was acting like such a jerk. Concentrate on anything but the rigid set of his jaw that told her he was clenching his teeth together. Concentrate on anything but the way his green eyes glittered with suppressed rage. Max inhaled sharply, suddenly wishing that he’d hurry up and get to the motel where she could hopefully disappear. She could hurry into the motel room that John had gotten for them and shut herself away from Dean.

‘Away from the forbidden fruit?’ her mind sang out gleefully. Max inhaled sharply. Damn it! She had been fighting this all day. Ever since that morning, waking up drenched in sweat with his name hovering on her lips. She’d bitten so hard she’d nearly drawn blood on her lower lip. Thank God John hadn’t noticed anything amiss right then.

The moment the Impala reached the parking lot and rolled to a stop, Max vaulted from the car. In long strides, she was able to make it to their room, open the door and slam it shut behind her. She heard Dean’s car door slam shut a moment later and a moment of panic seized her. Sitting in the car, his anger sending testosterone thrumming through his body had been a dizzying experience. She wasn’t sure she could restrain herself if he got close again. She dashed to the bathroom, stripping her top button-up shirt in the process. In just her camisole and jeans, she barely even registered that she had left her jean jacket at the bar. She shut the door behind her, an added measure of protection. She twisted the tap at the sink for a rush of ice cold water, running her wrists under the numbing blast. When that wasn’t enough she splashed it over her face.

She caught sight of her heated body in the chipped mirror. Her hands crept up to gauge the depth of this heat, running teasingly light over her skin, up to her face where the blush had begun anew.

‘This is Dean!’ she reminded herself angrily. ‘My older brother Dean. Lusting after him is wrong.’

‘Only if he really was your brother,’ the voice in her mind taunted. ‘Remember, forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.’

‘No!’ Max thought angrily. ‘Not fruit. Just forbidden.’

‘You know one little taste wouldn’t hurt,’ the voice continued, urging her on. ‘Little kitty wants to satisfy her curiosity, right?”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” she murmured, half angry, half petulant.

‘You’ve got nine lives!’

“Oh God,” Max groaned, realizing that she was starting to lose the battle. Or maybe it was win. Her muddled mind just didn’t know. ‘No!’ she thought angrily. ‘As long as Dean leaves me alone, I can get through this. He just has to stay away for another day. He just has to-!’

“Max!” her brother thundered, suddenly pounding on the bathroom door. “Open the damn door!”

Max whirled around, staring at the bathroom door in horror. How the hell had he gotten into the motel room? She groaned softly when she realized that John must have given Dean his key. “No!” she called back, grateful that the water was on. It gave her a ready made excuse. “I’m going to take a shower!”

“No you’re not,” Dean thundered. “You are going to come out here and explain what the hell you thought you were doing.”

“Go to hell Dean!” she yelled back, knowing that she didn’t dare leave the room while he was still there.

“I mean it Max!” he thundered back. “If you don’t come out of there in two seconds then I’m coming in.”

“Don’t you dare!” she screeched, horrified. She knew her brother well enough that he’d carry out his threat. “I told you, I’m going to take a shower!”

“Don’t care!” Was she mistaken or did she hear a strangled gasp accompany those words. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

Max gaped at the barrier separating them, images of that long ago moment rushing back to her. The moment that Dean had walked in on her after her shower. Her treacherous mind took it one step further, shedding his clothes, revealing his sleek, well-muscled frame, joining her in the shower stall. A definitive thump of what suspiciously sounded like his foot connecting with the cheap inner door brought her out of that reverie quick. Another connection and the frame surrounding the door splintered and gave way. The door slammed open and Dean stood in the opening, his eyes glittering dangerously, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he sought to control his irrational anger.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you jerk?” Max demanded, inching back from him. She had to stay in control.

“Jerk?” Dean snarled. ”You’re calling me a jerk? I was just trying to keep my little sister from acting like a two-bit whore!” The moment the words escaped from his lips, Dean fervently wished he could take them back. The sudden flash of tears in her eyes at his accusation made his stomach turn. But then she flashed back to anger. Seeing her shift, he readied himself instinctively for the blow that came to his mid-section.

“I am not a whore!” Max screeched. The punch she aimed at him was intended in retaliation, but the unwitting truth behind his unthoughtful accusation took the sting from it. Max bit back the tears threatening to fall as she took a step forward and tried to hit him again. “And I am not little! And I’m not your sister!” She didn’t know why she said it.

Dean caught her hands before she could hit him again. It hadn’t hurt, it wasn’t meant to. It just accentuated her points. Dean held her hands at the wrists, staring down at her fuming defiant face. It was true. Everything she had said was true. “No,” he croaked out through suddenly dry lips. “You’re not my sister.”

And with that admission, he finally did what he’d subconsciously wanted to do for only God alone knew how long. He jerked her forward, her body colliding with his. His hands reflexively loosed hers and came up to catch around her waist, even as his head descended towards hers and he caught her lusciously full lips in a bruising kiss.

Her hands came up to his chest, to push him away most likely and Dean felt his insides clench in fear and his fingers curled inwards, hanging on to her hips with convulsing strength. But the moment passed and suddenly those fingers were twisting the material of his shirt as her hips nudged against his and her mouth opened under the pressure of his.

Dean groaned at the sudden acquiescence he felt from her. Her body went from defiant and tense to soft, supple, yielding in the span of a heartbeat. Groaning again, wanting to taste her as he’d ached to do for so long, Dean swept his tongue along her lower lip, shivering at the gasp that ran through her.

Dean felt exultant as he was finally able to get closer to her in a way that had been forbidden for so very long. Their bodies met, melding together everywhere they could. But somehow, it still wasn’t enough for Dean. He pulled his head back, gazing down at her questioningly. He had to know that she really wanted this too. That she wasn’t just going along with it from some desire to please him.

“Max?” he whispered, her name a plea. Her head fell back as she stared up at him, as if wondering why he had stopped, the apprehension in her eyes worrying him. But as she watched him and understanding dawned in her, the deep brown orbs that he loved so much began to darken with lust once more. The corner of her mouth curled up as her hands snaked up his chest, around his neck as she pulled him down to her. His lips met hers once more as his eyes fluttered shut. She wanted him. She needed him as much as he needed her and Dean felt as if his heart was going to pound right out of his chest.

He shifted, knowing only that there was no way on this earth that he could let go of her now. But neither did he want to make love to her on the bathroom floor. She resisted a moment until his hands slid down to pull at her thighs. Still not breaking off their kiss, Max gave a little hop, her years of training enabling her to encircle his waist with her trim legs on the first try. How, he wondered, could she know precisely what he’d wanted from her? How, unless she wanted those exact same things.

Turning them, Dean re-entered the main room, moving by some innate sense towards the beds that dominated the area. Max broke away from him, only to slide her mouth along his jaw, eliciting a gasp from him at the tiny bites she made before trailing down the corded muscles of his neck.

His feet hit the edge of the bed and in the next moment, they were toppling down. Dean managed to release her at the last moment, bracing his arms at her sides so that he wouldn’t crush her. He bit savagely at his lip as her hips flexed against his, bringing another rush of heat to his swollen member. Her hands were twisting in his shirt again, yanking the material from the waistband of his jeans.

Knowing what she wanted, wanting it too, Dean pushed back so that he was kneeling. He yanked the shirt free of his jeans and jerked it from his body, letting the material fall from his hands, not caring where it landed. Max had sat up as well, her eyes taking in the expanse of his chest. Her mouth took on a little cat-like smirk as her own hands reached for the hem of her camisole. Dean felt the goose bumps all over his naked flesh as he shivered. Her nimble hands crossed over one another, grasping at the material and she inched it up slowly, teasing him. Dean grinned at her playfulness even as he reached to help her, his hands dipping under the material at her sides. It was her turn to shiver as his callused fingers glided over her smooth skin, feeling the gentle bump of her ribs.

Max continued to sweep the camisole up, over her head and imitating him, let the material fall uncaringly. Dean’s hands stayed on her ribs, his thumbs caressing under the swell of her pert breasts. He stilled when he heard her sharp intake of breath and dared a glance at her face. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth as she waited apprehensively.

Dean let go of her sides, his hands coming up to cup her face as he leaned in to kiss her again. His shoulder nudged the arm that had come up and Max leaned back on the bed. Dean followed, determined not to lose contact with her. He pushed her right leg towards her left, positioning himself beside her. He wanted this to last as long as possible, but neither could he ignore the urge that was screaming at him to make her his just as fast as time could allow.

Max turned on her side, facing him as she molded her body against his once more. His hand stole down to cup her breast pleased to feel the nipple erect and begging for attention. He broke their kiss, tilting his head down to take her nipple in his mouth. Max’s hand curved around the nape of his neck, holding him to her as he gently rolled his tongue over the turgid flesh. Max moaned at the wet contact, her head lolling back as she happily endured his ministrations. Her top leg moved restlessly against his and Dean shifted, letting her leg slide between his.

When her thigh pressed against his cock, the pressure gentle but insistent, Dean knew that he wasn’t going to be able to control himself for any decent length of time. The hand that was roaming her back, her ass, her thigh, found the waistband of her jeans. With practiced ease, he popped the button and pulled the zipper away and down. Delving in, he encountered synthetic silkiness. His mind flashed with an absurd pleasure. His Max wasn’t such a tomboy after all. But the thought flew from his mind as he felt the heat emanating from her body, the musky aroma curling in his nose

He was momentarily surprised when he felt her hand join his, until he realized that she was pushing the denim material down her hip. He joined in, wanting to bare her for his pleasure and hers. His fingers caught at the hem of her high cut satiny underwear, pulling all the barriers away.

He heard her amused chuckle, deep in her throat and then felt her tiny fingers cupping his thrumming cock. It swelled even more as she stroked once, twice and then moved away. He knew he must have groaned, though his mind was swimming hazily through the fog of desire that she surrounded him with. To his relief and extreme gratification, both her hands were then occupied with removing his jeans as well.

Max shimmied her hips to allow him to remove her clothing and Dean purposefully ignored looking fully at her until he’d helped her rid herself of the annoyance of clothing and shoes. His turn was next, though the waistband of his boxers caught at the tip of his cock. It strained forward until Dean pushed the material away. Max had once again caught her lip between her teeth as she took him in. Dean stilled, not wanting to scare her with the urgency still screaming at him.

Max’s eyelids dropped as her eyes wandered down his body, following the path of his clothing as it left his body and was cast away. The dull thumps of his boots hitting the floor barely registered.

Dean watched the course of her eyes over his body, hardly daring to breathe as he waited for something. Her approval, her fear, he didn’t know. He could feel the fear clenching his stomach into knots. Not only the fear that Max would pull back, but the fear of so many things that had never plagued him before. Would he be too clumsy with her in his haste? Would he scare her with his physicality? He knew she couldn’t have much experience, if any at all with the more intimate side of relationships. Hell, she’d never had time to develop a relationship such as this. The non-fevered corner of his brain, at this point a very tiny corner, warned him to treat her as purity itself, no matter what. And it wasn’t hard to do. Just go slowly and take the utmost care of the precious gift of herself that she was giving him.

Reminded thusly, Dean pushed up to his knees once more, trying not to smile at her small sound of protest as he reached for the hastily discarded pants he’d been wearing. As had been drilled into him by his father and his own sense of self-preservation, he found a condom in the front pocket that he routinely replenished when necessity demanded it. Cupping it into his palm, he turned back to the lithe beauty on his bed.

He knew immediately that she knew what he’d been reaching for. She’d followed his movement up, reaching her knees as well and was before him, staring up trustingly into his face. Dean swallowed heavily, trying to breathe past the sudden lump in his throat. This was the truest gift that she’d given him. Something that she’d proved to him over the years, the reason he had fallen so deeply for her, was the unequivocal trust that she placed in him. The only person in his life that had ever done so.

Max slowly reached for his hand, holding the latex protection. Dean unfurled his fingers, knowing that in a way, this was the last step to breaking down the walls that time and familiarity had built between them. It was the truth about how much he wanted her laid bare, waiting for her to accept. If he had to, Dean acknowledged to himself, if this step back into reality was enough to push her back, he would stop. He would let her go and go back to biding his time. Only this time around, it would be hell for him and a sobering reality for her, because the knowledge of they felt couldn’t be bottled back up.

“Max?” he asked huskily, as she continued to stare at the small square of foil he held. When finally her liquid gaze turned up to his face, he was startled to see just the tiniest hint of tears in her eyes. He felt suddenly as if he’d been sucker punched straight in the gut.

*****                

John stared at the few remaining drops left in the bottle that he held. One last swallow and he’d be done. But he didn’t want to be. If he were done, then he really would have no more excuse to stick around the bar. Seeing how he didn’t want another beer, he didn’t want to play any of the games the bar provided and he wasn’t in the mood for chit chat, idle or otherwise, it was a bad thing. Because what he really mostly didn’t want to do was go back to the motel and face what was possibly happening between his children. Or perhaps, his son and Max. After all, she wasn’t truly his child, though his heart told him differently.

Moisture from the now warm bottle rolled down the side of the tilted bottle and dropped with the minutest of sounds onto the file folder of information that he’d dug up earlier. Brightening as much as his dour mood would let him, John realized that he had a ready time burner in the grasp of his hands. Hastily swallowing the last dregs, he settled the beer bottle on the counter, scooped up the folder and with a nod to the bartender, headed out. He was in L.A. to take care of a job. Shouldn’t let anything stop him now. Time to do some grave robbing.

*****    

 “Max?” Dean repeated, his voice trembling. Hell, his whole body was trembling. It took a moment, but finally a small smile graced her lips. She swayed closer to him and Dean watched, entranced. One of her hands stole up, twining her fingers through his hair as she pulled him closer to her and relief coursed through him. His lips met hers in a kiss that was so soft, so gentle it felt like gossamer silk to him. Her other hand met his, still holding the condom and he felt her take it from his palm, freeing both his hands. Mimicking her, he threaded his fingers into her lightly tinted locks, holding her still for the gentle assault on her mouth.

He heard the foil rip and the next thing he knew, Max’s fingers were probing at his manhood. Dean inhaled sharply as a fresh wave of desire coursed through him, his hips jerking involuntarily. The kiss broken, Max turned her attention downwards. Dean dropped his chin, watching her bowed head as she deftly maneuvered the condom over his thrusting flesh. With infinite care and tickling fingers, she rolled the latex barrier over his shaft.

Feeling her light, unsure grip slowly change had Dean gasping and tilting his head back, panting, and his fingers still curving against her head. Still plying her hand in a slow up and down motion, Dean felt her shift even closer, pressing her lips against his chest. Her tongue darted out to taste him and Dean felt tiny jolts of something dart through his skin in the wake of her tongue. He’d never before felt that, had never been as turned on by such simple acts. It was as if everything was brand new to him, with Max. ‘Thank you God’ was all he could think as Max nibbled on his nipple. Another shot of electricity and his aggression reasserted itself.

With a low growl, he tumbled Max backwards once more, captivated by the delighted chuckle she gave. Her hand had left his body but returned to grasp at his arm as he positioned himself between her legs. Braced on his elbows, he was close enough to drop his head and engage her in another kiss, slowly shifting so that he could begin to really explore her body. His fingers roamed over her breasts, flexing and kneading as she wiggled underneath him, need driving her.

Dean stroked his hand over her stomach, the feel of her body against his more exotically delicious than any dream he had ever had about her. None of them could compare to this, to actually having her in his arms. Soon, his fingers spread low on her abdomen, he felt her hips buck slightly and he grinned. He wasn’t the only aggressive partner here. He dipped his fingers even lower, grunting softly when he encountered dark curls damp with her arousal.

Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck, finding the delicate skin under her jaw to nip at. Max stretched her chin away from him, gracing him with ample flesh to taste. His fingers stroking at her caused her hips to buck again and she was no longer wriggling but writhing under him. Her small stuttered gasps spurred him on as he sank lower, finding once again her daintily flushed breasts. Her hands clutched at his shoulders.

Wondering how far he could take her, wondering how long he could draw it out, Dean was determined to wring every last ounce of pleasure out of her body before giving in to seeking his own. No matter what had happened before, he would be the only one in her mind forevermore. Grasping the tip of his cock, still gently laving at her nipple, Dean rubbed the tip of his swollen flesh against her opening. He was pleased when her small gasp of surprise turned into a long drawn out moan of need. He did it again, a longer sweep this time, deliberately pressing over the core of her desire. A small rush of moisture encouraged him, as did her sudden stream of babble.

Continuing the motion and soon she was rolling her head back and forth as her body arched underneath his. Dean watched in fascination as her eyes rolled back, her lips parted as her orgasm washed over her.

“Dean!” she moaned, her hands trying to pull him in. “Please!”

Ignoring her entreaty for the moment, he continued to tease her with the tip of his cock until he noticed that the shivers running through her body were echoing in his. Biting his lower lip, straining to move slowly, he finally gave in to the primal urge that had been driving him and carefully positioned himself over her.

He waited until her breathing had slowed slightly and her eyes regained focus of him. Watching her carefully he eased forward just a fraction. Her eyes widened in delight as she realized that he was finally giving her what she wanted and Dean bit back a groan as her hips flexed towards his. Slowly, inexorably, he pressed forward, striving for patience as he watched for signs of discomfort from her.

When he was able to slide all the way home with only a small grunt from Max did he relax his body somewhat. Her tight passage caressed him completely. Resolutely, he swept away the slight disappointment of realizing that she wasn’t a virgin because honestly, her hesitation and the slow stretch told him that she was the next thing to it. Now that she was finally in his arms, he wasn’t going to let it matter.

Bracing his forehead against hers, Dean squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for some infinitesimal movement or encouragement on her part. And it came sooner than he expected it, her hips shifting upwards, her hands pulling at his shoulders, her legs encircling his waist.

His breath left him in a whoosh as he realized that he was precisely where he wanted to be, with Max right there with him. And not only with him, encouraging him, her whispers in his ear. Dean pulled out slowly until just the tip of his cock was left inside her. Max tensed underneath him and Dean wondered if she expected him to go wild on her. As much as he would just love to thrust into her, to pound into her until she came, screaming his name to the skies above, he was finding that anticipation was sweetening their coupling like manna from Heaven.

Just as slowly as he had before, he pushed back into her, watching with pride as his girl melted a little underneath him. Her lips parted as a soft sigh escaped her, the sound swelled with contentment. As he thrust and withdrew, keeping his pace steady and slow, Dean realized that while she’d certainly had sex before, no one had taken time to make love to her. And no one but he, ever would again.

The fierce possession that had slumbered for so long in his mind, in his heart, swelled and burst forth as Max’s hips rose to meet him. Dean grunted, catching her mouth with his again as he pressed into her with more urgency.

Time stretched, flowed, and had little meaning as they came together. Dean found that there was no part of her that he didn’t crave to touch, no part of himself that he didn’t want to share with her. Max took everything he offered and gave it back to him redoubled. The sensations coursing through his body as he continued to build the electricity between them paled in comparison of the overwhelming burst of emotion he felt hammer through his mind and heart.

He heard Max whimpering below him, felt her entire body tensing as another orgasm threatened to overcome her. He thrust into her shallowly, ignoring her desperate cries for him to hurry. Soon, he felt his own release, the muscles in his back coiling as his hips continued to move reflexively. Thrusting to the hilt, Dean held her close, burying his face in her neck as her passage clenched around his cock. His release robbed him of everything as he struggled to hold on to her. Her lush scent burst upon him, dragging him further into the tightly controlled spiral of her orgasm. His breath left him, his vision blurred, all he could feel was her body surrounding him, welcoming him, taking him into herself more completely than a single union of two bodies should allow. Overcome, he closed his eyes, her name whispered from his lips.

Max shivered once as the last of her orgasm slowly faded away. She heard Dean’s whimper as his body thrust so hard into hers that it was difficult for her to tell where he ended and she began. Her name, whispered against the flush, slick skin of her throat caused another flutter through her womb and she started minutely in surprise. Never before had she had as powerful a reaction. She could almost feel the heat sliding away. Something new had taken over, something that seemed remarkably like… satisfaction. A deep, abiding sense of fulfillment and contentment.

Until she felt the tear roll down her neck. She looked as well as she could, cradling Dean’s body against hers, her hand unconsciously stroking his head, his shoulder, soothing and comforting him. But when she realized the emotion, the release she had caused in Dean, she stilled. Her mind rapidly played over the events leading up to this and her eyes darkened.

How much disaster had she brought down on them? How much pain would be caused because she had been unable to keep from giving into this damnable need? How could she live with herself for degrading herself and proving Dean’s earlier accusation right? How could she face him, knowing that she had thoroughly denigrated herself in his eyes?

How could she?

Chapter Twenty-five