Written by: KariGorsuch

The moment Eve's words sank in, a fire ignited in my chest that made the ache in my ribs seem insignificant. "I'm gonna kill him," I muttered, my voice low but firm.

Ignoring the sharp protest from my body, I pushed myself up from the bed, every movement a battle against the pain. I leaned heavily on the wall, my hips screaming with the motion. Apparently I slept wrong.

"Bri! What are you-" Eve cut herself off as she took in the oversized shirt I was wearing. Her eyes widened, her voice rising, "Wait a second- Is that Sam's?!"

I froze mid-step, shooting Eve a sharp look. "Not the point right now, Eve," I snapped, my cheeks heating. The mention of the shirt only made the situation feel more ridiculous, and I didn't have the patience for it.

Eve's eyebrows shot up, her lips curing into a sly smile despite the tension in the room. "Oh, that's definitely the point. You're marching off like you're ready to start a war, and you're wearing Sam's shirt. Are we just glossing over that detail, or-?"

"Eve, I growled, cutting her off. "This is not about the shirt. Dean pulled away from you, and now I have to go remind him of the threat that I made the first day."

Eve rolled her eyes, wincing slightly. "And you think storming out there, looking like you've been through a hurricane, is going to make things better?"

"What else would you like me to do, Eve? I explicitly told him not to fucking hurt you." I reached our bag of clothes and started to dig through it. "The same fucking day that we are attacked by our exes, he pulls away? I don't fucking think so."

Eve's mouth opened to reply, but her words stalled as she took in my movements- me, yanking clothes from the bag with more force than necessary, each wince of pain only fueling my determination. "Bri, you're deflecting," she said, her tone softer now but no less pointed. "Why are you wearing Sam's shirt? And what exactly happened last night?"

I paused mid-yank, my hand still gripping a clean pair of shorts. A sharp exhale escaped me as I dropped the clothes onto the bed. "Because last night was a shitstorm," I muttered, straightening to look at her. "And because apparently, I can't manage to take care of myself when I'm cracked like a goddamn egg."

Eve tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. "That doesn't explain-"

"Sam made me- asked me- to take my shirt off so he could check my ribs," I interrupted, my voice tight. "Apparently I cracked one with the werewolf. And when he realized I couldn't even wrap myself up without shaking like a leaf, he did it for me. Then, since my shirt was soaked, he gave me one of his. That's all it was."

Her expression softened as she took in my words, but I could see the hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "And how did the night end?" She asked gently.

I sighed, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "Dean and Sam tag-teamed looking after us. Sam wrapped me up and made sure I didn't collapse into a bigger pile of useless. Dean didn't leave your side, he was practically glued to you all night." The realization of what I had asked Sam the night before horrified me. "I asked Sam to stay with me."

Eve's eyes widened, her mouth dropping open slightly before she managed to recover. "Wait... You what?" she asked, her voice teetering between shock and amusement.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "I don't know, okay? I wasn't thinking straight. I was in pain, exhausted, and- God- it just slipped out."

"Slipped out?" Eve chuckled, raising her eyebrows in amusement as she spoke cautiously and slowly attempting to not laugh through her confrontation, "Uh, like...Sam's slip up?"

My head snapped up to look at her, my eyes narrowing at her. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice sharp despite the heat rising in my cheeks. "We've been through this- Sam didn't mean to kiss me. I... I wanted Sam to stay."

Her laughter bubbled up, despite the tension in the room and the pain we were both in. "You? Miss 'I can handle it all on my own' wanted Sam to stay with you?" She clutched her side, her laughter turning into a wince. "Oh, Bri, that's priceless."

"It's not funny," I grumbled, peeking at her from between my fingers. My face burned with embarrassment. "I don't even know why I did it. I barely remember saying it. I remember moving over for you, though."

Her expression shifted, a thoughtful look replacing her earlier amusement. "And how did that make you feel?"

I groaned again, easing back to lay on the bed to stare at the ceiling. "Like an idiot." I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. "I hate needing someone, Eve. It feels... weak. Like I can't keep it together. I was fine."

Eve frowned at my words, her playful demeanor softening. She shifted slightly on the bed, wincing as she adjusted her position. "Bri, you weren't fine. You were hurt. There's no shame in letting someone help you when you need it."

I shook my head, keeping my eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I was fine. I hate it, Eve. I hate feeling like I can't do everything on my own."

I didn't respond, my jaw tightening as I stared up at the ceiling. The memories I did have from last night flashed through my mind- Sam's steady hands, his calm voice, the way he stayed close without pushing me, demanding for more. It hadn't felt wrong. It hadn't felt like weakness. It had felt... safe.

Eve's voice softened. "What are you so scared of, Bri? Letting someone care about you? Or caring about them back?"

Her words sucked the air from my lungs, and I sat up abruptly, wincing at the sharp pain in my ribs. "I'm not scared," I snapped, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. "I just... don't want to rely on anyone. People leave, Eve. They always do."

"I haven't," she replied softly, her words hanging in the air, soft but unyielding.

"You're different," I muttered. "Can we please stop talking about my insecurities?"

"Alright," Eve sighed, "Let's talk about mine then, because I keep replaying what Dean said in the car."

I turned to fully face Eve, "You're gonna have to be more specific than that.. We've been in the Impala a lot lately."

Her eyes darkened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flashing across her face. "On the way back from the hunt. When I rode back with him. He asked if I felt what was going on between us. I didn't exactly give him a straight answer.

I furrowed my brow, the shift in Eve's tone pulling my attention fully onto her. "You didn't?" I asked, my voice softening as I sat up a little more.

Eve shifted uncomfortably. "No. I said 'I think you know the answer to that.'

"Was there anything said or done after you said that?" I asked, positioning myself better to see her fully.

"There was a hot moment where we just...stared at each other." Eve elaborated a little more. "Then Sam honkned at us..."

I nodded, remembering Sam commenting on Dean not paying attention to the road. My eyes sprang back up into hers as I watched some tears stream down her face, silently.

"I don't know, Bri...I'm embarrassed, and...pissed." She choked, as I sighed heavily, wanting to come comfort her but I was saving my strength for what I was about to do to Dean fucking Winchester.

"Hold on. You had this fucking hot moment, making eyes at eachother in the Impala- he fucking beats the shit out of Nick for laying a hand on you- and then he- just- FUCK!" I leaned forward, my earlier anger returning with a vengeance.

Eve nodded, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to steady her breath. Her voice cracked slightly as she continued, "I don't know, Bri. It was like everything was building up, but when we actually had a moment... He backed off."

I clenched my fists, anger boiling in my veins at the thought of Dean backing off. "That's bullshit," I muttered, gritting my teeth. "If he cares about you, if there's something there, then he shouldn't be running."

"Sam says he's 'complicated,' and I'm not sure if that's him defining Dean or defending him..."

I shoved off the bed, angrily grabbing the shorts I had tossed onto the bed. "I'm going to complicate my foot up his fucking ass."

I stormed out of the room, frustration simmering beneath my skin. My fists were clenched tight, and I barely registered the sharp pain in my ribs as the door clicked shut. I froze outside the door, as Sam was sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the hallway. He had a book open in his lap, but his gaze was focused somewhere far beyond the pages.

He didn't say anything as I stood there, so I stepped away from the door, headed to the elevator. I had almost reached the elevator when he spoke, the curiosity in his voice making me pause. "Where are you going?"

"I-uh- left something in the mustang." I lied quickly.

Sam's eyes narrowed slightly as he closed the book in his lap and set it aside. "Bri," he said, his voice low and even. "Try again."

I turned back to face him, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm not lying," I said, though the defensive tone in my voice betrayed me.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall with a knowing expression. "You're not a great liar when you're mad."

I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Fine," I admitted. "I'm going to find Dean. I'm going to complicate my foot right up his ass."

Sam pushed himself to his feet, his tall frame towering over me as he stepped closer. "Bri, I get it. You're angry. But do you really think storming off to confront Dean is the best idea right now?"

I crossed my arms again, squaring up to him. "Yes, Sam. I do. He seems to either A, have forgotten the promise I made to him a few days ago. Or B, he thinks I'm bluffing."

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to gauge just how far I was willing to go. "If you're going to do this, then fine. But Eve needs someone with her."

I hesitated, my frustration easing a little. "That's why I need you to go in there," I nodded toward the room. "Besides, you two haven't ever really gotten to know one another."

Sam looked back at the door, then at me, his expression softening. "Alright," he gave in after a long pause. "Don't hurt yourself, please."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Sam gave me one last look before he turned and walked back towards the room. Reaching behind me, I slapped the down button for the elevator.

The ride to the ground floor was silent except for the whirling of the elevator. Crossing the lobby, I tossed the receptionist a tight lipped smile as I exited the building. Glaring over at the parking spot where the Impala was parked, I stopped.

Dripping down the door was harsh graffiti, freshly spray painted. The word "Bitch" glared back at me as I hit my knees next to the car. I knew Dean wouldn't do such a thing, he respected the car too much. Reaching out a shaking hand, I dragged my finger through the paint. It moved easily, cluing me in that this had been done within the past 10 minutes. Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at the Mustang, which leaned oddly.

I forced myself to stand, ignoring the sharp sting in my ribs. My gaze dropped to the tires- sure enough, the front left tire was slashed, the rubber shredded like paper. Anger and despair warred within me as I clenched my fists at my sides. I rolled my head back, staring up at the sky for a minute.

Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to be strong. The scent of fresh spray paint was sharp in the air, a cruel reminder of the damage done. Looking back down, I walked around the inspect the rest of the car. More hateful slurs marred the once-pristine paint job, such as the word "SLUTS" written boldly over the hood, and the passenger rear tire being slashed as well.

I braced my hands against the hood and leaned on the Mustang, trying not to cry with how pissed off I had become. The now familiar rumble of the Impala echoed through the parking lot as Dean returned from wherever he ran away to.

The Impala's engine growled low and steady as it pulled into the parking lot. I straightened up from leaning on the Mustang, my heart pounding with anger and frustration. Dean parked on the other side, the car's sleek black exterior gleaming under the sun, untouched and perfect—completely opposite to the vandalized wreck that was now the Mustang.

Dean stepped out of the car, his face set in a grim expression. He froze when he saw me standing next to the Mustang, his gaze darting to the graffiti and the slashed tires. His jaw clenched, and his fists tightened at his sides.

"Bri? What the hell happened?" he asked, his voice sharp but tinged with concern.

"I was hoping you could tell me," I snapped, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

Dean's voice rose slightly, his frustration evident. "She was fine when I left!" his eyes swept over the Mustang again, the tension in his stance mirroring my own. "Bri, I didn't- this wasn't me."

"I know this wasn't you, Dean." I shot back, the weight of my anger mixing with physical exhaustion. "But- you weren't here when it happened. They knew when you left-"

His shoulders sagged a fraction, guilt creeping into his expression. "I didn't think-"

I snorted, "No fucking kidding."

He rubbed a hand over his face, "I didn't think something like this would happen. I just went to-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "It doesn's matter. This is one me."

"This," I gestured to the mustang in front of me. "This isn't on you. What IS on you, is what you left in the hotel room."

I pushed off the Mustangs hood, "What was the one fucking thing I told you, the DAY after the first attack? The ONE fucking thing I said about her?!"

Dean's face darkened, and his lips pressed into a hard line. He didn't answer right away, his gaze flickering between me and the Mustang. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained. "You told me not to hurt her."

"Exactly," I said, taking a step closer, my frustration spilling over. "I told you not to hurt her. And what did you do? You fucking hurt her by pulling away! What the fuck were you thinking Winchester?!"

Dean's voice cracked like a whip, his frustration cutting through the air. "I was thinking she was just assaulted, Bri! And that I just beat the shit out of the person who did it!" His green eyes burned with intensity, and his chest rose and fell as he struggled to keep his voice steady. "You think I wanted to pull away? You think I wanted to hurt her?"

"You didn't think! You just DID!" I shouted, immediately regretting it as my ribs protested.

"I'm trying to keep her safe- Trying to keep all of you safe!" Dean retorted harshly. "Her staying as far away from me is the best way for you two to return to a normal life."

I laughed, harsh and short. "Dean, there is no going back now. You've opened her world to everything she's ever dreamed of. Ghosts, demons, all that shit is real."

Dean's face twisted as if my words physically hit him. "And that's exactly why she needs to stay away from me," He said, his voice rough, his frustration starting to crack under the weight of something deeper. "Because now she knows. And knowing... It ruins people."

I took another step forward, putting us basically chest to chest. "You don't get to make those choices for her, Dean. That's not protecting her in any means- thats controlling her."

Dean's jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he stared down at me. His green eyes blazed with a mix of guilt, anger, and something he didn't dare let surface. "You think I want to control her?" he said, his voice low and tense, like a rope pulled taut. "I'm trying to give her a chance at something better than this life."

I jabbed a finger into his chest, ignoring the ache in my ribs. "You don't get to decide what's better for her. That's not your call, Dean. She's not some damsel you can just lock away in a tower to keep safe."

He flinched, his expression faltering for a split second. "I'm not locking her away—"

"Aren't you?" I cut him off, stepping even closer. "Every time you pull away, every time you shut her out, you're deciding for her. And all you're doing is proving to her that the people she cares about will leave the second it gets hard."

"That's not fair," Dean shot back, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'm trying to protect her, Bri. Do you know what it's like to lose someone because of this life? Because I do. Over and over."

"And if you push her away, you'll lose her anyway," I said, my voice quieter now but no less firm. "At least if you stay, you have a chance. And so does she."

He stared at me, his expression raw and unguarded, like I'd stripped away every wall he'd built. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction, but his hands still clenched into fists at his sides. "She wasn't in her right mind," He whispered, his voice barely audible but heavy with self-reproach. "She'd just been through hell. What kind of man would I be if I took advantage of the fact that she wasn't in her right mind?"

I softened, my anger ebbing as I saw the genuine torment in Dean's expression. He wasn't just fighting me; he was fighting himself. "Dean," I said, my voice gentler now, "you didn't take advantage of her. You protected her. You were there when she needed you."

He shook his head, his jaw tightening again. "I don't know that, Bri. She was shaken, vulnerable... I don't want her to look back and think I crossed a line."

I sighed, stepping back to give him a little space. "You didn't cross any line, Dean. You let her decide. You gave her the space to tell you what she wanted, and she chose you. That's not taking advantage—that's respect."

I turned back to look at the Mustang, done with the conversation. "I need a fucking shop."

"I can call Bobby. He'll come get it. Take it back to his place- hes got a salvage yard in Souix Falls. We can rest up and get her fixed there."

"He won't mind?" I asked, a bit skeptical. "We just met the man like, a day ago."

Dean shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Bobby doesn't mind. He's got a soft spot for us, especially when it comes to cars, and keeping us alive. He's not gonna care that you just met- He'll do it."

I glanced at the mustang again, frustration returning at the sight of her. "Alright," I gave in, my voice low. "Get Bobby on the phone."

Dean nodded and pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. As he spoke with Bobby, I took a step back from the car, my mind racing. Bare minimum, I needed two new tires and some sandpaper. I'd really love a paint booth- but I wasn't holding my breath on it.

"Bobby's on his way," Dean interrupted my thoughts. "He'll be here in a few hours to get the 'Stang."

We stood there in silence for a minute before Dean broke it by clearing his throat. "I, uh, got breakfast for everyone. Before... well, before we started fighting."

"Breakfast?" I raised an eyebrow, looking over at him. "You ran away... to get breakfast."

Dean shot me an exasperated look, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "What? A guy gets hungry too, y'know. I figured you all could use a little something."

I rolled my eyes, "Lets get it up to the room before it gets any colder. Wouldn't want your little princess ass to waste away because he didn't eat."

Dean gave me a sly grin, clearly amused by my teasing. "Oh, so now I'm the princess, huh? You sure you're not the one with the royal attitude, Bri?"

I snorted, shaking my head as I turned to walk back to the hotel, one of the two bags from the Impala in my hand. "I'd rather have a royal attitude than a temper tantrum every time things get tough."

He snickered, following behind me with the other bag. "You really know how to keep me humble, don't you?"

I shot him a sideways glance, "Someone has to. Otherwise your ego would be bigger than the Impala."