Supernatural: Forgetting

Dean Winchester's phone rang just as he was about to grab a beer from the fridge. "Hey, Jen. Long time. Business or pleasure?" He grinned, hoping that this was a pleasure call, rather than a case.

"Hey, Dean. Both, I guess." She sounded off. "Are you at the bunker?"

"Yeah, what's wrong? Do you need help? Are you working a case?"

"No, the case is over." She paused. "But I could use a friend. I'm not too far from you guys. Would you mind? Are you busy?"

Dean was surprised. Jen was a hunter, and a good one. He and Sam had worked several cases with her before, and they both trusted her. She was tough, careful, and no-nonsense, but they always had a good time together afterwards, sharing a few drinks and a few laughs. She and Dean had occasionally shared more than that, too. But he had been teasing, asking if her call was business or pleasure. She had never called to just ask for companionship before. There was definitely something wrong.

"No, we're not busy. Do you want me to grab Sammy and Cas, too? Or just me?"

"Just you, if that's OK. I want company, but I'm not actually feeling social. I think you're one of the only people I know that might understand that."

He got the address from her, and then asked, "Should I bring booze?" Jen was a good drinking buddy.

She surprised him and said, "No. There isn't enough booze in the world for this, and I'm afraid where my head will go if I start."

"I'm on my way."

****

Dean rolled up to the crappy motel and knocked on Room 14. The door opened and he saw the barrel of a pistol before he saw the woman holding it. She was wearing jeans and a white tank top, and looked as if she had recently gotten out of the shower, as her light brown hair was still slightly damp around her shoulders. The gun was small, but it was a 9mm, and the woman holding it was a damn good shot. "Come in, Dean." She gestured with the pistol to the small table. "You know the drill."

The table held a shot glass of what Dean assumed was holy water, a small bowl holding salt, and a silver knife. There was also what appeared to be a broken locket off to the side. He drank the water, licked his finger, got some salt on it, licked it off, and then made a small cut on his hand with the silver knife. Jen relaxed and put the gun down.

"Where's your flask?"

"I don't think that's necessary, Jen."

She raised the gun again. "Yes, it is, Dean. Get out your flask of holy water, and make me do these things, too." He looked at her, surprised, but started the process. "Don't get complacent. I sometimes think that dealing with apocalyptic things and hanging around with Castiel makes you forget that the little stuff can kill you, too." She drank, licked and cut, and then tossed the gun into a bag by the bed with an uncharacteristic carelessness. Dean knew that she was meticulous and careful with her weapons. It was something they had in common.

She came over and hugged him. "Thank you for coming."

Dean hugged her back, his 6'1" frame topping hers by a good five inches. He backed up and smiled at her with his distinctive charm, his green eyes twinkling, trying to find some of her usual good humor. Her smile in return was strained, though, and he said, "OK, Jen, no booze, but what else can I do for you?"

"I don't want to be me tonight. I don't want this," she gestured around. "I need to forget our job, Dean. Just for a little bit." She looked a little haunted. "I need to forget. I need to feel something different. I need to feel... normal, I guess?" Her laugh was a little bitter. "Like either of us would know what that was."

Dean joined her in a dark chuckle. "Darlin', you called the wrong person if you were looking for someone to help you feel normal." He put his arms around her, and said, "But if you're looking for distraction, that I would be happy to help with."

He was rewarded with a smile. "Yes, distraction. That's a good word. But a really good distraction. Like," she struggled to find a way to put a concept into words, "role playing? 'Hey honey, how was your day?' 'Great, nothing happened at the office.' 'I love you so much because we have normal lives,' kind of role playing."

Dean looked almost shocked for a moment, and then said, "OK. Got it." And with his familiar charisma, he swept her into his arms, and said, "Hey, honey, I'm home. I'm just gonna hit the bathroom and them I'm going to make sweet love to you."

Jen chuckled, and Dean kissed her on the nose, and then walked into the bathroom. He stopped and stared when he got inside the door. It looked like a crime scene. Dean has originally just come in to use the bathroom and remove some weaponry -- he figured having several concealed firearms and blades on his person didn't lend itself to the role playing that Jen had asked for -- but the sight of towels and clothing covered in blood and something else that he couldn't immediately identify brought him back to the reason she called in the first place. This was, again, so out of character for her. There was also blood still in the shower, and there was a gun lying discarded in the pile of clothing, also covered in blood and other things. If he wasn't mistaken, it was her Glock 19, which was her very favorite gun. That would also explain the smaller gun that she was holding when she opened the door. That would have been her Glock 43, that she normally had tucked in the holster in the small of her back.

He had been doing this long enough to make the educated guess that this was probably the result of a shifter hunt -- he was pretty sure if he checked the Glock he would find it loaded with silver bullets. But that wasn't why he was here, and whatever had happened she clearly didn't want to talk about it. Sam would have asked questions; Dean wouldn't. It was one of the reasons that she and Dean got along so well.

Dean finished up, washed his hands, stacked his weapons neatly to the side, and came back out into the room. Jen turned to him, and he could see her relief when he said nothing about the condition of the bathroom. Whatever had happened, she would either tell him or she wouldn't. She wanted him to help her forget. He was happy to oblige, no questions asked.

He pulled her to him, and kissed her slowly, moving his hand up into her hair. Jen sighed and leaned into the kiss, moving her hands to his chest. He was muscular and fit, and she let her hands roam along the muscles of his chest, up to his broad shoulders and back down his ribs, and then around to his back. Their parted lips were moving together in a sensuous dance, and when Dean touched his tongue along hers it was more thrilling than she expected.

They were always good together, but they had never just taking things slowly this way. Previous encounters had been hot and passionate, fun and flirty, or just fast and hard. Never slow. This was probably the longest kiss they had ever had. And it was really good.

Dean held his hand in her hair, and moved his tongue against hers, slowly exploring her mouth, gently biting her lower lip, kissing her again and again. He loved kissing, and this was a great kiss. He felt her hands slip into the back pockets of his jeans, and smiled against her mouth. "High school?" he asked her between kisses.

"I think that was the last time I kissed this long and got this turned on," she replied.

"So, my kisses are turning you on?" He deepened his kiss, and she pulled him closer.

"It appears they're turning you on, too." She pressed into him, feeling him hard against her. He made a soft, low noise, and continued to kiss her, pressing his tongue into her, and pressing his body against hers.

Jen moved her hands out of his pockets and under his shirt, touching the warm skin of his back. And then on his front, and up over the sensitive skin of his nipples, causing Dean to smile again, and twitch back, slightly ticklish. "I forgot you were ticklish. You know you're adorable, right?"

"Definitely." This time he was rewarded with a real laugh from her. She pulled his shirt over his head and then continued her exploration of his chest and back, as he continued his exploration of her mouth.

Dean shifted and kissed her under her ear and then down her throat to her collarbone. His hands moved under the bottom of her shirt and lifted it off, allowing him access to kiss further down her chest. While his lips moved to her other collarbone, his hands unhooked her bra and took it off. Stepping back, he gave Jen an admiring look, and made an appreciative, very male sound. The corner of her mouth curled up, and she raised an eyebrow.

Dean stepped forward again and cupped her breasts. They were just a little bigger than handfuls for him, with beautiful dark pink areolas around nipples that were already erect from arousal. He ran his thumbs across them and she closed her eyes and took in a quick breath, which he stole with another deep kiss.

He gently walked her backward to the bed, and held his arm behind her back to ease her into lying down. Planting a quick kiss on the hollow of her throat, he sat up to take boots off, and then climbed back on the bed so that he was on hands and knees over her.

Jen reached up and ruffled her hand through his short dark hair, and then brought it down and rasped it across his five-o-clock shadow. Moving her hand finally around to the back of his neck, she brought him to her for another deep kiss, and brought her other hand around his back to encourage him to bring his weight down on her body. She wanted to feel his skin on hers.

His chest rubbed against her breasts, causing a surge of arousal as he felt her nipples drag along his skin. Dean rolled to his back, rolling Jen with him so that she straddled him. "I'm going to squash you enough later," he said, smiling, "and it's easier to look at you this way. You are very beautiful." The smile he received in return was almost shy, but definitely pleased.

They were both still wearing jeans, but Dean's erection was very clear, and now it was very distracting. Jen sat back further on his thighs, traced her hand along the outline, and watched his eyes darken. She did it again, but this time rubbed her hand firmly, from bottom to top, and was rewarded with him closing his eyes and a small groan. While she opened the button of his jeans, she said, "I forgot how much fun you are." The zipper came down. "We really do have to do this more often."

Dean opened his eyes and grabbed her hand as she was about to reach inside his jeans. "Yes, we do. But I'm supposed to be distracting you." He rolled her over. "You can distract me the next time."

He licked across her nipple as he unbuttoned her jeans, and then took her nipple into his mouth and sucked as he was pulling them down. The other side received the same treatment as he removed her underwear. Then he was kissing down her ribs and abdomen and hips.

Dean moved down and kissed the inside of Jen's right knee, and slowly began kissing and licking his way back up towards the top of her thigh. As he reached the apex, he pushed her leg open wider, and placed a kiss directly in the crease of the joint between her leg and her hip. Then he moved to her left knee and started again. Jen was making little sighs of pleasure, little sounds letting him know that she was appreciating his attentions.

And then, he made himself comfortable, because he loved this part. He used the tip of his tongue to gently part her, and ran just the tip of his tongue from her entrance to her clit. He paused there, and pressed very gently, and then moved back down again. He repeated this twice more, each time using just a little more tongue, and a little more pressure. By the fourth time, when he reached her clit, he stayed, and swirled, and then very gently sucked, circled, flicked, circled, pressed, swirled... and she gasped, and panted, and her hips began to move against him as she climbed towards release.

Dean put his hands under her rear as her back arched and she lifted further off the bed, trying to find more friction against his soft tongue. When she started vocalizing on every breath, Dean flattened his tongue and pressed firmly on her clit, and then sucked hard, just once. Jen's orgasm was immediate and thunderous. She spasmed against him, and almost immediately started to push him away, even as the spasms continued to rock through her. He allowed himself to be removed from her -- another time he might have kept teasing her through her orgasm, but today she could be in charge of that decision -- and just enjoyed the vision of the fruits of his labor. He loved giving oral almost as much as he loved receiving it. No, never mind. No one loved it that much.

When Jen was back to almost breathing normally, she rolled over and looked at Dean, who grinned back at her. This time she did reach into his still-open jeans and took hold of him. His expression changed. He was still smiling, but it was less playful and much more sexy. Stroking him slowly with one hand, Jen tried to wriggle his jeans off with the other. He immediately assisted in that process.

Dean was lying on his back, erection pointed straight up, and Jen licked him from balls to tip. Slowly. And then took him in her mouth, about halfway, and back up again.

She swung a leg over him, and slowly lowered herself onto him, saying, "That was amazing. Thank you."

He put his hands on her hips as she began shifting on him, and said in his low, sexy voice, "My pleasure. Truly."

Jen leaned down and brushed her nipples against his chest, saying to him, "I'm going to ride you for while, just like this, slowly." She was moving forward and backward on him. "I think there's just enough friction to keep you hard, and very, very horny, but just not quite enough to make you come." Dean's narrowed his eyes, looking at her. She smiled at him. "In fact, I think that if I did this right, you'd be right on the edge of orgasm, and I'd be able to keep you there." He was breathing heavily, and his hands had gripped her hips more tightly.

"I am going to have to be careful, though," she continued, "because if I remember correctly from the last time we were together," she leaned forward and lowered her voice, making it very husky, "if I talk to you too much about what I want, I might make you come anyway."

"Tell me." His voice was deep, and gorgeous green eyes were full of lust.

"I want you on top. I want you to go slow until you can't stand it anymore. I want you to try to stay in control so that I can see you lose control completely." Dean rolled her over and pressed into her, slowly, riding her like she had been riding him. He put one hand under her thigh and shifted her leg up slightly to get a deeper angle. Jen had one hand playing with the hair on the back of his neck, and the other resting at the small of his back.

"Oh, yes. Just like that, Dean." She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of him deep inside her. "I want to know how long you can stay at this pace." She was speaking quietly into his ear, her breath rustling the small hairs there. "How long until one of us wants it so bad the other can't wait any more?" He made a small noise of protest. "I'm going to try not to grind against you to urge you to go faster," she felt his hand clutch tighter, "but I can't promise, Dean."

He was still sliding in and out of her at the same measured pace, but his breathing was more erratic. "You feel so good." He hitched in his rhythm, and she gasped, and breathed faster. He had picked up the pace, but was still trying to remain steady. "Every time you unravel just a little it makes me crazy. The closer you get to coming the closer I get to coming. That's just the way I'm wired." He was definitely moving faster now.

She moved her hand from his back to his ass to urge him deeper and harder. "You're going to make me come again, Dean." He was breathing through his nose, trying to keep control. "I don't want to wait any more." She started to move under him.

They were thrusting together now, and every time ground his pubic bone against her clit, and she was gripping him, and grinding herself against him, trying to find the right friction. It was breaking his rhythm, and his concentration. And when she pushed against him, and panted, "Oh, God, Dean, harder," in his ear, that was it.

His control broke, and Dean began thrusting into her fast and hard, no longer caring whether she was enjoying this, simply rutting and seeking release, letting the primitive part of his brain overwhelm his senses, as she had asked him to. He bellowed out his orgasm, and she followed with hers.

****

"Holy crap." It sounded like it was coming from somewhere from underneath a pillow. "That was amazing." Dean looked pleased as he emerged from under the covers. They had both been lying mostly senseless for a while now.

Jen laughed. "Yes. Yes, it was, wasn't it?" She rolled over and kissed him. "Thank you, sweetie. I needed that very badly."

"Apparently I did, too." He chuckled.

She looked over at him, and asked, "Have you ever seen more than one shifter together?"

Dean closed and opened his eyes, and said, "You're going to have to warn me the next time you want to shift gears so suddenly. I think I left part of my clutch next to the bed." He added, "I've heard of it, but haven't seen it myself. Sam and I have only dealt with them as singles."

Jen got up and started getting dressed. "There were two. I didn't expect it. I thought I was hunting one. I still don't know if they were twins, or a couple... who the hell can tell with shifters. It's not like they announce what their original shape is." Dean got up, too, and took a moment to give her a kiss before getting dressed himself.

She sat back down on the bed and looked at him. "You should take the Glock that's in the bathroom. It needs to be cleaned but there's nothing else wrong with it. I'm never going to use it again. Everything else that's in there obviously needs to be burned."

Dean looked sideways at her. "Are you sure? That's always been your favorite."

"I'm sure. If you don't take it it's going in the river." He looked surprised, and she said, "I'm serious. It's you or the river. It might as well get a nice home."

"OK." He went in to retrieve his weapons and the Glock -- he would clean it well back at the bunker -- and gathered the remains of everything so that he could burn it. He knew that she would appreciate him handling this for her.

When he came out of the bathroom, Jen was repacking her things properly, and her smaller Glock was in its holster ready to be worn again. She looked up and smiled. "Thank you. I saw a burn barrel out back. I'll be out in a minute."

By the time she joined him, Dean already had the fire going. "I added salt. I don't know what happened, but I figured that never hurts."

Jen hugged him. "See, that's why I called you. Not just a pretty face." She turned back towards the burn barrel, and said, "I got careless, Dean." There was such a long pause he thought that might be all she might say to him, but eventually she continued.

"It was my brother."

Startled, Dean looked at her, and asked, "How?" If a shifter had turned into her brother, it needed to have contact with his DNA, and her brother had been dead for more than 15 years. He was the reason she was a hunter.

"The locket. I had some of his hair." She looked at him. "I hadn't worn it in years. YEARS, Dean. Because I knew it was dangerous to have pieces of the dead hanging around. But I got careless, and I started wearing it again about six months ago. Because I was missing him.

"So, there I am, and it's not one shifter it's two, and the damn locket breaks..."

Her voice got low, and she said, "They made me kill him twice, Dean."

"Jesus."

"I killed him with a silver bullet to the heart, and then I turned around and killed him again with a silver bullet to the head."