On Your Side

Bayleigh sat on the side of the road, trying to calm her shaking muscles. Sam and Dean would be there in less than an hour- they'd apparently followed her- but she couldn't just wait for them there. She had to go confront him. 

She stood slowly, testing out her legs, then walked back to the hotel room. She pulled the sheet off the bed and held it up, looking Coby in the eye. 

"You can either shift back for me here or wait until the Winchesters get here." A look of utter and bare sadness passed through his eyes as she threw the sheet at him. 

Bayleigh threw up her hands, turning away, yelling, "I trusted you. I trusted you and you were a monster!" She turned back around and fell back a step, stunned. 

A man was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had to be as tall if not taller than Sam, with chocolate brown hair and deep liquid black eyes. He was lean and muscled, much the way you would expect a dog to look. His hair was longish, wavy and cut just behind his ears. He wasn't clean shaven and yet there wasn't enough facial hair to be considered a beard. He had high cheekbones and thin, severe lips. His nose was slightly upturned in a way that made him look elfin. She became suddenly afraid to admit how handsome he was. 

"Bayleigh," he said. "Bayleigh it's still me." His voice was rich and smooth, with a soft British accent. "I'm still your dog. I'm still Coby."

"No you're not. You're sick." She was becoming painfully aware of all the times she had slept next to him, told him feelings and secrets, bared her soul to him. Gotten naked in front of him. "Why- what the- Aaaah!" she threw up her hands in frustration, hot tears threatening to spill out. He stood, clutching the sheet around his waist. 

"Please, Bayleigh. Please. I didn't mean for you to find out like this."

"Like this or at all?" she demanded.

He looked at her with a look of shame that made her knees weak. She sighed and said, "I don't even know your real name."

"Rye," he murmured. "Rye Kelly." he reached up to touch her arm, but she flinched away. 

"Don't touch me. You lied to me. You betrayed me. You let me trust you. You're a terrible person. Anyone else... anyone else might be able to forgive you for what you did."

"I know Bayleigh. Its why I didn't want to tell you."

"So you just let me think you were a fucking dog instead." He gave a tiny nod and looked at the floor. 

"Why'd you do it?" she asked after a second. He looked up at her, stunned. 

"Isn't it obvious?" She narrowed her eyes. "I'm in love with you." The air slipped out of her lungs in a huge wave and she had trouble getting it back in. 

"What?"

"Please," he whispered, reaching for her again. This time she let him. He gripped her shoulder and squeezed, then tucked some hair behind her ear and touched her cheek. "Bayleigh." 

"Coby- Rye... My head hurts."

Bayleigh groaned and sat down at the table, pulling away from his touch. She put her head in her hands and sat there for a moment, letting it all sink in. Someone started banging on the door. 

"Bay? It's us," Sam's voice called from the other side of the door. 'That was fast,' she thought, standing quickly to let them in. Rye was standing exactly where shed left him, by the bed clutching the sheet around his waist. 

"Are you okay?" Sam asked immediately. Dean walked past his brother, glaring at Rye with a silver knife in his hand. 

"Yea, I'm fine-"

"You stay away from her, Winchester," Rye growled in a startlingly animalistic voice. 

"I would shut up if I were you, Fido," Dean sneered. Rye was tensed, ready to pounce. 

"Quit it," Bayleigh said to him. 

"I can't let you run around with them like this. They're known even amongst us as bad news. Do you know how many times they've died, how many of their friends and family that have died because of 'em? Ever wonder how Bobby bit it? That one even told you he was there when Rufus died."

"And how many innocents have you killed, Rover?" Dean demanded. "Started as just a nip, then you got hungry." Rye's eyes widened a little bit. "How many times have you fantasized about Bayleigh's heart on a silver platter?" He suddenly bared his teeth at Dean. 

"Never."

"Well you've got quite the torch for her, don't you."

"Fuck you-"

"How many people, Rye?" Bayleigh asked. 

He turned to her, eyes wide. "I didn't have a choice, Love."

"How many?"

"I don't-"

"Answer the damn question, Rye. How many people have you killed?"

"Twelve."

Bayleigh flinched. "Theres always a choice," she hissed. 

"When was the last time you killed?" Sam asked gruffly. 

"What's it to you?"

"Quit beating around the bush," Bayleigh said fiercely, her eyes red. 

"I haven't killed since I met Bayleigh. Though there are a few stressed morticians," he said. 

"How long is that?" Sam asked Bayleigh. 

"Three years."

"What're you thinking, Sammy," Dean asked slowly. 

"I'm thinking we don't have to kill him."

"What do you mean?" Dean demanded as Rye said, "Goliath may have a point." Bayleigh sat at the table, numb. 

"I mean as long as he stays clean then it's the same situation as Benny. If he hasn't killed in three years, then what's going to make him start now."

Dean looked between his brother and Rye, his gaze finally landing on Bayleigh. "I guess it's up to her."

"I don't care what you do with him. I just don't want him with me anymore."

"But Bayleigh-" 

"I'm sorry, Rye. I told you. Go lie to someone else."

He looked at her with bottomless sad eyes, then shifted, leaving the sheet on the ground underneath him. Sam let him out the door. She pressed her palms against her eyes. 

"I'd like to be alone now. I'll call you in the morning." She heard the door open and close again. She stripped to just her underwear and crawled into bed and shivered herself to sleep. 

<><><><><>

She was woken by someone knocking on her door. She pulled on a t shirt and some shorts and answered it. It was Sam. 

"Hey. I just came by to check on you," he said. 

"I'm fine," she said, standing aside so he could come in. She closed the door behind him. 

"Well, Dean wants to get breakfast and then take off. Do you need anything before we leave?"

She looked at him for a second, then said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but can I come with you? Hunting?"

Sam nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you."

"Yea." She looked up at him. Then, almost on instinct, she stepped forward and kissed him, gripping the back of his neck. 

His lips responded immediately, pushing back with matched force. Their tongues wrestled for dominance as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He was tugging her shirt over her head before she knew it, and his was close behind. 

Suddenly, The door flew open. Coby, or Rye, had separated Bayleigh and Sam and was viciously biting Sam, pinning him to the ground. Bayleigh reached for her gun. There was a shot and Rye was dead. Dean stood in the doorway, his handgun aloft. 

<><><><><>

"You're sure you're okay," Sam asked, shoulder tensed under her fingers. 

She nodded. "Relax." She drug the needle through his shoulder, sewing up the terrible gash her dog had left stretching from the base of his neck in a long curve to just under his tattoo. It was the deepest of the scratches, and everything other than that was just puncture wounds his teeth. "You're going to need antibiotics. Just in case."

He watched her slide the needle through his chest in the kind of sick fascination that's present during a car crash. He marveled at how expertly she did it, every stitch even and perfect. Her fingers were warm, drenched in his blood. 

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. She shook her head. 

"No. I should have known he wouldn't leave just like that. He... he told me he loved me." Sam watched her face contort from concentration to sadness. She tied off the thread and bathed his shoulder and poured some hydrogen peroxide over it, then wrapped it. 

Dean stomped in, dirt under his finger nails. "It's been taken care of. We should take off before anyone else gets excited about the gunshot," he said. The owner of the hotel had come to investigate and had reluctantly left when the situation was explained as simply as possible. Sam pulled his shirt over his head. Bayleigh threw the rest of her stuff and went to get in the driver's seat. 

"Let me drive," Sam said. 

"Your arm..." She drifted off, then handed him the keys. She silently got in the passenger seat and let him drive, the Impala gleaming in front of them.