44. Something To Hold Onto

"Max." I feel my hair move away from my face. "Max."

I stifle a groan and cuddle with the pillow more.

"Come on, Max. Wake up."

I wrinkle my nose a second after it gets flicked. I grumble to myself, rubbing my tired eyes. "What, Dean?"

"Come on, out of bed."

"What's going on?" I sit up, scratching the back of my head. "Are we leaving now?"

"No, I've got something better planned."

I yawn. "Dean, do you know what time it is?"

"Max, you've been asleep since noon. It's only seven at night." Dean holds my arms, tugging me slowly off the bed. "It's time you woke up."

"This better be worth disturbing me for, Winchester."

The throaty chuckle sends goosebumps through me. "It will be. Promise."

Dean practically leads me through the halls, keeping ahold of me. Since Crowley pretty much said that I'm next in line to die, he's spared other lives for now. We all safely assume that once I'm dead, he goes to the next name on the list, so on and so forth. It's a bit settling, to know that no one else is going to die for a few days. Bad news is that I'm the next one slated for death.

But that doesn't mean we haven't been prepping for my departure for Normal. We'd all mutually agreed that the day I exhibit any signs, we ship me off home with a hex bag in hand and a few extra parting gifts, just in case.

"What's this about anyway?"

"Figured you and I could take a nice drive, get lost somewhere."

I roll my eyes. "Gee, that sounds awesome. Getting lost."

"Lighten up a bit, Max."

"I would if you hadn't woken me up."

"You weren't sleeping well anyway. You were having another bad dream."

Those seem to happen all too often now. I purse my lips. We enter the bunker library to find Sam, what a shocker, on his laptop. He barely seems to acknowledge us, which doesn't seem that strange to me. Dean probably told him what he was doing prior to the moment. I still have no freaking clue as to why Dean decided it was worth waking me up.

The air is surprisingly cool out. Gentlemanly, Dean gets the passenger's side door open. I thank him with a timid smile as I climb in. I roll down the window a bit as I wait for him to get into his designated seat and start the engine. I lean my head against the seat, having my face get hit with the air.

The Impala's hum nearly pulls me back into sleep. If it wasn't for Dean grabbing my hand, I would have fallen asleep. I look up at the dark skies, see the tiny dots of light. I readjust my head, hearing the soft rock play through the car radio.

I know this isn't a hunt, otherwise Sam would have come along ages ago.

I still don't know where we're going. I know if I ask for hints, Dean won't give me a peep. I know he's not taking me somewhere bad, and he's not taking me back to Illinois just yet. There's something behind this. We've never done this.

Before I know it, Dean's got the Impala parked in an open field. I watch with bleary blue eyes as he goes around and pops the trunk open. I shuffle out, yawning as I shut the door gently. My head cocks as I see he's got very little provisions with him.

"Where are we?" I look around a bit warily.

"Somewhere."

"Could you be more specific, genius?"

"A field."

I sigh through my nose. "Thanks for that. What is this?"

"I would say we've been stuck in the bunker for too long, but that's a lie," he says as he passes me. I trudge behind him. "Can't exactly have a calm atmosphere when you're stuck there, you know?" He sets down two beer bottles before unfurling a blanket.

"Is this...is this a date?" I ask.

"Call it what you want, Max." He whips the blanket until it settles onto the grass before sitting on it. I sit beside him and watch as he pops open the two bottles. I eye him strangely. "What?"

"This is strange, even for you." I still accept the bottle and take a swig. "What bit you in the ass?" I fold my legs so I'm Indian-style. "Seriously."

"Why is this so shocking to you?" He takes a long chug.

"We've been too busy running around like headless chickens, and now, we're doing this? Not that I don't appreciate it or like it. It's...it seems out of your character."

"My character, huh?" He snorts. "You think you're such an expert on my 'character'?"

"I never said that. I'm not saying I can tell who a person is just by looking at them." I set the bottle off the blanket on a nice spot of dead grass.

"You've never done this before, have you?"

"What? The whole date thing? Yeah, I have." I look up at the dark sky. "It was never this...serious, though. I-I thought those little double dates with friends meant something. Just hanging out with somebody almost meant something. But now I see those don't really matter. I guess a lot doesn't really matter now..."

Then it hits me: "Wait...all this..." I exhale through my nose. "I know what this is about." I look at him. "It's because of the deal."

"You don't know the exact day, so I figured I better do something." He shrugs. "I'd rather you have one good night, something to hold on to."

I smile weakly at him. "Be honest, did Sam think this up for you?"

He looks at me with offended green eyes. "Look, Sam may be the brains, but I do have one too, you know."

"You're both smart in your own ways," I say playfully. "Don't tell me you brought flowers and chocolate too."

"Nah, I figured you were above that sappy crap."

This earns a giggle out of me. "You know me well enough to know that." I decide to lay on the blanket. I look as Dean decides to mirror me. "You know...I never really appreciated the night."

"I didn't realize this was going deep, Max."

I hit him on the arm. "When you're in my position, you never look up. You're always looking everywhere but, because you don't know if you're safe or not. You usually look up to the sky if lightning strikes. When you're like me, you don't really see things for what they are sometimes." My hands are on my stomach.

Dean, for some reason, isn't fond of silence on this night. "How about we play a game?"

I look at him. "Um, I don't think Hide-and-Seek is an option, Dean."

"I mean, like, we go back and forth asking questions. You know, simple stuff."

I have a lopsided smile on my face. "All right, hotshot. You start off since it was your idea."

"Tattoos, yay or nay?"

I purse my lips in thought. "I think they're pretty, but not sure if I'd want it on me when I'm old and wrinkly. I'm just wondering how the poor tattoo will feel when it's disfigured on my skin."

"Gross, Max."

I shrug. "Hey, you asked. What about you?"

"See, now you got me all self-conscious," he jokes. He turns on his side, pulling down his shirt to expose an intricate tattoo on his left pec. "This won't look natural in so many years." I'm tempted to touch it, but I don't. "It's got its use. Anti-possession."

"Should have recommended that to me."

"You wouldn't have wanted it anyway."

"If it would have spared me scars, hell yeah I would have. You and Sam would have had to drag me to a tattoo parlor is all." I smile wryly. "Okay, I think this will be the stupidest question on the planet: favorite food?"

"Aw, come on, Max. Don't make it difficult."

"You got to answer."

"I like too much to pick a favorite."

"Seriously? I thought you'd say pie the minute I finished the question."

"Okay, I got a good one. Say your life was swiped clean, and you were back with your family. Five years, where do you see yourself?"

"Dean—"

"You got to have a plan when you go back, Max."

"I was gonna say you never answered my food question."

"For argument's sake, I'll say pie. Now, five years, your future. Go."

"Well..." I clear my throat. I blink as I feel a drop fall onto my eye. "I'd have a job, hopefully be out of my parents' house and sharing with someone, whether a friend or boyfriend or husband."

"What job would you have?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I want to know," he says innocently. "Is that a crime?"

"I guess not."

"I think you'd make a great teacher."

"Teacher? That's out there."

"I'm not saying college level or high school. Little kids. Kindergarten level."

I snort derisively. "Me, a kindergarten teacher? Don't tell me that's one of your fantasies about me."

"No, I mean it, Max. What you told me about Emmett and Sophie...I can picture you with kids."

My eyes grow soft. "Thank you." I toss my hair. "Alright, same question. Five years, if things were different. Go."

"Well..." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'd hopefully be in the same position as you. Place of my own, probably a wife and kids. When I'm not home, I'm working as a mechanic."

I nod. "I can see it. You've got a thing for cars." I snicker. "What's the wife doing? Stay-at-home mom?" Dean looks back up at the sky, almost embarrassed. My eyes squint together in curiosity. "What?"

"It's gonna sound lame."

"But I wanna know," I plea.

"I...I'm hoping the wife has a job like yours."

"How many kids?"

"Two, three at the max."

"Sounds like a comfortable number. You'd be a good dad." I smile fondly, sadly.

"Your kids?"

"About the same, two or three." I purse my lips.

I don't know if Dean sees the connection, but I do. And I feel the disappointment grow in my heart. It's the life we both want with each other. Though mine isn't as detailed, I know that's the direction my fantasy life is headed in. That's all it is, fantasy. A dream.

"Too bad that reality doesn't exist," he mumbles. I pull my hands apart and tug one of his so that our arms are lying on the blanket, between us. "Wishful thinking."

I yip when cold drops fall onto my face. I look up. "Hmm, think it's gonna rain soon." A distant rumble of thunder further confirms my suspicion. "Did you know what the weather was gonna be like?"

"No. Guess this means we gotta pack up and go back before we get struck by lightning."

"Knowing us, it could happen."

We scramble off, I grab the beers and Dean grabs the blanket. The rain suddenly picks up, becoming a moderate fall. Dean's shoving the blanket into the back of the Impala as I chug the last drops of my beer. I jiggle Dean's to make sure his bottle is empty, which it is.

"Guess I just throw these in the back." I make the bottles pass Dean, and I snicker as he hits his head on the car ducking back out. He gives me an offended look. "What? If I did that, you wouldn't laugh?"

He touches the sore spot on the back of his head. "Damn."

"Here, let me see." I push his head down so I can feel for the bump. He flinches, but I almost don't catch it. We should be driving back to the bunker. Instead, I'm feeling for a damn bump on his head while it's raining.

Dean swoops in, missing my mouth for a kiss, but I don't think it was his intended goal. He finds my throat, lingers there for about a second, before kissing my mouth. I jump into him at a clap of thunder, and he laughs over the rainfall. I grit my teeth. Damn storms.

I'm suddenly turned around, and now I'm almost pushed into the Impala. The only thing keeping me from falling in is my body caving. His hands attach to my soaking body, and I can't ignore his wet hair. I find my fingers running through it so easily.

My stomach tightens, but I think it's for a good reason. I want this right now. I don't want this to stop. I don't want to forget this night. I'm not going to forget it.

"You know, I-I think"—I let out a sharp gasp—"you ought to know..."

At my trailing off, Dean's eyes meet mine. He looks very stunned. "No. No way. You? Really?" He gives me an once-over. "Seriously? A girl like you?"

"Yes, Dean, a homeless girl like me." My hands run through his soft hair. "When you can't afford anything, better to not bring a baby into a world where they have no chance of surviving. Besides, not a lot in the market that appealed to me."

"I should feel so special."

"You are, in your own way." I smile sweetly. I find myself backing into the backseat, with Dean climbing in after me. The second he shuts the door is the same time lightning strikes, lighting up the outside. Don't focus on the storm. Focus on him. Only him. I readjust to the height, meeting Dean's mouth with new fervor. "Sorry the weather h-had to ruin this."

"It hasn't." When he moves in, I lean away. "I think it made things better."

I smile against his mouth, at least until I feel a sharp, hot pain. "Son of a—" I curse as I feel fresh pain blossom at the back of my head. Clearly I misjudged the distance between the back of my head and the Impala's door.

"Max, you okay?"

"Mhm." I bite my lip. "Damn, that hurt."

"You did it."

"You could have told me before I put my head down." I stick my tongue out, only to slip it back in before his mouth covers mine. I wince with each pound that comes from my head. Somehow, I'm allowed up. Our heads almost hit the ceiling of the car as I'm on his lap.

"Here, let me feel real quick."

I wince as his fingers touch the tender bump. "It's not bleeding, is it?"

"No, you're good."

"Good." My fingers curl into his back and try to anchor through his layered clothing. "You slick bastard," I whisper against his mouth. "Did you really hit your head?"

"I didn't purposely hurt myself, Max. It just worked out that way. Bet you didn't think this was gonna happen, huh?"

"With the way things were going, probably not." I push my body against his, I can feel the fog churning in my head.

His famous smirk almost makes me melt inside. "You've changed so much. To think, I almost wanted to kill you."

"To think, I thought you were a psychopath." I'm already tugging on the bottom of his shirt. Awkwardly, we bump arms and the Impala's ceiling (again), but the shirt comes off. The first thing I notice is the puckered scarring on his left shoulder. Even though he's attempting to leave marks on my neck and trying to distract me, I can't help but stare.

I fit my hand into the mold. At the touch, he stops, and I feel his breath on my shoulder. Our heads are close, and I look at him questioningly.

"My souvenir from being out of Hell," he tells me.

"You never told me out how you got out."

"Help from a...a friend."

"Cas?"

It takes him a long second. "Yeah. At the time, we weren't friends."

"You've got some powerful people on your side."

"You have no...well, you have some idea."

"Your life may be messy, but you've got some pretty loyal friends behind you."

"I don't know about that now."

"Well, at least you've got your brother." I shrug.

"Oh? And what do you consider yourself, since apparently you're not claiming yourself to be a friend?"

I kiss Dean hard. "Don't ask stupid questions."