Stupid feelings SPN

A/N: All usual disclaimer! SPN belongs to their owner, Oya belongs to me. Why did she have to fall in love with Dean? 

xxx

Right after she was done with the cute waiter she met moments ago, Oya sat on the bed. Her black locks were clinging to her face and neck and she was still catching her breath back. Knocked out by a day of work, the waiter was sleeping on the motel's bed she'd been renting for a couple of days. She sighed and stood up, her tank top and pants were on the floor, mixed with her one night stand's clothes. She tossed them aside, grabbed her garbs and left to the bathroom. It was quite like it usually was when she just had sex. The African hunter couldn't just stay and cuddle with her lovers until the next morning. Cuddling would mean breakfast and share a breakfast with a piece of meat definitely wasn't what Oya wanted. It would humanize them, it would put a name on them and would force her to reflect on herself. The worst part would be them trying to understand why she acted the way she did because strangely enough, men still believed it was a behavior exclusive to them while in fact, they were wrong.

She put her tank top back on and her panties, brushed her teeth and wet her face to clean it up from the sweat. Her phone rang, informing her of a text she received. As she glanced at her screen and noticed it was Sam who was checking on her, Oya groaned painfully and leaned against the sink. She loved Sam like a brother, he was the one who looked after her, checked her, made sure she didn't need any help. They kept contact after the first hunt they did together and never stopped talking ever since. It was easy to him, she couldn't really explain how or why but she didn't need any explanation. He was easy to be with and talk to and she even allowed herself to joke around and send him pleasantries during her trips. Tonight, however, a text from him felt like a slap in her face. During her passionate romp with the waiter, she moaned Dean's name. If it happened just once, it would have been fine but the waiter corrected her that his name was Sean and not Dean but she didn't care. She kept calling him Dean, the more he fucked her, the more she saw the other Winchester in her mind. It wasn't Sean's lips that kissed her, it wasn't Sean's hands that pinned her against the mattress. It wasn't his dick that drilled into her petite core, no.. it was Dean, all of Sean was all of Dean. It stimulated the waiter who went harder on her as if he wanted to leave his mark and make her forget about this Dean but it only fueled her fantasy of the handsome brother.

She buried it in the back of her head, thinking that maybe if she ignored this blatant sign of affection towards Dean, then she wouldn't have to search for her and put a name on it. She wouldn't have to make those feelings real. The text, unfortunately, forced her to realize she in fact fantasized on the older brother. Her eyes grew wide as panic slowly settled in and she ran her hands through her thick black mane. It couldn't be. Her heart started to race and she clutched at her tank top. Her eyes filled themselves with unshed tears as a wave of sadness started to engulf her. She didn't want to fall in love, she couldn't really. Since her fiancé was possessed and she had to kill him with her own two hands, the African hunter refused to endure the same traumatic experience. The life of a hunter was short and Dean had already lost his life several times already. She was aware that if he died again, he wouldn't come back, it would be forever. He wasn't invincible and since he loved to dive head first in danger, Dean would likely die first. The thought of losing him cross her mind and hurt Oya who clutched at her top harder.

There was a reason she ran away from the Winchesters. Aside from her searching for her brother, it also was because she needed to clear her head and run away from Dean. Even now, in this bathroom, Oya was thinking of him finding her again in the room, finding her hyperventilating and being upset and wrap his large hand around her neck to pull her into a comforting hug. She needed Dean.. but refused to acknowledge it. He had that reassuring vibe going on, the kind that made her believe tomorrow would be better. He had that smile she couldn't forget, that gave her a lasting memory. A smile she wanted to see more and more. A chuckle she wanted to hear. A gleam in his eye when they talked mechanics and cars. It was brutal for the woman who turned around to wash once again her face with cold water. Dean never saw that side of her, the panic-filled side of her that made her act irrationally. He never saw her act sweet and softly and yet seeing him elicited an urge to behave that way whenever he was around. She felt the urge to protect him, make him feel comfortable, ease his pain. It couldn't be. She thought having sex would be enough, the closest to intimacy she would ever need. It became mechanical, a little bit like those junkies who shot themselves with drugs in order to get high. It only lasted a moment but after this, there was emptiness. Nothing. She realized how empty her life was since she met the Winchesters.

In Cameroon things were different, you could start a family, you could make hunting your job. It was respected because people were used to the supernatural. They lived in it before colons arrived, and since the country became independent. It was part of their lives so it wasn't shocking. But they died, old seasoned hunters died when Amaya broke free. there was nothing left there. Hunting her brother and killing him for the death of their mother was the only goal she had. The only purpose left. After this what would happen to her? Revenge was only sweet when it was served but then she would have to mourn for these deaths, including her brother's. She would have to find a new purpose in her life, she would want to settle. But could she? Did she want to? She ran her hand through her hair once again, disheveling herself some more as she received yet another text from Sam, this time being worried since she didn't answer him. She walked in circles in the bathroom and pulled her pants on to give herself a false feeling of accomplishment and then looked at herself in the mirror.

Oya was used to shit happening to her. She let herself love once and lost everything, her mother, her brother, and her fiancé. She allowed herself to be vulnerable and even plan ahead but it was shattered. Her father then died a slow and painful death and she watched him as he withered away. Oya never mourned for any of these deaths, not even her father's and therefore hadn't given herself time to heal. Since then she only knew shit. Between the lives, she wasn't able to save, the failed hunts, the loneliness that crept up and filled her heart, Oya realized that she had nothing for her. Nothing at all. No one either. Feelings, no matter how deep you buried them in your heart, would always find a way to burst out and they did that night. It was painful, it was so painful that she couldn't stop hyperventilating and feel like her heart was going to explode. Dean was overwhelming her and she tried so hard to remove him from her mind and her heart. They weren't meant to be. They weren't meant to be and he wouldn't even want her. It was a truism for the young woman. He would never look at her the same way she would look at him. He would never consider her more than a bit of fun, a little extra to add to the day. She was aware of it, but couldn't think of anything else than « he is not into girls like me. ». It wasn't a matter of physique. Oya was damn proud of herself. She knew she was gorgeous, she knew she was sexy and desirable, she knew she could drive men and women alike crazy so it wasn't a physical issue. It was a mental issue. They were both a mess. Him more than she would ever be though and she was convinced that two negatives couldn't make a positive. He wouldn't want her because she wasn't a bright light in his darkness. He wouldn't want her because she failed at saving lives because she doubted herself and freaked out because she was probably very soft inside. He wouldn't want to spend time trying to reassure her, he wouldn't want to spend time holding her hand or giving her a hug. He wouldn't.

She looked at her reflection once again and snarled in disgust at the sight of it. Since when did you become this soft Oya? Look at you having a panic attack because you realized you were falling in love with a walking wound just like you. She punched the mirror, instantly regretting it as she broke it and hurt her hand in the process. She bit back a scream and hissed as her hand was in sharp pain. She looked at her phone that was on the sink, next to the tap and wrinkled her nose as she saw Sam's name appearing on it. He was calling her since she didn't answer his texts, just to make sure she was okay. She ran her hand through her hair and opened the water to wash away the blood from her hand. Her eyes were staring at the screen as he kept calling her and she debated whether or not she should pick it up. She dried her hands with the towel and grabbed her phone. Then silence. He stopped calling. She sighed in relief and swallowed a lump. Then he called again, which stressed the woman even more. He was insisting and she didn't have the heart not to take his call, so she put the phone against her lips and her other hand at the back of her neck. The phone vibed over and over again in her hand and her eyes averted from left to right as she was still bracing herself. The call stopped and she looked up to the ceiling, her hand still on her neck as she finally found the inner strength to pick up the phone next time he called, which he did.

« Hello, Sam ?. »

She heard a sigh of relief on the other side of the phone. Sam knew she was alive, which always was a start. Now on to the « feeling well » part. He had no clue.