Non-Canon Awards; The Fandom Crossover Contest
Rating: M
Pen Name: AnneValkyria
Genre: Romance/Suspense
Word Count: 3788
Beta: Hannah_perry85
Fandoms: Twilight/Supernatural
Pairing: Bella/Dean
Summary: I haven’t seen Trouble in four years, since the day she walked out of my apartment in Phoenix. Four years where I did everything I could not to think about her during the day and dreamed about her every night. It’s been four years… And now she’s back.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters or situations belong to the respective creators
A/N: The dream sequence/Flashback in italics takes place in December the year before Bella moves to Forks to live with Charlie and before the start of season one of Supernatural.
Four years
The rain had been pouring down since lunch and didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon. I ran to my car still dressed in my work clothes; the sleeves of the blue coveralls tied around my waist, dads old leather jacket thrown over a green t-shirt.
“Rain in the desert, what’s next? Ice in Greenland?” I grumbled as I unlocked the door to the Impala.
Three weeks in Phoenix and I still wasn’t used to the weather. Breathing in dry heat felt like inhaling a mouthful of sand, and when it rained it hit you with the force of a fire-hose… Not that I had any personal experience, but I could imagine.
I threw myself in the car, shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it in the backseat. As soon as I started the engine I turned up the heat as far as it would go.
Three weeks and I still hadn’t left Phoenix. Why? I had asked myself that question repeatedly the past two and a half weeks. I ganked the ghost that had ‘terrorized’ the auditorium on my second day at Deer Valley High. I should’ve been long gone by now.
But for some reason I continued to stick around, impersonating a janitor, staying in one of the shittiest hotels in the history of shitty hotels. They didn’t even have cable for fucks sake.
But did I quit the crappy job that an old buddy of my dad’s had hooked me up with, so I would have a reason to be at the school in the first place? Did I check out of my shitty hotel room? Did I look for another case? No, no and no.
I needed to get back to my room, take a hot shower and get something to eat. And beer. I needed beer.
Driving painfully slow through the downpour, my wipers working overtime, I almost missed the small, hunched over form that hurriedly stumbled towards the gates without so much as a jacket or an umbrella.
Even through the waterfall outside, there was no mistaking the shape of Trouble’s lithe body.
I suddenly felt the need to know what the law would have to say about me offering her a ride. A janitor offering a high school student a ride. A twenty-five year old man offering a seventeen year old girl a ride.
Hell, Chris Hansen from To Catch a Predator could be lurking in the shadows with his film crew. Just waiting for the right moment to bust me
I knew the second I laid eyes on Isabella Swan that she meant trouble, hence the nickname.
Cursing myself for being so stupid I drove up beside her, reached over the passenger side and rolled down the window. “Hey, Trouble, need a ride?”
She froze so abruptly that she stumbled forward and almost faceplanted into the nearest puddle. “Oh, Dean, hi. I didn’t see you there.” Her voice, low and husky, twisted and tugged at my insides.
“Clearly… So, what do you say?”
“Um…” her nervous habit of biting her lip made me ache to pull that full, pouty lip from between her teeth and into my own mouth.
Mentally banging my head against the dashboard to get rid of the images that popped up in my head, one by one, by one, by one I forced my mouth into a crooked smile, hoping I didn’t look as crazy as I felt.
“It’s not that far…” she hesitated, and I watched, my mouth dry, how a light pink licked along her collarbones and up to cover her pale cheeks. “I can walk… But thanks.”
“Don’t be stupid, it takes you at least forty-five minutes to walk home,” I scowled. “In this weather? Probably double.” I cringed at how stalkerish I sounded. But it wasn’t as if I had dug up the information myself. She had been the one who told me that a week ago.
She fidgeted with the shoulder strap of her backpack. “You remember that, huh?”
Yeah, I was not about to admit exactly how much I remembered from our conversations. Instead I rolled my eyes, “Come on, it’s not like I’m offering you candy here. It’s just a ride home.”
Her hair, usually curling softly around her heart shaped face, was flattened by the rain, the warm cinnamon color looked more like the dark beer, Killian’s Red.
Trouble pushed a lock behind her ear, “Uh…” she scraped the toe of her black converse against the blacktop. “But I’m wet.”
Her innocent words went straight to my dick and I had to dig my fingers into my thigh to keep from groaning. “So what?” I asked hoarsely.
“Your car,” she gestured to the leather seats. “What if I ruin it?”
“Who cares about the car,” nobody who had ever met me would believe the words that had just flown out of my mouth. Hell, I couldn’t even believe it, and I was the one who said them. “Please, Trouble, just let me take you home,” I begged as a last effort. One more time and I would sound like a creeper. Who was I kidding? I was way beyond that.
The wind blew rain in my face through the half-opened window and Trouble shuddered before my eyes, wrapping her arms tightly around herself in a futile attempt to protect herself from the cold. I hated that she was freezing, and that I couldn’t offer her a ride like a normal guy her own age, without excuses and explanations.
Lungs burning with the need for oxygen as I held my breath, waiting for her to either reject or accept my offer, I watched her carefully. Countless emotions clouded her big, beautiful coffee brown eyes. I tried to follow, but they were gone too quickly for me to keep up. Until, finally, a look of determination crossed her face.
She pursed her lips and lifted her chin, “If you’re sure, then yes”
“Yeah, I’m sure” I smirked to hide how her eyes affected me, and popped open the passenger door. “Now get in, before you freeze to death.”
The second she shut the door I knew I was fucked. Her scent; sugar cookies and cherry pies, was everywhere, filling the car, making me dizzy. Despite the wide bench seat she sat too close, our arms almost touching.
She wore some weird top thing that looked too much like a corset for my well-being. It was pulled down on one side, baring her shoulder. Of course it had to be the one with the freckles that looked like tiny dots of milk chocolate on her creamy skin. The dark fabric, clinging to her upper body, enhanced her curves and sent my blood pressure sky-high. Her slim, yet shapely legs were bare below the denim skirt that ended at her knees.
Goosebumps dotted her arms and legs, so I handed her my jacket before I could find out what else might be affected by the cold. I kept my eyes forward as I slowly drove towards the school gates.
“Thanks,” she slipped her arms into the sleeves. “I haven’t seen you around today,” she mumbled.
“Yeah,” I rubbed the back of my neck, “I’ve been busy… fixing things.” It was a lie. I had been avoiding her. I couldn’t stay in Phoenix. Soon I would hear about a case, and I’d had to leave. Spending more time with her would only make it harder when that day came.
Heightened by the rain, her scent surrounded us, soaking into the leather of the seats, of my jacket, and the roof and floor. For every breath I took I could taste her on my tongue, feel her underneath my hands as I squeezed the wheel as hard as I could.
I had never touched her, and I wasn’t going to. Not until she could legally agree to everything I fantasized about doing to her. It wasn’t the chance of being arrested that bothered me. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Besides, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she would be worth every minute I’d have to spend in jail.
But no girl, especially not Trouble, should have their first time tainted by the possibility of her lover ending up behind bars. Can you say ‘scarred for life’?
Trouble squirmed in her seat, unconsciously inching closer to me, and my heart did that weird hiccupy thing it did whenever she was near.
The heater was still going at full force, but the only heat I felt came from the shivering girl next to me. The only sounds came from the purring engine and our loud breathing.
In the empty auditorium we talked as if we had known each other for years. She mocked me relentlessly for my music taste, called me boring because I refused to listen to anything besides classic rock. She was easy to talk to, and even though there were parts of my life I had to keep a secret, I was still able to relax and enjoy our time together.
Being alone in the car with her was a completely different story. I tapped my fingers restlessly against the steering wheel. I turned the knob on the radio, through the speakers we heard Van Morrison crooning Brown Eyed Girl. I hit the eject button as fast as I could, sending the tape flying.
Sitting next to Trouble in all her seventeen year old glory had me on edge. I wanted her, but couldn’t have her. I could deal with that… in a way. But she couldn’t know how I felt. I didn’t want her to know.
There were barely any other cars out, we had only met one or two since leaving the school grounds. With my eyes still mostly on the road I reached down for the box of cassettes on the floor between Trouble’s legs and tried not to think about how close I was to her seventeen year old…glory.
I grabbed the first tape I could and pressed it into the slot. Some of the tension left me when I heard Led Zeppelin’s Ramble On. Zeppelin was safe, not like Morrison, or Warrant for that matter.
I had to ask Trouble for directions as we neared her street and sooner than I had expected I parked in front of her house.
“Thanks for the ride,” her husky voice sent tingles up and down my spine. “And again, sorry for getting your car wet.”
If she could just stop saying the word ‘wet’ my life would be so much easier, “No problem,” I said, more gruffly than intended.
From the corner of my eye I saw her nervously licking her lips and leaning forward. I don’t know what made me do it, it wasn’t a conscious thought and it certainly wasn’t planned, but just as her lips were about to brush my cheek I turned my head and her mouth met mine instead.
We gasped and jerked away from each other.
Her eyes locked with mine, and what I saw in hers did strange things to me, shifted something inside of me until all I felt was her. Trouble.
I reached for her at the same time as she reached for me. Crushing my lips against hers, I pulled her across the bench seat and onto my lap, combing my fingers through the wet tresses of her hair. My last thought was ‘I’m going to hell for this’ and then I stopped thinking, only feeling.
She moaned when I sucked her tongue into my mouth, “Dean, Dean,” her voice, rough and masculine.
“Dean? Hey Dean, wake up,” Sam shook my shoulder so hard my head banged against the passenger side window.
“Wha…?” I stared at him, confused, until the sleep-haze left my mind. Trouble wasn’t in the car with me, it was only a dream. “What?” I croaked. I was more than exhausted. The last case had really messed with my head.
It started with a call from a hospital in Pittsburgh; Bobby was in a coma.
Dropping everything we rushed over there, expecting witches, demons or ghosts. Turned out it was just a sociopathic college kid with some fucked up daddy issues, who used something called a ‘Dream root’ to, you guessed it, access people’s dreams and turn them into nightmares, just because he couldn’t dream on his own. I might’ve sympathized with the kid if he hadn’t tried to Freddy Krueger people in their sleep. It pissed me off that he had gotten to me too, and went digging into my brain to give me my own personalized nightmare, a taste of what I could never have; a future with Trouble as my wife and a family of our own.
It had been four years since that Valentine’s Day when she walked out on me. Four years without her. Four years where I had done everything in my power to forget about her, but was still haunted by her in my sleep.
I rubbed my face with my hands and cleared my throat. “What is it, Sammy?”
“There’s a motel up ahead,” squinting I could just make out the Motel 6 sign in the distance. “We’re both tired. We need a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before going back on the road.”
Sitting up straighter I twisted my back, listening to my spine crack. “Have you talked to Bobby?”
“Yeah, he called a half hour ago. He just got home. He sounded good, but tired,” Sam grinned, “But the stubborn old man refused to sleep. He was making coffee while he was on the phone with me.”
“Sounds like the Bobby I know,” I chuckled tiredly, pressing the heel of my palms into my eyes.
Sam was right. We needed to sleep. With no case demanding our immediate attention we could afford to get a room for a night, or two.
Sam hit the turn signal and just as he was about to drive up to the motel a black bike, coming from the other direction, drove passed a little too close to my baby and parked in the spot farthest away from the door to the Check-In.
“Son of a bitch,” I cursed. “Stop the car Sammy, I’m gonna go over there and beat his ass.”
“Uh… Dean?” Sam snickered, as he parked the car, my baby, next to the door. “I think ‘he’ is a ‘she’.”
“What?!” I opened the door, got out of the car and turned towards the asshole on the sweet Buell Blast.
At first all I could see was a tight, denim clad ass, shapely thighs, the back of a leather jacket and a helmet, in the same black color as the bike.
Watching as he/she threw a slim leg off of the bike, I felt my body tightening and I prayed that Sam was right, and I wasn’t getting hard over a dude.
My prayers were answered when she pulled off the helmet and her long hair tumbled down to the small of her back.
I felt a pain in my chest when I saw the color of the girl’s hair. I hadn’t seen that exact shade for years, not since I last saw Trouble. With my dream still fresh in my mind I had started to imagine things. Going too long without a full night’s sleep combined with the dream root case was more than I could handle. I could’ve sworn I even smelled sugar cookies and cherry pies.
“It looks like she’s meeting someone,” Sam gestured, not nearly as discretely as he thought, to the man stepping out from behind the motel.
Everything about the guy screamed ordinary, from the color of his hair to the clothes he wore; like someone you could pass by on the streets a thousand times and still not recognize him.
“Took you long enough,” she taunted. “I thought I would have to come looking for you myself.”
Her voice was low and husky, just like my Trouble’s. I was losing it, seeing and hearing things that weren’t there.
Despite the stabbing ache in the area surrounding my heart, I didn’t take my eyes off the couple in front of me, trusting my gut feeling.
It turned out to be the right choice, the first words snarled out of his mouth were, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’re a difficult bitch to track down.”
“Well, here I am,” I still couldn’t see her face, but guessed she was smiling from the sound of her voice. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
She raised her arms waving the tip of her fingers in a small come-hither motion.
The man laughed. A loud booming laughter and I started inching closer while ignoring Sam’s hissed warning, trying not to draw attention to myself.
Before I had time to take more than a couple of steps the man’s eyes flashed completely black.
‘Demon!’ I started running, knife in hand, but before I had gotten far he turned to the girl and….nothing. Nothing happened. She wasn’t thrown across the parking lot, something that had happened to me more times than I felt like remembering, she just stood there, giggling.
“Awww,” she taunted. “Are we having trouble…performing? You know what they say, one in every five…”
A look of pure fury twisted the demon’s face and before I had the chance to blink the grinding sound of metal penetrated the evening, followed by her bike being thrown into the motel wall.
“You fucking asshole,” the girl cried out, and to my surprise she pulled a knife from the sleeve of her left arm.
Her small hand wrapped around the knife handle was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. I was sure nothing could beat that, but just seconds later I was proven wrong when she threw the knife, hitting in middle of the demon’s palm, going straight through his hand and pinning him to the wooden fence behind him.
“What the hell?” Sam asked, I was as shocked as he was.
Suddenly ‘Shiny Happy People’ sounded from her jean pocket. “Not now, Alice,” the girl snapped, and the ringing stopped as fast as it had started. “Dean, just go. I got this,” she called over her shoulder.
My knees felt like jelly and only Sam’s quick reflexes stopped me from dropping to the ground. It was my Trouble.
The demon turned his onyx eyes on my brother and me, “The Winchesters. Why am I not surprised?”
I braced myself for the impact that never came, instead I watched Trouble’s face contort in pain, “Don’t you dare touch them,” she growled, grabbed a second knife, this time from the back of her pants, and hit the demon’s other hand.
He stood frozen against the wooden fence, a look of incredulity and fear crossing his twisted features.
“Didn’t expect that did you,” Trouble choked out. “A nifty little thing, these devil’s traps, and you would never guess what happens when you have knives engraved with them…”
She almost doubled over as a shudder went through her small body, but straightened quickly, grabbed a third knife, this time from her right sleeve and sent it flying from her left hand right in the demon’s stomach.
‘Who the hell are you?’ the question screamed inside my head. She looked like my Trouble, sounded like my Trouble. But there was no way that she could actually be my Trouble. Could she?
The demon, probably knowing he was about to die, chose that moment to deliver one last taunt. “You will never be able to keep her, Dean. She’s not for you. Death comes for her.”
“That’s it,” Trouble danced over to me and took the knife right out of my hand. “Gimme that. It’s way past this fucker’s bedtime.”
Without pause she stabbed the knife into the demon’s heart and didn’t even flinch when he roared, burning to death from the inside.
She studied the blade carefully before handing it back to me, turning it this way and that. “Huh, thanks for the loan.”
“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on here?” Sam barked, I silently seconded that.
Trouble ignored his question, but walked up to him, stumbling on every other step, looking more like the girl I remembered. “You must be Sam, I have heard so much about you.”
“Oh yeah?” anger laced his voice. “Well, I haven’t heard a thing about you.”
I cleared my throat. “Sammy, meet Isabella Swan,” Any satisfaction I felt showing how little she meant to me by using her given name evaporated when I saw the flash of hurt in her eyes.
Seeing her small hand disappear in his giant fist sparked a jealousy I refused to acknowledge.
“Get in the car,” I snapped, pushing away long lost memories.
“Uh no,” Trouble shook her head, “I’m not going anywhere without my bike”
Before I could argue that she was too, that it was just a bike and nothing worth possibly risking her life for, a trickle of blood started dripping from her nose.
“You’re bleeding,” I snapped, my fear for her turning to anger. Had the demon managed to hurt her without me noticing?
Her hand trembled as she lifted it to her nose, and it came back smeared with blood, “Oh fuck,” she muttered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her knees gave out.
Sam was quicker than me and caught her just as she was about to hit the ground. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” what else was there to say?
“What are we going to do?” he placed one arm behind her back and the other into the crook of her knees. I wanted to punch him for touching her.
“We’ll take her to Bobby’s,” I decided, turning my back on them and walking back to the car, but stopped and went back when ‘Shiny Happy People’ sounded again. There was no way in hell Sam was putting his hands down her pants.
I managed to sneak the tip of my fingers into to her pocket and fish out the ringing cellphone. The name Alice flashed on the screen. “Hello?”
“Is this Dean?” a high-pitched, too chipper voice, asked.
I wanted answers, and I wanted them now! How the hell did the caller know my name? Who had taught the girl that, just a few years ago couldn’t walk across a flat surface without stumbling to throw knifes like that? How did she know about devil’s traps and what the fuck did ‘Death comes for her’ mean? “Yes!?” I growled.
“My name is Alice, and we need to talk.”
The Non-Canon Awards 
Just wondering if you are continuing this story?
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