Angels in the Architecture - Anna/Charlie Pre-series Femslash
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Anna Milton/Charlie Bradbury - Pre-series
Rating: NC-17
~4000 words
Two paths cross for a moment and the Universe holds its breath.
***
The girl carries a beat up copy of Dandelion Wine shoved deep down into the bottom of her backpack and the memory of who she used to be shoved even deeper down into her heart. Six years on the road and she’s gotten good at it.
The first time the cops had come for her, she was twelve. It wouldn’t be the last time. Now she knows better, knows they had no idea she was just a kid, knows that no-one was going to send a twelve-year old to jail for intellectual property rights violations. But then, half-crazy with grief and guilt and fear, shuffled from distant relative to distant relative, it had seemed possible. She’d heard them talking behind closed doors, around corners, arguing about ‘what to do with her’. She’d hacked into enough emails to see the discussion about foster care and boarding school. So when the cops showed up at the front door of her latest home, she’d packed a bag, slipped out the bedroom window and disappeared into the night.
She doesn’t like to think about all those years on the run, but she had learned a lot. A lot. About herself, about the world and how it worked. How long a kid can spend in a library without making people suspicious. What kind of scams a kid can do, and how to spot a pedophile at twenty paces. (Hint, avoid being alone with any man. Better to be insulting than raped.) At eighteen, she can pass for fifteen or twenty-two depending on which she needs to be.
Tonight she’s between jobs, between towns, and between identities. She slips out of the cab of the dirty white pickup truck that had carried her from one Ohio town to the other. “Thanks,” she says.
“No problem.” The woman slides across the bench seat, holding the door open as Charlie tries to shut it. “Hey, Charlie, you sure you don’t want to come back with me? I live just another two hours up the highway. This place...” The driver shakes her head slowly and looks ruefully down the deserted main street. Every third shop looks boarded up. The one stoplight blinks yellow as it sways gently in the wind.
For one brief, beautiful minute, Charlie considers it while turning the unfamiliar name around in her brain. It fits, she decides. She’ll be Charlie for a while. Her eyes scan the brunette quickly. She is hot with her jeans and cowboy boots, and sweet. Last night had been fun and Charlie can almost picture the warm bed waiting wherever this kind stranger calls home. But there’s an itch between her shoulder blades and a tightness in her gut that says it’s time to move on.
“No. Thanks, though.” She rests one knee on the seat and reaches into the cab, kisses the older woman quickly but warmly. “I would if I could. You’re awesome.” She slides out again, smiling to take the sting out of the rejection.
She watches the truck pull away, then heads towards the shelter she’d seen a few blocks down the road. Another day, another shelter. Been a while since she’d been this down and out. Last night’s motel had been courtesy of the cutie with the truck. But needs must, and what she needs now is a warm bed, some coffee, and anonymity. Shelters are anonymous as it comes. When she finds a place to settle, she’ll hook up into the nearest bulletin board and pick up some computer work.
After some painful trial and error, Charlie had found that the best places were in the midwest in middling sized towns. Shelters in the South, though warmer, came with a little too much hellfire and brimstone for her tastes. They were easy to find in big cities, but way too dangerous. Too many tweakers in the Southwest, and way too much snow in the North.
Crammed into one of the vacated store fronts, the room is small, chilly and overly-bright. And it’s empty. The bell over the door tinkles as she enters. A skinny red-head looks up from the desk near the front door. Her eyes are huge, her hair almost as red as Charlie’s most recent dye job. “Hey,” Charlie calls.
“Oh, hi,” the young woman answers.
As Charlie gets closer, she realizes that the girl is kind of young to be manning the desk by herself. She’s probably about Charlie’s age.
“Can I...can I help you?” The girl’s voice is soft, hesitant, but her eyes are steady, and she looks right at Charlie.
Charlie shifts the backpack higher on her shoulder. “Well, yeah, I was kind of hoping...” She shrugs slightly and gestures at the tables and the curtained-off area that presumably hides some beds.
“Oh. Sorry. Yeah. Of course. It’s just that you didn’t, don’t. I mean you look.” The blush crawling up the girl’s neck is just adorable. So is the flustered way she keeps looking at Charlie, then looking away.
“I don’t look homeless?” Charlie smiles at her, turning on the charm. Maybe she could get a better deal out of this than just a hard cot and weak coffee.
The girl nods. “Yeah. Um, sorry? Should I apologize for saying you don’t look homeless?”
“I can’t see why you would.” Charlie sticks out her hand. “I’m Charlie. Temporarily without shelter.”
The girls is pale and almost painfully thin, but her smile makes her beautiful. “Anna. Nice to meet you.”
Her hand is cool and dry, fingers long and thin, and pornograpics thoughts flit briefly across Charlie’s brain. What? Thinking’s not illegal. Unless the girl is a mind-reader. Oh god, what if she’s telepathic? Charlie’s seen stranger things in her life. “You’re not a mind-reader, are you?” her mouth asks, completely without her brain’s permission.
The girl cocks an eyebrow. “Not that I’ve ever noticed.”
Charlie realizes she’s still holding Anna’s hand. “Oh good.” She drops the other girl’s hand. “Sorry. I...I’m just tired.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Just, uh, sign in.” She points to the book.
Charlie thinks as she writes her first name. Bradbury. Charlie Bradbury looks good for now. She makes a mental note to get some new ID made with her first paycheck.
Anna swivels the book around to read the name scrawled there. “Charlie Bradbury. Nice name. You know there’s an author with that name. I love him.”
And Charlie is halfway in love herself right now. “Yeah,” she nods enthusiastically. Holding up her index finger, she plops her backpack on the table and digs deep. She pulls out the battered paperback. “Ta dah!”
Three hours later, they’re sitting side by side on a narrow cot that’s been pushed into a corner of the room. A pizza box, empty except for two nibbled-on crusts, and bottle of off-brand cola rest on the floor next to them. The front door is locked, the main lights are off, and it feels like they are the only two people alive in the world. Something about the night, the closeness of Anna’s body on the small cot, and the look in her wide eyes has let this girl, this stranger, slip under Charlie’s defenses. There’s something about her, something ageless and calm that makes Charlie feel her secrets are safe with her. She’s talked herself hoarse, telling Anna everything. Almost everything. Charlie keeps her culpability in her father’s death and her mother’s near-death to herself. That bit doesn’t deserve even the frail absolution of a stranger’s ear.
The rum might be helping with the floating feeling. Or it could be the fresh scent of Anna’s hair. Charlie tips the small bottle of rum into the Dixie cup Anna is holding, then pours some into her own soggy paper cup. “You sure can hold your booze. I thought you were a good girl.”
Anna takes a long sip and looks at Charlie over the lip of the cup. “You don’t know much about preachers’ kids, do you?”
Charlie starts singing Son of a Preacher Man under her breath.
Anna rolls her eyes and smacks Charlie on the thigh. “Real original.” She sighs and slides down the bed. She looks up at Charlie, and, not breaking eye contact, tugs at Charlie’s belt loops until Charlie slides down next to her.
They lay on their sides, facing each other. Anna finishes her drink, crumples the cup, and tosses it over her shoulder to the floor. Charlie downs the last of her drink in one swallow and throws the empty cup into the darkness.
Anna’s eyes are enormous. The pupils huge and dark as they strain to see in the low light. Her lips are wet with rum and coke and it’s all Charlie can do to resist kissing her. Anna’s mouth moves as Charlie stares at it.
“So you’ve really been on your own since you were twelve?”
Charlie nods. “More or less. Got picked up a few times. Different foster homes.”
“But you always ran away. You got away.” She says it like it’s her favorite part of a well-known fairy tale, like it’s a taste of something she’s always wanted but knew she couldn’t have.
“I did. But it’s not like...it’s not glamourous. I mean, you know, you see.” She looks around the shelter, a testament to the reality of life on the road.
Anna nods, eyes wide, and serious. “But you’re not like that. Like them. You’re special.” And she reaches forwards, just a bit, the tiniest inch, and kisses Charlie.
Charlie’s hand closes on Anna’s hip, even as her eyes blink in shock. Her brain may have no idea what’s going on, but her body is singing the it’s-about-time hallelujah chorus. They kiss until Charlie is dizzy with it. With Anna’s soft lips on hers. Anna’s hand holding her close, fingers hot against the skin of Charlie’s waist. She opens with a moan to the pressure of Anna’s tongue, tilting her head for a better angle. Anna’s teeth feel smooth against Charlie’s tongue.
Without breaking the kiss or falling off the narrow bed, Anna rolls them until she is pinned beneath Charlie.
Panting, Charlie pushes up onto her hands, trying to ignore the hard length of thigh pushed up between her legs. “I’m not,” she says, tucking Anna’s silky hair behind her ears. “I’m not special. I’m not even good. I’ve done...things. Bad things.”
Anna shakes her head, reaches her head up and sucks a mark into the hollow of Charlie’s throat. “You are,” she insists. “You are special.”
She licks at Charlie’s collar bone and Charlie can’t help groan and thrust her hips. The seam of her jeans pushes against her clit as she drags up Anna’s thigh.
Anna’s laugh is a cascading chime, and Charlie remembers reading that when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces and that was the beginning of fairies. She believes it now.
Anna grabs the back of Charlie’s thigh with one hand, and pulls her head back down with the other. Her breath is hot over Charlie’s neck and in her ear. “I know you’re special,” she says kissing and ghosting her lips over all the skin she can reach. “I know things sometimes.”
Charlie can barely think with the way Anna is pushing her thigh up at the same time she’s pulling Charlie against her. Her breath catches every time her nipples press into Anna’s body. Charlie shifts her weight to one side and skims her hand over Ann’s chest, feeling the hard point of a nipple against her palm. She presses down, rubbing over it with her palm, the dips and rises of her fingers tripping over it. Anna gasps and whines, biting Charlie’s earlobe in retaliation.
“Oh shit,” Charlie curses. This is ridiculous. How can she be so turned on, so quickly, by some scrawny girl in a crappy cot in the middle of an empty homeless shelter? She’s done this countless times before, hell, she did it last night. But it never felt like this before. Like Anna is trying to tell her something with her body that she doesn’t have words for. “Like what?” she gasps, desperate to believe for a second that there is something special about her. That all this pain and loneliness means something. That she has a reason to keep going. “What do you know?”
Anna keeps trying and the words keep coming. “I knew I had to be here tonight. That something important was going to happen.” She runs both her hands up under Charlie’s shirt, pushing it off.
Charlie sits up, straddling Anna’s thigh and lets her pull the shirt over her head. She shivers as Anna reaches up and cups both her breasts at the same time, running her hands over the silky material, skimming her fingers over the hard points. The filthy smirk is her only warning before Anna pinches both nipples hard. “Oh, fuck,” Charlie yells. She’s so wet now. And so battling to keep up.
“Off,” Anna commands.
“Holy shit,” Anna breaths as she reach around with both hands to unhook her bra. “I gotta say, I had you pegged as a virgin when I walked in here. This isn’t your first time, is it?”
As soon as the bra hits the floor, Anna’s fingers are back on Charlie’s breasts, rolling and pinching and pulling with just the right amount of force to make Charlie’s breath go ragged and her eyelids flutter shut. “Un...unless you’re just a - shit - fucking - do that again - fucking gifted amatuer.”
Anna’s chuckle reminds Charlie less of fairies and more of dark corners and whiskey-laced kisses. She pulls Charlie down to her again. “Like some kind of sexual beginner’s luck?”
“Uh huh,” Charlie answers absently as she tries to capture Anna’s wicked mouth again.
“You really don’t know anything about preachers’ kids,” Anna laughs and kisses her.
Then it’s all arms and rubbing and kissing until Anna’s shirt and bra join Charlie’s on the floor, and Charlie has bite marks on her neck, Anna’s nipple between her teeth, and is deftly unbuttoning her jeans with one hand.
Anna is whining and writhing on the bed, her hand hard against Charlie’s head, holding her in place. “Come on, come on,” she begs.
Charlie forces her head off the nipple, once pale pink, now cherry-red and slick from all the attention. “Little help?” she laughs.
Anna pops the buttons of her jeans and Charlies runs her hands over the soft skins that is revealed as Anna peels the pants down over her legs. She trails down the soft cotton panties, feeling the springy hair underneath and, as her hand trails lower, the wet heat. She presses into it, through the cotton, and Anna moans, jeans still wrapped around her legs.
Charlie looks up at Anna, spreads her hand flat over the slight mound. “Can I?”
Anna’s hand slips from Charlie’s head to dig into her shoulder. Charlie shivers as nails dig in to her shoulder, sending a zing of pleasurable pain right to her groin.
“Please. God, please,” Anna breathes.
Charlie watches, mesmerized, as she slips her fingers under the elastic waistband. Anna’s hair is silky as her fingers slide through it, and Charlie reaches further down. Anna twitches and inhales as Charlie’s fingers drag over her clit, but Charlie keeps going until she can just slip her fingertips into that warm slickness.
A sharp whine and the jerk of Anna’s hips is all the warning Charlie gets before Anna’s knee comes flying past her nose as Anna kicks her jeans all the way off. “Oh my god, get on with it,” she says, panting.
“Fine,” Charlie says around a smile. She rolls over the girl, sliding one finger inside as she opens her mouth on the soft, warm skin of Anna’s shoulder. By the time she’s gotten three fingers in, Anna’s teeth are pressed against Charlie’s shoulder and she’s panting and whining as her hips drive up and down, just riding Charlie’s hand. She half twisted up off the bed, upper body turned into Charlie’s and she grips her hip like it’s the only thing keeping her anchored to the bed.
Charlie is the one whose shaking, trembling at the slippery smoothness clutching her fingers and the sight of all that pale skin gleaming with sweat in the low light. She wish desperately that her other hand was free to touch, to caress, but it’s wrapped around Anna’s shoulders, holding the other girl against her. She turns her head, desperate for a taste anywhere. She nuzzles her way through the cloud of copper hair to taste the salty sweet skin of Anna’s temple.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Anna’s pants. Her fingers dig deep into Charlie’s side
Charlie turns her head just a bit, temple to temple, to watch where her hand is disappearing into Anna. “Holy shit,” she breathes. She thinks she could come just from this. No one else had ever been this responsive, so unselfconscious and lost to anything but the pleasure.
“Charlie...just...I need.” Anna twist desperately, trying for something. Needing something.
Charlie tries to pull out, to rub the heel of her hand on Anna’s clit like she likes done to her. Anna whines and grabs Charlie's wrist, pushing three fingers back in even deeper and, with a shift in angle, up. “Yes, yes, there oh god there.” Each thrust punches a low groan out of her and an even louder one from Charlie as Anna fucks herself with Charlie’s hand. It’s the hottest thing Charlie’s ever been part of. She can’t help it, she needs something, need her mouth on something. She turns, working her way down until she feels Anna neck under her mouth. She bites down, harder than she means to, and Anna keens.
“Holy fuck,” Charlie whispers as Anna pulls her hand hard and fast into her, holding Charlie in place as her back arches off the bed and, with a guttural moan, all the muscles in her body lock up. Charlie can’t move, her fingers trapped by Anna’s contraction. Lust shoots through her, and she curls in on herself, hand still trapped inside Anna, her own orgasm pulsing between her legs and in her chest.
Anna’s collapses onto the bed, breathing heavy and chanting “don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop.”
Charlie can only shudder and watch as Anna yanks her hand out with a groan and another orgasm gushes out of her, wetting the bed and soaking Charlie’s hand and wrist. “Holy shit,” Charlie breathes like a prayer as Anna’s shoves her hand back in. Charlie twists her fingers inside Anna, pressing upwards, and Anna cries out long and loud as she locks up in another orgasm. She collapses back down on the bed, arm thrown over her face, and tries to get her breath back. Charlie stays up on one elbow, eyes wide in awe. “Holy shit,” she says again, like it’s the only thing she can remember to say.
Anna’s laugh is breathless. “Like that?” she asks from under her arm. When she doesn’t hear an answer, she moves her arm and looks over to see Charlie nodding like a madwoman.
Charlie meets her gaze and give an enthusiastic “Fuck yeah.”
“Good,” Anna answers, then rolls quickly against Charlie. Her mouth is warm and soft and her teeth cold and hard on the sensitive skin of Charlie’s neck. “Fuck,” Charlie curses. “You vampire.” She yells as her nipple is pinched hard enough that Charlie almost can’t tell if it hurts or feels amazing. Whichever it is, - and as Anna does again Charlies thinks that it’s both - pain or pleasure, either way it’s wired directly to her clit, which throbs and aches. “Anna, god, please,” she begs.
Anna reaches down and grinds the heel of her hand into Charlie’s clit as she bites down hard, thin stretch of skin caught between her teeth. The sharp pain and eye-rolling pleasure crash together and Charlie clamps her thighs around Anna’s hand, coming with what feels like her whole body.
When she can unclench enough to let Anna’s arm slip free, Anna lays back on the bed. They lay together, arms and legs touching, as their breathing slows down. Charlie’s the first to speak. “That was...holy crap...that was amazing.”
Anna laughs her fairy laugh. “Oh yeah.”
Charlie turns her head to look at the other girl. “And that -” She waves her hand awkwardly in the direction of Anna’s crotch. “That was - does that happen all time?”
Anna turns her head so they’re facing each other. Her smile warms a lonely, empty place in Charlie’s heart that she tries so hard to ignore. “Only when it’s really special,” Anna says gently, and Charlie is shocked to feel tears springing to her eyes.
Anna reaches up to gently touch Charlie’s cheek. “Hey,” she whispers, darting forward for a quick kiss. “It’s okay. You are special, Charlie Bradbury.”
Charlie shakes her head, not trusting her voice. She shivers with the chill of the room and endorphin let down and the knowledge of the long, dark road waiting for her when she leaves this oasis.
Anna thumbs the tears away. “Yes, you are. We were meant to meet. I just know it. Come on,” she says, rolling away from Charlie and sitting up. She wipes herself with her t-shirt before slipping into her jeans. She stands up and holds out her hand to Charlie, still naked, pressed against the wall.
Charlie is afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell this is, afraid that maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a dream.
“Come on,” Anna repeats.
Charlie takes her hand and lets Anna pull her up against her. Anna’s jeans are rough against Charlie’s thighs and their breasts brush together in a way that chases away some of the chill. When Anna kisses her, slow and sweet, but with a promise behind it, Charlie feels warmth like sweet molasses moving through her. Well, what if it is a dream? It’s a good one. Charlie’s going to stay in at long as the universe allows.
“Get dressed,” Anna says as she pulls away. She bends down and throws Charlie’s shirt at her. Charlie struggles into it and when her head clear the neck, she sees Anna slipping her underwear into her jeans pocket. She shrugs when she sees Charlie watching. “Seems like a waste of time to put them back on.”
Oh, please let me not wake up, Charlie prays to whomever is listening.
“Where are we going?” she asks, slipping her feet into her sneakers.
Anna zips up her sweatshirt over nothing and picks up Charlie’s backpack. She walks towards a back door. Charlie grabs her duffle bag and jogs to catch up. “My room is much nicer than this,” Anna says by way of explanation.
“What about your parents?” Charlie asks.
“They’re gone for the weekend,” she answers, arming the alarm and locking the door behind them. “I was supposed to go, too. But I told them I couldn’t.” She turns, slipping an arm around Charlie’s waist. “I had to be here.”
Two days later, Anna waits with Charlie at the bus stop. Anna’s given her some money from the church’s Caring Committee fund after swearing up and down that her father wouldn’t mind and that was exactly what it was for. The town is too small for the preacher’s kid to be kissing strange girls in public, but Charlie figures they fit a lot of kisses into the short time. “So...” she says.
“So,” Anna echoes. She reaches out and grabs Charlie’s hand gently.
The shy gesture hits Charlie right in the heart. She loves all the sides of this quirky, unique girl, and she thanks whatever power brought them together. “I don’t have a phone number yet,” she says. “But I can write.”
Anna shakes her head. They’ve been over this before. Charlie has the name of a friend of Anna’s dad that might be looking for some computer help out in Nevada. Anna has a good feeling about it and she promises to have her Dad give him a call. But still, it’s going to be hard to keep in touch. And besides, Anna seems reluctant. “It’s not safe,” she keeps insisting. Not safe for Charlie somehow.
They see the bus coming up the street. Anna looks around quickly pulls Charlie in for a quick kiss. “Change your name,” she whispers in Charlie’s ear.
Charlie pulls back, puzzled.
“Just do it. Please.”
Charlie can only nod. “Okay.”
The bus pulls up and the door opens. Charlie looks at Anna one last time. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears but her smile is as gorgeous as ever. She pushes Charlie towards the door. “Go.”
Charlie steps us into the bus and the turns, like a character in a chick flick. She holds up her hand and spreads her fingers in a Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, Anna Milton,” she says, blinking back the tears.
“You, too, Charlie Bradbury. Stay safe. It’s important that you do. The world’s going to need you.”
“Comin’ or going’?” the bus driver asks, gruffly but not unkindly. He’s seen the teary goodbye too many times to count.
“Coming,” she answers. “Bye,” she whispers one more time to Anna. Anna waves back.
As the bus pulls away, Charlie settles deep into sweatshirt and slips her headphones on. Soon, she’ll be in Nevada. Over the coming years, she’ll change her name twice, move a couple of more times, and never manage to get in touch with Anna again. But, years later, when the Winchesters smash into her life, changing everything she’s ever known, she can’t help thinking finally It feels like something she’d be half-anticipating for years has finally happened.
Pairing: Anna Milton/Charlie Bradbury - Pre-series
Rating: NC-17
~4000 words
Two paths cross for a moment and the Universe holds its breath.
***
The girl carries a beat up copy of Dandelion Wine shoved deep down into the bottom of her backpack and the memory of who she used to be shoved even deeper down into her heart. Six years on the road and she’s gotten good at it.
The first time the cops had come for her, she was twelve. It wouldn’t be the last time. Now she knows better, knows they had no idea she was just a kid, knows that no-one was going to send a twelve-year old to jail for intellectual property rights violations. But then, half-crazy with grief and guilt and fear, shuffled from distant relative to distant relative, it had seemed possible. She’d heard them talking behind closed doors, around corners, arguing about ‘what to do with her’. She’d hacked into enough emails to see the discussion about foster care and boarding school. So when the cops showed up at the front door of her latest home, she’d packed a bag, slipped out the bedroom window and disappeared into the night.
She doesn’t like to think about all those years on the run, but she had learned a lot. A lot. About herself, about the world and how it worked. How long a kid can spend in a library without making people suspicious. What kind of scams a kid can do, and how to spot a pedophile at twenty paces. (Hint, avoid being alone with any man. Better to be insulting than raped.) At eighteen, she can pass for fifteen or twenty-two depending on which she needs to be.
Tonight she’s between jobs, between towns, and between identities. She slips out of the cab of the dirty white pickup truck that had carried her from one Ohio town to the other. “Thanks,” she says.
“No problem.” The woman slides across the bench seat, holding the door open as Charlie tries to shut it. “Hey, Charlie, you sure you don’t want to come back with me? I live just another two hours up the highway. This place...” The driver shakes her head slowly and looks ruefully down the deserted main street. Every third shop looks boarded up. The one stoplight blinks yellow as it sways gently in the wind.
For one brief, beautiful minute, Charlie considers it while turning the unfamiliar name around in her brain. It fits, she decides. She’ll be Charlie for a while. Her eyes scan the brunette quickly. She is hot with her jeans and cowboy boots, and sweet. Last night had been fun and Charlie can almost picture the warm bed waiting wherever this kind stranger calls home. But there’s an itch between her shoulder blades and a tightness in her gut that says it’s time to move on.
“No. Thanks, though.” She rests one knee on the seat and reaches into the cab, kisses the older woman quickly but warmly. “I would if I could. You’re awesome.” She slides out again, smiling to take the sting out of the rejection.
She watches the truck pull away, then heads towards the shelter she’d seen a few blocks down the road. Another day, another shelter. Been a while since she’d been this down and out. Last night’s motel had been courtesy of the cutie with the truck. But needs must, and what she needs now is a warm bed, some coffee, and anonymity. Shelters are anonymous as it comes. When she finds a place to settle, she’ll hook up into the nearest bulletin board and pick up some computer work.
After some painful trial and error, Charlie had found that the best places were in the midwest in middling sized towns. Shelters in the South, though warmer, came with a little too much hellfire and brimstone for her tastes. They were easy to find in big cities, but way too dangerous. Too many tweakers in the Southwest, and way too much snow in the North.
Crammed into one of the vacated store fronts, the room is small, chilly and overly-bright. And it’s empty. The bell over the door tinkles as she enters. A skinny red-head looks up from the desk near the front door. Her eyes are huge, her hair almost as red as Charlie’s most recent dye job. “Hey,” Charlie calls.
“Oh, hi,” the young woman answers.
As Charlie gets closer, she realizes that the girl is kind of young to be manning the desk by herself. She’s probably about Charlie’s age.
“Can I...can I help you?” The girl’s voice is soft, hesitant, but her eyes are steady, and she looks right at Charlie.
Charlie shifts the backpack higher on her shoulder. “Well, yeah, I was kind of hoping...” She shrugs slightly and gestures at the tables and the curtained-off area that presumably hides some beds.
“Oh. Sorry. Yeah. Of course. It’s just that you didn’t, don’t. I mean you look.” The blush crawling up the girl’s neck is just adorable. So is the flustered way she keeps looking at Charlie, then looking away.
“I don’t look homeless?” Charlie smiles at her, turning on the charm. Maybe she could get a better deal out of this than just a hard cot and weak coffee.
The girl nods. “Yeah. Um, sorry? Should I apologize for saying you don’t look homeless?”
“I can’t see why you would.” Charlie sticks out her hand. “I’m Charlie. Temporarily without shelter.”
The girls is pale and almost painfully thin, but her smile makes her beautiful. “Anna. Nice to meet you.”
Her hand is cool and dry, fingers long and thin, and pornograpics thoughts flit briefly across Charlie’s brain. What? Thinking’s not illegal. Unless the girl is a mind-reader. Oh god, what if she’s telepathic? Charlie’s seen stranger things in her life. “You’re not a mind-reader, are you?” her mouth asks, completely without her brain’s permission.
The girl cocks an eyebrow. “Not that I’ve ever noticed.”
Charlie realizes she’s still holding Anna’s hand. “Oh good.” She drops the other girl’s hand. “Sorry. I...I’m just tired.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Just, uh, sign in.” She points to the book.
Charlie thinks as she writes her first name. Bradbury. Charlie Bradbury looks good for now. She makes a mental note to get some new ID made with her first paycheck.
Anna swivels the book around to read the name scrawled there. “Charlie Bradbury. Nice name. You know there’s an author with that name. I love him.”
And Charlie is halfway in love herself right now. “Yeah,” she nods enthusiastically. Holding up her index finger, she plops her backpack on the table and digs deep. She pulls out the battered paperback. “Ta dah!”
Three hours later, they’re sitting side by side on a narrow cot that’s been pushed into a corner of the room. A pizza box, empty except for two nibbled-on crusts, and bottle of off-brand cola rest on the floor next to them. The front door is locked, the main lights are off, and it feels like they are the only two people alive in the world. Something about the night, the closeness of Anna’s body on the small cot, and the look in her wide eyes has let this girl, this stranger, slip under Charlie’s defenses. There’s something about her, something ageless and calm that makes Charlie feel her secrets are safe with her. She’s talked herself hoarse, telling Anna everything. Almost everything. Charlie keeps her culpability in her father’s death and her mother’s near-death to herself. That bit doesn’t deserve even the frail absolution of a stranger’s ear.
The rum might be helping with the floating feeling. Or it could be the fresh scent of Anna’s hair. Charlie tips the small bottle of rum into the Dixie cup Anna is holding, then pours some into her own soggy paper cup. “You sure can hold your booze. I thought you were a good girl.”
Anna takes a long sip and looks at Charlie over the lip of the cup. “You don’t know much about preachers’ kids, do you?”
Charlie starts singing Son of a Preacher Man under her breath.
Anna rolls her eyes and smacks Charlie on the thigh. “Real original.” She sighs and slides down the bed. She looks up at Charlie, and, not breaking eye contact, tugs at Charlie’s belt loops until Charlie slides down next to her.
They lay on their sides, facing each other. Anna finishes her drink, crumples the cup, and tosses it over her shoulder to the floor. Charlie downs the last of her drink in one swallow and throws the empty cup into the darkness.
Anna’s eyes are enormous. The pupils huge and dark as they strain to see in the low light. Her lips are wet with rum and coke and it’s all Charlie can do to resist kissing her. Anna’s mouth moves as Charlie stares at it.
“So you’ve really been on your own since you were twelve?”
Charlie nods. “More or less. Got picked up a few times. Different foster homes.”
“But you always ran away. You got away.” She says it like it’s her favorite part of a well-known fairy tale, like it’s a taste of something she’s always wanted but knew she couldn’t have.
“I did. But it’s not like...it’s not glamourous. I mean, you know, you see.” She looks around the shelter, a testament to the reality of life on the road.
Anna nods, eyes wide, and serious. “But you’re not like that. Like them. You’re special.” And she reaches forwards, just a bit, the tiniest inch, and kisses Charlie.
Charlie’s hand closes on Anna’s hip, even as her eyes blink in shock. Her brain may have no idea what’s going on, but her body is singing the it’s-about-time hallelujah chorus. They kiss until Charlie is dizzy with it. With Anna’s soft lips on hers. Anna’s hand holding her close, fingers hot against the skin of Charlie’s waist. She opens with a moan to the pressure of Anna’s tongue, tilting her head for a better angle. Anna’s teeth feel smooth against Charlie’s tongue.
Without breaking the kiss or falling off the narrow bed, Anna rolls them until she is pinned beneath Charlie.
Panting, Charlie pushes up onto her hands, trying to ignore the hard length of thigh pushed up between her legs. “I’m not,” she says, tucking Anna’s silky hair behind her ears. “I’m not special. I’m not even good. I’ve done...things. Bad things.”
Anna shakes her head, reaches her head up and sucks a mark into the hollow of Charlie’s throat. “You are,” she insists. “You are special.”
She licks at Charlie’s collar bone and Charlie can’t help groan and thrust her hips. The seam of her jeans pushes against her clit as she drags up Anna’s thigh.
Anna’s laugh is a cascading chime, and Charlie remembers reading that when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces and that was the beginning of fairies. She believes it now.
Anna grabs the back of Charlie’s thigh with one hand, and pulls her head back down with the other. Her breath is hot over Charlie’s neck and in her ear. “I know you’re special,” she says kissing and ghosting her lips over all the skin she can reach. “I know things sometimes.”
Charlie can barely think with the way Anna is pushing her thigh up at the same time she’s pulling Charlie against her. Her breath catches every time her nipples press into Anna’s body. Charlie shifts her weight to one side and skims her hand over Ann’s chest, feeling the hard point of a nipple against her palm. She presses down, rubbing over it with her palm, the dips and rises of her fingers tripping over it. Anna gasps and whines, biting Charlie’s earlobe in retaliation.
“Oh shit,” Charlie curses. This is ridiculous. How can she be so turned on, so quickly, by some scrawny girl in a crappy cot in the middle of an empty homeless shelter? She’s done this countless times before, hell, she did it last night. But it never felt like this before. Like Anna is trying to tell her something with her body that she doesn’t have words for. “Like what?” she gasps, desperate to believe for a second that there is something special about her. That all this pain and loneliness means something. That she has a reason to keep going. “What do you know?”
Anna keeps trying and the words keep coming. “I knew I had to be here tonight. That something important was going to happen.” She runs both her hands up under Charlie’s shirt, pushing it off.
Charlie sits up, straddling Anna’s thigh and lets her pull the shirt over her head. She shivers as Anna reaches up and cups both her breasts at the same time, running her hands over the silky material, skimming her fingers over the hard points. The filthy smirk is her only warning before Anna pinches both nipples hard. “Oh, fuck,” Charlie yells. She’s so wet now. And so battling to keep up.
“Off,” Anna commands.
“Holy shit,” Anna breaths as she reach around with both hands to unhook her bra. “I gotta say, I had you pegged as a virgin when I walked in here. This isn’t your first time, is it?”
As soon as the bra hits the floor, Anna’s fingers are back on Charlie’s breasts, rolling and pinching and pulling with just the right amount of force to make Charlie’s breath go ragged and her eyelids flutter shut. “Un...unless you’re just a - shit - fucking - do that again - fucking gifted amatuer.”
Anna’s chuckle reminds Charlie less of fairies and more of dark corners and whiskey-laced kisses. She pulls Charlie down to her again. “Like some kind of sexual beginner’s luck?”
“Uh huh,” Charlie answers absently as she tries to capture Anna’s wicked mouth again.
“You really don’t know anything about preachers’ kids,” Anna laughs and kisses her.
Then it’s all arms and rubbing and kissing until Anna’s shirt and bra join Charlie’s on the floor, and Charlie has bite marks on her neck, Anna’s nipple between her teeth, and is deftly unbuttoning her jeans with one hand.
Anna is whining and writhing on the bed, her hand hard against Charlie’s head, holding her in place. “Come on, come on,” she begs.
Charlie forces her head off the nipple, once pale pink, now cherry-red and slick from all the attention. “Little help?” she laughs.
Anna pops the buttons of her jeans and Charlies runs her hands over the soft skins that is revealed as Anna peels the pants down over her legs. She trails down the soft cotton panties, feeling the springy hair underneath and, as her hand trails lower, the wet heat. She presses into it, through the cotton, and Anna moans, jeans still wrapped around her legs.
Charlie looks up at Anna, spreads her hand flat over the slight mound. “Can I?”
Anna’s hand slips from Charlie’s head to dig into her shoulder. Charlie shivers as nails dig in to her shoulder, sending a zing of pleasurable pain right to her groin.
“Please. God, please,” Anna breathes.
Charlie watches, mesmerized, as she slips her fingers under the elastic waistband. Anna’s hair is silky as her fingers slide through it, and Charlie reaches further down. Anna twitches and inhales as Charlie’s fingers drag over her clit, but Charlie keeps going until she can just slip her fingertips into that warm slickness.
A sharp whine and the jerk of Anna’s hips is all the warning Charlie gets before Anna’s knee comes flying past her nose as Anna kicks her jeans all the way off. “Oh my god, get on with it,” she says, panting.
“Fine,” Charlie says around a smile. She rolls over the girl, sliding one finger inside as she opens her mouth on the soft, warm skin of Anna’s shoulder. By the time she’s gotten three fingers in, Anna’s teeth are pressed against Charlie’s shoulder and she’s panting and whining as her hips drive up and down, just riding Charlie’s hand. She half twisted up off the bed, upper body turned into Charlie’s and she grips her hip like it’s the only thing keeping her anchored to the bed.
Charlie is the one whose shaking, trembling at the slippery smoothness clutching her fingers and the sight of all that pale skin gleaming with sweat in the low light. She wish desperately that her other hand was free to touch, to caress, but it’s wrapped around Anna’s shoulders, holding the other girl against her. She turns her head, desperate for a taste anywhere. She nuzzles her way through the cloud of copper hair to taste the salty sweet skin of Anna’s temple.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Anna’s pants. Her fingers dig deep into Charlie’s side
Charlie turns her head just a bit, temple to temple, to watch where her hand is disappearing into Anna. “Holy shit,” she breathes. She thinks she could come just from this. No one else had ever been this responsive, so unselfconscious and lost to anything but the pleasure.
“Charlie...just...I need.” Anna twist desperately, trying for something. Needing something.
Charlie tries to pull out, to rub the heel of her hand on Anna’s clit like she likes done to her. Anna whines and grabs Charlie's wrist, pushing three fingers back in even deeper and, with a shift in angle, up. “Yes, yes, there oh god there.” Each thrust punches a low groan out of her and an even louder one from Charlie as Anna fucks herself with Charlie’s hand. It’s the hottest thing Charlie’s ever been part of. She can’t help it, she needs something, need her mouth on something. She turns, working her way down until she feels Anna neck under her mouth. She bites down, harder than she means to, and Anna keens.
“Holy fuck,” Charlie whispers as Anna pulls her hand hard and fast into her, holding Charlie in place as her back arches off the bed and, with a guttural moan, all the muscles in her body lock up. Charlie can’t move, her fingers trapped by Anna’s contraction. Lust shoots through her, and she curls in on herself, hand still trapped inside Anna, her own orgasm pulsing between her legs and in her chest.
Anna’s collapses onto the bed, breathing heavy and chanting “don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop.”
Charlie can only shudder and watch as Anna yanks her hand out with a groan and another orgasm gushes out of her, wetting the bed and soaking Charlie’s hand and wrist. “Holy shit,” Charlie breathes like a prayer as Anna’s shoves her hand back in. Charlie twists her fingers inside Anna, pressing upwards, and Anna cries out long and loud as she locks up in another orgasm. She collapses back down on the bed, arm thrown over her face, and tries to get her breath back. Charlie stays up on one elbow, eyes wide in awe. “Holy shit,” she says again, like it’s the only thing she can remember to say.
Anna’s laugh is breathless. “Like that?” she asks from under her arm. When she doesn’t hear an answer, she moves her arm and looks over to see Charlie nodding like a madwoman.
Charlie meets her gaze and give an enthusiastic “Fuck yeah.”
“Good,” Anna answers, then rolls quickly against Charlie. Her mouth is warm and soft and her teeth cold and hard on the sensitive skin of Charlie’s neck. “Fuck,” Charlie curses. “You vampire.” She yells as her nipple is pinched hard enough that Charlie almost can’t tell if it hurts or feels amazing. Whichever it is, - and as Anna does again Charlies thinks that it’s both - pain or pleasure, either way it’s wired directly to her clit, which throbs and aches. “Anna, god, please,” she begs.
Anna reaches down and grinds the heel of her hand into Charlie’s clit as she bites down hard, thin stretch of skin caught between her teeth. The sharp pain and eye-rolling pleasure crash together and Charlie clamps her thighs around Anna’s hand, coming with what feels like her whole body.
When she can unclench enough to let Anna’s arm slip free, Anna lays back on the bed. They lay together, arms and legs touching, as their breathing slows down. Charlie’s the first to speak. “That was...holy crap...that was amazing.”
Anna laughs her fairy laugh. “Oh yeah.”
Charlie turns her head to look at the other girl. “And that -” She waves her hand awkwardly in the direction of Anna’s crotch. “That was - does that happen all time?”
Anna turns her head so they’re facing each other. Her smile warms a lonely, empty place in Charlie’s heart that she tries so hard to ignore. “Only when it’s really special,” Anna says gently, and Charlie is shocked to feel tears springing to her eyes.
Anna reaches up to gently touch Charlie’s cheek. “Hey,” she whispers, darting forward for a quick kiss. “It’s okay. You are special, Charlie Bradbury.”
Charlie shakes her head, not trusting her voice. She shivers with the chill of the room and endorphin let down and the knowledge of the long, dark road waiting for her when she leaves this oasis.
Anna thumbs the tears away. “Yes, you are. We were meant to meet. I just know it. Come on,” she says, rolling away from Charlie and sitting up. She wipes herself with her t-shirt before slipping into her jeans. She stands up and holds out her hand to Charlie, still naked, pressed against the wall.
Charlie is afraid to move, afraid to break whatever spell this is, afraid that maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s a dream.
“Come on,” Anna repeats.
Charlie takes her hand and lets Anna pull her up against her. Anna’s jeans are rough against Charlie’s thighs and their breasts brush together in a way that chases away some of the chill. When Anna kisses her, slow and sweet, but with a promise behind it, Charlie feels warmth like sweet molasses moving through her. Well, what if it is a dream? It’s a good one. Charlie’s going to stay in at long as the universe allows.
“Get dressed,” Anna says as she pulls away. She bends down and throws Charlie’s shirt at her. Charlie struggles into it and when her head clear the neck, she sees Anna slipping her underwear into her jeans pocket. She shrugs when she sees Charlie watching. “Seems like a waste of time to put them back on.”
Oh, please let me not wake up, Charlie prays to whomever is listening.
“Where are we going?” she asks, slipping her feet into her sneakers.
Anna zips up her sweatshirt over nothing and picks up Charlie’s backpack. She walks towards a back door. Charlie grabs her duffle bag and jogs to catch up. “My room is much nicer than this,” Anna says by way of explanation.
“What about your parents?” Charlie asks.
“They’re gone for the weekend,” she answers, arming the alarm and locking the door behind them. “I was supposed to go, too. But I told them I couldn’t.” She turns, slipping an arm around Charlie’s waist. “I had to be here.”
Two days later, Anna waits with Charlie at the bus stop. Anna’s given her some money from the church’s Caring Committee fund after swearing up and down that her father wouldn’t mind and that was exactly what it was for. The town is too small for the preacher’s kid to be kissing strange girls in public, but Charlie figures they fit a lot of kisses into the short time. “So...” she says.
“So,” Anna echoes. She reaches out and grabs Charlie’s hand gently.
The shy gesture hits Charlie right in the heart. She loves all the sides of this quirky, unique girl, and she thanks whatever power brought them together. “I don’t have a phone number yet,” she says. “But I can write.”
Anna shakes her head. They’ve been over this before. Charlie has the name of a friend of Anna’s dad that might be looking for some computer help out in Nevada. Anna has a good feeling about it and she promises to have her Dad give him a call. But still, it’s going to be hard to keep in touch. And besides, Anna seems reluctant. “It’s not safe,” she keeps insisting. Not safe for Charlie somehow.
They see the bus coming up the street. Anna looks around quickly pulls Charlie in for a quick kiss. “Change your name,” she whispers in Charlie’s ear.
Charlie pulls back, puzzled.
“Just do it. Please.”
Charlie can only nod. “Okay.”
The bus pulls up and the door opens. Charlie looks at Anna one last time. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears but her smile is as gorgeous as ever. She pushes Charlie towards the door. “Go.”
Charlie steps us into the bus and the turns, like a character in a chick flick. She holds up her hand and spreads her fingers in a Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, Anna Milton,” she says, blinking back the tears.
“You, too, Charlie Bradbury. Stay safe. It’s important that you do. The world’s going to need you.”
“Comin’ or going’?” the bus driver asks, gruffly but not unkindly. He’s seen the teary goodbye too many times to count.
“Coming,” she answers. “Bye,” she whispers one more time to Anna. Anna waves back.
As the bus pulls away, Charlie settles deep into sweatshirt and slips her headphones on. Soon, she’ll be in Nevada. Over the coming years, she’ll change her name twice, move a couple of more times, and never manage to get in touch with Anna again. But, years later, when the Winchesters smash into her life, changing everything she’s ever known, she can’t help thinking finally It feels like something she’d be half-anticipating for years has finally happened.