She is shaking.

More specifically, someone is shaking her and very persistently, might she add. Laine attempts to roll over and go back to sleep, but the person disturbing her doesn't seem to get the memo. With an annoyed groan at being woken in such a rude manner, she flops onto her back and opens her eyes slowly, gaze flicking around until it settles on a familiar face.

"What d'ya w'nt?" she grumbles, words slurred with sleep.

Laine throws an arm over face to shield her eyes from the harsh light emitting from the lamp on the nightstand, wanting nothing more than to roll over. The mattress dips down close to her hip as Dean takes a seat, his hand set on the other side of her body.

"Sorry for waking you. Just wondering if you want to go back to your room and have something to eat," Dean says in a low voice, and he spares a glance over to the bed next to them where Zach is most likely fast asleep.

Laine groans much louder this time and sits up, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. How long had she been asleep? It sure doesn't feel like it had been long.

"Yeah, sure." She tries to stand up, but her attempt only results in her falling back onto the bed. Dean is right there at her rescue, offering her a hand to help her up.

"You can walk, right?" he asks after she is standing steadily on her own two feet with minimal wobbling. Dean steps away once she nods and heads over to the small kitchen, grabbing a plastic bag off the counter and a glass bottle of something dark. "C'mon."

Obeying his words, Laine shuffles over and out the door Dean is holding open for her as fast as she can. He shuts the door behind him and locks it before placing a hand on the small of her back, urging her to begin walking towards the room they rented for her.

They walk barely ten paces before they stop outside of a peeling red door with a rusted number seven bolted to the surface; the only thing new about the door is the handle, but even that isn't much to brag about. Dean removes his hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the second room key and shoves it in the small opening in the handle. The door unlocks after a turn of the key and Dean twists the handle, pushing the door open.

Laine trudges in first, Dean following after her, and feels along the wall to the right for the light switch. Her fingers come into contact with the small protruding nubs and she flicks them upwards, flooding the room with a dull glow of artificial light. She surveys the room, taking in the small room as she makes her way in farther, barely paying any attention to Dean who closes the door behind them. She heads over to the bed not housing her duffel bag, and lowers herself down until she is sitting as comfortably as she can manage with her aching leg.

"Do you want food?" Dean questions, his voice snapping her out of her half-asleep state.

Instead of replying, Laine nods and lays back on the bed, softly humming along with the song playing on the radio to keep herself from falling back to sleep. A few minutes later, a beeping noise fills the room, followed by the clang of glass and Dean swearing about something being too hot.

The smell of greasy fast food fills her nose and her body rises up in hunger, all thoughts of sleep quickly forgotten. She watches Dean with a predatory gaze as he walks towards her, eyeing the white container and cardboard cup in his hands.

"Cheeseburger and fries, pop too," Dean states, handing her the container first, then the pop. She sets the container down next to her and brings the straw to her lips, sucking up the liquid inside the cup. After the liquid has slid down her throat, a burning is left in its wake and her tongue feels heavy. Looking up at Dean, she raises an eyebrow in question. "Added a bit of booze. Thought you could use something a bit stronger than Coke."

Laine takes another long slurp of the drink, relishing in the sweet burn, and smiles her thanks at him while handing him the cup, trading it out for the container of food. Popping open the lid, she grabs the burger and takes a large bite out of the juicy meat.

She is about halfway through her burger and completely finished her fries when she takes the pop back from him, sucking back a quarter of the sugary drink. The burn is still there on the way down, but Laine welcomes it with a satisfied sigh as the sensation swells in her gut, the alcohol spreading through her veins and warming her from the inside-out while numbing the pain.

"You can finish that if you want. I'm done." Laine motions to the half-eaten burger, taking a slower sip of the Coke and rum mix.

Dean grins and swipes the burger out of the container without hesitation, shoving the remaining half into his mouth and finishes it in a couple chews and swallows. He licks at his fingers, a look of ecstasy crossing his features as he savours the remaining flavour of the meat.

"That's what a real burger tastes like," Dean moans out when he finishes. His statement causes a giggle to escape Laine and pop to slide down the wrong tube.

"Dude, drinking here!" She swallows the remaining liquid before coughing out the small bit that went where it wasn't supposed to.

Dean flashes her an apologetic grin and takes the garbage and now-empty cup from her, getting up to dispose of it in the kitchenette. He comes back moments later with two beers in his hand, handing one to Laine while taking a swig out of his own, and resumes residence on her bed.

She nods her thanks and puts the bottle to her lips, letting the liquid spill down her throat in a steady stream. She takes one more gulp before pulling it away, catching a drop of beer sliding down the neck of the bottle with her tongue, and the whole time, she can feel Dean's eyes on her. Turning, she sets the bottle down on the bedside table and ignores the look he is giving her while he sips at his beer.

"I need a shower," she states, scooting carefully off of the bed and hobbling towards the bathroom. "You gonna chill here?"

"Yeah, I guess." Dean shrugs and flops to the spot at the head of the bed, crossing his ankles over themselves and placing a hand behind his head, beer held in the other.

"Okay." Laine nods as she steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

**********

Dean has been sitting on the bed fiddling with his phone for what seems like not even ten seconds when the bathroom door creaks open and Laine pokes her head out, a sheepish grin on her face.

"I need some help."

Dean quirks an eyebrow and sits up, confused. "Help with what?"

"Getting undressed," she states plainly and steps out of the bathroom, making her way over to Dean, who is now standing, and meets him halfway. "I can't get my pants off."

Dean casts his eyes downward and sees that she already has her belt off and the buttons are undone, hanging open to reveal a pair of black panties. Looking back up, he sees that she is watching him with intent eyes. "How do you want to do this?"

"Don't know how to get a girl out of her pants, Dean?" she teases, smirking up at him with devilish fire blazing behind her eyes.

Dean huffs and grabs her by the hand, tugging her over to the bed and sitting her down. Once she is sitting, he pushes her backwards until she is only leaning on her elbows for support.

Grabbing the hem of her destroyed jeans, he begins shimmying them down her hips. He spares a glance up at her the exact moment her tongue darts out of her mouth, wetting her plump lips in a swift motion, and it takes everything in him not to lean over her and press his mouth against hers. With a shake of his head to clear those thoughts, he pulls her jeans down the rest of the way, careful when he passes over her bandages.

Throwing the pants onto the floor, Dean grabs her hand and pulls her up, their bodies only a few inches apart and hands still held together at their sides.

"You need help with your shirt, too?" he questions, watching as the upturn to her lips reaches even higher.

"I think I'll manage – unless you want to help."

Dean feels his heartbeat spike at the words and he has to bite his tongue to stop the words in his head from spilling out. Taking a deep breath, he steadies himself before opening his mouth. "Go shower, before I have the mind to do just that."

Laine's grin falters for just a moment as she looks up at him, something indecipherable flashing through her eyes. With a nod, she lowers her head and takes a step back, removing her hand from his grasp.

"Right," she mumbles before brushing past him and into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

As the sound of the shower turning on reaches his ears, the breath Dean has been storing in his lungs is released in a hefty puff. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, tugging at the short strands in an attempt to calm the waves of thoughts crashing around in his mind; thoughts he should not be having.

This woman is going to be the absolute death of him, he just knows it. Not demons or angels or half-breeds, not even old age, but rather the female demon-hunter who is striking up feelings in him again, feelings that he figured he had buried long ago.

He waits a minute more until he can hear the faint sound of Laine humming a random tune alongside the steady pelt of water before he bolts off the bed and out of the motel room, practically racing towards where his car is parked. The door is open and Dean is in the seat in record time, the keys in the ignition spurring the engine to life, and he peels out of the parking lot just as fast.

His buzzing mind and erratic breathing starts to calm once he is on the road and driving away from the motel – and Laine. The thought of her name has his grip tightening on the steering wheel and his chest clenches with something he doesn't dare admit.

"Fuck."

That lone thought is the most prominent in his mind, standing out like a beacon amongst the thoughts about random things, but mainly amidst the thoughts about Laine. Again, his mind travels back to her against his will – at least, that's what he tries to convince himself of.

Why is he acting like this? It's not like he's one to hightail it the moment he gets close to a woman physically or emotionally. No, it's the fact that it's Laine, someone he has known his whole life and practically grew up alongside. She's always been there for him, through the ups and downs, even when they're fighting and arguing about everything under the sun.

It's the fact that they've already tried something like this before, back when they were just teenagers; that obviously didn't pan out.

Instead of continuing to drive around aimlessly in an attempt to run from his problems, Dean steers the car over to the shoulder of the road and puts it in park. His gaze flicks out the window, latching on to the few cars passing and the bright city lights off in the distance, and his fingers drum against the wheel in concentration. Whenever he needed help sorting something out, he would usually go to Laine for advice, but since it concerns her, he's pretty much screwed, and his brother is absolutely no help when he has questions about relationships or women.

A loud sigh leaves Dean when he realizes that he's just confusing and angering himself more the longer he tries to figure this shit out. He does manage to come to one conclusion, though, even if the revelation makes him want to either blast his brains out with a .45, or hightail it all the way to bumfuck nowhere just so he won't have to deal with anything that concerns Laine Fraser.

Placing his hands back on the wheel, Dean signals and pulls back onto the road, heading out in the direction he was originally going. Laine probably isn't out of the shower yet, so there's no point in heading back, and if she is, he still needs to do a couple things first. The remainder of the drive is filled with loud classic rock and a few select thoughts bouncing around in his head like a ball.

The idea that he wants Laine – needs her – more so than he ever has before shakes Dean a bit, and there's not a damn thing he can do to change that fact. That's what scares him the most.

**********

A cloud of steam billows out after Laine when she steps out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head and body. After a quick glance around the darkened room, she notices Dean is no longer here. She makes her way over to the bed with a frown on her lips, confused as to where he might have gone and when he left, as she takes a seat on the hard mattress.

Reaching for her bag, she rummages through it for something to wear, soon settling on a pair of baggy sweats and a dark tanktop. She dresses as quick as she can manage without hurting her thigh, and she's mostly successful.

Laine hums animatedly along with the song playing from the radio as she begins running a hair pick through her curls. Taking her time to smooth out the tangles and knots that formed in the curly mass, she starts to relax and the tension slips from her shoulders from the calming action of combing the strands. The process is over in a few minutes and her hair hangs in damp waves down her back, tangle-free and smelling of peppermint.

Scooping the towels off the floor, Laine chucks them into the laundry basket located under the sink in the bathroom before making her way to the kitchenette. After grabbing a glass and filling it with water, she pours two Tylenol into her hand and plops them into her mouth one at a time, taking a gulp of water after each one. Taking one more long drink to wash it all down, she moves her free hand towards the window and pushes the curtain back to reveal the outside world.

The sky is dark, filled with twinkling diamonds and a crescent moon hanging high above the trees and streets below. The glow from the moon's light casts itself on the tips of the trees not too far from the motel and on any other dark surface not touched by the fluorescent stream emitting from the motel lights. Staring up at the looming rock in the sky through the curtains, she feels her eyes getting heavy as her body call out for much needed rest.

Laine downs the rest of her water, places the empty glass on the counter, and then makes her way over to the bed. Crawling beneath the covers, she pulls them tight around her. She can faintly hear a Bryan Adams' song playing on the radio as she closes her eyes, the sound of music dulling as she drifts into sleep.

**********

A banging noise jolts Laine awake, hand automatically reaching for the gun under her pillow before she realizes that there isn't one there. Retracting her hand, she sits up in bed and listens for the sound, only having to wait a second or two until the noise resumes. It's coming from the door.

Sliding her feet over the edge of the bed, she grabs her gun out of her purse on the floor and starts padding over to the door once it is in her grasp. The knock sounds once more as she approaches, left hand resting on the handle.

"Who is it?" Laine calls, clicking the safety off and cocking the slide back, a bullet falling into place within the chamber. Her hand readies the gun at her side when she doesn't get an answer while the other tightens around the golden knob.

With a swift twist, she opens the door and inch and looks out to see green eyes staring down at her. A sigh escapes Laine as she opens the door fully, leaning against the door frame with a frown making its way onto her exhausted face.

Dean notes her annoyed expression and nods towards the gun in her hand before looking back up.

"Are you gonna let me in or..." He trails off, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. She motions him in with a wave of her hand and closes the door once he is inside, shuffling past him to sit on her bed.

"What're you doing here?" Those are the first words that float out of her mouth once she sits down on the cheap motel bed that smells of cheese, popcorn, and something else she would rather not know the origins of. Dean's shoulders move upwards as he peers into the open fridge, soon leaning back with a beer in hand.

"Couldn't sleep." He twists the cap off the bottle and throws it onto the counter he is currently leaning against before raising the bottle to his lips. "And I wanted to check on how you were feeling."

At his words, Laine's hand reaches down and ghosts over the spot where her wound is. She had reapplied the bandages after her shower and it had looked as if the bleeding stopped. Now she only feels the occasional tug of pain thanks to the meds she took.

"I'm fine," she replies, tucking her left leg underneath her. The movement pulls on her opposite thigh, but the pain subsides in a couple seconds and settles into a dull irritation.

He nods at her response and takes a hearty swig out of the dark bottle. Silence encases the room and neither of them make eye contact, something odd blanketing the air.

"Hey, where did you run off to earlier?"

Dean raises his head to look at Laine this time, giving another shrug. "Went out to clear my head. Needed a few minutes alone to think through some shit."

"I see."

Dean lets out a noncommittal noise and resumes drinking his beer, avoiding making eye contact once again. The room starts to become abnormally quiet, but the sound of Laine cracking her knuckles breaks the silence apart.

"That the only reason you came here? To make sure I wasn't dying or some shit?" she mumbles, running a hand through the ends of her hair. "'Cause I am pretty tired."

A laugh erupts from Dean at her blunt statement and he nearly chokes on his beer.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?" he questions, staring over at her with a teasing look. Her eyes widen as her face heats up, realizing now how her statement must have sounded; it had sounded much less rude in her head.

"No, that's not it–" Laine begins, but Dean cuts her off with another low chuckle.

"That was a reason, but not the only one," Dean states as he places his beer down on the counter before making his way over to her.

Laine clasps her hands in her lap, fingers twisting together due to the nerves twinning in her gut like vines, and her eyes follow his movements as he approaches.

"What's the other reason?" she asks as he sits down next to her and props his hands out behind him, leaning back.

"It's not important right now." His eyes remain fixed on a painted picture on the opposite wall, and instead of pushing him for answers like she wants to, she nods and switches topics.

"Sorry for locking you in the storage closet." Her words are quiet and a sheepish look forms on her face, but she refuses to look at Dean, her gaze moving towards the curtained window.

"Do it again and I'll kick your ass," he mutters and knocks his shoulder against hers. "You can't do stupid shit like that – it's gonna get you killed."

"It almost did. If you hadn't of called Zach and sent him after me, I probably would be dead right now or in the hands of those bastards," she explains and chances a glance towards Dean. He's looking over at her out of the corner of his eye, mouth set in a tight line and jaw clenched. Laine quickly looks away, a sigh leaving her. "I wanted to kill the sonsabitches who fucked up my life and I didn't stop to think before I charged in, and it nearly cost me my life."

Dean doesn't say anything for the longest time and his silence begins to gnaw at her, but just as Laine is about to something more or to apologize again, he is cutting her off.

"You'll get your chance to kick some Cambion ass and the ass of whoever is running the show, but in the meantime, you need to work on your self-preservation skills. I – we just got you back. We can't be losing you now."

"I know, and I'm sorry." Casting her eyes down, Laine can't stop the feelings of disappointment and guilt that rush through her, but they are quelled with surprise when Dean wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her against his side.

"Just don't do it again, you little shit." His voice has lost most of its serious tone, but Laine can still see the tense set of his jaw. Instead of dwelling on it, she brushes it off and leans into his embrace, a small smile forming on her lips.

"Not planning on it."