Topic: In Broad Daylight (AU)

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 19:39 EST
Wichita, KS...

"Will you come out of there already? It's not like you're gonna be posing for Playgirl." Leaning against the Impala in her borrowed scrubs and tennis shoes, jacket containing tools and weapons folded over her arms, Nim squinted in the sunshine, glancing toward the public restroom into which her partner had disappeared in order to change into his newly acquired three-piece. An ID badge hung from her pocket, declaring her to be a registered nurse named Jamie Hetfield working for WesleyCare. Hopefully no one was going to challenge her in the two medical centers she was headed for.

"If I was posing for Playgirl, I'd be naked!" he reminded her, straightening his tie for the umpteenth time as he stepped out of the john and back into the daylight. He felt ridiculous in a suit and tie, but instinctively, knew he looked good. Too good. Model good. Embarrassingly good. He cleared his throat and fiddled with the tie at his throat, which was just slightly crooked. "This thing feel like it's choking me. Why can't Feebs dress in jeans and t-shirts like normal people?"

Oh yeah. That was a gorgeous view, right there, sending her mind spinning off into joyful fantasies of removing the brand new suit piece by piece. Nim blinked, clearing her throat as she realized he'd spoken to her, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze with a smile that didn't even try to hide the effect Dean in a suit was having on her. "Because they feel the need to prove they're not normal?" she suggested with a warm grin, setting her jacket on the Impala's roof to lean up and gently adjust his tie for him. "You should come with a health warning dressed like that."

He looked her over, still feeling a little silly in the suit, even though he'd worn one a hundred times before when playing cop with Sam. Maybe it was the way she was looking at him that was making him uncomfortable, like he was a tasty snack good enough to eat. "Ahem..." He cleared his throat again, lifting his chin so she could adjust his tie. "You look pretty cute in your Nurse Barbie uniform. It's like Hunter Halloween, both of us dressed like normals." He chuffed at her remark as she straightened tie. "What warning would that be? Handle with care?"

"Oh yeah," Nim chuckled softly, smoothing his lapels. "'Cos cute's a real good word to be using on a girl packin' a Glock." She patted his cheek teasingly, turning to fetch up her jacket into her arms again. "Warning - may cause sensory overload in susceptible females." One eyelid flicked him a cheeky wink as she grinned. "Okay, so ....I'm heading to the main center first. Where're we meeting up and when?"

He smiled in amusement as she smoothed his lapels and patted his cheek. Girl after his own heart, and she was winning. "I'll pick you up there in..." Dean glanced at the watch he was wearing on his wrist - one that Bobby said had once belonged to him, since the one he'd been wearing when he arrived in the alley was busted. "Two hours. Think that's enough time or wanna make it three?"

"Two'll do me," she nodded, chewing on her lower lip. "I don't really wanna get caught poking around sensitive files in confidential medical records if I can help it." Nor did she want to run the risk of walking straight into whatever it was they were after, but she didn't want to mention that to Dean. The sooner they got as much information as possible, the sooner they could go on the offensive.

"I should have what I want in about an hour," he told her with almost cocky self-confidence. And why not' The FBI gig had never failed to work before. Okay, maybe once or twice, but he had no reason to think it might not work again. And if they wanted proof of his identity, he'd just refer them to Bobby or Brian. "Okay, two hours from now. Be there, or be square," he quipped, with a smile he hoped didn't betray the tight coil of nerves in the pit of his stomach.

"Try not to get carried away, pookie." She rose onto her toes to touch a kiss to his cheek, a silent good luck and be careful passing from her to him before she stepped away, shrugging into her jacket. One hand checked for change for the bus before she turned to make her way along the sidewalk and into the roving mass of people going about their daily business.

He smiled at her teasing warning, but felt his heart sink as he watched her step away from him, resisting the urge to reach out and snatch her wrist, pull her back to the safety of his arms. Come with me. We'll just run away, leave all this behind. Hell with it. Who cares anyway' It will go on and on with us or without us. Come with me....Dean pushed the thoughts from his head, even as he blinked the sting from his eyes. Not now. Don't think about losing her again now. Focus. He watched grimly as she disappeared into the sea of people going about their daily business as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing could ever be wrong. "Be careful, Jo," he whispered to no one. No, Nim, he corrected himself. He waited for half a minute more before climbing back into the driver's seat - the one place he felt most comfortable, most in control of his fate - and drove off in the direction of the local police station to dig for clues.

Two hours later turned out to be just far enough after a shift change at the main medical center for the sidewalk to be filled with uniformed bodies, chatting and laughing with one another, freed from the penury of working on a beautifully sunny day. The only problem, as far as a hunter might be able to see, was the lack of one particular uniformed body making her way out of the hospital. Nim was nowhere to be seen.

Dean was right on time, as promised, his tie loosened, discarded into the back seat as soon as he had finished playing his role with the local boys in blue. It had taken very little convincing to get what he wanted. The flash of a fake badge and a little fast talking and they were more than happy to spew everything they knew, handing over the file and letting him take his time looking things over. What he'd learned was disturbing at best, confusing at worst and he was anxious to share it with Nimue. He had the radio on, but turned low on some soft rock station that was starting to grate on his nerves. Air Supply, it sounded like. I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you. I know you were right, believing for so long. He clenched his jaw and turned it off with a loud click, feeling anxious and impatient. Where the hell was she"

Where was she" Pressed into a locker in the male staff changing room, trying as hard as she could not to breathe loudly. She'd been doing so well, too; it had taken her less than an hour to locate the files they needed, little more than ten minutes to photocopy them. But then she'd just had to give into the urge to investigate the baby unit, didn't she" The police stationed in the hospital had barely batted an eyelid when she'd flashed her faked ID, even the nurses hadn't challenged her. But one doctor in full theater scrubs, an obstetrician with sharp, watchful eyes ....he'd come into the unit while she was checking out a hunch, walking close enough behind her that she smelled something that made her go cold. Blood ....and straw. She'd left the unit as nonchalantly as she could, but he'd followed her. And now she was pretty certain he was prowling the rows of lockers, looking for the nurse who shouldn't have been in the unit at all. Dean is gonna kill me.

Dean tapped at the watch on his wrist. Maybe it was running fast. Maybe she'd lost track of time. Maybe maybe maybe. There were a thousand or more maybes screwing with his head. And then there were the what ifs. What if she got caught' What if she'd been arrested" What if she'd run into the monster....or whatever it was that seemed to have an insatiable appetite for newborns. Five minutes turned to ten, but to Dean it felt more like hours. "Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, losing his patience. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn't sure if he was just worrying too much or if it was his spidey sense again. He pulled his phone out and scrolled through the names til he got to hers and hit the little red call button. "Come on, answer. Tell me you're chatting with Doctor Sexy or something and lost track of time."

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 19:41 EST
She could hear movement, the sound distorted out of focus and accurate range by her cramped, metallic hiding place. But there was definite movement, and it was not the steady, blissfully ignorant footstep of a normal going about their business. It was slow, deliberately quiet, and far too close for her liking. She peered through the tiny slats in the locker door, dark eyes widening as she realized that the doctor who was probably their monster was standing right there, his back to her. And her phone rang, releasing its cheerful little tune in the confines of the locker as though everything was right with the world. To her shock, she saw something move underneath the plastic theater-cap covering the back of the doctor's head, something that did not look at all happy to hear that tinny tune. Sh*t.

Dean waited while the phone rang and rang and rang some more. Had she answered, he would have been annoyed, but at least he would have known she was all right. No answer was unsettling. In his mind, it could only mean one thing - for whatever reason, she was unable to answer, and that worried him. Muttering another choice expletive, Dean got out of the car, slamming the door closed behind him. No one was going to question an FBI agent investigating the case of missing babies, so he wasn't too worried about his cover. He stormed toward the hospital building, a stoically serious expression on his face which announced to everyone who looked his way, "Don't f*ck with me."

In the men's changing room, things had gone from bad to terrible in the time it took to get from 'la' to 'Elmo's World'. Nim didn't give herself time to think, didn't want to consider just what it was she thought she'd seen hidden on the back of the man's head. She kicked the door of the locker she was hiding in, relieved when the impact at least knocked him off balance. As he stumbled, she slipped out of the locker, reaching to draw her pistol from inside her jacket. A hand caught her wrist, clutching hard enough to bruise, and Nim found herself propelled at speed into the nearest wall.

Dean didn't stop at the Information Desk, even when asked. He simply flashed a badge and continued on his merry way, the look on his face warning anyone and everyone to get the hell out of his way. Crowds parted like the Red Sea as he made his way to the elevator, taking only a moment to glance at the board to see what floor held the birthing wing. Third. He punched the button on the elevator, but after a moment lost his patience and with another muttered, "F*ck it," decided to take the stairs. He took the stairs two at a time, a growing feeling of danger twisting his stomach in knots, somehow instinctively knowing something was wrong. He pushed past an orderly trying to sneak a smoke, on up the winding staircase until he broke through the doors on the third floor, slightly winded.

Adrenalin was a wonderful thing when it took you at the right time. Despite the fresh cut on her forehead and the new bruises along her arm and side that were going to be spectacular when they came up, Nim acted on instinct, needing it more than ever as purple lights flashed before her eyes, blinding her to what she was facing. Her hand found Bill Harvelle's iron knife, drawing it from its sheath with a silken whisper to stab it into the hand clutching her wrist. The creature - because it was definitely a creature - hissed in a strange double voice and snatched back from her. She heard footsteps moving away, feeling herself slump and slide down the wall at her back, fighting the urge to pass out.

He arrived only just in time to see the thing - whatever it was - shambling away down the hall and he had to make a choice, either chase it down and catch it or kill it or go after Nimue. He couldn't do both, and while his head said to go for the chase, his heart won out. He pulled his gun from his jacket and took a shot at the retreating creature, but whether he hit his target or not, it just kept going, the sound of the shot echoing in the hallway and setting off a panic. If they stuck around too long, there would be questions, but he wasn't planning on being there to answer them. He found her slumped in the hallway, on the verge of passing out. "Nim!" he called, as he squatted down beside her, quickly looking her over, assessing her wounds. "Son of a bitch. Talk to me. Are you okay?" His voice sounded worried, fearful, on the verge of panic.

The sound of a gunshot roused her from the encroaching blackness in her mind, hands that felt only vaguely attached to her reaching out to grip Dean's sleeves. "Did you see it?" she heard herself slur, blinking blood out of one eye as her hand rose to wipe the trickle from the split at her hairline off her skin. "Dean, it ....two faces. It had a face on the back of its head!" As her vision cleared, she found him crouched beside her, realizing belatedly that she was in for one hell of a lecture. Another thought occurred to her. "My knife - I stabbed it."

"Yeah, I saw it. Think I grazed it. I dunno." He looked her over quickly, gauging her wounds. It didn't look like anything life threatening, but she was going to have one hell of a headache. Dean tossed a quick glance around the hallway, spying her father's blade lying discarded on the floor, tainted with the thing's blood. There was no time to think, only to act. He scooted over to retrieve it, handing it back to her before scooping her up in his arms. "We gotta get outta here. Hang on."

She didn't even think to argue, knowing that her collision with the wall would keep her unsteady for at least a half hour or more, and they needed speed right now. Security would already be converging on this place, and surveillance tapes would only reveal a nurse and suited man attacking a doctor. Her arm wrapped over Dean's shoulders, other hand taking the knife to stow it back in its sheath. "Turn left, second left, first door on the right," she mumbled indistinctly through the throb beginning in her head. "Back way."

Fed or not, there would be too many questions and questions took too much time. Luckily for them, they just missed security by seconds, following her directions and rounding the corner, just as security was coming off the elevator. He found the back stairwell and started down them, quickly but carefully, trying not to jostle her too much as they made their escape. "What the hell were you thinking" Why didn't you call me?" he asked as he hurried down the stairs, footfalls and voices echoing through the stairwell. He wasn't angry, only worried. It had been close, too close.

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 19:52 EST
"Didn't have a chance," she admitted, resting her head against his shoulder with a low groan. He'd been right, this headache was shaping up to be the mother of them all. But hell, at least she was feeling pain. Better than being dead, right' "Was checking the baby unit, and it found me. Followed me into the locker room. I was hiding when you called." Not that she was going to blame him for her fresh injuries - if she'd been quicker on her feet, or better yet, patient enough to wait for him, she wouldn't have been in that situation to start with.

He carried her down the stairs as fast as he could, hoping not to run into anyone on the way who was looking for them or who might ask questions, hoping security would opt for the elevator. He was frowning at the story she was relaying, but there wasn't much time to discuss it now. If they were lucky and didn't get caught, there would be plenty of time to discuss it later. He peered briefly around the corner as he rounded the last set of stairs, spying two aides outside having a smoke. "Damn it," he muttered upon seeing the aides hovering outside the exit, ducking back so they wouldn't be seen.

Wincing as he came to a halt, Nim put forth a monumental effort to pull herself together, forcing down the natural desire to vomit that always seemed to follow a head injury of any kind. "Put me down," she told him quietly, wriggling to try and force Dean to stop being the hero and let her help. "Just wipe the blood off my head and we can walk out."

He frowned at her, having had the same thought, but not really liking it. Still, the only way they were going to get out of there without arousing suspicion was to act like nothing was out of the ordinary. "Are you sure you can walk?" he asked, looking uncertain, still holding her in his arms. The sound of voices was suddenly heard as the two aides stepped back inside, and Dean had to act fast. He set Nim down on her feet, turned her so that her back was toward the aides, arms sliding around her waist and leaned in to kiss her.

"I -" She didn't have the chance to reassure him, dropped to her feet and drawn in close. It was only too easy to join in with this subterfuge, one hand rising to her hair to yank the golden blonde sway free and hide the bloody mark on her temple as her arms wrapped around his. She even managed to raise a teasing smile, playing the part of the oblivious lover as the pair drew closer to them.

The aides snickered a little as they passed by, one mumbling something about "getting a room", but nothing else was said, and they passed by and up the stairs, chattering to themselves. Dean would have enjoyed the kiss more had it not been part of a ploy to make a clean escape, but there was no time for that now. Once the pair was gone, he pulled back from her lips, his arms supporting her around the waist. "Think you can walk?" His gut instinct was to carry her, but he thought they'd raise less suspicion if she could walk on her own. It occurred to Dean that what they should have done - what normal people would do - is to report the attack, but in their case, that was too risky.

She clung to him, eyes still closed for a long moment after the kiss ended as she waited for the dizziness to subside again. It was just a small bump, she was hardly concussed, but it was going to be a little while before she was back up to par again. Swallowing, Nim opened her eyes, looking up at Dean with tense eyes. "I can walk," she promised, her fingers tight in his jacket. "Just don't let go of me." One hand rose to draw her hair over the blood on her temple. "We need to get moving, Dean."

He didn't have anything handy to wipe the blood with, except for the sleeve of his suit jacket, and he wanted to get her somewhere safe so he could take care of her properly. He frowned down at her, concerned. This was exactly what he'd worried would happen - her getting hurt. It was one of the risks inherent in being a hunter; both of them knew that and accepted it, but it didn't make things any easier when it happened. "I'm not going anywhere," he reassured her, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead and sliding an arm around her waist to give her some support. "The car's in the lot. It's too far."

Relieved that he was there, that she wasn't in immediate danger with no back up anymore, Nim leaned heavily into his side for a moment, tucking herself close under the arm that wrapped about her as she held on. "Let's get to it, then," she agreed, raising a warm smile for him as his lips touched her forehead. She could tell he wasn't happy that she'd gotten herself hurt, and he was probably going to scold her about it for the foreseeable future, but at least she'd gotten eyes on their quarry. It was more than most hunters had after only a few hours of investigating.

He let her lean into him, supporting her weight as best he could, moving at an easy pace that wouldn't tire her out or look too suspicious - just another couple heading home for the evening. He would have preferred to carry her, but again, that would have drawn too much attention. The parking lot was empty enough that they ran into no more trouble before reaching the Impala. Dean kept an arm wrapped around her waist, hugging her to him, while he fished the keys from his pocket and unlocked the passenger door. "There's a hotel across the street, unless you'd like to put more distance between us and the hospital."

The walk was harrowing. It felt worse, knowing that whatever it was they were after was probably aware of them, could even be watching them. She didn't care about hospital security or the local police at this point; it was the paranormal that was weighing on her aching mind. She leaned close into him as he rummaged to unlock the car door, resting her forehead against his jaw, genuinely reassured by the close contact. "I think at this point the sooner we're set somewhere defensible, the better."

He pulled the door open and helped her into the seat, leaning over and taking a moment to buckle her in, which seemed kind of silly in retrospect, but he did it anyway. "Did it get a good look at you?" he asked, both brows arching curiously.

"I don't think so." Still playing to any eyes that might be watching them, she held to the smile plastered on her face, touching another kiss to his lips as he leaned over to buckle her in. "Unless it uses scent, I wasn't close enough to it for long enough for it to have gotten a good look at me. I didn't look at its face." She paused, a faint frown showing itself for a moment. "The one on the front of its head, anyway."

One brow arched higher at her comment, hovering over her, not only because she had kissed him again, but because he wanted to make sure she was going to be okay and that they weren't being followed. "It had two faces" One in front and one in back?" he asked, as if to confirm what she seemed to be saying.

"That's what it looked like," she confirmed. "It had one of those theater caps on covering what I assumed was its hair, but when it heard me, I saw the features - the mouth and nose, at least - underneath the plastic. And it hissed with two voices."

Dean had to stifle a shudder at her description - the exact same description he'd read in the police file that they detectives had dismissed as nonsense. He'd never stumbled on anything quite like this before and wasn't sure what to make of it just yet. It would require a little research and probably a few phone calls. "I'm gonna check us into a hotel and then we'll figure it out." After he got her cleaned up and made sure she was okay and got her something to eat, that is. He lingered another minute to make sure she was okay before locking and closing the door. He straightened and turned to take a good look at their surroundings, checking for anything or anyone that might look suspicious.

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 19:56 EST
The afternoon sunshine betrayed nothing suspicious, but there was a feeling lurking in the air, an understanding that both hunters and hunted were aware of one another now. They were going to have to move fast from here on in. Nim let her head fall back against the seat as Dean locked her into the car, her eyes closing for a moment before she sat upright again, discreetly licking her fingers to wipe the drying blood from her temple and eyelid.

Satisfied they were safe for the time being, he went around to the driver's side and let himself in. They weren't going far. He was planning on checking into the hotel across the street, for more reasons than just convenience. If the monster returned to the scene of the crime, so to speak, Dean wanted to be close enough to get another chance at it. He looked over at her again before starting the car up. They were in a hospital parking lot, after all, if she needed fixing up. "Anything broken?" He leaned over and brushed her hair from her face to take a better look at the gash on her head. Thankfully, it had stopped bleeding and didn't look like it needed stitches.

She flickered him a wry smile, despite the pain in her head, letting him get a decent look at the little split along her hairline. "My confidence?" she suggested with a lopsided smile, dark eyes resting on his in gentle appreciation of his concern. "I'm fine, Dean. I just have a really bad headache." Her fingers stroked against the inside of his wrist. "We really need to work out what this is, and fast. I think I found the connection, and if I'm right, there's another kid gonna be taken tonight."

He arched a curious brow, pulling away, interested in what she'd found out, but wanting to get her to safety first. "Here?" he asked, glancing back at the hospital, hoping no one had gotten a good look at them because they just might have to come back here.

"Women's center," she said quietly as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Two blocks over. It's higher security, but I got a look at the code they were using to get in and out of the baby unit. No police stationed inside, either." She lifted a hand, rubbing two fingers against her uninjured temple as the throbbing in her head rose sharply for a moment before subsiding.

He looked over at her a moment, that worried frown crossing his face again. "No more adventures for you today. I'll go it alone." He pulled out of the lot and onto the street, stopping at the corner to wait for the light. It would only take a few minutes to get to the hotel, which was right across the street from the hospital. It wasn't the kind of place he was accustomed to staying, but the proximity to the hospital was too perfect.

"Not a damned chance," Nim growled quietly, lowering her hand to glare at him. On her own, she had been a walking target for their quarry; she had no doubt Dean had a better chance, but victory was more likely with the two of them. "I have a headache, I am not maimed for life, and if you think for one second I'm gonna let you take this ....this whatever ....on by yourself, then you're sadly mistaken, Dean Winchester."

Dean clenched his jaw. They'd had this discussion before, when she'd been Jo, but that was before she'd become a hunter in her own right. And how had that ended" With her dying because of him. He didn't argue with her. Instead he said nothing. The calm before the storm or maybe he was just thinking. He knew she was right. It was better if they hunted in pairs, safer. If they were going to be partners, he was going to have to face the facts and accept them or go their separate ways. The light changed and he pulled forward half a block or so before turning right into the Wesley Inn. "You're resting and eating and then we'll see."

Storm clouds on the horizon, perhaps. Nim held her glare for a moment before relaxing at his surprisingly reasonable response. "Okay," she agreed, already knowing she was going to spend the time she should be resting in research and confirming the suspicion she really hoped was wrong. "You're resting, too, though."

He felt her eyes on him and knew she was glaring, knew if he contradicted her, she'd just get angry, but also knowing that if she wasn't up for the hunt, she'd only be a liability. "Fine," he agreed, knowing he wasn't going to get much rest this afternoon. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd catch a quick cat nap, but he was already wound way too tight for sleep now. He pulled the car into a spot and put her in park, turning to face the blond beside him. He pulled a Beretta out of his jacket pocket, checked to make sure it was loaded, and handed it to her. "Shoot first, ask questions later."

She eyed him with deeply sarcastic interest even as she took the gun, tucking it out of sight under her jacket with her own Glock. "Would you like to teach me how to tie my shoes next?" she asked, unintentionally sharp because of the ache in her head, the tension that had put them both on edge. And the frightening knowledge that unless her headache faded in the next couple of hours, he would be going on the hunt alone. Regret flickered in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Sorry, that was bitchy."

"Loop and tuck," he replied, remembering so many years ago when he'd taught Sam to do just that because Dad had never been around to do it. He'd taught Sam most everything, practically raised the kid, but he didn't want to think on that now. Or maybe ever. He tried not to feel wounded by her barb, knowing he was probably being overprotective, but better safe than sorry. He left the keys in the ignition, just in case she needed them, and pushed the door open to climb out of the car. "I'll be right back." No slamming of the car door, no visible reaction at all to her question or her apology. He took a cursory glance around the parking lot and started off toward the hotel office, suit jacket flapping in the breeze.

Nim watched him walk away, feeling anger rising up. But it was anger at herself, at the nasty little barb that had escaped her lips without a second thought. He didn't deserve her bad temper just because he was trying to keep her safe. "Great, Nim, just great," she muttered to herself, her eyes turning to scan the parking lot warily, fingers ready on the Beretta under her jacket. "Insult the only person who gives a sh*t whether you live or die, why don't you?" Whether it was the pain in her head or the angry guilt or the fear, or a combination of all three, she couldn't tell; but Nim could feel her throat tightening, her eyes stinging with the desire to burst into tears. Which, of course, made her feel even more stupid. There was a surefire way to make sure Dean packed her straight back to Chicago.

How did he deal with his feelings? He bottled them up. For years, he'd bottled them up. He bottled them up so tightly that eventually when he couldn't bottle them up anymore, he just exploded. It was a learned reaction that came from too many years of having to take care of the people around him - Sam and Dad mostly. Too much responsibility resting on his shoulders for too many years. Someone had to be the strong one in the family - Dad sure as hell couldn't do it. Her anger hurt, but it wasn't much different from what he'd so often heard from Sam. "It's your responsibility to watch out for your brother, Dean. If anything happens to him, I'm blaming you." Dad's words, engraved in his memory from hearing it time and time again as long as he could remember. Well, apparently, he'd failed to protect Sam. He wasn't going to fail to protect Nim, too. Dean disappeared into the hotel office and out of view, presumably to get them a room.

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 20:01 EST
With him out of sight, Nim gave in a little, water blurring her vision, leaving her vulnerable for just a few moments until she got control of herself once again, wiping the escaped tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket. She didn't want to admit to it, but she had been scared caught in that locker. Then ashamed of herself for feeling that fear, then angry that she'd let herself get into that situation, and on top of it all, the pain from the injuries she'd managed to sustain because of her own impatience to impress Dean. She felt like an idiot, a child with a toy gun facing off against a boogeyman who was suddenly all too real. That was where her snapping comment had come from, joining a fresh layer of guilt to the confusion of distress in her mind when Dean didn't even react. He should have snapped back at her, he should have done something. Not simply left her here in stinging silence.

He was only gone ten minutes at most, once again signing them in under assumed names and paying with cash. It was safer that way and a habit he'd picked up after dealing with Leviathan back home. Cash was rarely questioned and the names were too vague and common to be easily connected to them. He returned to the car, knocking on the driver's side window to let him in, so he could pull around to their room. He'd requested a room in front, right across from the hospital so he could keep an eye on thing, though it was too large a facility to really watch even from that close a location.

She was aware of his approach, despite not even looking toward the hotel. Scrubbing quickly at her cheeks once again with her sleeve, wanting rid of the evidence of her tearful response, she twisted back, leaning over to unlock the door for him before shifting back into her tense huddle against the passenger door.

"Hungry?" he asked as he climbed into the car, asking as if nothing untoward had passed between them, chalking it up to stress and anger and pain. She'd been through enough already and he wasn't going to make things worse by biting back. "We can have something delivered, if you want." He turned the key in the ignition, but awaited her answer before going anywhere.

Great, he wanted her to talk. How the hell was she supposed to answer without giving away how shaken she really was" Drawing in a slow breath, she let it out in a violent huff of breath, swallowing hard as she nodded, not daring to look across at him. "I could eat," she managed, but her voice was too small, too thick, too trembling to hide how she was feeling. "I should -" Her breath hitched, dark eyes rolling as she looked away, mortified with her own inability to just brush everything away. "I need to change."

He turned toward her, her voice giving her away. She might want to act like she was all big and bad and tough, but she wasn't. She might be a hunter, but she was still human. Hide it or not, angry or not, she was hurting, and he knew it. Somehow, he knew pointing any of that out to her, being nice to her, telling her how sorry he was, how much he cared, how he was just trying to protect her would only make her angry, so he didn't. He kept his thoughts and feelings to himself, frowning as he turned away and put the car in gear to find a parking spot closer to their room. "I'll order out while you change."

"Thank you." It was a tiny whisper of sound from her lips, a gesture of politeness that was almost too formal for her. A shuddering breath echoed around the car for a moment as he looked away, aware that he was trying to move on from the sting of words, that she was the one lingering in the guilt and pain of them. "I really am sorry, you know," she heard herself say quietly, sounding closer to tears than she truly was. "I didn't mean it."

The muscles in his jaw bunched at her apology, not really wanting to be reminded of it, but there it was. She was apologizing again and he couldn't very well ignore it. Somehow, he felt as though it should be him doing the apologizing, but he wasn't sure what for. "Forget it. You're tired and hungry and hurt. You've dealt with enough sh*t for one day. Let it go." It wasn't but a matter of two minutes and he had them parked again, this time for keeps. He pulled the keys from the ignition and pocketed them, looking over at her and trying not to wince at the sight of blood on her forehead, the bruises that were starting to turn purple. "I'll get the bags," he volunteered.

It was just as well he couldn't see the bruises rising in color down her left arm and side from the impact against the wall, though she wasn't going to be able to hide those for long. The fingermarks encircling her right wrist weren't exactly discreet, either. Drawing in another slow, calming breath, she nodded, acknowledging that he didn't want it mentioned again. Dark eyes lifted to his, a small, grateful smile making itself known as she gave him the chance to be chivalrous with the bags, at least. "Thanks."

He couldn't meet her gaze, not yet. He was too busy blaming himself for her getting hurt in the first place. What had he been thinking" It was stupid of him to let her go alone, but he never thought she'd actually run into the thing there in broad daylight. "That's the problem, Dean. You didn't think." He heard his father's voice in his head again. "You can never stop thinking. You have to be thinking all the time, if you want to survive." Even though Dad was dead, he was right. He hadn't been thinking. He had to be one step ahead of this thing, for her sake and his and for the safety of those whose lives they were trying to save. He climbed out of the car, a grim look on his face as all these thoughts wandered through his head, and pulled open the back door to snag their bags.

That look on his face did nothing for her peace of mind, bringing her to the assumption that he was mad at her for getting in trouble in the first place. How was she supposed to make up for that, if he wouldn't even talk to her about it' Sighing softly, Nim let herself out of the Impala, locking and closing the door behind her before moving around to his side. One hand touched gently to his back, a silent peace offering even as she hid from casual glances in his shadow. "Which room is it?"

He shouldered her pack and snagged his duffel, pushing the door shut with a hip, before turning to face her, meeting her gaze this time, the look on her face making his chest ache. It wasn't her fault and she needed to know that, but the parking lot wasn't the time or the place to talk about it. "404. Top floor. It's got the best view."

"Okay, top floor it is." Unaware that her guilt complex was showing quite so blatantly on her face, she offered him another approximation of a smile, snagging the room key from his pocket before turning to push into the building. Holding open the door for him to pass through behind her, she turned to take the stairs, not even considering the elevator. Enclosed spaces just weren't her thing, unless she was on a hunt, another quirk of that forgotten memory.

He followed her on up the stairs, wishing he could sweep her off her feet and carry her, but knowing she'd only scold him. He felt oddly numb inside, guilt-ridden, but he knew he had to push those feelings aside for a while and think about her.

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 20:12 EST
If she'd known what was preying on his mind, that he was refusing to feel because of some misplaced need to be sure she was recovering from her own fright and pain, Nim might well have slapped Dean until he snapped out of it. There was nothing wrong with her that time would not heal, and having him so terse and distant was not helping, reinforcing her certainty that he was angry with her. She led the way up the stairs in silence, ignoring the pain that throbbed in her head with each beat of her heart, finally locating 404 and unlocking the door to let them inside.

Dean followed her into the room, flicking on a light and shoving the door closed behind him. The room was nicer than what he was normally accustomed to, not to mention more expensive. If they stayed there too long, they'd blow through the money Brian had given him in no time, but with any luck, they wouldn't be staying too long. A day or two at the most before they moved on to Lawrence.

It was actually kind of nice compared to the dumps he and Sam normally stayed in. He frowned as he thought about how Nim deserved better than nights spent in cheap motels, fast food on the run, and getting beat on by things that go bump in the night. It didn't occur to him that this was exactly where she wanted to be, where she belonged, no matter how much she'd told him that. He was too busy worrying about protecting her and keeping her safe and out of harm's way. Dean dumped the bags on the bed nearest the door and cast a cursory glance around the room.

For herself, Nim barely noticed the room, turning to pull her med-kit and a large container of salt out of her bag as soon as it was thumped down. Tasks, that's what she needed, to be doing something that might take her mind off the aching feeling that was gnawing on her heart. Just the thought that she'd disappointed Dean, made him angry with her impulsive mistake, was hurting her more deeply than she might have thought it would. Leaving the med kit on the bed, she turned to begin checking the room, feeling ridiculously shy of even looking him in the eye right now.

He frowned as he watched her pull the med kit out of her pack, along with a container of salt, knowing she was pushing herself needlessly, almost as if trying to prove her worth. "Nim..." he called, forcing himself to call her by the name she preferred, rather than the one he'd always known her by. Would she ever understand what she'd meant to him when she was Jo, what she meant to him now" He moved over to her, turning her to face him, and prying the container of salt from her hands. "If it wants to find us, that's not going to stop it."

Her sigh was just as shaken as before, her head tipping back reluctantly to meet his eyes as he pried the salt from her hand. "Doesn't hurt to be careful?" she suggested quietly, one shoulder rising and falling helplessly. "Look, I ....I got a fright, all right' And I'm not dealing very well, so ..." She let out a huff of breath, her eyes flickering toward the window, the view of the hospital they had just come from. "You're right, over-reacting. Of course you're right, you're always right." She stepped back, closing her mouth before that could become an unhappy mantra to prove her own stupidity, moving to pull her own clothes from her bag.

He frowned after her, studying her, trying to figure out exactly what it was that had upset her, besides the fact that she'd just had her ass kicked by a monster and was probably scared out of her wits. "You're not the only one that's scared, you know." He wasn't sure why he was telling her that, but it seemed important to let her know that her fear was normal and that he felt it, too, no matter what she might think or how he might act. He set the container of salt down on the table and turned her to face him again, tipping her chin up to meet his gaze. "I'm not always right. I've screwed up plenty of times." Like the day you died, he thought bitterly, still blaming himself.

He just wasn't letting her hide in her own misery, was he" She bit her lip as he drew her gaze back to meet his once again, wishing he wasn't so good at retreating so completely into himself that she couldn't even read what he was feeling at that moment, much less what had made him retreat in the first place. "Why didn't you react?" she asked suddenly. "I was a bitch and you didn't react at all. Dean, I don't know if you're angry or scared or having second thoughts or what. All I know is what I can see and hear and it feels like you're pulling away when I need you to be here with me. I don't want to be afraid on my own."

His first reaction was a blink of green eyes at her unexpected question, a puzzled expression on his face. "I'm not....I'm not pulling away." Was he" He didn't think so. If anything, he thought he was trying to be strong and supportive. Was he closing himself off from her" Was he trying too hard" "You were....upset," he tried to explain. He sighed, wondering if he was making the same mistakes he'd made with Sam, pushing her away because he was too scared to let her know how he was really feeling. "You're not alone, Nim." He frowned thoughtfully as he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. How was he supposed to tell her how worried he'd been, how terrified he'd felt when she'd been late, when he'd found her hurt' How he couldn't lose her again.

"I was ..." Drawn into his arms, even he could feel a vast amount of the tension in her small frame bleeding away as her hands came up to curl to his back, her face buried in his neck. She let out another sigh, this one gentler, less shaken now he finally seemed to be engaging with what she was feeling, at least. "You're not mad at me?" she asked very softly. "I know I screwed up, I know I should have waited for you. And I know that me getting myself hurt must've upset you." Reminded you of the day you saw a part of me die. "But I can't help you move past it, if you won't let yourself feel it, if you won't let me see you feeling it."

Grateful her face was buried in his neck so she couldn't see the look on his face at what she was asking him, the doubtful frown, the so carefully guarded grief. How had this suddenly become about him' "I'm not mad. Not at you, anyway." No, he wasn't mad at her; he was too busy being angry at himself. He wasn't sure exactly what she wanted from him. Did she want him to rant and rave and tell her how sloppy she'd been" Did she want him to admit how scared he was of losing her again? He'd known the risks and he'd allowed her to come along. If something bad happened to her, he'd had no one to blame but himself. What was he supposed to say' Admit the truth and tell her he wasn't sure if he could move past it"

"Well, you'd better not be mad at you." She leaned back to look up at him, ignoring the fact that he had an unmatched view of her bruised and split temple in favor of finding out exactly what was going on here. "You have nothing to be mad at yourself about. Dean, I made the decision that put me in that situation. If you hadn't come to find me, I wouldn't be here, and we both know it. You saved my life today." As she spoke her hands crept from his back, curling into the lapels of his suit to grip hard, wanting to shake him until he stopped blaming himself for her mistake. "Jesus, Dean, just own what you're feeling. But don't you dare stand there and tell me that you're not feeling something when I know you've gotta be. I'm not a kid."

He wasn't sure what to say as he looked down at her, into that face he had grown so fond of, so accustomed to seeing these last few days since his abrupt and unexpected arrival wherever the hell they both were. What was he supposed to tell her" He'd already told her more than he'd dared tell anyone, besides Sam and maybe Bobby. What was he feeling? Terrified, that's what he was feeling. He felt a painful lurch in the pit of his stomach, knowing somehow he had to come to grips with this fear if they were going to be together, but the thought of leaving her, of going off on his own, was even more painful. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. His lips moved wordlessly a moment before he finally found his voice, strained and tired as it sounded. "I don't want to lose you again."

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 20:16 EST
Nim held his gaze for a long time, studying each nuance of expression as the barrier that had hidden his heart from her in the last minutes relaxed just enough. "So get angry with me," she said quietly. "Yell at me, tell me when I've been an a$$. Don't hide it all away in silence. I need to know that's what you're feeling ....That's what?ll stop me from taking stupid risks like I did today." She shrugged, her own face twisted with guilt and shame as she shook her head. "You know why I did it, why I took that risk" I wanted to impress you. I wanted to show you that I'm not a huge liability, and that's exactly what I ended up being. I'm an idiot, Dean, and I know it. But that doesn't mean you can't tell me so. It doesn't mean you can't wrap me up and look after me. I might complain and argue and be difficult, or I might not, but I still need you to try. And I know you need to do it. It feels all wrong when you pretend not to."

He listened while she poured her heart out to him, admitting her own mistake, and admitting why she'd been careless. He'd guessed as much, but hadn't wanted to accuse her, not really knowing what had happened back there, other than what she'd told him. His frown only deepened at her admission. It wasn't all her fault, and she had to know that. Somehow, if they were going to be partners, they had to get past this in order to make it work. "It was my fault. We should have stayed together. We should have never split up."

"So we know that for next time," she said sternly. "It was a good plan. How the hell could we have known that thing is walking the halls in daylight?" Her brows rose, daring him to counter the good sense that was rising out of her shaken attitude. "And it wasn't your fault, okay' If anything it was our fault. I agreed to split up, I think I even suggested it in the first place. We made a mistake, and we won't make it again. And you are going to stop blaming yourself for things completely beyond your control."

"Fine," he agreed, feeling just a little defensive. There had been a time when he hadn't blamed himself, hadn't there" A long time ago, before his dad had started blaming him for everything that could possibly go wrong. "Are we done with the Dr. Phil stuff now because I'd like to order a pizza." He wasn't good at talking about feelings - his or anyone else's - and it wasn't something that was going to be resolved overnight, but for what it was worth, he was acting like his usual abrasive self again. He spied the med kit on the bed and pulled away to make a grab for it.

Her eyes narrowed as he pulled away, annoyed again. But at least she was annoyed at him being his usual self, which was an improvement on the terse, unfeeling automaton. "Yeah, I'm done," she agreed, ducking under his arm to grab the med kit before he could. "Feed yourself, I've got this." And she didn't really want him to see the bruises on her arm and side before she had. Her other hand grabbed the clothes she'd drawn out of the bag, her body turning toward the bathroom.

There was that frown again, as she plucked the med kit out of his hands and headed toward the bathroom. She'd tended a wound of his once, and he'd wanted to do the same, but not for the first or probably last time, he'd put his foot in his mouth again. Though hungry, the pizza had just been an excuse to distract her from the discussion and now that she had given him the go ahead to eat, he was no longer feeling hungry. He sank down onto the bed, debating what to do next. Come on, Dean. You need to get your head on straight and think. It's just another hunt. That's all it is. What the hell am I doing here" What are we both doing here" Don't think about that now. Think about it later. Right now, you need to worry about this thing you're both hunting before someone else gets hurt. Before it tries to find her because you know it will. It always does.

In the bathroom, Nim wasn't gentle with herself at all. She stripped out of the stolen scrubs, wincing when she finally got a good look at the bruises that now marked her skin, turning purple as the minutes ticked by. Her left side was mottled with the dark shadows left behind by her impact with the wall, though the worst of it was on her upper arm. Twisting to inspect her injuries, she lifted her right hand to touch the bruises on her left side and gasped at the obvious fingermarks that were red against her right wrist. Red, not purple. Not bruised, but burned. Shaking her head, she grabbed her jeans, struggling into them before dragging a tank over her head. She could worry about the nature of her strange injuries later; after she'd dealt with them and covered them up. The last thing she needed was Dean turning into the overprotective boyfriend from hell just because of a few cuts and scrapes.

He was struggling with his own inner demons, still blaming himself at least somewhat, but if they were going to finish what they'd started, he was going to have to set those feelings aside for now and think with his big head. Dean reached for the telephone book finally and flipped through the pages, looking for nearby pizzerias that delivered. His voice could be heard in the other room ordering a large cheese, double sausage and pepperoni, and a six pack of beer. Okay, a six pack of Pepsi then, since they didn't have beer. He hung up the phone and glanced at the bathroom door, wondering if he should check on her or let her have her privacy.

"Ow ....ow ....oh, for - ow!" This last was exclaimed in a sudden yelp as she swept an alcohol wipe over the dried split on her hairline, the sudden sharp sting startling her almost as much as the unexpectedly fresh ooze of blood as the impromptu scab came loose. Scowling at her reflection, she stamped her foot, belatedly swallowing a pair of aspirin dry as she tried to work out how to seal the split in her skin back to front without confusing herself.

He couldn't miss hearing the yelps coming from the bathroom and he moved to his feet, shrugging the suit jacket from his shoulders and tossing it onto the bed, rolling his shirtsleeves up as he made his way toward the bathroom. He rapped his knuckles on the door, though it was open a crack. "Need any help in there?" he asked, resisting the urge to peek through the crack in the door.

"Uh ..." Nim met her own gaze in the mirror and realized she was being an idiot again, trying to do something by herself when he was right there and he would be better at it than she was anyway. She glanced toward the door. "Just a second." Twisting, she grabbed up her plaid button down, pulling it on to cover the worst of her bruises before giving the door a tug, offering him a wry smile. "I need all the help I can get," she admitted reluctantly.

He furrowed his brows, wondering what she was doing in there and chancing a peek through the crack in the door, but not getting a good enough look at her to notice the bruises just yet. He blinked and straightened as she pulled the door open. Peeking? Not him! He smiled back, needing to be needed, to feel useful. "So I've noticed," he replied, half teasing. He didn't need to ask what she needed help with. He'd gotten a pretty good look at the gash on her head and wasn't yet convinced that it didn't need stitches. "Let me take a look," he said, pushing his way past the doorway.

"Hey!" The half tease was all it took to draw a laugh from her - quiet, but definitely a laugh, a certain sign that she wasn't wallowing any more. Stepping backwards as he pushed inside, she ended up against the counter by the sink, where she'd left the med kit. "It started bleeding again when I wiped it clean," she told him, watching as he came in to the bathroom, seeming to fill the small space in a way that made her feel safe. With her sleeves rolled up, the burned fingermarks on her wrist were obvious as she lifted her hands to pull her hair back out of his way. "It just needs a little glue, but I don't think I can do that by myself."

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 20:18 EST
There wasn't much room to move in the small bathroom, but he before he sealed the gash, he wanted to make sure it was clean. The first thing he noticed, however, wasn't the gash in her head, but the burn marks on her wrist and he reached for her arm, as gently as he could. "Did he do that to you?" He already knew the answer to his question, but he asked anyway.

She shrugged, regretting that he'd noticed so soon, but as able to shrug off physical injury as he was. "Yeah," she sighed, her gaze flickering between her hand in his grasp and his face as he studied the burns. "He got my hand before I got to my gun. It's weird, though ....I didn't feel any heat, I didn't even notice this was a burn until just now. I can't feel any pain from it."

"What do you mean you can't feel any pain?" He jerked his head up to shoot a look at her, surprised by both the burn mark and her statement. He'd never felt any pain from the burn mark on his shoulder either, no matter how horrible it might look. "Maybe you should tell me exactly what happened." He gave her wrist another look before letting go and focusing his attention on her forehead. Taller than her, he was easily able to examine her head, very carefully, pushing her hair aside to take a closer look.

"Exactly what I said. None of this -" She gestured to her head, her wrist, and the bruises he had yet to see. "None of it hurts. Either that thing cast some kind of spell on me, or something else is looking after us." She shrugged, tipping her head back to give him a decent angle to work from. As he did, she began to speak, describing everything from the initial encounter in the baby unit where she had ID'd their quarry just by the scent of blood and straw hanging around him, to the fight in the locker room where she had almost been soundly beaten to a pulp. "I don't get why it was already running when you got there, though. I only stabbed its hand."

He couldn't say the same for the fading bruise on his jaw, though the pain and swelling had subsided. He only narrowed his eyes in thought as her remark, listening to what she had to say as he carefully poked at the wound to see how serious it was. Some of what she was saying made sense, some didn't. The trick was sorting it all out. "You stabbed it with iron?" he asked as he pulled back from her forehead and reached for a cloth, turning on the faucet and drenching it in hot running water.

She nodded, pulling the top swathe of her hair back into a band to keep it out of his way as he worked, pulling herself up to sit on the counter. "That's what the knife's made of," was her vaguely confused response. "Which is kinda weird, because if that thing is doing what I think it is, it's working with steel daily. It shouldn't be able to do that." She glanced down at her wrist. "Mind you, if it's skin burns, it shouldn't be able to wear latex gloves, and it obviously does."

"And what do you think it does?" he prompted, carefully dabbing her forehead with the cloth to wipe away any dried blood. Once that was finished, he reached for the med kit to pull out an alcohol swab. "This is gonna sting a little," he warned before leaning close to make sure the wound was disinfected. He knew it was going to hurt, but it was necessary to prevent infection. It was his father who'd taught him field medicine, more out of necessity than choice. His touch and his bedside manner were surprisingly gentle for someone who had a reputation for being somewhat acerbic and irascible.

Bracing herself for the sting she knew was coming but wouldn't stay for long, Nim forced her mind away from the physical pain by absorbing herself in a discussion of what they were after. "I read through the medical files," she said thoughtfully. "And aside from all the kids being boys, they've all been delivered by C-section, by the same doctor. I think it's deliberately delivering the babies it's going to take away by cutting open the mothers, almost like that's a ritual in itself." She hissed as the swab passed over the little cut, her skin flushing in a natural answer to the pain response. Her eyes flickered to Dean's, a faint smile touching her lips. "Gentle hands."

He ignored her remark or was either too embarrassed or too deep in thought to acknowledge it or reply. "Okay, so we have a monster who's masquerading as a doctor and stealing baby boys, but why?" One he was satisfied the wound was clean, he tossed the swab in the trash and took up the container of skin glue, hesitating, knowing this was going to hurt like hell, but also knowing it was necessary. Her wounds were bad enough to warrant a hospital visit, but bad enough to need more than a bandage.

Catching his hesitation, Nim raised a brow, the curl of her lips suggesting a new smile wanting to make itself known. "I'll live," she promised him. "Just get it done." Her fingertips gently brushed his arm in a reassuring caress before gripping the edge of the counter underneath her once again. "Anyway, yeah ....it kinda rings a bell, I need to check on a Wichita legend or two. And the two-faced thing, that might be important."

He frowned at her, not wanting to hurt her, remembering a time when their roles had been reversed. He'd half drunkenly accused her of being a butcher, but at the time, he'd been angry and impatient and in pain, not to mention worried about her and his brother. He waited a minute while she gripped the counter, preparing herself for what was coming, and then leaned over again to squeeze out a ribbon of glue along the line of the wound to seal it closed. "Wichita," he echoed, something clicking in his brain, something he thought he remembered reading once a long time ago, though he couldn't quite place where. He was a Kansas native, after all. "A few witnesses reported seeing something with a face on the front and back of its head, but the police didn't think much of it." He was hoping that by keeping her talking and engaged in conversation, his attempt at first aid might be less painful.

She didn't react at all. She didn't even feel the glue sealing along the line of the little split of flesh, relaxing from her stiff position in confusion. "Okay, didn't feel that at all," she shared with a bemused flicker of a smile. "What the hell is going on with me" Does adrenalin do this normally?" Rolling her eyes, she focused again on the conversation. "What did you pick up at the police station?"

He finished applying the glue to the wound, somewhat satisfied at his handiwork, but troubled by the fact that she wasn't feeling any pain. It almost troubled him more than the monster they were hunting. That could be explained; this could not. He furrowed his brows as he thought it over, replacing the items in the med kit and turning on the water to wash his hands. "The file's in my bag," he told her, obviously a little lost in thought. "Nim?"

"Yeah?" She lifted her eyes to his once again, her own mind whirling on the implications of the information they'd gathered together. She hadn't even considered what her apparent inability to feel the pain of anything worse than her bruises might mean.

He looked up at his own reflection in the mirror as he wiped his hands on a towel, eyeing the fading bruise on his jaw momentarily. "This is gonna sound crazy, but....What if whoever or whatever brought us here is orchestrating all this?" He turned his head toward her as she met his gaze.

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 20:23 EST
Nim's dark eyes studied him studying himself for a long moment, her brow furrowing a little despite the new tightness of her glued cut as she, too, became thoughtful. She reached out to touch the backs of her fingers against his fading bruise in a gently loving caress. "That's a scary thought," she admitted quietly. "Kinda suggests there's a reason we're here. That something has a job for us to do, and maybe we're being tested." Her hand fell from his cheek, the other rising to loose her hair from the band once again, rubbing at her neck under the golden fall over her shoulder.

"Yeah," he admitted, eyes closing briefly at her touch, like they always did when she touched him like that, savoring the moment however brief, committing it to memory, afraid it wouldn't last. When he opened his eyes again, she had pulled away and was tugging her hair loose, a cascade of honey gold over her shoulder. Distracting, but in a good way. "I don't like being manipulated," he told her. It wasn't the fact that they were together that bothered him. He was overjoyed that she was still alive - or alive again - but he didn't like the thought that someone or something else was calling the shots, playing them like puppets.

"I'm not happy with the thought, either." She shrugged again, sliding down from the counter back onto her feet, into the little space left between him and said counter. Unaware that she'd started to distract him all over again, she squeezed his wrist fondly, her smile warm and tender as she looked up at him, and turned to the counter to take a look at his patch up job on her temple.

"Nim..." he prompted again, needing her to understand what this all implied, not just shrug it off as if it was nothing important. He stood behind her, watching her in the mirror, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Don't you get it' If something is pulling our strings....If something brought us here..." He trailed off, as he always did when he found something troubling. If something had brought them here without warning, it could just as easily take them back.

She lowered her hands, her eyes lifting to meet his in their reflection. "I don't want to think about that," she told him firmly. "There's no point, anyway. We don't know if there's something or someone manipulating us - if there is, we don't know who or what they are, or what they want, and if there isn't, the answer's still the same. There's no use in letting it worry us, not until we know there's something to worry about. Is there?"

He disagreed for exactly the same reasons she stated. If someone or something was manipulating them, he needed to know and he needed to know why. "I'm going to find out," he told her, matter-of-factly, though he had no idea how he was going to accomplish that just yet. "I'm in charge of my own fate. No one else." He'd had enough of angels and demons and everything in between trying to manipulate his life. If he stayed here, it was because he chose to, not because some supernatural being had decided it for him.

Nim flushed faintly, feeling a little scolded again as she looked down at her hands on the counter. He had an uncanny ability to make her feel as though she'd missed something very important, life and death important, and at the same time, been incredibly selfish with it. "Then we'll find out," she agreed, nodding.

It wasn't his intention to scold her; he was just being bluntly honest. He didn't expect her to understand; he didn't think she knew or remembered enough about him to understand, but he wasn't going to lie to her. She needed to know and face the truth. No lies, no secrets, no surprises, however hard it was to face. "But first, we're going to eat pizza, and you're going to get some rest," he leaned in to kiss the top of her head, almost afraid to touch her for some strange reason, knowing it wouldn't take much to distract them both from what needed to be done in the minutes and hours ahead.

Her head lifted again as she felt him close behind her, dark eyes finding his in the reflection before her once more. "And you're going to change and at least pretend to get some rest too," she informed him in return, lest he forget that she'd already laid down the law on this point. Catching up the med kit in her hand, she turned back to him, strangely startled to find him that close, unaccountably shy, almost as though they weren't yet lovers. She knew they didn't have the time right now to distract one another, and yet ....there he was, warm and hers, and all he needed to do was stand there to make her mind wander.

She was distracting, to say the least - a pleasant distraction. Somehow they were both going to have to set their mutual attraction aside and focus on the task at hand, but he was finding it hard to think with her so close. Distracting, enchanting, intoxicating - three words that described how he felt about her, caught up in a spell that he didn't want to break free from. His mind whispered, "Jo," but the name never made it to his lips. It seemed that time stood still if only for a moment as their eyes met once again. She was so close, so tempting, so sweet. He lifted a hand to sweep her hair back from her face, green eyes gazing into brown, spellbound. "I'm....I'm sorry you got hurt..." He found himself apologizing suddenly, though he knew she wouldn't want him to. He'd promised to always be there, to make sure nothing bad happened to her, and he'd failed, but he didn't want to think about that now. She'd already scolded him enough. Instead, he leaned close to brush his lips against hers, eyes falling closed as he savored the brief but sweet taste of her lips against his.

She was distracting, to say the least - a pleasant distraction. Somehow they were both going to have to set their mutual attraction aside and focus on the task at hand, but he was finding it hard to think with her so close. Distracting, enchanting, intoxicating - three words that described how he felt about her, caught up in a spell that he didn't want to break free from. His mind whispered, "Jo," but the name never made it to his lips. It seemed that time stood still if only for a moment as their eyes met once again. She was so close, so tempting, so sweet.

He lifted a hand to sweep her hair back from her face, green eyes gazing into brown, spellbound. "I'm....I'm sorry you got hurt..." He found himself apologizing suddenly, though he knew she wouldn't want him to. He'd promised to always be there, to make sure nothing bad happened to her, and he'd failed, but he didn't want to think about that now. She'd already scolded him enough. Instead, he leaned close to brush his lips against hers, eyes falling closed as he savored the brief but sweet taste of her lips against his. I love you. The words echoed in his head, unspoken.

It seemed as though he knew her inside out in moments like these. She didn't even have the moment it would have taken to form a denial of his apology before she could taste him on her breath, feel him on her lips, all too easily drawn in - however briefly - to the tenderly unspoken declaration that came with every unthinking gesture. Even when he was mad with her, she knew what it was he wasn't saying. Her hands smoothed over his sides, the sweetness of their startlingly chaste kiss washing away any more need for scolding or apology, wiping the slate clean once again. Gently, she drew free, staying close for a long moment more to simply be with him, eyes closed as she rested warm and safe, listening to the vibration of his heartbeat in his chest. And with all the perfect timing of a cave-in during a glass exhibition in a cavern, there was a sharp knock on the hotel room door. Nim sighed, reluctantly opening her eyes to smile ruefully up at Dean. "Pizza's here."

He reluctantly ended the kiss, one arm around her waist, slow to recover, heart beating rapidly. He couldn't remember when a girl - no, a woman - had had such an effect on him. Not since Cassie maybe. It had been different with Lisa. Safe. At least, for a while. Dean sometimes wondered if he'd ever loved Lisa at all, or if he'd just been in love with the idea of being part of a family, of living a normal life, of having someone who cared for him. He found himself staring into Nim's eyes, somehow knowing she was the one - his perfect match. It took a moment for him to register what she was saying, as if he at first didn't understand. He pulled slowly away, swallowing hard to still his racing heart. "Pizza. Right."

As reluctant as he to break their embrace, but infinitely more amused by how his brain seemed to turn into mush when she kissed him, Nim reached a hand into his pocket, pulling his wallet free and somehow resisting the urge to make it even harder to break away. "I'll get it," she told him with a grin. "You get changed." Bouncing onto her toes for a moment, she brushed a second kiss to his cheek before slithering by.

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 20:31 EST
"A little to the left," he teased, as she reached into his pants pocket, a c*cky smirk on his face. The simple chaste kiss to his cheek seemed to twist him up inside. What was she doing to him' Was this what love felt like" He thought he'd felt it before, but it had never been like this. He turned his head to follow her movement, admiring the view as he had so many times before, but it was different this time. This time she hadn't resisted; this time she was his. If this was really real.

The knock sounded on the door again. "Coming!" She paused a moment to toss Dean's pack into the bathroom with him, flashing him a cheeky grin and wink before slipping out of sight. The sound of a gun being c*cked betrayed how ready she was for another fight if it came to it, though she did tuck the piece into her back pocket, checking through the spy hole before opening the door. The poor delivery guy didn't know how close he was to 90lbs of highly trained death as he handed over their order, just enjoying the view of a perky little blonde when he'd been expecting a man.

Dean caught the pack with a quiet, "Oof?, pulling the bathroom door closed, but perking an ear to what was going on in the room, just in case the pizza delivery guy turned out to have two faces. He turned to face himself in the mirror as he worked the buttons of his shirt open, shrugging it away from his shoulders and turning to eye the scar that had been burned into his left shoulder when Cas had pulled him from hell. Why it bothered him he wasn't sure. It was as if something was different about it, but every time he thought about it, it made his head hurt. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He turned to the right, so that he could get a better look at it, fingers moving over the raised imprint of a hand. It was ugly to look at, but if it wasn't for that scar, he'd still be in hell.

"....Yeah, well, I think my boyfriend would have something to say about that." Nim was laughing at the delivery guy as he tried to finagle her number out of her, taking his time counting out their change just to try and flirt with her. She might have been flattered, was it not for the fact that no one was ever going to make her feel even a fraction of what she felt for Dean. When, finally, she got their change and the door closed, she was rolling her eyes, giggling as she locked up again. "Remind me again why I'm not allowed to just punch idiots?" she called to the bathroom, setting their food down on the nearest bed with her pack.

The more he thought about that scar, the more his head ached, pounding like a hammer in his head until his eyes watered. He heard Nim's voice in the next room, distant and hollow like it was coming from far away, calling him back from wherever the pain had taken him - something, some memory that he couldn't quite grasp. He heard himself groan and took a lean against the sink to hold himself steady. Maybe it was just exhaustion. He turned on the faucet, cupping his hands to catch a handful of cold water and splash it against his face, glancing at his own reflection to find himself a little too pale. What the hell was going on now"

Out in the main room, Nim straightened up, a faint frown on her face. It wasn't like Dean to miss a chance to be facetious or a smartass. "Dean?" she called again, vague concern showing itself on her face as she moved toward the bathroom once again. She pushed the door open a little way, peering inside. "You okay there?"

He heard her call his name, her voice pulling him back to the present, as if she was the anchor that held him to this reality, and he straightened, grabbing a towel to pat his face dry. "Yeah, just a little tired, I guess." He tossed the towel on the counter and turned to glance her way, forcing a reassuring, but weak smile. "I'll be right out."

She eyed him with faintly amused suspicion, not entirely convinced by his assurances, but didn't push it. "If you're sure ..." Moving out of sight once again, she moved to sit on the far bed, pulling the files Dean had lifted from the police station to scan through them as she took a slice of pizza from the box. Her mouth opened to take a huge bite in the same moment as her stomach growled, finally admitting to feeling hungry now that it seemed the worst of the shocks of the day were over.

No longer contemplating that scar, the headache slowly faded until it was just the same exhaustion headache that had been plaguing him all day. Nothing a little sleep and some coffee wouldn't fix. He finished getting dressed, changing into a pair of jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, more than happy to get the monkey suit off. He tossed the suit pants and shirt over an arm and stepped out of the bathroom only to dump both, along with the duffel on a chair before making his way toward her and the pizza. "Find anything?" he asked, as he snagged a slice of pizza from the box and sat down beside her.

Licking her fingers clean, she leaned in against him as he sat down. "This reads like some kind of psycho's to-do list," were her first words of wisdom, quickly pushed aside as she put the folder down, reaching out to take a gulp of Pepsi. "Did you read these lab reports" The afterbirths left in the dolls correspond with the kids who've been taken. That's sick."

"Yeah, I don't get it. Why go to all that trouble" Sounds like a spell of some kind. There has to be a reason it's leaving those dolls behind, but hell if I know what it is." He folded the slice of pizza in half and shoved nearly half of it into his mouth, nearly moaning in delight. There were three things absolutely necessary to Dean's existence and which he lived for - food, booze, and women - not necessarily in that order. Now that he was chowing down on the pizza, he found he was a lot more famished than he'd thought.

She snorted with laughter at the sight of him shoving so much in his mouth, rolling her eyes at the bliss in his expression as he chewed. "You're so easy to please," she drawled warmly, wiping a trail of cheese off his chin with her thumb before returning to the conversation. "Maybe it's not the dolls themselves," she shrugged thoughtfully. "Maybe it's what they're made of - could be it's the straw that's important, not the dolls. And there's gotta be something about a double-faced man somewhere ..." She frowned, reaching for her phone. His plan to make her rest seemed to have gone completely out of the window.

He grinned around the mouthful of pizza, amused by her remark, which he found to be pretty accurate, and her need to wipe the cheese from his chin, which he thought was just an excuse to touch him. He swallowed the mouthful down, watching as she picked up her phone, furrowing his brows in thought. "Double faced man. Where the hell have I heard that before?"

Of course it was just an excuse to touch him, just as the way she leaned against him was a way to keep contact without admitting to the desire to distract and be distracted. She glanced at him in confusion. "Wait, that actually sounds familiar to you?" Her thumb smoothed over the screen on her phone as she searched through the results from 'double-faced man'.

"Yeah....I just..." He frowned, a hint of worry on his face. "I can't remember." Or maybe someone or something wasn't letting him remember, forcing him to count on her, to take Sam's place in the research department. "It's like....it's right there, but I can't..." He furrowed his brows, temples throbbing with the effort. "It's....a Wichita thing, I think..." He tossed what remained of the slice of pizza back in the box, moving to his feet to pace the floor, rubbing his fingers against his right temple. "I should know this."

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 20:34 EST
She frowned down at her phone, enlarging the print on the page she had found, scanning quickly through the thick text. "Uh ....Wichita as in Native American legend?" she asked curiously, scratching her fingers through her hair. "About something called Afterbirth Boy?" Her eyes snapped up to look at him in alarm. "Sound familiar?"

"Afterbirth boy?" he echoed, halting his pacing to glare over at her. "Sounds like a bad horror movie." He sat back down beside her, leaning close to look at what she'd found on her teensy version of Sam's laptop. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he wasn't sure why, and it bothered him that he couldn't remember. He sighed, annoyed at the size of the small screen. "Read it to me."

"Let's see ..." Nim scowled at the screen as she retraced her steps on the text. "Double-faced man was invited into a newly married man's home, the pregnant wife was told to cover her head and not look at him but one day she poked a hole in her robe with a piece of straw to take a look. Double faced man ....ugh ..." She swallowed, an expression of distaste on her face. "He sliced her open and left her to die, took the afterbirth and impaled it on the bit of straw and threw it in the lake, and left the baby on the woodpile." There was a pause as she scanned through the rest of the text. "I don't see any more mention of him."

The more Dean heard, the less hungry he felt, leaning forward, propping an elbow against a knee to hold his head up. In point of fact, the thought of some monster cutting women open and stealing their babies made him sick to his stomach, and he said as much. "What kind of sick bastard does that?" he asked, his voice dripping with loathing and disgust. He turned to her, waggling a finger her way. "You are not going up against that thing again." There were no ifs, ands, or buts in his tone of voice, no room for argument.

"What?" She twisted to look up at him, her eyes narrowing. "Not on my own, I'm not, no, but don't you even think of trying to deal with this on your own!" So what if there was no room for argument, she was going to argue. She squared up to him, batting his waggling finger away, hair falling back from her face as she met his gaze. "We're going to find out where it is and how to kill it, and we're going to take it down. Us."

Never mind the fact that she wasn't pregnant. It didn't matter. That thing had gotten a good look at her. It had hurt her, and she'd managed to wound it. It was going to be pissed. It was going to want revenge, and he didn't want to chance it hurting her again. He clenched his jaw, brooking no argument, though he'd already made up his mind. "Okay, so how do we find it and kill it and presumably rescue whatever kids haven't become a midnight snack by now?"

She was glaring at him again, not trusting that closed down expression on his face at all. It was infuriating to know that if he put his mind to it, there was nothing she could do to stop him going off on his own. "We know iron wounds it," she pointed out, "and its skin burns. It obviously has access to the hospital at all hours, so it's gotta be holed up somewhere nearby. Maybe even the basement." She sighed, settling back again with a thoughtful frown. "Maybe Bobby or Brian can tell us something ....it's called a Witschatska, if that helps."

He appeared thoughtful a moment, mulling over what they knew and more importantly, what they didn't know. "What I don't understand is what it wants with babies and why specifically boys." Now that they were talking shop, he was getting hungry again and he reached for a fresh slice of pizza.

"Well ..." She bit her lip, her hackles smoothing down as she relaxed out of her argumentative mode once more. "The legend says that the Double Faced Man had children in his cave that drank blood. Maybe he's making an army or something?" She shrugged, snagging another slice herself. "Do they do that a lot?"

Dean took a bite of the pizza, this time taking his time to actually chew and swallow without inhaling it. He shrugged in return. "I don't know." He mulled that question a moment, thinking about the alpha creatures back home he and Sam had killed who had been intent on creating small armies of their own kind to take over the Earth. "I mean..." He looked thoughtful again, puzzled. "They did back home."

Nim bit her lip, her slice forgotten as she sighed again, leaning into him wearily. "We need to know more," she said reluctantly. "We need to know if anyone's come up against this before." She took another bite, but dropped the slice back into the box as she frowned. "I don't think I ever have."

He blinked out of his thoughts when he felt her lean against him, and he turned his head to face her, recognizing the weariness in her. She had been through enough for one day. "I know I haven't." Though he'd been up against similar monsters, this was something entirely new. He finished off his slice of pizza and pushed off the bed, grabbing the box and laying it on the table, along with the six pack that was already there. "I'll call Bobby. In the meantime, you need to get some rest."

"Don't go." It was a sudden, childish impulse, but Nim didn't want to be left on her own as she slept. Her hand reached toward him as he moved off the bed, deep brown eyes snapping up to find his in silent pleading for him not to go far. Don't leave me alone.

Her hand caught his just as he deposited the pizza box onto the table, and he silently winced when he heard her plea, the quiet desperation in her voice, the unspoken fear. For all her bravado, her unexpected encounter with the creature had left her more shaken than she seemed to want to admit. He felt torn between the need to protect her and the desire to hunt the thing down and kill it as soon as he was able. He turned back around, his expression softening. "I'm right here," he reminded her, making no promise that he wouldn't leave, if he felt the need to. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling away, stepping over to the bed and tugging the blankets down. "You need to get some rest."

Her fingers clung to his, unspoken need for his presence making itself known in the tight squeeze of her grasp on him, letting him pull her off the bed to draw the blankets down. "I'm sorry," she murmured, shaking her head with a faint smile. "I'm such a wuss." Turning, she wrapped her arms about his waist, hugging tight to him for a long moment.

He turned to face her, wrapping her in his embrace and once again dropping a protective kiss against the top of her head, careful of the wound. "You're not a wuss. I'd be worried if you weren't scared a little." All of this was only reinforcing his resolve at going it alone, not wanting to drag her deeper into harm's way. It was an issue he was going to have to resolve if they were going to continue to be partners, but not today. He held her tightly for a moment, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility against his shoulders, knowing she wasn't going to be happy with the decision he'd already made. "I'm not gonna let it hurt you again," he told her quietly, his face pressed against her hair.

Dean Winchester

Date: 2012-06-16 20:37 EST
She barely heard the words, only hearing the determination to protect her in his voice, feeling it in the way he held her close. Her head tipped back to touch a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you," she promised him in a fervent voice, brushing another kiss to his lips with fierce tenderness before lowering back to her heels. A wry smile took her face once again. "Sleep, huh?"

He smiled a little when he heard her say those three little words, even though his heart was aching. Why did everything have to be so hard" I love you, too, he whispered in his head, the words not quite making it to his lips. "Yeah, both of us." He knew he could use a little shut eye himself, but he couldn't afford to sleep the day away. He had work to do.

She didn't believe him that he intended to sleep, that much was obvious in the smile she sent his way, but perhaps she believed that he would rest a little while. Stepping back, she let her hands wander down his arms, linking her fingers with his to draw him down onto the bed with her. Tempting as it was to kiss again, and again, the trauma of her fight and fright were catching up to her, slowly draining the energy out of her until she yawned with a self-conscious giggle.

He followed her down to the bed, sliding an arm around her to pull her up against him, hold her safe within his embrace. All he wanted, all he needed was to hold her. He could feel her relax against him, the fear and the tension going out of her as she lay there within his arms. He tucked her head beneath his chin, closing his eyes as he breathed her in, committing her to memory - her scent, her breath, her face, her eyes, her voice. Everything that was what made her Jo....or Nimue. A rose by any other name... He squeezed his eyes closed, banishing the vision from his brain of her dying, practically in his arms. No, he secretly vowed. He wasn't going to let that happen again. Ever. Not if he could help it.

~~~

((Whew, that was long! Anyone who read all that gets a cookie! As always, many grateful thanks to Nim's player for the inspiration, the story, and the scene. Stay tuned for the next part of the story, coming soon!))