Written by: gooberlanes13

Edited by: KariGorsuch

I frowned over my shoulder, watching the tail lights of the Mustang disappear in the opposite direction. I shifted in my seat, turning back to face the windshield with a small sleepy glare. I saw a shift in Dean's position in my peripheral, but didn't react to it, staring at the rearview mirror with a heavy chest.

Dean's voice broke through the thick fog in my head. "Eve."

I shifted slightly in my seat, turning to him as he spoke. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles just a little paler than usual.

"What was yesterday about?" he asked, his tone carefully even, though there was an edge of curiosity- maybe concern.

"Which part?" I scoffed lightly, leaning my elbow against the bench seat. I watched his focused eyes flicker around the road ahead, his jaw tightening slightly.

Dean hesitated for a moment before continuing. "The... the thing in the garage. You looked like you were about to keel over."

"Oh," I sighed, the tension in me deflating slightly. A part of me had hoped he was bringing up what happened in the office, but I let it go. "I don't know. I just...I had this gut feeling about us splitting up. Not just me and Bri- everyone."

Dean nodded, his face unreadable but attentive. "Go on."

"It was like this heavy, sinking feeling," I admitted, rubbing my hand absentmindedly over my stomach as the memory of the nausea came back. "Like something really bad is about to happen. I felt it all the way down to my core."

Dean let out a low, thoughtful sigh. His hand left the steering wheel for a moment and landed on my knee. The warmth of it grounded me.

"Look," he said, his voice softer now but firm, "I'm not gonna sit here and tell you nothing's gonna go sideways, 'cause that'd be a load of crap." he glanced at me briefly, his green eyes earnest. "But I will tell you this: I've got you. Whatever happens, we'll handle it."

I looked down at his hand on my knee, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. He gave my knee a comforting squeeze, and for a moment, it was enough to settle the anxious swirl in my chest.

I turned back toward the window, trying to focus on the passing cars. But then I felt it- a shift. His hand, after the squeeze, didn't stay put. It started moving, slow and deliberate, up my thigh.

The warmth shot through me, heating my chest and spreading outward. My eyes drifted down from the passenger window, my heart thudding in my ears as I realized where this was going.

I glanced over at Dean, expecting him to keep his focus firmly on the road. But when I caught the flicker of his gaze toward me, a small, knowing smirk tugging at his lips, I knew he was fully aware of what he was doing.

"Dean," I sighed, my voice low as I fought the heat rising in my chest.

"Eve." He shot back smoothly, that signature lopsided smirk tugging at his lips.

"You don't want to start this," I teased, my eyes flicking down to where his hand rested, just shy of dangerous territory. His fingers tightened slightly on the curve of my thigh, sending a rush of warmth spiraling through me.

"Maybe I do," he replied, his voice low and gravelly as his eyes flicked briefly from the road to me. His smirk widened. "Maybe I'm finally finishing what I started."

"Dean," I giggled, biting back the mix of nerves and amusement bubbling up. "You're driving."

He shrugged, all nonchalance, his grip firm but teasing. "I can multitask." His grin turned wolfish. "Unless you think you can't handle it."

I couldn't help but smile at the challenge, my gaze dropping to his hand resting on my inner thigh. It wasn't close enough to cause chaos, but it was enough to keep my heart racing.

"Oh, you want to play?" I asked, a mischievous edge in my voice. I shifted in my seat deliberately, causing Dean's hand to retreat back to the wheel instinctively. "Alright, big boy- let's see what you've got." I smirked, unbuckling my seatbelt and sliding over into the middle of the seat.

"Eve- what are you-?" Dean started, his voice tinged with both confusion and disbelief. But when I moved closer, his words faltered, replaced by a sharp intake of breath.

"Dean," I whispered, my voice soft and low, almost conspiratorial. Like this moment was just ours, hidden from the rest of the world.

His breathing slowed for a moment, and then I caught it- a small, involuntary quiver in his exhale. His eyes flicked wide with surprise, and I knew I'd caught him off guard, his usual swagger momentarily slipping.

"We've got a long drive ahead of us," I murmured, letting my voice drop low as I leaned in closer. My breath brushed his ear, trailing down the side of his neck. "We've been on the road, what, 45 minutes? And we have... at least seven hours to go."

Dean shifted in his seat, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. His jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything, his focus clearly split.

"You're stuck with me," I whispered again, letting my lips graze his neck, the heat of the moment pulsing between us. I pressed a soft kiss there, lingering just long enough to hear the hitch in his breath. I couldn't resist- sucking gently, then grazing my teeth over the spot. The hum of the Impala seemed to vibrate stronger as I did.

"You said you could multitask..." I teased, my lips brushing the skin as I spoke. "Is this too much for you, big guy?"

Dean blinked rapidly, his jaw tightening as he gripped the steering wheel harder, the muscles in his forearm flexing. His breathing was uneven now, shaking in a way that betrayed the cool confidence he usually wore like armor.

"Dean..." I whispered again, letting my lips ghost over the shell of his ear before giving it a soft nibble. His reaction was instant- his teeth catching his bottom lip in an effort to suppress a groan.

"Uh..." He stammered, his voice cracking slightly as the Impala swerved just a hair to the left. His hands snapped the wheel back into alignment, and I bit back a smile, knowing I was getting to him.

My hand hovered deliberately, teasing as I let it glide from the edge of his jeans up along his torso, my fingers trailing under the soft fabric of his jacket. His breathing hitched as my touch lingered just enough to leave him torn between frustration and desire.

"Eyes on the road," I teased, my voice low and breathy, pulling back just slightly to see his expression.

Dean let out a shaky laugh, though his eyes stayed fixed on the highway ahead. "You're gonna get us killed," he muttered, his voice thick, but there was no hiding the grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Tell me something," I murmured, leaning in closer so my forehead brushed his temple. My fingers drifted down to his arm, massaging the taut muscles of his bicep. My voice dropped even lower, teasing. "Would you take me in the backseat, right here... right now?"

Dean's jaw flexed, his lips parting slightly as he let out a sharp breath. I watched with satisfaction as he licked his lips, only to bite down on the lower one, his eyes narrowing on the road ahead like it was the only thing tethering him to focus.

"Or..." I continued, brushing my lips along the edge of his jaw, my words dripping with playful challenge, "...would you rather we keep playing this game of sexual politics?"

I sealed the question with a slow, deliberate kiss on his neck, feeling the subtle shiver ripple through him. His grip on the wheel tightened, the tension in his shoulders betraying just how much I was getting under his skin.

Dean let out a low, strained laugh, his voice rough. "You really don't like making things easy, do you?" he asked, his tone somewhere between amused and utterly wrecked.

I chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze for a fleeting moment. "Easy's boring," I quipped, my grin mischievous.

Dean shook his head with a lopsided smirk, his voice tinged with exasperation but laced with unmistakable heat. "You're something else, Eve. But if we don't make it to our stop in one piece, you're the one explaining this to Bobby."

I paused for a moment, watching his eyes closely before withdrawing both hands and sliding back into the passenger seat with a triumphant grin. I buckled my seatbelt, still reveling in the way he squirmed, adjusting himself uncomfortably in the driver's seat.

"What's wrong, big boy?" I teased, leaning back against the door. "Did someone just beat you at your own game?"

Dean's mouth opened, but no words came out at first. His usual swagger was momentarily derailed, and the way his lips twitched in an attempt to speak was priceless.

"That..." he finally managed, his voice strained as he gripped the wheel tighter, "...that was just mean."

I smirked, tilting my head. "Mean? Or better?" I shot back with a wink.

Dean let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as if trying to pull himself together. "You've got a hell of an ego for someone who almost wrecked my concentration."

"Almost?" I countered, raising an eyebrow as I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees. "Dean, I had you squirming in your seat. Don't kid yourself."

He gave me a lopsided grin, his mischievous gaze locking onto mine. The original heat between us reignited for a brief second, the tension hanging thick in the air.

But I wasn't done yet. "So," I continued, casually shifting my tone as I toyed with him, "if you can't handle this...what makes you think you could've handled me in the office?" I asked bluntly, my grin widening as I saw his expression flicker.

Dean's smirk didn't falter, though there was a glint in his eyes that said he wasn't letting this slide. "In the office?" he repeated, his voice low and teasing. "Sweetheart, if Bobby hadn't walked in, we'd still be cleaning up the mess."

I barked out a laugh, leaning back against the seat. "Oh, please," I shot back, "you're all talk, Winchester."

"God," Dean muttered, his voice low and laced with a mix of exasperation and amusement, "you really know how to mess with a guy's imagination, don't you?"

He shifted in his seat again, his hand briefly gripping the wheel tighter as he adjusted himself, shooting me a side-eye glance that carried equal parts frustration and intrigue.

"No, I just know how to play this game better than you," I shot back, grinning when I caught Dean's eyes flickering with the spark of a challenge. "So, what made you do all that, anyway?"

"The desk thing?" Dean asked, pausing like he was weighing his words. "It was fun, and I wanted to see how much I could mess with you."

"That's a dangerous game to play with me, Winchester," I teased, crossing my arms and leaning back slightly in my seat, watching him through narrowed eyes. "You're playing with fire... and my feelings."

Dean blinked, momentarily stunned. "Your feelings?"

"Yeah," I smirked, eyes still on him. "First Cripple Creek, then Bobby's... You really know how to keep a girl's attention."

"You've had my attention since Day 1, Eve." Dean's voice was blunt, but there was a warmth behind it as he gestured for me to take the wheel so he could shrug off his leather jacket.

"Got you all hot and bothered already?" I teased, catching the amused glint in his eyes as he met my gaze.

Dean chuckled, smirking. "You talk a big game..." He adjusted himself in the seat, allowing me to take the wheel. "...but what do you know about vamps? You're the newbie, after all."

I straightened up, taking control of the Impala's wheel with ease as I recited the details from the books I'd organized. "Vampires usually live in groups—nests. They have a leader, the oldest vamp in the bunch. They're territorial, and they like to keep a low profile unless they've got a big score to settle."

Dean nodded, clearly impressed. "Alright, so you've been paying attention." He grinned, turning his head to look out the window. "This leader... he's just their leader because he's older, or is there more to it?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shot him a look, already knowing the answer. "Nah. He turned the rest."

Dean gave a small nod, clearly impressed. "Makes sense. What about feeding?"

I thought for a moment, recalling the details from the books. "They feed off human blood. But, here's the kicker—they prefer to keep their victims alive. Drain them slowly, like a buffet that never runs out."

Dean gave me a sideways glance, clearly liking the answer. "Sick. I'm guessing that makes 'em a little harder to track?"

I smirked, leaning into my knowledge. "Exactly. They're all about keeping a low profile. And if they're smart, they rotate their feeding schedule, never using the same person twice."

"Any other fun facts you've come across?" Dean asked, his eyes briefly flickering over to me with a smirk.

"They typically mate for life, with one," I replied, gesturing with a casual shrug.

Dean's grin widened, clearly impressed. "You've really done your homework, huh? Alright, so the final question," Dean started, his voice low and teasing, "How do you—"

"—Kill them?" I cut in, not missing a beat. "Decapitation."

Dean shifted in his seat, clearly trying to hide his reaction. I smirked, leaning back.

"Does that turn you on too?" I teased, my voice low and playful.

He shrugged nonchalantly, but I could see the edge of a grin tugging at his lips. "A girl who knows her stuff, can do all that..." His eyes flickered from his lap, to the road, and then back to me with a sly grin. "...and look as good as you do? Hell yeah."

I raised an eyebrow, my smirk widening. "This is going to be a long drive."

Dean let out a small chuckle, the sound warm and familiar. "You're telling me."

BEST WESTERN OUTLAW INN

"Lance Creek, Wyoming." Dean's voice broke the silence as he eased the Impala into a parking spot. "We've got about an hour and a half before we hit Casper, but figured we could grab some rest before we dive into this mess."

I nodded, my own exhaustion catching up with me as we both slid out of the car in sync. We grabbed our duffle bags from the trunk and made our way toward the check-in office. The door creaked obnoxiously as we pushed it open, and I was momentarily distracted by a rack of sunglasses by the counter. Meanwhile, Dean moved toward the desk and pressed the bell with a casual tap.

"Good evening, sir, two?" The elderly man appeared from the back room, his voice raspy.

Before I could respond, Dean jumped in. "One bed, the usual single," he said smoothly, flashing the older gentleman a grin that practically screamed "charm."

The man looked between Dean and me, his eyes narrowing for a split second as he took in our dynamic. Dean, not missing a beat, pulled me close, his arm sliding around my waist and pulling me against him, then planted a quick kiss on my cheek. The warmth of the gesture surprised me, and my cheeks burned as I tried not to react too obviously.

"We had a bit of a fight in the car," Dean continued with a wink. "She's fine with one bed."

I gritted my teeth, my patience fraying a little, but nodded in agreement. Just as Dean's hand slid from my hip to settle lower, I moved forward, putting some space between us and putting a stop to his unspoken intentions.

Dean didn't miss the shift in energy, but only raised an eyebrow at my subtle defense, his smirk still lingering as he waited for the clerk to process the reservation.

"Sir," I chimed in, trying to keep my voice casual as the old man glanced up from the computer to address me. "Have you heard about those disappearances in Casper?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his voice trembling with age. "Six people in four days... such a shame."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a newspaper from Casper we could borrow?"

The old man looked between me and Dean before disappearing behind the counter. A moment later, he returned with a folded newspaper and handed it to me with a reluctant sigh.

"Thank you," Dean smiled, his charm in full gear as he slid his credit card across the counter. "Charge it to that one."

I gave a small nod, accepting the paper and moving a few paces away from the counter, my eyes already scanning the headlines. The articles seemed to confirm what we'd heard, though there was something in the back of my mind that still didn't sit right. I bit my lower lip in concentration.

"Dear, are you ready?" Dean asked in a voice so exaggerated I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him. I shot a quick wave to the old man before slipping out of the office.

"Room 426..." Dean muttered as he followed me out, locking the Impala behind him.

"...Did you really have to ask for a single bed?" I asked, eyebrows raised as we walked toward the row of rooms.

"How else am I going to sleep?" Dean scoffed, clearly pleased with himself. I rolled my eyes again as we reached the door.

Dean fumbled with the key for a moment, and I crossed my arms, eyes scanning the parking lot. It was quieter now, the distant hum of highway traffic the only thing breaking the silence.

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, finally getting the door open and glancing back at me.

I looked at him for a beat, the lingering tension from earlier still hanging in the air between us. "Yeah, just... this doesn't feel right. Something about this whole thing."

Dean studied me for a moment, his expression softening. "We'll figure it out," he said quietly, before stepping into the room. I followed him, but my mind was already racing ahead to whatever was waiting for us in Casper.

"Yeah..." I sighed, squinting through the street lights and the spray from passing cars. "...just feel like we're being watched."

Dean's face tightened for a moment, and he pushed the door open, scanning the parking lot along with me. Nothing stood out, but that eerie feeling still hung in the air. As we entered the room, Dean closed the door behind us, patting the wall to turn on the light.

The room lit up, revealing a pull-out couch, a Queen-sized bed, and a small area with a counter and sink, attached to a bathroom with just a toilet and a tub/shower combo. I dropped my duffle bag on the floor and glanced at the takeout menus, already flipping through them.

"Chinese, Japanese, or Italian?" I asked, my eyes flicking over to the bed where Dean was sprawled, his hands behind his head as he gave me that trademark cocky grin.

"Dealer's choice," he shrugged, glancing up at me like it was no big deal.

Rolling my eyes, I tossed him the Italian menu and moved toward the counter. As I adjusted my messy bun, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, realizing how much I needed a minute to get it together.

I heard Dean mumbling into the phone, ordering the food. "How much?" I asked when I heard him hang up.

"What?" He replied, flashing a grin my way.

"How much do I owe you?" I repeated, digging through my duffle bag for my wallet.

"Just a smile," Dean shot back, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. My stomach flipped at the memory of our first interaction, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"How are you holding up, by the way?" he asked, suddenly shifting his focus, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"With...?" I raised an eyebrow, a little confused.

"Being away from Brianna," he clarified, still watching me closely.

"I'm alright," I dismissed, keeping my eyes down. "I'm telling you—something's off..."

Dean cocked an eyebrow, getting to his feet and moving toward me with that same unreadable smirk. "Do you need a hug?"

I pointed a finger at him, shifting into a defensive stance. "Don't..." I warned, trying to keep a straight face but already failing. "...Dean, I'm warning you."

He chuckled, raising his fists in a mock challenge.

"Come on," he said, that cocky grin of his back in full force. "You need to know this anyway."

Before he could finish, I charged him, slamming him back onto the bed. We both erupted in laughter as I found myself straddling him, his hands instinctively going to my hips, holding me in place.

I pulled myself up from face-planting into the bed, and for a second, our eyes locked. The heat between us flared up again, and as his hands tightened around my hips, the sensation surged through me. I bit my lip, and Dean's eyes flickered with amusement.

"What... uh... were you about to say?" I asked, my voice a little breathless as his hands slowly slid up my hips, trailing down around my thighs in that signature slow, seductive way.

Dean blinked for a moment, then leaned up onto his elbows, his hands falling away from my hips. His gaze was intense as he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. There was something in his eyes, but I couldn't focus on it, the urge to lean down and kiss him almost overwhelming. But Bri's words echoed in my head:

"... don't fall too fast."

I shifted, slipping my leg over his, sitting upright and breaking the moment. Dean sat up, his expression shifting to one of concern as I frowned down at the carpet.

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again.

"When fighting..." he cleared his throat, rising off the bed and standing in front of me, his voice serious now. "...you've got to practice. A lot. Quick strikes, using whatever's around you. Have you ever fought before?"

I shrugged, rising to meet his gaze, though there was a hint of hesitation in my voice. "In the Army," I said, "but I didn't like it."

Dean's eyes sharpened, his jaw tightening with a look I'd come to know well- focused, no-nonesense, and determined. "You're gonna have to like it now," he said firmly, his firsts raised, motioning for me to come at him. "Let's go."

Which I did as I was told, hesitantly.

I tightened my fists as Dean eyed me like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"First rule of fighting," Dean started, his voice calm but firm. "Stay on your feet. If you're not balanced, you're done before the fight even starts."

I shifted my stance awkwardly, my feet planted wide apart. "Like this?" I asked as he eyed my legs as he pushed the side table out of our way and repositioned himself.

He sighed and stepped closer, nudging my left foot back with his boot. "No. One foot slightly in front of the other. Bend your knees, stay light. You're not a tree—stop trying to root yourself to the ground."

I adjusted, my brows furrowed. "Better?"

"Better," he said, crossing his arms. "Now hands up. Protect your face at all times."

I raised my fists, I felt my knuckles trembling slightly, which we both acknowledged.

"Good. Now, I'm going to throw a punch, slow enough that even you can dodge it. Move your head- not your feet."

I nodded, quiet and focusedn trying to steady my nerves.

Before I could fully prepare, Dean's fist moved in a slow arc toward my face.

I flinched, jerking my whole body to the side.

"Wrong," Dean barked, stepping back with a shake of his head. "You're overcommitting. If you lose your balance, and you're done. Just tilt your head- keep your body steady. Again."

Straightening up, I tightened my jaw. "Alright. Again."

This time, when Dean threw the slow punch, I tilted my head just enough for his fist to glide past my cheek.

"There it is," he said with a satisfied grin. "Now you're getting it."

I grinned back, but before I could savor the small victory, his fist shot out in a quick jab to my shoulder.

"Ow!" I yelped, stumbling back as I rubbed my arm. "What the hell, Dean?"

"Never get comfortable," Dean said, his grin sharp and unapologetic. "A real fight won't wait for you to start patting yourself on the back."

I glared at him, fists already back up. "Alright,Winchester. Let's go. Hit me with your best shot."

"Atta girl," Dean chuckled, stepping forward, his heyes gleaming with challenge. "Let's see what you've got."

This time, when he stepped in, I shifted to the side, slid my leg behind his and gave just enough of a nudge to watch him stumble forward. Dean caught himself against the wall at the last second, muttering under his breath.

"Jesus, Eve..." Dean turned back, shaking his head but grinning like a Cheshire cat. "For someone who says she doesn't like fighting, you're picking this up way too fast."

"I tend to," I replied with a smirk, stepping closer and tilting my head up at him. "When I'm hands on." I winked, brushing a finger across his jaw as I passed.

Dean chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Careful, sweetheart. That kinda confidence'll get you in trouble."

Before I could respond, his arms swept around my waist, lifting me off my feet and causing us both to crash back onto the bed in a tangle of laughter. I twisted to wrestle away, but his grip was firm, warm, and grounding.

Somehow, the playful energy shifted as our eyes locked again- deeper, hotter than it had been in the office or the Impala. The air felt charged, heavy, but not in a way that pressed down. If anything, it felt like it was pulling us closer.

Lying there, his arms wrapped securely around me, our gazes danced between humor and something that burned brighter. It wasn't just tension, it was understanding, attraction, and maybe a little bit of danger too.

"Eve," Dean murmbered, his voice lower, softer. His eyes flicked between mine and my lips. "How long are we going to fight this?"

My breath caught, my chest tightening under the weight of his words. I bit my lip, torn between giving in to the pull between us, and the wall I knew I needed to keep up. Finally, I broke eye contact, looking down and swallowing hard.

"Dean..." I started, my voice barely above a whisper. "You pulled away in Cripple Creek."

He opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off.

"And at Bobby's," I continued, frowning. "You said it yourself. You did it because it was fun."

Dean's brows furrowed as I pushed him away gently, sliding off the bed and moving toward my duffle. I rummaged through it for something to distract myself, anything to avoid his piercing gaze. "How am I supposed to know this isn't just fun for you? That I'm not just... part of the game you play with all the other girls?"

"Eve, it's not like that," Dean started, standing and moving toward me. His tone was firm, but I could hear the undercurrent of frustration.

I turned, meeting his eyes with a glare. "How am I supposed to know that? You've got a reputation, Dean. Hell, you practically wear it like a badge of honor."

Dean's face tightened, his jaw clenching. "My reputation? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I know your kind!" I shot back, my voice rising. "A player. A manwhore. You know how to flirt, how to pull people in, but what about when it's real?" My voice cracked slightly, betraying my emotions. "I'm not easy, Dean. I'm not going to just fall into this with you without knowing it's something more."

Dean's expression softened, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked at me. "Eve..." he started, his tone quieter now, almost pleasing. "You're different."

I shook my head, letting out a bitter laugh. "You say that, but you can't even tell me why you pulled away before, and now you're just... what? Hoping I'll forget all of that because you're here now?" My voice was strained, a mix of anger and heartbreak.

Dean stepped closer, his hands reaching out as if to take mine, but I stepped back, shaking my head. "You can't even say anything, can you?"

His silence was deafening, and with every second that passed, the ache in my chest grew heavier. My gaze dropped to the floor, disappointment washing over me. "Okay," I said quietly, my voice flat as I brushed past him.

"Eve..." he said softly, his hand catching mine. The way he said my name almost broke me, but I didn't let myself look back.

"Don't." I whispered, pulling my hand free. I walked into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.

Leaning against the door, I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down on me. My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest as the tears I'd been holding back finally fell. Silent sobs wracked my body as the last week caught up to me- everything supernatural, emotion, and physical crushing down all at once.

The hum of the shower fan filled the room as I tried to pull myself together. Stripping off my clothes, I changed into a tank top and shorts, glancing down at the heap of clothes I left on the floor. The thought hit me like a punch to the gut: I'm just another pile of clothes to him.

The tears started again, but before they could take over, I heard Dean's voice muffled through the door. I turned off the fan and stepped back into the room to see him on the phone. Without a word, he handed me a styrofoam box of food and mouthed, "Sam."

I nodded, taking the box but setting it aside without opening it. I sat on the bed, pulling out my laptop and focusing on the news from Casper, Wyoming. Anything to distract myself.

Dean's voice hummed in the background, but I barely heard him. When he finally hung up, he dropped onto the bed beside me, eating his food with that easy energy that grated on my nerves right now.

"Well, Brad's dead," Dean announced, breaking the silence. His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was an edge to it.

I glanced at him, my voice monotone. "Where does that leave us?"

"They're headed back tomorrow to take care of the body," he said with a sigh. "After that, they're going to go through his house. There's not much else they can do."

I nodded, my attention back on the screen.

Dean shifted closer, his voice softening. "Eve... about earlier-"

"Don't," I cut him off, holding up a hand. My tone was sharp, but I couldn't handle another conversation right now. "Jessica Martin, William Shattener, Maria Tools, Erik Williams, Jessie Morpher and..." I trailed off, scrolling through the articles. "...Carrie Marks."

"Marks?" Dean repeated, his attention sharpening.

"No relation, as far as I know," I said, not meeting his eyes. I pushed the styrofoam box across the bed toward him. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Eve -" he started,but the snap of my laptop closing cut him off.

"- I need a fucking drink." I muttered, pulling my jeans on over my pajama shorts and heading for the mini fridge.

"Eve, we need to talk about this." Dean's voice cut through the tense silence as I grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge. I tossed it to him, popping the top off my own against the edge of the TV stand. Half the bottle was bone before I lowered it from my lips, the burn in my throat barely touching the fire in my chest.

"Do we, though?" I asked, crossing my arms as Dean caught the bottle with practiced ease, his eyebrows shooting up at my stance.

"Really?" He growled, setting his food and standing. "How about the fact that you think you know me? That you're assuming I'm just some whore who sleeps with women for the hell of it-"

"Don't you?" I snapped, cutting him off. The silence that followed spoke louder than any argument could. I smirked bitterly. "That's what I thought." I moved to walk past him, but his voice stopped me cold.

"You don't know me." His tone was firm, low. "You're assuming you know how I feel about you-"

"-I'd know more if you'd just tell me!" I turned back to him, my voice cracking as my frustration boiled over. "If you'd show me instead of pulling me in, turning me on, then leaving me hanging like it's some goddamn game-"

"Turning you on and leaving you hanging?!" Dean's voice rose, uncharacteristically loud, his frustration matching mine. His words made me freeze. "What happened in the Impala-"

"-What about Cripple Creek?" I cut in sharply, stepping closer to him now, my jaw tight. "You pulled away."

Dean's expression darkened, but his voice softened. "Eve, you were assaulted. I wasn't about to take advantage-"

"- You know what calmed me down that night?" my voice wavered, but I held his gaze. The knot in my throat tightened as tears threatened to spill. I slammed the beer bottle onto the TV stand, the sound reverberating through the room. "You."

"Me?" Dean echoed, his voice quieter now, confusion flickering across his face.

"You remember what I said that night? About the stars?" I mocked myself bitterly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "How we mimic them with our city lights, but we're all too busy to look up?" I shook my head, almost embarrassed now to bring it up.

Dean nodded slowly, his gaze steady. "Yeah... I remember."

"It was you, Dean," I said, my voice trembling as I grabbed my jacket off the chair. "You listened. You looked up at the stars with me. That moment—it brought me peace. You brought me peace." I shoved past him, reaching for the door.

"Where are you going?" he called after me, his voice sharp with concern.

I paused, hand on the doorknob. My voice was clear, but it wavered with the weight of my emotions. "That's how I feel about you, Dean. That's what you do for me. But all I've gotten from you are flirty comments, attempts to turn me on, and kisses on the cheek. If you want me—if you really want me—earn me. Prove to me I'm not just another one-night stand."

I didn't wait for a response. I slammed the door behind me, the sound echoing through the quiet parking lot. My chest felt heavy, my hands trembling as I shoved them into my jacket pockets. The cold evening air stung my cheeks, but I welcomed the distraction.

The bar was dimly lit, music playing softly from an old jukebox in the corner. I sat on a worn stool, drink after drink, my thoughts spinning in circles. Each sip only seemed to deepen my frustration. I half-expected Dean to come after me, to try and fix this. But he didn't.

By the time I stumbled out of the bar, the pale blue of morning had crept over the horizon. I stared down at my boots as I made my way back to the room, dreading the confrontation I knew I couldn't avoid.

When I reached the room, the door opened before I could touch the handle. A woman stepped out, her disheveled appearance making my stomach drop. She adjusted her shirt and smoothed her messy hair as if I didn't exist, walking past me without a glance.

I stood frozen, the realization hitting me like a blow to the chest. My breaths quickened as I shoved the door open, my heart pounding.

Dean was still in bed, wrapped in a tangle of sheets. He blinked groggily at me as the door slammed shut behind me. His eyes widened as he registered my expression.

"Eve—" he started, his voice rough from sleep.

"Don't," I snapped, my voice breaking as I glared at him. My fists clenched at my sides, trembling with a mix of anger, hurt, and betrayal. "Just...don't."

Dean sat up, the sheet slipping slightly, revealing more than I wanted to see. "Eve, it's not—"

"I don't want to hear it." My voice was cold, but tears threatened to betray me. "I told you to prove to me that I wasn't just another girl. And this—" I gestured to the disheveled bed and the lingering smell of cheap perfume. "This proves everything I was afraid of."

"Eve, let me explain—" Dean started, his voice desperate now.

I shook my head, my throat tightening as I turned away. "Save it, Dean. I don't need an explanation."

"Eve... where did you go?" Dean grumbled, his voice groggy as he rubbed his face. He moved to the edge of the bed, the sheet slipping slightly, doing little to hide the remnants of his morning state. I rolled my eyes and shoved past him, snatching my duffle bag from the corner as I headed into the bathroom.

I changed quickly, pulling on black skinny jeans and a dark purple long-sleeve shirt, the knot in my chest tightening with every second I stayed in that room. When I stepped out, Dean was still sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

"Eve..." he started again, his voice softer this time, almost pleading.

"Don't." I cut him off sharply, dropping onto the floor to lace up my boots. My fingers moved with precise anger, tightening each knot as if I could channel all my rage into the action. "You've shown me plenty."

"Eve, come on—" Dean stood, taking a hesitant step toward me. His voice carried that edge of desperation I'd heard before, but this time it fell on deaf ears.

My glare snapped up to meet his eyes, silencing him immediately. "Listen, Dean." I rose to my feet, gripping my duffle tightly in one hand. "Message. Received." My voice was icy, every word sharp enough to cut.

Before he could say anything else, I pulled one of his shirts from my bag and slammed it into his chest with more force than necessary. "Now get dressed. We've got a job to do."

The room fell into silence as I adjusted the strap of my duffle and headed for the door, not sparing him another glance. My chest burned with the weight of unsaid words, but I kept my expression cold, my movements deliberate.

Dean stood frozen, clutching the shirt in his hands, his lips parting as if to speak—but I was already halfway out the door.