Haunted {Dean Winchester 1}

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It was late at night when I woke from another horrible nightmare. I couldn't go back to sleep and I didn't feel safe in the dark all alone in my own motel room. I lie there for about an hour, tossing and turning before deciding that I couldn't just sit here anymore.

So I throw the blankets off of my, slipping out of bed. I move toward the door, stepping out into the cold. I wrap my arms around myself, walking two doors down where I knew I'd feel better. I reach the door. I knew it was going to be locked.

I pull a bobby-pin from the pocket of my shorts to pick the lock. Once the door swung open, I quietly step inside. I shut it behind me before moving across the room. I walk by Sam's bed where he slept.

I stop once reaching Dean's. This was a really bad idea. But I don't want to be alone. I stare down at Dean's bare back, watching it rise and fall with each breath. I stand there for a moment, debating whether I should just go back to my room.

I lift the blanket up, sliding into bed beside Dean. This was a bad idea, a really, really bad idea.  I relax into the mattress, suddenly very aware of how little clothing I had on, of how little clothing he wore. 

I tug at the hem of my low-cut tank top, wishing I had picked something with a little more fabric. I definitely should've picked something with more fabric than these shorts as well. 

I roll onto my side, watching Dean as he lay on his stomach. I fought the urge to reach out and run my fingers over all the muscles in his back, his arms. 

God, this was such a bad idea.

I wanted to touch him. To feel his skin beneath my fingers. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

The sound of a gasp made me look over. Sam had shot awake, now sitting up.

"You okay, Sammy?" I asked.

Sam jumped, and I realized that I wasn't here when he went to sleep.

"Sorry." I say sheepishly. 

"I'm...I'm alright." Sam nodded, but I wasn't convinced. 

I return to my spot, closing my eyes as I felt Dean's arm brush against my stomach.

___

"I've been cruising some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig." Dean says as he and I sit at the table by the window while Sam sat on the bed, drawing something on the motel notepad. "A fishing trawler off the cost of Cali. Its crew vanished."

"Unless they were just eaten by sharks." I state absentmindedly as I stare down at the photos I was printing. 

"And we got some cattle mutilations in west Texas." Dean continued. 

"Coyotes...or just a creepy person." I shrugged. 

"Not everything has a rational explanation, Si." Dean tells me. He then turned to Sam. "Hey! Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?" 

"No, I'm listening." Sam turned back to whatever he was drawing. "Keep going."

Dean tapped his pen against the table. "And here in Sacramento a man shot himself in the head...three times." He held up three fingers. 

"Okay, yeah, that's unusual." I nodded my head. "Oh, wait, not if it was a murder framed to look like a suicide." 

Dean gave me a look. "Are you trying to annoy me today?"

"Yes, actually." I replied. 

Dean shot me another look before waving his hand around only for Sam to not notice. "Any of these things blowing up your skirt, pal?"