can't be saved

        “you’re not giving me the credit i deserve. i’m way            more awesome than a shitty action movie sequel.            now, your pathetic excuse for a life on the other hand…”

              oh, she knows he’s staring; even if she didn’t,                    the blood pumping faster in his veins is a dead                    giveaway. the slightest of smirks tugs at the                    corner of her rosy lips as she rests her arms                    on the table & leans over to give him a better                    view. it’s a silent suggestion —- focus more                    on the body rather than the person inside it.

         ”six tequila shots, por favor. it feels like a dancing on             tables kind of night. i know; it must be hard to see such             a pretty little thing & imagine her as a monster —- but             like it or not, that’s what i am. mmm, good. well, you             know what’ll make this a lot more fun? if we stop talking             about meaningful things & just drink. you sure about             that? because vampires have a killer tolerance level.             even a guy who’s been drinking since he was fifteen             doesn’t compare.”

          six tequila shots. he can't help but laugh,            catching the waiter by the sleeve of his            shirt before he leaves; if he doesn't find           a distraction now, he wouldn't be able to           turn his eyes away from caroline                     dean might be here to help her but he            was still a man, and caroline one of the            hottest girls he's ever seen in his life.

                      ' actually, just bring the whole Jose Cuervo                         bottle, but don't forget my whiskey -- wait,                          do you guys still have those mozarella                          sticks? bring an order of those 'cause i'm                          starving. '

          its not until he leaves that dean returns his gaze           to her, and he has to force himself not to check            her out. but he fails miserably; he doesn't know           whether caroline's intentions bordered into this,            but now she definitely knows he's looking. 

                       ' actually, fourteen. my dad left a bottle                          under the sink one night sam and i were                           alone. you'd be surprised about the things                          i can do, caroline. '

     she unlinks their arms & strides through the door with a wink        tossed at dean over her shoulder. such a gentleman. briefly,        she wonders if she can change that & make him a little less        civilized over the course of the evening. with that in mind, she        slips off her jacket to reveal a tantalizingly low-cut, form-fitting        tank top; it’s the kind of shirt her former self would judge as        ’slutty’ —- but of course such a thought is laughable now. instead,         she’ll casually drape the jacket over the back of the bar stool        & sit down before gesturing him over.

              “he’s definitely cocky, but he’s smarter than he looks;                    don’t underestimate him. oh, so you actually ARE going                    to have fun with me? i like this turn of events. —- never                    mind, i spoke too soon. it’s not like i’d kill anyone in front                    of you. i’d just snatch, eat, erase, and repeat. ugh, whatever.                    you’re lucky i ate before you showed up.”

                            he can't seem to be able to tear                             his eyes away from her, regardless                             of how wrong he knows it is to lust                             after caroline in this state. dean's                             eyes follow the contour of her shoulders,                             before taking a seat across from her                             and motioning the waiter to come over. 

they’re on a hunt (no surprise) they’re on a hunt & it’s going nowhere (surprise)  she’s pretty sure sam told them the wrong place,  or he was looking for an excuse to be alone.

                      regardless, she’s cold. even wrapped up                       in a jacket (she thinks it’s sam’s), she’s                        shaking. she misses the west coast.

            ’ how are you not freezing to death? ’

she pulls her knees to her chest, lowering her head.  she’s sure dean is talking about his baby being warm enough for him & sam, or something, but she’s done  listening. her hands feel like ice cubes and she’s tired.

             his words go in one ear and out the other, but she              can tell by his facial expression that he’s being an              asshole or calling her a baby. hues narrow before               she’s reaching over, sliding her hands under his               shirt to prove a point.

                     only to prove a point.

                   ’ told you i wasn’t exaggerating. ‘

      He knows she's used to the warmth and tolerable       cold of California. Dean on the other hand, could       stand out in the freezing cold in nothing but a t-shirt       and a pair of jeans and probably find a bar with cheap       whiskey to keep him warm. In other words, he's used       to it, so is Sam, and he's only teasing her and has every       intention of sliding off his jacket and giving her another       layer to wear over Sam's jacket.

               Regardless of his familiarity with Allison's bluntness,                 the way she seemed to lack a filter at times and                 always expressed her opinion ( a quality he admired                and enjoyed about her ), he wasn't expecting, well                                                           that.

               Dean's breath hitches in his throat and her freezing                 cold hands make his skin sting and although he                doesn't flinch, a shiver runs down his spine despite                his reluctance to move her hands away. His hands                release the steering wheel of the Impala and he                 glances down at the hands under his shirt.

                                    He promised, didn't he?                                         He promised Sam.

                                 But he turns to look at her                                     and keeps his eyes on                                   Allison's, killing the engine                                             of the Impala.

       the normal, emotionally attuned caroline would have          seen right through that hollow laugh, but in this state if          she notices —- she simply does not care. to ask about          or mock it would only invite further conversation          concerning ‘feeling’, and that isn’t a road she wants          to go down.

               ”aw, dean. if i was trying to hurt you, you’d know.                     i have a talent for finding people’s most vulnerable spots.                     right now, though, i want to get hammered & party, and                     that doesn’t work very well if you’re all moody.                                mm, damon. he’s a dick. i didn’t like him before,                                and that definitely hasn’t changed. i’m pretty sure                                he likes me better this way, though.”

        he holds the door of the bar open for her.         this time, his laugh is slightly more genuine         though there's a hint of concern he hopes         caroline doesn't recognize. while her          emotional detachment drove her into a         downwards spiral of apathy and disregard          for human life, dean couldn't (and wouldn't)         stop caring about her. she once gave him          hope -- perhaps he could do the same for          her this time.

       there is not a single part of her that thinks whatever          he’s got planned will work; she’s only got her guard          up for physical attacks. so, for now, she’s going to          enjoy getting drunk with this hot man on her arm.

              “hey, be my guest. i don’t care whether they live or die.                   at least they’ll stop nagging me to turn the switch                   back on. whoa, whoa, whoa. i’m the first one to talk smack                   about the old caroline, but she definitely did know how to                   drink. she just wasn’t an alcoholic like you.”

           though he'd deny he has any remote sigh             of a drinking problem, he laughs, knowing            it all came from caroline's detachment from             her emotions. dean turns to look at her,             shaking his head in slight disbelief.

        she loops an arm through his & places a hand on top of the other.

             ”so grumpy. see? i’m with you. but you’ve got to                   be kidding me about the whining. this version                   is way better than peppy, neurotic caroline.”

          he has a plan, a god damn good plan,            so he opts to play along for the meantime.