serafina20 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
serafina20) wrote2006-01-19 07:17 am
serafina20) wrote2006-01-19 07:17 am
Entry tags:
Supernatural fic
I'm dying. How the hell did I hurt my neck sleeping?
They miscalculated on the drive. Mapquest put it at about twelve hours. Dean swore he could do it in ten. Sam voiced an objection, but wasn't able to quite back it up with any good reason.
The reason appeared through the backseat of the car and went after Rachel six hours into the drive.
With a shriek, Rachel threw herself against the side door. "Dean!"
"I see it!" he shouted, throwing looks over his shoulder. "Sam!"
Sam crawled into the backseat and pulled the ghost off Rachel. The ice pick grazed his cheek, but he didn't even wince in pain as he threw the ghost out the door.
The moment its legs came out of the backseat, the ghost completely disappeared.
"You okay?" Sam asked, pulling Rachel into a sitting position.
Shaky, she nodded and was about to say something, when the ghost's head came back through the seat between them.
"Fuck!" he cried as the ice pick sank into his arm.
The car skidded to a stop. "Sam, move!"
Sam jerked back, ice pick still in his arm. Dean fired his gun at the ghost's head; it dissolved once more.
"We need to get it contained," Rachel said. "It's just going to keep coming."
"Any ideas?" asked Dean, keeping his gun trained on the backseat.
"Yeah, stick it in a bag with salt and ward the bag." She jerked back when the ghost popped back through and went at her.
Dean shot it. "You, out of the car. Sam, we're gonna set a ward in the backseat and trunk."
"Are you going to leave me on the side of the road?" Rachel protested.
"Don't worry. Just get out."
Rachel obeyed sullenly, standing in the humid night air as the Winchester brothers salted and warded the backseat and trunk of the car. The ghost jumped out when they opened the trunk, but a few shots dissolved it and sent it back to the photo.
"You are so paying to clean my car when we are done," Dean said, bounding across the street to her when they were done. "I don’t wanna see any salt anywhere by the time we dump you back in New Haven and take off."
"Fine," she said tightly. "Anything else you want me to pay for? I'm already paying for gas, food and, now, I'm assuming, lodging. Want a hooker to go with it?"
Dean stepped into her, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. "Believe me, sweetheart, I've never paid to get a woman into bed."
She smiled sweetly. "So you are a virgin. I thought I caught that vibe from you."
He moved closer, grabbed her tightly by the arms, and pulled her up until their noses were practically touching.
Rachel's heart stuttered and stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. All she could do was gaze helplessly into his eyes, her mouth parted slightly in anticipation for... something.
The moment dragged out infinitely, ending only when Sam cleared his throat and said awkwardly, "I, uh, I'm kind of bleeding over here, guys."
Dean swallowed, tightened his grip on Rachel then released her. "Coming Sam."
Rachel's heart didn't start beating again until they'd found a motel and had checked in. Even then, it kept giving odd leaps and starts, as if it'd lost the correct rhythm forever. She was so intent on not passing out from lack of blood or oxygen--swooning, her mind so unhelpfully supplied; the word was swooning--that she barely noticed the knowing leer the man who checked our their room to them gave her when they requested on room, two beds, nor the indignant, "She's our baby sister," Sam shot at him at some unheard comment the man had made.
She did hear Dean mutter, "Pain in the ass," however, and blushed, knowing it was true. If it weren't for her, they'd still be on the road for North Carolina and the ghost would be marking time in the picture. Although, a little voice in her head pointed out that, it was rarely as simple as that; even without her, they'd have run into some kind of problem, no doubt.
Maybe.
"Don't let Dean get to you," Sam said once they were inside the room. They'd brought the picture in, too, just in case, and the boys had just finished setting up wards around it. Once they were done, Dean had locked himself in the bathroom, shower running, leaving Rachel and Sam alone.
"I'm trying not to," she replied, climbing on one of the beds. Besides the two beds, there was something that almost looked as if had been a couch in its past life. Now, it was a lopsided, cracked wooden frame with a few lumpy cushions on it. Rachel eyed it warily, hoping it didn't try to come nearer; it looked as if it had the ability to walk, either by itself or under the power of the various creatures she was certain lived inside it. She was also quite certain that Dean was going to make her sleep on it, which made her determined to at least feign unconsciousness when he was through of his shower.
"He likes you." Sam sat on the other bed, kicking his shoes off.
She smiled wryly at him. "You don't have to defend him or anything. I know I'm messing up your guys' gig. I get why he's angry, and he's probably right. You two are experts; the last thing you need is an amateur hanging around you."
Sam shook his head. "It's not that. Believe me, Dean's never complained before when a pretty girl has tagged along for one reason or another. It's just, this time, you know as much as him, which's thrown him. And, as much as he likes women around him, he really hates it when they're in danger. He's got a soft spot the size of the Grand Canyon."
"I really hate it when I'm in danger, too." She lay back on the pillows, closing her eyes. "What's stupid is I know how to fight. I mean, I've taken tae kwon do since I was six. I'm not completely useless, and yet I keep acting like it."
"I don't agree. You're not doing that badly, really. The ghost just has you at a real disadvantage, that's all. They do that sometimes." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Dean had to save my butt recently from a ghost that almost got the better of me."
Rachel opened her eyes and rolled onto her side, facing Sam. "Really?"
He nodded. "It was my first hunt in a real long time. I'd left to go to college, but then my dad went missing. Dean asked me to help out finding him. We ended up working the case my dad was on before he took off. Ever heard of a woman in white?"
"Ghosts of women who'd been cheated on, right? Kill themselves, sometimes their kids, then become ghosts?"
"Yeah. This one was picking up men who'd been, or were being, unfaithful to their loved ones. She tried to go after me. Was a real bitch about it, too." Sam shook his head. "First off, her usual MO was to hitchhike. I didn't pick her up, though; she just jumped into my car. I told her to get out, but she wouldn't listen. Then, she tried to seduce me. She wouldn't take no for an answer, or even listen to the fact that I'd never cheated on my girlfriend. And then, she stopped my heart. I would have been dead if it weren't for Dean."
"He's a real hero, isn't he?" She knew that she probably sounded sarcastic, but she didn't mean to be.
Sam took her words at face value, though, and said, "He is. Dean really believes in what he does."
Rachel sighed and stretched her arm out, resting her head on it. "Where's your girlfriend? Does she hunt with you guys?"
His face clouded and Sam swallowed hard.
She was such a fool.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said softly.
"It's not your fault." His voice was gruff. "You didn't know?"
"What happened?"
He swallowed again, eyes closing. "I came home from hunting to find her pinned to the ceiling. She burst into flames."
Her stomach did a slow, sick flip. "Oh, God. What did it?"
"No clue." Sam sighed deeply and repeated something, "No clue."
"I'm so sorry, Sam."
He just shrugged. "You've never heard of a ghost or anything that does that, have you? Because I've been looking everywhere, and I'm at a loss."
"No, I haven't. I can look when I get home." She rolled onto her stomach. "I'm, um. I'm kind of in the middle of a project. I've been scanning all my books and books from the library and my magazines into a computer. I'm writing a program so I can type in what I'm looking for and the it'll search through all the information."
Sam's eyes opened and his head turned towards her. "That sounds pretty cool, actually. Just a regular computer?"
"Basically, all it does is the program, at least until I save up enough for a huge ass hard drive. But, you know. I'll use that and everything else I have to start searching for you. I mean, if you want. You know, help. And to keep in touch."
He smiled at her. It wasn't a big smile, and it didn't reach his eyes, but it was a smile. "We'll keep in touch. Dean and I have never met anyone else in the business, you know? Besides, Dean *hates* research. He'd much rather call someone else and have them do it."
"That's fine, but remember that I'm not going to be open twenty-four seven."
"I know, you have a life."
Rachel laughed wryly and said, "Not a life. School."
Inexplicably, Sam's face darkened at that statement. "Yeah. Right."
The door to the bathroom opened and a damp, shirtless Dean walked into the bedroom. Almost as soon as he stepped inside, Sam jumped up from the bed and rushed inside the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Dean looked at the closed door, then at Rachel. "Dude, what did you do?"
"I honestly don't know," Rachel said, sitting up. "We were just talking. I said I'd be happy to research for the both of you, if you ever needed it if I could. Because, you know, sometimes I might not have time since I have school."
Understanding flashed across Dean's face. He moved across the room and sat on the bed Sam had just vacated. "He just dropped out of Stanford. Well, awhile ago, but he really wanted a... I don't know what he wanted."
"Normalcy?" Rachel ventured.
"That's what he said." Dean rubbed his hand over his face.
"Did he meet his girlfriend in college?"
"He told you about her?"
"Not much."
Dean sighed and rubbed his face again. "Yeah. He did." He pulled the covers off the bed and lay down. "He liked college. I hated him there. But what happened... I never woulda wished that on him."
Rachel shook her head. "Of course not. He's your baby brother." Hesitantly, Rachel kicked off her shoes. "So. Do I get this bed? Cause, there's a couch, and I thought..."
"Like I'd trust that couch not to eat you," Dean snorted. "What with the way that ghost keeps going after you, I'm not sure you're not a magnet or something."
She rolled her eyes and crawled under the covers. "Thanks. I think." She pulled a pillow to her chest. "I'm sorry I've been such a problem."
"Look, Rachel, I don't apologies or chick flick crap." Dean rolled onto his side and looked at her. "You're not... that bad, I guess. And it's not your fault that the ghost has a hard-on for you." He leered and added, "It's not like I can't understand why."
She threw the pillow at him. "You are such an ass."
"Gotta nice one, too." He threw it back, hitting her in the face.
"Too bad your face looks like one, too."
"Oh, you're going down!" Dean was out of the bed in an instant.
Rachel had barely managed to throw the covers off when Dean was over her, pillow in hand. He got a few good blows before she swiped at him with her legs, knocking him off balance. Once she had him unsteady, Rachel pushed him off her and onto his back, grabbing another pillow.
"You are such a jerk!" she laughed, pounding him.
"It's all about training, baby." He grabbed the pillow and tossed it away. Then he caught her wrists and yanked her down onto him. "How much training you got?"
Her heart started doing that strange non-beating thing again, so close to him she could count his freckles and feel his breath against her lips. "I've got... training." Rachel licked her lips, trying to think. "I've, you know, trained." In some circles, she was considered intelligent.
Dean smiled at her lazily. "Yeah? It's good to know you're not completely useless." He rolled over, pinning her under him. "Ever actually use that training?"
He'd let go of her wrists, but Rachel had no idea what to do with her hands. She also wasn't exactly sure if they were really talking about fighting. "Um, yeah. A few times. I've been attacked."
His lips curled. "Well, that's good to hear. Practicing isn't the same as actually experiencing something. When you're actually in the moment, your heart starts pounding, adrenaline's running high, your lungs burn, your head spins, and you feel like you've never been more alive than you are in that moment."
"But any moment, it might all end."
"Yeah, well, that's the rush," he said with a lopsided smile. "Besides, your life might end at any moment anyway. Walk down the street, get hit by a car. Get caught in the crossfire of some fight that was never yours. Cross the wrong ghost, the wrong demon, the wrong whatever. Hell, you could slip in the shower and crack your head open. The difference is, when you're in the heat of the moment, you're more than you ever were at any time in your life. And that makes the risk all the more worth it."
Without thinking about it--and, if she had, she never would have done it--Rachel reached up and ran her hand over Dean's face, cupping his cheek. "You really love what you do, don't you?"
"I can't imagine any other life." He leaned into her hand, lips brushing over her skin. "I wouldn't want to. Fighting evil, saving people; it's important. What about you?"
"I've barely started living. My family doesn't exactly hunt, so much as go to haunted sites, figure out who's there, then find their bones and burn and salt them. It's not so much about saving people as... cleaning the world of ghosts." She grimaced. "Sometimes I wonder why we do it. My life's ambition is to get rid of all the ghosts in the Tower of London. Those ghosts have never hurt anyone, at least not in the past hundred and fifty years."
"You never know when they might start." But he sounded skeptical, like he didn't really believe what he was saying. "There's a lot of bad over here, you know. A lot of people who need help."
"I'm getting that idea." She was about to say more when Sam came out of the bathroom.
He glanced at them, rolled his eyes, and climbed into bed. "Night." The light turned off, bathing the room in darkness, lit only by the moon which streamed in through a crack in the curtains.
Dean's eyes were lit by that light, seeming to glow. "You going to be okay over here alone?" He glanced over at the bagged photograph, where the ghost, although trapped inside, was rattling and growling.
"I should be. I am a big girl."
He grinned. "I noticed. Believe me." Dean kissed her forehead in a brotherly fashion, and then the corner of her mouth in a not so brotherly fashion.
"Night, Rachel."
Rachel swallowed shakily. "Night."
Dean climbed off her and went to the other bed. Climbing in, fluffed his pillow and lay back. He seemed to fall asleep almost immediately.
For Rachel, sleep was awhile in coming.
They miscalculated on the drive. Mapquest put it at about twelve hours. Dean swore he could do it in ten. Sam voiced an objection, but wasn't able to quite back it up with any good reason.
The reason appeared through the backseat of the car and went after Rachel six hours into the drive.
With a shriek, Rachel threw herself against the side door. "Dean!"
"I see it!" he shouted, throwing looks over his shoulder. "Sam!"
Sam crawled into the backseat and pulled the ghost off Rachel. The ice pick grazed his cheek, but he didn't even wince in pain as he threw the ghost out the door.
The moment its legs came out of the backseat, the ghost completely disappeared.
"You okay?" Sam asked, pulling Rachel into a sitting position.
Shaky, she nodded and was about to say something, when the ghost's head came back through the seat between them.
"Fuck!" he cried as the ice pick sank into his arm.
The car skidded to a stop. "Sam, move!"
Sam jerked back, ice pick still in his arm. Dean fired his gun at the ghost's head; it dissolved once more.
"We need to get it contained," Rachel said. "It's just going to keep coming."
"Any ideas?" asked Dean, keeping his gun trained on the backseat.
"Yeah, stick it in a bag with salt and ward the bag." She jerked back when the ghost popped back through and went at her.
Dean shot it. "You, out of the car. Sam, we're gonna set a ward in the backseat and trunk."
"Are you going to leave me on the side of the road?" Rachel protested.
"Don't worry. Just get out."
Rachel obeyed sullenly, standing in the humid night air as the Winchester brothers salted and warded the backseat and trunk of the car. The ghost jumped out when they opened the trunk, but a few shots dissolved it and sent it back to the photo.
"You are so paying to clean my car when we are done," Dean said, bounding across the street to her when they were done. "I don’t wanna see any salt anywhere by the time we dump you back in New Haven and take off."
"Fine," she said tightly. "Anything else you want me to pay for? I'm already paying for gas, food and, now, I'm assuming, lodging. Want a hooker to go with it?"
Dean stepped into her, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes. "Believe me, sweetheart, I've never paid to get a woman into bed."
She smiled sweetly. "So you are a virgin. I thought I caught that vibe from you."
He moved closer, grabbed her tightly by the arms, and pulled her up until their noses were practically touching.
Rachel's heart stuttered and stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. All she could do was gaze helplessly into his eyes, her mouth parted slightly in anticipation for... something.
The moment dragged out infinitely, ending only when Sam cleared his throat and said awkwardly, "I, uh, I'm kind of bleeding over here, guys."
Dean swallowed, tightened his grip on Rachel then released her. "Coming Sam."
Rachel's heart didn't start beating again until they'd found a motel and had checked in. Even then, it kept giving odd leaps and starts, as if it'd lost the correct rhythm forever. She was so intent on not passing out from lack of blood or oxygen--swooning, her mind so unhelpfully supplied; the word was swooning--that she barely noticed the knowing leer the man who checked our their room to them gave her when they requested on room, two beds, nor the indignant, "She's our baby sister," Sam shot at him at some unheard comment the man had made.
She did hear Dean mutter, "Pain in the ass," however, and blushed, knowing it was true. If it weren't for her, they'd still be on the road for North Carolina and the ghost would be marking time in the picture. Although, a little voice in her head pointed out that, it was rarely as simple as that; even without her, they'd have run into some kind of problem, no doubt.
Maybe.
"Don't let Dean get to you," Sam said once they were inside the room. They'd brought the picture in, too, just in case, and the boys had just finished setting up wards around it. Once they were done, Dean had locked himself in the bathroom, shower running, leaving Rachel and Sam alone.
"I'm trying not to," she replied, climbing on one of the beds. Besides the two beds, there was something that almost looked as if had been a couch in its past life. Now, it was a lopsided, cracked wooden frame with a few lumpy cushions on it. Rachel eyed it warily, hoping it didn't try to come nearer; it looked as if it had the ability to walk, either by itself or under the power of the various creatures she was certain lived inside it. She was also quite certain that Dean was going to make her sleep on it, which made her determined to at least feign unconsciousness when he was through of his shower.
"He likes you." Sam sat on the other bed, kicking his shoes off.
She smiled wryly at him. "You don't have to defend him or anything. I know I'm messing up your guys' gig. I get why he's angry, and he's probably right. You two are experts; the last thing you need is an amateur hanging around you."
Sam shook his head. "It's not that. Believe me, Dean's never complained before when a pretty girl has tagged along for one reason or another. It's just, this time, you know as much as him, which's thrown him. And, as much as he likes women around him, he really hates it when they're in danger. He's got a soft spot the size of the Grand Canyon."
"I really hate it when I'm in danger, too." She lay back on the pillows, closing her eyes. "What's stupid is I know how to fight. I mean, I've taken tae kwon do since I was six. I'm not completely useless, and yet I keep acting like it."
"I don't agree. You're not doing that badly, really. The ghost just has you at a real disadvantage, that's all. They do that sometimes." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Dean had to save my butt recently from a ghost that almost got the better of me."
Rachel opened her eyes and rolled onto her side, facing Sam. "Really?"
He nodded. "It was my first hunt in a real long time. I'd left to go to college, but then my dad went missing. Dean asked me to help out finding him. We ended up working the case my dad was on before he took off. Ever heard of a woman in white?"
"Ghosts of women who'd been cheated on, right? Kill themselves, sometimes their kids, then become ghosts?"
"Yeah. This one was picking up men who'd been, or were being, unfaithful to their loved ones. She tried to go after me. Was a real bitch about it, too." Sam shook his head. "First off, her usual MO was to hitchhike. I didn't pick her up, though; she just jumped into my car. I told her to get out, but she wouldn't listen. Then, she tried to seduce me. She wouldn't take no for an answer, or even listen to the fact that I'd never cheated on my girlfriend. And then, she stopped my heart. I would have been dead if it weren't for Dean."
"He's a real hero, isn't he?" She knew that she probably sounded sarcastic, but she didn't mean to be.
Sam took her words at face value, though, and said, "He is. Dean really believes in what he does."
Rachel sighed and stretched her arm out, resting her head on it. "Where's your girlfriend? Does she hunt with you guys?"
His face clouded and Sam swallowed hard.
She was such a fool.
"I'm sorry," Rachel said softly.
"It's not your fault." His voice was gruff. "You didn't know?"
"What happened?"
He swallowed again, eyes closing. "I came home from hunting to find her pinned to the ceiling. She burst into flames."
Her stomach did a slow, sick flip. "Oh, God. What did it?"
"No clue." Sam sighed deeply and repeated something, "No clue."
"I'm so sorry, Sam."
He just shrugged. "You've never heard of a ghost or anything that does that, have you? Because I've been looking everywhere, and I'm at a loss."
"No, I haven't. I can look when I get home." She rolled onto her stomach. "I'm, um. I'm kind of in the middle of a project. I've been scanning all my books and books from the library and my magazines into a computer. I'm writing a program so I can type in what I'm looking for and the it'll search through all the information."
Sam's eyes opened and his head turned towards her. "That sounds pretty cool, actually. Just a regular computer?"
"Basically, all it does is the program, at least until I save up enough for a huge ass hard drive. But, you know. I'll use that and everything else I have to start searching for you. I mean, if you want. You know, help. And to keep in touch."
He smiled at her. It wasn't a big smile, and it didn't reach his eyes, but it was a smile. "We'll keep in touch. Dean and I have never met anyone else in the business, you know? Besides, Dean *hates* research. He'd much rather call someone else and have them do it."
"That's fine, but remember that I'm not going to be open twenty-four seven."
"I know, you have a life."
Rachel laughed wryly and said, "Not a life. School."
Inexplicably, Sam's face darkened at that statement. "Yeah. Right."
The door to the bathroom opened and a damp, shirtless Dean walked into the bedroom. Almost as soon as he stepped inside, Sam jumped up from the bed and rushed inside the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Dean looked at the closed door, then at Rachel. "Dude, what did you do?"
"I honestly don't know," Rachel said, sitting up. "We were just talking. I said I'd be happy to research for the both of you, if you ever needed it if I could. Because, you know, sometimes I might not have time since I have school."
Understanding flashed across Dean's face. He moved across the room and sat on the bed Sam had just vacated. "He just dropped out of Stanford. Well, awhile ago, but he really wanted a... I don't know what he wanted."
"Normalcy?" Rachel ventured.
"That's what he said." Dean rubbed his hand over his face.
"Did he meet his girlfriend in college?"
"He told you about her?"
"Not much."
Dean sighed and rubbed his face again. "Yeah. He did." He pulled the covers off the bed and lay down. "He liked college. I hated him there. But what happened... I never woulda wished that on him."
Rachel shook her head. "Of course not. He's your baby brother." Hesitantly, Rachel kicked off her shoes. "So. Do I get this bed? Cause, there's a couch, and I thought..."
"Like I'd trust that couch not to eat you," Dean snorted. "What with the way that ghost keeps going after you, I'm not sure you're not a magnet or something."
She rolled her eyes and crawled under the covers. "Thanks. I think." She pulled a pillow to her chest. "I'm sorry I've been such a problem."
"Look, Rachel, I don't apologies or chick flick crap." Dean rolled onto his side and looked at her. "You're not... that bad, I guess. And it's not your fault that the ghost has a hard-on for you." He leered and added, "It's not like I can't understand why."
She threw the pillow at him. "You are such an ass."
"Gotta nice one, too." He threw it back, hitting her in the face.
"Too bad your face looks like one, too."
"Oh, you're going down!" Dean was out of the bed in an instant.
Rachel had barely managed to throw the covers off when Dean was over her, pillow in hand. He got a few good blows before she swiped at him with her legs, knocking him off balance. Once she had him unsteady, Rachel pushed him off her and onto his back, grabbing another pillow.
"You are such a jerk!" she laughed, pounding him.
"It's all about training, baby." He grabbed the pillow and tossed it away. Then he caught her wrists and yanked her down onto him. "How much training you got?"
Her heart started doing that strange non-beating thing again, so close to him she could count his freckles and feel his breath against her lips. "I've got... training." Rachel licked her lips, trying to think. "I've, you know, trained." In some circles, she was considered intelligent.
Dean smiled at her lazily. "Yeah? It's good to know you're not completely useless." He rolled over, pinning her under him. "Ever actually use that training?"
He'd let go of her wrists, but Rachel had no idea what to do with her hands. She also wasn't exactly sure if they were really talking about fighting. "Um, yeah. A few times. I've been attacked."
His lips curled. "Well, that's good to hear. Practicing isn't the same as actually experiencing something. When you're actually in the moment, your heart starts pounding, adrenaline's running high, your lungs burn, your head spins, and you feel like you've never been more alive than you are in that moment."
"But any moment, it might all end."
"Yeah, well, that's the rush," he said with a lopsided smile. "Besides, your life might end at any moment anyway. Walk down the street, get hit by a car. Get caught in the crossfire of some fight that was never yours. Cross the wrong ghost, the wrong demon, the wrong whatever. Hell, you could slip in the shower and crack your head open. The difference is, when you're in the heat of the moment, you're more than you ever were at any time in your life. And that makes the risk all the more worth it."
Without thinking about it--and, if she had, she never would have done it--Rachel reached up and ran her hand over Dean's face, cupping his cheek. "You really love what you do, don't you?"
"I can't imagine any other life." He leaned into her hand, lips brushing over her skin. "I wouldn't want to. Fighting evil, saving people; it's important. What about you?"
"I've barely started living. My family doesn't exactly hunt, so much as go to haunted sites, figure out who's there, then find their bones and burn and salt them. It's not so much about saving people as... cleaning the world of ghosts." She grimaced. "Sometimes I wonder why we do it. My life's ambition is to get rid of all the ghosts in the Tower of London. Those ghosts have never hurt anyone, at least not in the past hundred and fifty years."
"You never know when they might start." But he sounded skeptical, like he didn't really believe what he was saying. "There's a lot of bad over here, you know. A lot of people who need help."
"I'm getting that idea." She was about to say more when Sam came out of the bathroom.
He glanced at them, rolled his eyes, and climbed into bed. "Night." The light turned off, bathing the room in darkness, lit only by the moon which streamed in through a crack in the curtains.
Dean's eyes were lit by that light, seeming to glow. "You going to be okay over here alone?" He glanced over at the bagged photograph, where the ghost, although trapped inside, was rattling and growling.
"I should be. I am a big girl."
He grinned. "I noticed. Believe me." Dean kissed her forehead in a brotherly fashion, and then the corner of her mouth in a not so brotherly fashion.
"Night, Rachel."
Rachel swallowed shakily. "Night."
Dean climbed off her and went to the other bed. Climbing in, fluffed his pillow and lay back. He seemed to fall asleep almost immediately.
For Rachel, sleep was awhile in coming.
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:P
The rest (or at least the next part) of the fic should be out later today. I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I'm thrilled you like Rachel! I'm mainly a slash writer, but in a few fandoms (this and Firefly), I feel compelled to write with an OFC for reasons I don't understand, except it fits the plot. I'm glad this one is compelling and interesting enough to have captured your interest. :)