Supernatural: Dean's Witch Ch. 02

By the time night came around again, Calla felt as if she'd found a cocoon of safety with this man who she'd happened on the week before, and was even tempted to tell him everything that she knew could scare him away. She wanted to tell him that, by most folks' definitions, she was a witch -- that, yes, they existed, and that her mother was a bad one. She wanted to tell him that she was studying Psychology because of her powers, and because she felt she could allow her magic to do the most good in that field. And she wanted to tell him that she adored him more than she ought to, for just having known him a week. Of course, she didn't.

Near on midnight, Dean slipped into bed behind Calla and spooned her body toward his own like he had the night before, kissing her neck as her head came to rest on the curve of his bicep and then settling his own head into the pillows beside hers. The night before had been frantic, a haze of desire and sex, and he'd followed his promise to himself to let today go by more innocently, but he was looking forward to the next day, when both their bodies would be rested. They'd have to go their own ways for a while, of course, but he was looking forward to what could come after that. Tonight, he'd stay awake long enough to give her the fifth dose, and then he'd sleep also, and he thought he'd sleep well.

* * * * *

Back from her Tuesday classes, Calla looked at the clock in her office and then settled immediately in front of her laptop, pulling up Skype. She had an hour or two before Dean would be back, and she needed to make use of them.

After ten minutes of trying to contact her mom, though, first by Skype and then by phone and then by scrying, she was starting to wonder whether she ought to try to convince Dean to drive the few hours to her mother's place with her. She didn't want to drag him into it -- and God knew how her mother would embarrass her -- but she was starting to get worried. Adding to her worry was the fact that, with each passing day, she wasn't feeling like herself. She knew that the energy of sex could dampen magic and distract from it, and that she was being affected by Dean's presence, but she didn't understand why it was happening to such an extent as it was. Even trying to sense where her mother was was more difficult than it should have been; she couldn't sense her at all, in fact, and hadn't been able to since before she'd last spoken to her, though she hoped that had more to do with her mother's attentions to self-protection than anything else.

Still... she'd tried to read why a girl was crying on the bus that morning, and nothing had come. Even now, she could barely feel the magic in her blood... as if it was sleeping, or as if she'd been over-using it and it needed to renew itself before she did anything more. Thinking about this, she even for a moment considered reaching out to one of the members of her mother's coven, though that seemed extreme. She didn't like or trust any of them, and if she went to them for help... well, she knew that they'd only make use of the moment to mock her, embarrassing her and her mother. No, she'd wait until she could contact her mother, and do so on her own, even if that meant taking her Saturday to drive up to see her.

For now, she'd work on catching up on her reading, and thinking about the term paper that she'd need to start researching that weekend. If she prepared enough, she knew she'd be able to forget about school entirely until she had to go back in the next afternoon, leaving her all the more time to spend with Dean before he left on Thursday.

* * * * *

When Dean pulled in to the front of the motel, Sam was re-reading a spell for the fifth time. He'd found it less than an hour before, and texted his brother immediately to see if he was heading back to the motel. Finding out that he was, he hadn't said anything about it. Since then, though, he'd been re-reading it, and going back over the sections surrounding it.

The spell was in one of the witch's journals, and he'd gone over the more recent ones first, assuming they'd have more powerful spells that could help them sooner than later, whatever might come up. He'd been right, too. But then, he hadn't expected that the earlier books might contain spells and entries concerning the girl his brother was currently involved in. Like this one, which appeared to have been cast on her when she was maybe fifteen; and Sam had been reading and re-reading the entry, trying to find some way that he might be mis-reading it. As all of the other entries did, this one began with the barest of notes for name, purpose, and planned use, before the witch degenerated into rambling about her plans. He couldn't find a way to convince himself that he'd misread things.

February 24^th

Spell: Everlong Affection

Purpose: To be used on a virgin, to tie them to the first person they sleep with. The subject of the spell will, after intercourse, then feel forever drawn to their first partner. It is not a love spell, but a spell to guarantee that one body will yearn for a particular other, effectively guaranteeing a lasting physical attraction between mates. Ideally, the spell should be used on two people who are already attached to one another and who have not yet been with each other or anyone else. In this case, the spell won't affect their love, but will strengthen attraction to the extent that no other matter should be able to come between them -- cementing their love in the flesh. The spell will also allow that no other body can bring them pleasure, so that if they are to think about straying from their mate, or go so far as to stray in reality, they'll gain only pain from the pairing, and be left without pleasure until they return to their original mate. The spell will have little to no effect if used upon someone who is no longer virginal.

Personal Use Note: Calla will be angry with me, but I am determined that she should wait to have sex until marriage. I'll tell her about the spell in all its details as soon as I cast it, and she'll understand that she must wait until she's found her soul mate, and not give up her body until that man comes into her life. I won't have her treated like my husband has treated me. She's already flirting with boys, and I don't see any other way.

Sam slammed shut the journal and looked up when Dean entered, and knew from the way his brother was carrying himself that the two of them were already sleeping together. He hadn't really doubted it, but after finding this spell, he'd hoped. Part of him couldn't imagine how or why a girl like her would still have been a virgin as of that week, but if that was the case, and this spell had been cast... why was she single?

"How's it going?" he asked, his eyes flitting down to the book he'd just closed.

"Good; what'd you call about earlier? Find something interesting?" Dean asked as he seated himself at the table across from his brother. He'd been anxious to check in about the journals ever since he'd woken that morning, though they hadn't been much in his mind the day before. Out of Calla's presence, it was easier to focus on the job, and on the future.

"Yeah... uh, not so much yet, but we'll see... So, you guys are sleeping together?"

Dean stared at his brother, wondering if this was a joke; why wouldn't he be? "That's why you called? To see if I'm sleeping with her?"

Sam shrugged.

"Well, yeah, if you gotta know, we are. But don't worry -- she knows I'm leaving on Thursday. We're just having fun," Dean added, thinking to himself that he wished he believed that, or even believed that she believed it, despite what they'd been telling each other.

"Right... no, I just mean... she didn't seem like the kind of girl who jumps into bed with every guy she meets, right? So, I was curious..."

Dean grinned, seeing where his brother was going now. "What, 'cuz she said no to you? We didn't sleep together till Sunday, you wanna know the truth, but I don't plan on stopping, and neither does she," he added. "Speaking of which, I'm gonna grab a shower."

Sam watched his brother rise and move over to his duffel bag, cringing at what he was about to ask before he even spoke. "Was she a virgin?"

Dean froze, a change of clothes in his hands. "Man, what the hell?" he asked, turning to his brother. "Fuck does it matter?" he demanded instead of answering the question. Taking a breath then, he shook his head at his brother and forced a grin that he didn't feel. He didn't know why Sammy was asking, but it wasn't any of his business. "None of your business," he said simply.

"She was, wasn't she?" Sam asked to his back, but he already knew the answer. It didn't matter that Dean gave him the finger instead of answering as he stepped into the bathroom. Dean's look had said it all.

Sam took the journal with the Affection spell and buried it in the bottom of his own bag before Dean could come out and start looking through it. It wouldn't affect him, Sam told himself, so there was no reason his brother had to find out what he'd done, or what Calla had decided for herself. Dean wouldn't have made any promises to her that he didn't plan on keeping, Sammy felt sure, so this had been her choice, and it would be her choice to live with. And who knew, anyway? Maybe the spell would have died with her mother.

* * * * *

Not ten minutes after reaching Calla's door, Dean found himself lying face-down on a towel and yoga mat in her bedroom, bare-chested and groaning in pleasure. Calla was above him, her oiled hands kneading into the knotted muscles of his shoulders as she perched overtop of him, her legs straddling his hips and ass. She'd met him at the door in cut-off jean shorts, what looked like a lace sports bra, and an un-buttoned plaid shirt, barefoot and smiling. And then she'd dragged him in here, to where she'd already lit candles and laid a towel overtop of a yoga mat to form a makeshift massage space by the bed.

The oil was warm, smelling of lavender, and he breathed in deeply as her fingers wound back and forth over his shoulders, and then down his spine before raising up toward his neck again. She knew what she was doing, and wasn't scared away from the neck or upper shoulders of his body, and her fingers had just the right pressure, as well -- the last girl who'd offered to massage his shoulders had done so so gingerly, so lightly, that his muscles hadn't even felt it. Calla, though, was letting her weight drop into her hands, leaning over his body as she rubbed her hands over him.

"No tattoos on your back," she commented as she began focusing on one of his biceps, rubbing up and down, and twisting her fingers lightly so that he could only half-focus on her words, what she was doing felt so good.

"No," he muttered, his eyes still closed and lost in the pleasure of her touch. For a moment, he focused in on the rhythm of her hips over his waist, pressing back and forth as her hands worked at his biceps, and then he brought himself back to the fact that she'd said something more. "Huh? Sorry," he added, shifting slightly so that his hard dick had more room to be annoyed that it didn't have her hands' attention.

"No, my fault... I should be letting you focus on this. I'll ask later..." Calla said, trailing one of her hands down to his forearm so that one of her hands could focus there while the other roamed back up to his shoulder, her body twisted to allow her to focus on that side of his body. He'd said that morning that he had some high-stress meetings to deal with, and she wanted to take all of the stress of his workday away if she could.

"I'm listening, Calla," Dean said, sighing the words out and wondering why he hadn't ever bothered to pay for a massage before, good as this one felt. "Where did you learn this? It feels... awesome," he breathed out, swallowing as her hands left his arm and shoulder to focus on his lower back again so that she scooted slightly backward, her weight firmly on his ass now.

Above him, Calla grinned, feeling the man below her relax more and more with each moment. "This is one of my rare gifts... I've been told I'm a natural. But I did take one class in undergrad," she added. "It counted as my P.E. credit, if you can believe it."

Dean stretched his shoulders, but let his arms stay resting by his side so she could do as she would. "We ever run into your teacher, make sure I remember to thank him," Dean answered.

"She told us this was a great way to get a guy's attention," Calla said coolly back, not adding that she'd rarely had occasion to use the lessons.

"She was right," Dean answered, rolling his hips beneath her as her fingers dug into his muscles and loosened muscles he'd forgotten he had.

Minutes went by, and Calla took her time, occasionally resting each of her hands in turn and just rubbing her palm along Dean's skin as she did so. She could feel how much he'd loosened up, in his arms and his back both, and thought he might be closer to sleep than not. Finally, she asked, "Do you want to turn over?"

"Turn over?" he repeated, taking a moment to catch up to the immediate moment, he'd been so relaxed. "You want me to?"

"If you want me to do your chest," Calla whispered into his ear, having leaned forward over his back. When he groaned in response, she grinned and lifted herself off of him so that he could rotate upward below her, and then she came back down to rest on top of him.

Dean grinned when he saw her eyes go wide at the moment her ass hit up on his cock -- she must not have realized all of her ministrations had made him hard, till now. Watching her wide eyes, he took a firm hold of her hips and edged her just backward so that the cleft of her ass was more firmly against him; she couldn't ignore what she was doing to him now. Meanwhile, as she began rubbing oil over his abs, he let himself enjoy the look of her moving back and forth above him. At some point, she'd lost the plaid shirt she'd worn to greet him. Now, her upper half was naked but for that lace bra she wore -- it was too flimsy to be a sports bra, he now saw, and looked to be built for comfort; it didn't hide her curves at all, and she didn't need any extra shaping, but he refrained for the moment from taking it off. He just wanted to enjoy her touch.

Coming up to his chest, Calla massaged his pecs and then moved to his shoulders, letting her focus roam back and forth until one of her hands came down to trace his anti-possession tattoo.

Dean watched her, his eyes tracing her fingers, and commented, "It's supposed to protect against evil, I understand."

"That's all you know about it?" Calla asked casually, meeting his eyes as she let her hands meet over his collarbone and then move back to his shoulders, pressing in hard so that he groaned with the pleasure of it, and she felt his dick jump against her ass in response when her crotch dug into his pelvis for a moment as she pulled her weight up into her hands.

"Mm-hmmm," Dean sighed, knowing she'd recognized the symbol for what it was.

"It's protection, actually, against possession. Against evil possession, by demons," she added quietly. "Do you think it's odd that I know that?" she asked then, even more quietly, so that Dean barely heard her.

He opened his eyes, letting them rest on hers as he breathed in and out with her movements above him. "No. There's lots in the world we don't understand, right? Might as well know about it," he commented.

Calla smiled, thinking it was a more open-minded response than she might have expected from most men, but also not totally surprised -- after all, she'd already learned Dean was full of surprises. "You haven't seen mine yet," she told him teasingly, and picked up his hands to place them on her waist so that he was holding her above him as she rubbed his forearms with her hands, her fingers moving back and forth, up and down his arms as he held her loosely.

Dean blinked below her, gripping her hips and letting his fingers play on her lower back. Feeling how small, how fragile she was beneath his grip, made him all the harder, and he had to take a deep breath before he spoke to keep her from realizing the effect she was having on him. "Yours? Tattoos?" he asked, and she nodded. "Where?" Dean grunted and closed his eyes as her hand came back to his shoulders, his fingers digging into her waist with the pleasure of the pressure of her fingers.

Calla's breath caught as Dean's grip tightened on her, and her hips flexed reflexively against his as she let herself press just backward into his cock, still waiting. "My lower back," she breathed out. "I've got one to match yours, and two more."

Dean opened his eyes, watching her above him, and then moved in a flash, sitting up straight beneath her and wrapping his arms around her. Caught by surprise, she froze with him, her hands and arms caught beneath his and slick with oil against his ribs. Before she could catch her breath, Dean pressed his lips into hers and held her body to himself. He felt along her back for a bra release, and finding none, realized it was a pull-over. He slid his lips down to her neck, nibbled so that she gasped, and then squeezed her to himself more tightly. "I want to see," he whispered gruffly into her ear.

Calla didn't even know how he did it. One moment she was sitting against him, straddling his lap on the yoga mat and towel laid out in her bedroom. In the next, he'd picked her up and turned her, and moved so that now he was overtop of her and she was the one face down. She closed her eyes as he dribbled oil over her lower back, not unlike she'd done over his skin earlier, and then pressed his fingers into the small of her back and traced along the tattoos she knew he was examining.

"One just like mine," Dean said, running his fingers along her back and ribs, and pressing his cock down into her ass below him so that she grunted with the feel of it, though he wasn't resting his full weight atop her. "What are the others?" he asked. One, he thought he almost recognized, but he knew they both had to have specific meanings, and couldn't place where he'd seen them. There were three circular symbols in a row. The one matching his own was furthest to the right, and he tried to memorize the details of the others even as he stripped her racerback bra up and over her head, leaving her upper half nude below him.

"The one opposite," Calla breathed out, and then gasped as his fingers ran up the full length of her spine before she could continue, "...it's to protect against angels, like yours and mine protects against demons."

"Angels and demons," Dean said, forcing himself to sound like he was joking. "Sounds like a detail out of a Dan Brown book. You need to protect against angels?" he asked, already wondering why he and Sammy had never discovered that particular tattoo and taken advantage of it, but he felt her lift her muscles in something of a half-shrug beneath him as he let his fingers press hard into her shoulders.

"Sometimes maybe," she answered. "Personally, I don't want to be controlled by anything but myself."

Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing at her word choice; she was trembling below him. Possession, she might be guarding against, but not control. He leaned down into her, letting more of his weight rest on his hands on her shoulders, and commented gruffly into her ear, "You don't mind being controlled by me, though, do you?"

In response, she shivered beneath him, and he let a laugh go this time as she breathed out a quick giggle. "I don't have any tattoo to guard against you, Dean Winchester," she told him, and he softened his grip, kneading her shoulders and then her biceps, mirroring the train of movement she'd performed earlier on his own muscles, but he also pushed his groin into her, nudging at her ass with his cock and enjoying the gasp he heard coming from her lips.