Chapter 8 : Just Peachy

by

     "There you are," Dean growled from the doorway. "Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to call you for an hour now?"

     I glanced down at my cellphone on the bar top and picked it up, only to realize that it had died at some point through the night.

     "Sorry," I muttered, glancing around. "Why don't you go back to the motel and clean up. I'm kind of in the middle of something."

     "What?" He mocked. "Are you serious?"

     "We can talk about it later. Kay? It's three o'clock in the morning. Just go back and get some sleep." I groaned and glanced down at my watch. He was going to be back any moment, and Dean wouldn't stop staring at me like I had just keyed the impala. His perfectly aligned jaw was tense and covered in dirt. He was sweaty and beat but still managed to look absolutely stunning in the dim bar light.

     "I nearly just got my ass handed to me by a fricken-possessed scarecrow, and you want to talk about this later?"

     "Well, you're alive. So I'm assuming everything went well. You saved the day? Yeah - okay, good." I didn't give him time to respond. I heard the bathroom door shut from around the corner and took it upon myself to slowly scoot Dean towards the front door.

     He pulled out of my grip and stared down at me.

     "Dean, you need to leave." I persisted as heavy boot steps filled the bar. I glanced over at the man, who didn't give us a second look, and sighed.

     Dean glanced between the man who stopped at the mirrored wall to check his hair and me. It was parted to the side pushed back in a glossy quiff. Dean chuckled angrily as the man stroked his clean-shaven jaw, gazing at himself as if he was admiring a beautiful piece of artwork.

     "You're in the middle of something, huh?" Dean laughed. He ran his fingers over his tired face and shook his head at me. "Something is killing people, and you're trying to get laid?"

     "You sidelined me. So, yeah. I'm trying to get laid. Is that okay, or is it only okay for guys to do it?"

     Dean stared at me slack-jawed, and it took everything in me to keep myself from leaning forward and slapping the bottom of his chin. He cocked his head at me as he tried to wrack his brain for an answer, but I knew exactly what he was thinking the moment I saw the tiny bit of disgust flicker through his eyes.

     "Dean, save your double standard bullshit for someone who cares. I'm a grown-ass woman. I can do whatever and I want to."

     "I wasn't -"

     I nodded. "Yeah, you were. So if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have some fun."

     I turned to walk away, but he stepped forward. "With him? Are you serious?" I glared back at Dean and then back to the man running a fine-tooth comb through his hair. "He looks like a walking STD."

     I couldn't help but laugh.

     "Thank you for your observation Dean, it's greatly appreciated. But, if you would please go now." I placed my hands on his shoulders and tried to nudge him through the door, but he grabbed hold of my wrist and shook his head. "What the hell is your problem?"

     "I can't let you do that," he muttered as he pulled my hands down.

     It was my turn to stare slack-jawed. "Excuse me?"

     "You'll regret it in the morning," he muttered. I sucked in a sharp breath and shook my head at him. There was nothing I hated more, aside from monsters and demons than someone who thought they knew everything about me. "You can do better than that."

     I pulled out of his grip and shook my head. "I don't have regrets, Dean, and I'm not exactly batting a thousand. Options are little limited when you murder shit for a living."

     "But for him?"

     "Well, I'm certainly not going to fuck the bartender, and I don't see any other volunteers in here, do you?"

     He cocked his head to the side, a questionable grin on his face.

     "Jesus Christ," I groaned. "If you're picturing me naked right now, I'm gonna stab you in the eyeball."

     His lips moved, but no words came out as he tried to deny it. He stuttered for a moment but eventually just ended up shrugging with a deep sigh.

     He stared at me with this strange look in his eye, and for a second, I found myself wondering what it would be like to wake up next to a beautiful face that I actually knew. It was almost pleasant, unlike the pins and needles that shuttered through my body when nameless strangers slipped out of my room in the middle of the night.

     I felt a wave of uncertainty suddenly come over me. My head swirled, and the pain I had been trying so hard to push away began pulsing behind my eyes again, and I pinched the bridge of my nose.

     "Andi?" Dean's voice grew concerned.

     "Hmm," I managed to mutter.

     His hand touched my shoulder, and my eyes fluttered open. "You okay?"

     "I'd say yes, but you're still here," I said as I pulled away from him. I gave up and grabbed my leather jacket from the seat behind me, and shoved past Dean. No amount of fun would make this headache go away, and I found myself wandering back across the street toward the motel.

     I was thankful that Dean hadn't followed, but the silence was short-lived as he sauntered through the door just minutes later, a six-pack in each hand. He set it down on the counter in front of me, and I downed the pills in my hand before picking a cold bottle and snapping the lid off with the lighter I kept in my pocket.

     "What's this for?"

     He kept his head low, chuckling to himself. "The nights still young, I just saved a happy couple from their untimely death. I wanna celebrate, so why don't we celebrate?"