[ The urge to reach out is there. To take Ellie's arm gently with her own calloused hand - neither of them is soft - and run figners around the edges of those scars, trace the shapes of the tattoo and tell Ellie that it's okay, she doesn't have to share, because it's not safe to entrust something this important and intimate to Claire, who only ever fucks other people up and over.
She wants to touch and say 'I'll protect you', and not fail this time. Wants to see what comes after the heartfelt promise, what comes after what may as well have been a confession. Wants to see what could happen, perhaps, if for once she didn't fuck shit up.
So Claire... does not reach out. Thinks of Dean and Cas, of 12 years and things still not sailing smoothly and being all kinds of crappy.
It's fine. It doesn't work for people like her, perhaps. She wouldn't know how to make it work anyway. So Claire keeps her hands by her side , and just watches, and listens. Gives her full attention, because she doesn't quite know what else of hers she could give that would be worth having.
'I'll see the arrow one another time then, yeah?' sits on her tongue.
She doesn't say it. Instead she nods, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. ]
Shit, Bells. You've been through the ringer alright.
[ Claire swallows. ]
You're tough. [ And still good, and strangely wonderful. Claire feels that strange pull, like that night she was back from the dead and found Ellie playing the guitar, singing softly. Beautiful, she wants to say. But doesn't.
There's perhaps something soft in the way she looks at Ellie, though, something that sleeps past Claire's defenses. It's not pity, it's not sympathy. It's an understanding, and an admiration and an unspoken something else. ]
Nah, vamps gotta put in a little more work to turn you. Make you drink their blood. That's what turns you, not the bite.
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She wants to touch and say 'I'll protect you', and not fail this time. Wants to see what comes after the heartfelt promise, what comes after what may as well have been a confession. Wants to see what could happen, perhaps, if for once she didn't fuck shit up.
So Claire... does not reach out. Thinks of Dean and Cas, of 12 years and things still not sailing smoothly and being all kinds of crappy.
It's fine. It doesn't work for people like her, perhaps. She wouldn't know how to make it work anyway. So Claire keeps her hands by her side , and just watches, and listens. Gives her full attention, because she doesn't quite know what else of hers she could give that would be worth having.
'I'll see the arrow one another time then, yeah?' sits on her tongue.
She doesn't say it. Instead she nods, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. ]
Shit, Bells. You've been through the ringer alright.
[ Claire swallows. ]
You're tough. [ And still good, and strangely wonderful. Claire feels that strange pull, like that night she was back from the dead and found Ellie playing the guitar, singing softly. Beautiful, she wants to say. But doesn't.
There's perhaps something soft in the way she looks at Ellie, though, something that sleeps past Claire's defenses. It's not pity, it's not sympathy. It's an understanding, and an admiration and an unspoken something else. ]
Nah, vamps gotta put in a little more work to turn you. Make you drink their blood. That's what turns you, not the bite.