Dean's gaze keeps flitting back to her during the majority of the drive back to the motel, and the moment she becomes free from his ever-present stare is when she excuses herself to go shower. She is wholly surprised when Dean heads down to the convenience store down the street to pick up some snacks and a case of beer, but she doesn't protest when he leaves.

By the time she is out of the shower and has changed into a pair of comfy sweats and a loose tank top, Dean is back. He has taken residence up on his bed with his eyes closed, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his stomach.

As she makes her way towards the bed she claimed, she runs a comb through her hair in an attempt to disentangle the fiery mass of wetness atop her head. Dropping onto the too soft mattress, she watches Dean's still as stone form on the other bed, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he is still awake.

Tossing the comb back into her bag on the floor, she crawls off the bed and walks into the kitchenette. Opening the small refrigerator, she grabs a nearly cold beer bottle from inside before making her way back over to the beds, this time situating herself on Dean's.

After popping the cap off on the nightstand, she takes a long swig and then offers the bottle to Dean, twisting in her spot to face him.

His right eye peaks open and his gaze flicks between her and the beer before he places his hand around the body of the bottle, guiding it to his mouth to take an even longer drink. He closes his eye again and she shifts to place the bottle on the nightstand.

Rolling onto her back, she leans her head against the wall and stares ahead, the two of them falling into companionable silence. She begins tugging at a loose piece of fabric on the duvet, twisting the thread between her fingers, when Dean's hand slides off his stomach and lands on the blanket next to hers. She spares a quick glance at Dean, his eyes still closed and face peaceful, before looking back down to their hands mere inches apart.

The touch is sudden and tentative, but when she doesn't protest or move away, Dean's hand slips against hers and their fingers intertwine. She can't fight the small smile that grows on her face as his hand settles against hers, a warm and familiar presence.

"I missed this," she mumbles, the words slipping out before she can stop them, as she traces the back of his hand with her thumb. "I missed you."

"You're not the only one," he replies after a few beats of silence and gives her hand a gentle squeeze. "You sure you're okay? After what happened earlier –"

She cuts him off with a sigh. "Dean, I'm fine. Nothing happened and nothing would've happened."

His eyes shoot open and his hand tightens around hers, his gaze refusing to meet hers, instead directed straight ahead. "You don't know that."

"But I do. Nothing would have happened, even if you hadn't of shown up when you did." He opens his mouth again and she can sense an argument brewing, but instead of letting him reply, she nestles down on the bed and against his side. It earns her the result she was hoping for – silence. "Let's not talk about that, okay?"

A deep breath leaves Dean's lips and his eyes fall shut again, but he doesn't press the topic any further. She is thankful when he switches topics a few moments later, but it's not a subject she expects him to bring up.

"At the school today..."

"Yeah?" she prods, twisting more onto her side so she can view his face. Both of his eyes are open now, mossy green meeting gunmetal blue.

"I keep remembering senior year." Nodding, she follows Dean's movements with her eyes, watching as he releases her hand and instead begins to trail his fingers gentle over her palm and wrist. "You remember the party?"

"How could I forget? That was the night you beat the shit out of a kid for trying to take me to bed. You're date wasn't too thrilled about you having your attention on me instead of her." A laugh escapes her lips and she can't distinguish if its origin is from the memory or due to Dean tickling her arm. "Then you kissed me for the second time."

"Second time?" He glances over at her, their previous conversation put to the side for the moment as confusion floods his eyes. "When was the first?"

"Remember the summer after your eight birthday?" When he shakes his head, she continues with a grin on her face. "You fell out of a tree at Jamie's and thought you were gonna die, but you'd only hit your head and broke your arm... and your nose."

"How'd I break my nose?" His eyebrows draw together, disbelief clouding his features. "That didn't happen. Now you're just lying."

Snickering, she glances up at him and nods. "I broke it 'cause you stole my first kiss."

"I was your first kiss?" he questions and when she nods, a devilish grin overtakes his face, and she immediately regrets admitting that fact to him, knowing that his ego just doubled in size. "Wow, I was the one who ruined the infamous Norah Laine Adaira Fraser for every other man."

"Cram it," she grumbles at his use of her legal full name and his teasing, smacking him on the arm as she turns to face the ceiling, arms crossed over her chest.

"What? It's true, though. That first kiss is a big deal," Dean states as he pushes himself up into a half-sitting half-laying position that is a mirror of her own.

"I was seven! My aunts told me to save it for someone special." At her statement, Dean chuckles and pokes her in the side.

"Who were you saving it for, then? The blonde boy with the green eyes in your second grade art class?"

"You were the only boy with blonde hair and green eyes in that class, you twat," she mutters and shies away from his touch, arms still crossed firmly over her chest.

"C'mon, Laine. I'm just teasing," he says while poking her in the side again, and she can't help the smile that forms on her face at the dejected puppy look he sends her. "But you never did thank me for saving you from that sleazebag."

"If I remember correctly, I was a bit too busy puking my gut up to thank you," she states while rolling off the bed. Snatching up the beer bottle, she pads over to the kitchen and places it on the counter, sparing a glance behind her to see Dean stand up from the bed. "I guess I should thank you for staying with me and making sure I didn't choke on my puke and die."

He has made his way across the room and now stands next to her, stance easy. "Anytime. Wouldn't want someone to snatch you up while you're vomiting all over the place."

A low laugh escapes her as she turns around to face him, hands resting on the counter behind her. "Although, you could've returned to your date once I was fine. Why didn't you?"

Dean balks at the question and shakes his head, staring down at her in disbelief as if he can't begin to fathom why she would ask such a stupid question. "Contrary to popular belief, the wellbeing of those I care about is more important to me than getting laid."

"I know that." She sighs and peeks up at him with a hesitant glance, fingers toying with the strings on her sweats. "But you could have left once I was done. I could've made it home by myself."

He shakes his head again and looks away from her, one of his hands running through his hair in slight frustration. "Is it such a wild notion that maybe I actually enjoyed spending time with you, even if you were spewing your guts everywhere? Even thought about that?"

She shrugs, eyes darting away from his face to avoiding meeting his eyes. "It might have, once or twice."

"Well, it's true. Still is, and you know that, so why do you keep questioning it?" His hand reaches out and gently touches her wrist, stopping her nervous movements with ease. The touch is light, nothing more than a brush of fingertips on her skin, but it sets her skin alight and the urge to pull away sears through her.

"I don't know."

"Why are we bringing this up now?" Dean sighs, his hand falling away from her wrist. The tone of his voice sends a pang of pain through her chest, and she bites her tongue to resist the urge to snap at him since he was the one who started the conversation. "Why do we end up fighting about stupid shit?'

The words rip through her, resonating with truth – somehow, they always end up fighting about things like this. Maybe it has to do with the fact that they never talked about it back then, and then she left and things just got worse. Something bubbles inside of Laine and she can't stop it from overflowing, words she hadn't wanted to say to him – or to anyone – spilling out with fervour.

"I don't know! Okay? I don't know. I'm not used to having people stick around or giving enough of a shit about me to stay," she mutters, throat clenching tight with rising anger directed mostly at herself for admitting such a thing. "I pick fights with people I care about because that's who I am. I argue and push them until we break, and then I'm alone."

As her voice tapers off, she expects to Dean to pull away and leave her to deal with her issues alone, to further instill in her fears of being abandoned by those she cares about, but he does the opposite. His hand moves back to her wrist and he pulls her close, arm circling around her shoulders as his hand moves to rest on the back of her neck.

She rests her forehead against his chest and the scents of cedar, leather, and whiskey fill her sense, the aroma distinctly Dean and all the more comforting. The anger that had been stirring within her dissipates the longer he holds her, and for a moment, she is able to forget her problems.

"I'm always gonna be here, okay? Even if you don't want me to be. You're stuck with me for life." His words are soft as he rests his chin atop her head, both hands massaging the skin they touch with soothing motions; the touches bring back memories of a time in which he would do the same when she would have panic attacks and wouldn't be able to think straight, his presence the only remedy to her frantic mind.

When she lifts her head from his chest, his hand on her neck travels up to her face and brushes a curly tendril away from her eyes. She tries to form words, but her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and her mind is a mess, focus completely glued to the fingers on her cheek and the man in front of her.

The next few moments seem to drag on for an eternity, but in reality they span a mere few seconds as they draw closer, mouths coming to stop an inch apart. His breath is hot on her lips and the urge to dart forward and capture his mouth with hers surges through her akin to a primal need, but she restrains herself and waits, still unsure if she should go through with this.

The decision to proceed is stolen from the both of them when a sharp shrill cry of a ringtone cuts through the silent tension, causing them to step apart.

Dean mutters a curse as he heads over to the bedside table where his phone is placed, and she takes this opportunity to collect herself and calm her racing heartbeat without Dean's eyes on her.

Once she has righted herself, Dean has already answered the phone and is holding it to his ear as he sits on the edge of the bed. She approaches the bed and takes a seat next to him, straining to hear the conversation on the other end.

She is certain she hears a laugh from the other end, uncertain as to whom it belongs to, and Dean quiets as he listens to the voice speaking, the faint frown on his face deepening. "No, it's fine. Just... never mind. What'd you want?"

Scooting closer, she leans her head near the phone in an attempt to better hear the conversation.

"The picture you sent us," Zach's voice is the one that carries through the phone, and she can't help but wonder what he said to Dean when he first answered. She quickly brushes the thought away and focuses on what is being said. "The claw belongs to a species of demon called Lamia. They originate from Greek mythology, and supposedly, they feast on infants and seduce men. We haven't found out much about them, but it's a safe bet they're what you're dealing with."

"Ask him how we kill it," she murmurs.

"Laine's wondering how we kill it," Dean states, which earns him Zach's reply of "I can hear her, Dean."

"We haven't found that out yet, but we're getting close. Just be patient," Zach replies after a beat of silence as he listens to Jamie, whose voice can be heard in the background.

Sighing, Dean runs a hand across his face and bats away Laine's fingers when she reaches to take the phone to switch it to speaker mode. "Can you at least tell us how to find it?"

"It's quite hard, actually. In human form, they look like normal women, just extremely beautiful. They might be very flirtatious and upfront when it comes to men, but other than that, have fun trying to find it. Getting them into their true form isn't too easy, either, but we'll keep searching. Just don't go rushing in without knowing how to kill it, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, got it," Dean replies, voice pouty at being told something so obvious by his younger brother. "That it?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"Okay. Bye, Zach." Before his brother can reply, Dean hits the end call button and tosses his phone back onto the nightstand. Hunching over, he places his face in his hands. "This isn't gonna get any easier, is it?"

"We'll catch it, don't worry." The question was rhetorical, but she answers nonetheless and lets out a deep breath. "We should probably get some sleep, though."

With that said, she stands and heads over to her bed, flicking the main light off before she does so. Crawling underneath the covers, she flips onto her side and fluffs the pillow beneath her head, arms tucked tightly against her body.

Moments later, Dean lets out a sigh and follows suit, slopping into his bed without another word. His lamp is turned off and then the room is submerged into total darkness.

**********

Hands trail along her arm, across her collarbone, fingertips raising goosebumps on her chilled skin. She feels breath fan across her cheek, lips moving against her flesh, but she hears no words coming from the one next to her.

Her head is heavy and surrounded, as if she is submerged in water, but she breathes with her mouth open and only air enters her lungs. Something moves in front of her and crimson eyes approach from ahead, closing in until they are directly in front of her. They stare her down with deadly intent and something malicious swirls within them.

A sharp press of something on her chest has her fighting to look down, to see what is steadily pressing into her skin, but she is unable to look away from the blood-red eyes. She opens her mouth to scream as a blade is pushed into her chest, passing between her ribs and into her beating heart, but blood surges up her throat instead of the words she so desperately wants to say.

The pain is crippling, burning her insides with damning heat, and she tries to cry out despite knowing how futile it is. Her only response is more blood rushing out of her mouth until it is all she can taste and smell as it spills down her chin and chest.

The one holding the knife laughs and pouts at her attempt to struggle before he shoves the blade deeper, twisting it into her still beating heart. Her eyes are frantic as his hand comes up to grab her chin, holding her head in place so he is all she can see.

"I'm coming for you."

"No!" Her voice startles her awake and she grasps at her chest, feeling for the knife buried there, but she only feels the fabric of her shirt between her shaking fingers.

Light fills the room moments later and hands touch her shoulders, her body instinctively pulling away. She knows that if she looks up, he will be standing there again staring at her with those bloody eyes, but when she opens her eyes, Dean is looking at her with confusion and concern evident on his face.

Something wet runs down her cheeks and it takes a moment to realize that she's crying, which results in more tears streaming down her face. Before she can protest, Dean is tugging her into an embrace, arms secure and comforting around her trembling body. She clutches at his shirt, desperate to hold onto something warm and solid and not a dream – something real.

Her heart still thumps wildly in her chest, but she can once again breathe and when she opens her eyes, the world no longer looks terrifying and dark. The shadows in the room have been chased away by the light streaming from the lamp, she can hear the steady whir of the air conditioning on the other side of the room, and she tries to will her heartbeat to match the thump of Dean's beneath her ear.

His hands stroke her hair and back, his mouth moving against her head as he murmurs reassuring words to her, and although she can't focus on the exact words right now, she takes comfort in the sound of his sleep-rough voice.

She remains curled up in his arms for what feels like eternity, but she doesn't care much about time right now. He is warm and safe, a constant reminder that this is real and she is no longer trapped inside of a dream, a knife in her heart. Her hold on his shirt slackens and she leans back with a slow breath, letting go of all but his hand, which she still holds tightly with trembling fingers.

When she glances up at him, his face is soft and concern tugs at his eyes, mouth drawn into a tight line.

"You okay?" She can't muster words, but she nods and he sighs, attempting to hide his relief behind a cough. Looking away for a moment, he glances at his bed and then back to her, hand tightening against hers. "C'mon. Let's get back to bed."

She shakes her head violently and tries to protest – doesn't want to go back, can't sleep, knows what's coming when she closes her eyes – but he soothes her with a hand on her cheek and pulls her into his arms once again. Scooping her up, he crosses the short distance between their beds and sets her down on the mattress of his bed, crawling in immediately after her.

Pulling the blankets up around him, he wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her back against his chest. They lay like that for a moment as he allows her to calm herself and attempt to get back to sleep, but when she can't close her eyes without fear of seeing his face again, she rolls over and tucks herself against his front, face to face.

Her hand comes to rest on his chest, the steady beat of his heart reassuring to her still frantic mind, and she is able to shut off her thoughts for a moment as she focuses on the thumping. His fingers rub soothing lines up and down her back as he stares down at her, eyes roaming across her face as he takes in the peaceful expression that slowly overtakes her features.

It isn't long after that her eyes begin to shut and she slips back into slumber, mouth falling agape as she curls closer to him.

The upturn to his lips is sad as he watches her slip back into peaceful unconsciousness, and hoping that she isn't conscious enough to remember this come morning, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead before he himself closes his eyes and attempts to fall back asleep.

**********

"Hey, you done yet? I'm starving!" she calls out, fist pounding on the bathroom door. When she doesn't receive an answer, an annoyed sigh slips out and she moves to sit on the bed. Her hands run along the dark fabric of the blanket as memories of the night before flash through her mind, something that has been happening since she woke up this morning.

It had taken her a while to fall back asleep after her nightmare – if one could even call it that, it had felt so real – but once she had, the warmth and security of Dena next to her had succeeded in keeping her unconscious until the sun began to peak through the curtains. Even though she woke in a relatively content mood, she still sees red and a sinister smirk every time she closes her eyes. The words he spoke to her haunt her, whispering in her ear whenever she is left alone with her thoughts.

Which is exactly why she wants Dean to hurry the fuck up.

The shower shuts off and shuffling can be heard on the other side of the door before it opens and out walks Dean, tossing her a quick look as he passes with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Just give me a damn minute. Tell your stomach to wait," he grumbles as he moves to his bed, reaching into his duffel back for some clothes.

Ignoring his comment, she heads into the bathroom and grabs her toothbrush, applying a strip of cinnamon toothpaste before shoving it into her mouth. She catches sight of her reflection and even though she feels somewhat rested, the dark circles under her eyes are evidence to the contrary.

With a shake of her head, she averts her gaze when Dean appears next to her, a black tee being pulled onto his body.

"Telling me to hurry up when you're not even ready." Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans against the door frame with a grin. She sends him a side glance and huffs, giving her teeth a couple more good scrubs before spitting the foam into the sink.

"Shut up," she mutters.

"C'mon, let's go." Shadowing after Dean as he makes his way into the main area, she accepts the jacket handed to her as he pulls on his own. She grabs her sunglasses out of her bag and places them over her eyes, but before they can even leave the room, Dean's phone rings.

Fishing it out of his pocket, he answers the call with a state of his alias for the case and listens to what is being said, the somewhat happy expression on his face instantly vanishing as it becomes a frown. "We'll be right there."

"What's the matter?" she asks, eyebrows drawing together. "Don't tell me there's been another murder."

"They've found something in the bodies. Said they want us to come and check it out," he states and without waiting for a reply, he exits the motel room and begins walking towards the car.

"Awesome." Following after him, she shuts the door and locks it before heading to the vehicle, a frown etched on her lips. "Why is it that food time always gets interrupted?

**********

His eyes flick over to the opening door, watching as the two exit the room they are staying in and enter the old tin can they call a car.

"I've got eyes on her, sir. She's currently staying at a motel in Aurora," he states, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he stares out the front window, gaze trained on his target. "She's with a man."

He falls silent as he waits for the person on the other line to speak.

"I've never seen him before, but he does fit the description of the one you told us to watch out for." He quiets once more, listening more intently.

After the failed attempt to capture her a week ago at her residence, the chains on him and his brothers and sisters had tightened. One more slip up on his end and his head would be on a spike – this is his chance to prove his worth and secure a spot alongside their master. All he has to do is not screw up and get that damn woman.

"I'll follow them and find out who he is before I take any further action."

With a few more words exchanged, he than ends the call with a firm yes, sir, and throws the phone down on the seat beside him. Shifting the car into drive, he pulls away from the curb a few minutes after the two individuals leave the motel parking lot, trailing after them at an easy distance.

His job just became a whole lot harder.