Written by: gooberlanes13

The ride back to the hotel was slightly more quiet than I expected it to be, especially after the banter we had earlier. I'd half-expected things to be tense, but it felt almost... normal.

"Are you alright?" I asked, realizing the Impala was weaving a little on the freeway.

"I'm fine." Dean grumbled, his grip tightening on the wheel. I rolled my eyes.

"I won't hurt her..." I offered, pointing at the steering wheel.

Dean shot me a glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm good. I can handle it from here."

"Dean," I sighed, my eyes flickering to the rearview mirror where the mustang was the proper distance away from us.

"What?" He looked over briefly, quirking an eyebrow

"What did you mean back there?" I asked, gesturing behind us, the tension creeping back up my chest.

Dean didn't take his eys off the road, but his lips curled into a small grin. "Which part, sweetheart?"

"The whole bitch line about Miss Mordy having taste and wanting to do something about it." I pressed, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

Dean flicked a glance at me before focusing back on the road. "Eve, I've got a lot of thoughts about you." His voice was low and steady. "But I don't think you're stupid."

"Uh, Okay?" I replied, not sure whether to laugh or be confused. I tried to unlock my phone to see why it vibrated, but the blood smearing the screen made it impossible. I wiped if off the best I could as we merged off the freeway. "I'm sure you do," I muttered, still trying to clean the screen. "I appreciate that?"

Dean slowed as we approached a red light and took his hand off the wheel for a second, relaxing his arm. When his eyes met mine, they were less guarded, more... open.

"You feel what's here, right?" His voice was softer than usual, more serious.

My heart skipped a beat, I felt my cheeks flush as I focused on cleaning the phone, pretending I wasn't affected. "I think you know the answer to that." I shoved a little more confidence into my tone and forced myself to meet his gaze. The air betwen us shifted, thickened, and I could feel the heat rise in my chest.

HONK!

Dean snapped his attention to the rearview mirror, and I could see Sam waving for us to go. Dean grumbled under his breath, but sped off towards the hotel.

Once we arrived, I moved quickly as I grabbed our first aid kit out of the trunk of the Mustang, and Dean tossed me the first aid kit from the backseat of the Impala as he draped an arm around my shoulders for help walking.

In the room, I clapped my hands together, rubbing them rapidly as I pointed at Sam, "Shower," then to Bri, "Shower" and finally to Dean, "Shower."

"Bossy," Dean muttered, eyeing me as Sam started toward the bathroom. "I guess it's a good call. That smell is gonna sink into the Impala if we don't do something about it."

"Clean it once in a while, and you won't have that problem." Bri shot back, leaning casually against the loveseat. She called out to Sam, who hadn't shut the door yet, "Don't pass out in there!"

Sam poked his head around the doorframe, offering Bri a small salute before shutting the door behind him and turning the water on. The sound of showers filled the room, and as I was the last to shower, I stepped out to see the familiar chaos: A bloody mess of first aid supplies and Sam carefully patching up Bri.

Turning my attention to Dean, I caught him wincing as he tried to bend over to check on his leg wound. His face twisted in pain, and it made my stomach tighten.

I appeared in front of him and set the Mustang's first aid kit on the nightstand. I began opening it, pausing when Dean spoke.

"Do you mind?" He snarled, trying to reach down to his leg wound again, but I slapped his hand away from it, earning a glare - then he attempted to reach for the first aid kit, getting slapped again, and I earned another glare.

"Stay still..." I smirked, reaching for his chest.

"I'm not injured on my chest or anything Eve... unless you're trying to get a sneak peak?" Dean insisted, earning a small scoff from me.

"- Then what's that?" I smirked, poking at an untouched area of his torso, but close to the deep scratch, causing him to flinch.

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean flinched as I shook my head, unimpressed by his stubbornness.

"Stay still," I commanded, watching him tense up. "Okay, you got nicked pretty good, but I got plenty of supplies..."

"I appreciate you bringing that..." Dan nodded, reaching for the first aid kit again, only to be slapped again. "...Hey!"

"That's mine." I smirked, shaking my head as I moved it from the nightstand to the bed, laid out beside him. "Now, stay still. This is going to sting like a Bitch -"

"- so like Sammy?" Dean attempted to joke, but his voice was strained, and Bri and Sam both groaned from across the room.

I poured some water from the glass sitting on the nightstand and gave him a sidelong glance. "Room temperature," I quipped, smacking his hand away from the cotton swabs I was about to use.

"Great," Dean grumbled, shifting on the bed. "This is gonna suck."

"Yeah, well," I smirked, maintaining my focus. "You'll live."

I gently cleaned the wound with soap and water from the glass, dabbing it dry with a gauze pad before applying a fresh bandage. Dean flinched as I pressed the bandage into place, and his eyes locked with mine. I offered a quick, silent apology for a discomfort back through my gaze.

Dean sighed and tried to sit up, but I shoved him back down onto the bed with a firm hand. "What now?"

"Your leg, genius." I gestured to the scrape that was steadily dripping down his calf. Settling down onto my knees, between his legs, I sat on my feet as I tugged his foot into my lap.

Dean's eyes went wide. "What the hell are you doing?" He barked, clearly uncomfortable with the position. "You don't gotta get that close for a little scrape."

I raised an eyebrow, giving him a deadpan look as I adjusted his leg in my lap. "I'm not going to fix it if you keep squirming," I said, voice cool but playful.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Yeah, well, this is one hell of a way to play doctor."

I couldn't help but smirk. "You're not even naked," I replied, gathering my supplies after assessing the wound.

"Close enough," he shrugged.

"You were more naked the other day when you came out of the shower looking for your shirt." I mocked, earning a small grin from him. "Now, this is gonna hurt like hell."

I slid on a pair of gloves and began applying pressure to stop the bleeding, waiting for him to brace himself. Once that was under control, I refilled the water glass and repeated the cleaning process, pouring the water over the wound. Dean winced, his discomfort clear.

I gently washed the leg wound with soap, then began covering the gash with a sterile gauze bandage. I reached for the tape, but Dean reached for it at the same time. Our hands brushed, and for a brief moment, we locked eyes. A soft blush spread across both our faces as he quickly withdrew his hand, letting me take the tape.

I wrapped his leg slowly and carefully, tight but not too tight. Dean spoke up again.

"You're, uh... pretty good at this." Dean gestured toward the bandage job, and I shot him a small smile.

"This doctoring thing, did you go to school for it or...?"

"Army," I answered simply, focused on the wrap.

"Right..." He sighed, lowering his head for a moment. "...You're being pretty careful with that."

"You have to care while giving care," I smirked, finishing up the wrap. Dean's smile widened, and when I caught his eyes, I added, "I'm human too, Dean. You know that, right?"

"Last time I checked, anyway," he chuckled, and we shared a quiet laugh.

"There," I sighed, finishing the wrap and passing the first aid kit to Sam as Bri started tending to him. "You should live."

"Should I?" Dean smiled as I climbed onto the bed across from him. "You know, I can get used to this."

"To what?" I raised an eyebrow, confused.

"You taking care of me," he sighed, watching me pull painkillers from my bag and pass him a few.

"I'm not used to being taken care of," he continued, and I smiled softly.

"Because you're always taking care of Sam, or anyone else for that matter." I grinned, watching him closely. His eyes glistened with something I hadn't seen before, something genuine, and for the first time, I felt a deeper connection with him.

"Yeah," He said quietly, his voice low. "Never thought I'd have someone who actually took care of me. You... you're good at it."

Our gaze lingered again, but was broken by Bri's voice.

"Anyone up for a drink?" she asked, and both Dean and Sam responded with an enthusiastic, "Yes."

Sam and Dean politely went into the bathroom for a minute to give us a moment to change into clothes worth going out in. I switched into my black skinny jeans, paired with a hot pink tank top that was adorned with a lace pattern across the shoulders, down the chest, and in the back. As I fumbled for my phone to transfer it to my new pants, I noticed that most of the blood was gone. Bri let the guys know that they could come out as I leaned over the first aid kid and ran a mostly clean disinfectant wipe over the screen to clean the rest of it.

"Where to? Bri asked as Sam started searching for something on his phone.

Dean appeared beside me as I finally unlocked my phone and tapped on the notification, but before I could take in the message, he spoke.

"Would it be incredibly awkward or forward if I asked to buy you a drink?" Dean tilted his head, his eyes scanning my face, an easy grin spreading across his lips.

"You already did that." I chuckled, recalling our interaction at Morrie's bar. Dean smirked, clearly enjoying the memory.

"True," he replied with a sly smile. "But, I'm asking again, just to make sure you're not going to leave me hanging."

I signed, turning to face him fully and meeting his eyes. "I'll take another," I siad, smiling back.

Dean grinned, clearly pleased, as I glanced back down at my phone. My smile faltered as I saw the bloody smear still on the screen. A picture of the Mustang in front of the hotel was staring back at me.

"Fuck," I groaned. Dean's eyes shot to mine, confusion crossing his face. I slid my phone back into my pocket with a forced smile. "Where to?"

The Impala rolled up to the bar we finally decided on, called The Gritty Titty. With a strange name but great reviews, we stepped out and into the crazy atmosphere of the themed bar.

The theme was hard to pinpoint, but the energy in the place was contagious. Smoke- who knows what else- hung in the air as we took in the bar's setup. The dance floor stretched out in front of us, with a DJ booth on the left and tables scattered on the right. The neon sign for the bathrooms flickered nearby.

Dean and Sam navigated through the crowd towards the bar, and Bri and I followed, pulling ourselves up onto the barstools next to them.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, leaning over and poking at Bri's shoulder, and gesturing to her rib area.

"Better, I guess," she replied, her voice a little breathless as she hung her head.

I glanced over Bri's shoulder to see Dean and Sam still waiting for their turn at the bar, and returned my gaze to Bri. "Listen, Sam fucked up, but he cares, you know that right?"

"I know..." Bri frowned, clearly conflicted, "It's just -"

"Complicated?"I finished nodding. "I get it."

Bri smiled, nudging me lightly. "But let's not stay on that, alright? We're out, we just finished our first hunt... let's celebrate!"

I smiled, but my expression faltered as I scanned the crowd. The familiar wave of paranoia began creeping in. I frowned down at my phone, turning it off and setting it on the bar. After spinning in the chair to scan the room, I glared at the back of my phone. We weren't in the Mustang- we should be fine.

My phone was off. Was it too late?

"Hey," came a voice to my right, making me jump slightly on the barstool. I smiled up at Dean, who was holding another piña colada. He stood against the bar beside me. "Why so jumpy?"

I shook my head, trying to brush off the feeling as I took the drink and began sipping it. Sam handed Bri a fancy glass, and she too started swaying to the music.

"Go dance," Sam urged, gesturing toward the dance floor. "Let loose a little. You don't have to entertain us."

Dean smirked, leaning closer to me. "You already do that, sweetheart," he winked, and I flushed slightly, then glanced at Bri as she took my hand and led me toward the dance floor.

The familiar notes of Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Rey echoed through the speakers, and the crowd began dancing in sync, singing along with the slow, smooth beat.

After a few more rounds of drinks from Sam and Dean, who were content just standing at the bar and watching us, Look Who's Crying Now by Jessie Murph started to play. The slow-jam dancing picked up again.

I was belting out the lyrics when I suddenly felt hands on my hips. I had my eyes closed, caught in my own alcohol haze, thinking it was finally Dean making a move.

That was until I heard the voice.

"...Did you think I wouldn't find you?"

His whisper hissed into my ear, sending a chill down my spine. My eyes flew open as panic shot through me. I was jerked around roughly, and I collided with Nick's dark brown eyes. He smirked at me, his grip on my right wrist painfully tight as he dragged me toward the exit. The only thing I heard was Bri's frantic shout, "Eve...!"

"Let go of me!" I shouted, slamming my empty glass onto the pavement. "What the hell are you doing here, Nick?"

"I came for you," he smirked, adjusting his brown leather jacket. The sound of it rustling echoed in the quiet parking lot. "Came all the way to Colorado for your ass, and you're here with Brianna, of all people... dancing for who knows who."

"That's none of your business," I hissed, my voice low with anger. The familiar rush of heat flared up inside me. "Why do you insist on stalking me?"

"Because, like I told you..." Nick's voice was smooth as ever, dripping with possession. "...You're mine. Who knows who you've been fucking while you've been out here..." His grip tightened, and I flinched.

"Nick," I gasped, bracing for the worst. "You're hurting me."