A delicate hand reached out, trembling and pale, hoping that newfound warmth wouldn't be taken away. But he jerked and appeared annoyed that she'd ever think to touch him. Such a simple gesture, a question in the form of a touch before the words had found a path to her lips. The reaction silenced her, forcing her to choke back on those words and take a step back.
Confusion lanced her thoughts, wondering what she had done to receive such a negative brush off when just minutes before they were having a very warm conversation. It was in that moment she realized the truth of it. No one was to be trusted, because appearances were deceiving even from those of whom we call friend.
It was best to hang back as Sam ventured further into the old house, his wide shoulders blocking her view as he crept down the dusty hallway. She was suddenly aware of the sting in her bottom lip, a hint of copper ghosting the tip of her tongue, reminding her that'd she'd been worrying the flesh between her teeth just before she reached out to him and had unknowingly bit herself to keep silent. With a slight shake of her head, she rid herself of the thoughts dancing through her brain; the crippling self doubt that had made her go as still as a frightened rabbit blinded by the headlights of a speeding car. She couldn't afford to screw up. She had to get her shit together. Because everyone knows, a sloppy Hunter is a Dead one.
Checking her person, she went over the items she had hidden away in various parts of her attire. Small sawed off single barrel hidden beneath her dark gray duster, a few rounds of rock salt, a machete sheathed onto her left thigh by a flat black leather holster. Just the usual items for an every day job. The rest of her goods were in the trunk of her beast, beneath a few duffle bags of clothes and other essentials she needed to get by. For moment, she grew a devious smile at the thought of unloading a round of rock salt into Sam's ass for the way he'd acted toward her. As hilarious of an idea as it was, she couldn't afford to waste her amo.
His large silhouette vanished around a corner up ahead and she made a point to hang back. Usually she'd be right behind him, but something told her to wait. In fact, she took a moment to start counting slowly back from five...
"3...2...1." With the last number escaping her lips, a loud crash exploded into the silence. Instead of running over, she merely walked to the source and found that Sam (being the moose that he is) had walked over some weak floorboards and had ended up flat on his ass on the hard dirt of the basement below.
A smirk graced his sight as he looked up at her peering down at him. "Serves you right." She mused down at him and crossed her arms.
"The hell is that supposed to mean?!" He shot up at her and stumbled back onto his feet while brushing dust and other small debris from his pants and shirt.
"Gee, lemmie think..." She began in sing-song voice and gave him an unimpressed look, "if you hadn't been such a dick earlier, you would've known this room had a trap. Like I said, serves you right."
His brow furrowed in thought when the realization of her words hit him. He opened his mouth to apologize, but watched as she scoffed, shook her head and walked away. "Wait. I'm sorry!" Sam exclaimed to the empty room and dropped his arms to his side in defeat. "Dammit."
"Pullin' a Geraldo there, Sammy?" A husky voice announced sarcastically and recieved a look of irritation.
"Can it, Dean." Sam muttered and ignored the chuckle in response. "Mind givin' me a hand?"
Dean reached down and managed to help hoist his much larger, baby brother out of the floor and got him onto his feet. "How'd you manage to end up ass over elbows?"
Sam had the decency to look embarrassed, "I went ahead of Onyx and the floor gave out."
Bottle green eyes searched the guilty look on Sam's face. "I'd buy that if she wasn't as stubborn about working in a team as we are." Dean mused in a low tone and noted the way Sam shifted on his feet. "The hell did you do?"
Sam's eyes widened at the accusation in Dean's voice. "Nothing!"
"Not nuthin', she doesn't just abandon people." Dean countered and narrowed his eyes.
"I reached out to warn him and he jerked away like I was poison." A sultry voice answered Dean's question just behind them. They turned to see her leaning her left shoulder against the wall with her hands hidden in the pockets of her duster. "So I figured he didn't need the backup." She paused and glared into Sam's guilt ridden eyes, "the truth hurts, don't it?"
Dean looked to Sam and couldn't help himself. "In your case, literally."
"Shuttup Dean." Sam spat and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair.
She merely chuckled and shook her head. "Alright boys, enough." She announced and motioned with her head to follow, "let's do our job so we can get the hell outta here."
* * * *
And that's just part of the dream that I remember clearly. No idea why Sam reacted like such a prick, but he got what he deserved. Something about him being in a mood around me all the time and Dean wondered if it was because he was growing a soft spot for me. Weird, right? The more Sam thought he had feelings for me, the more distant he became.
-Shrugs- Dreams are definitely odd in this brain-pan of mine -chuckles-
So it's kinda early, well it's 10:13am currently, but I got up around 9. Tried to be civil (though we all know I'm about 90% feral when I'm half asleep) and made sure Dad took all of his meds, fed the feline boys their breakfast of wet food and made some strong coffee. Tried not to argue with Dad, tried to be better than yesterday...wound up arguing a little anyway. I apologized every time my voice came off gruff and growly, Dad wasn't upset. He knows I'm like a wild animal for the first hour of regaining my consciousness. Got him his sammich and a lil bit of coffee and than helped him get into bed. He tends to actually sleep for a few hours in the morning after I get up. Not sure why that is, I think it's partially instinctive to make sure I'm okay.
And now I have a second cup of coffee, more awake than zombuh and just enjoying the quiet of a cloudy sunday morning.
-takes a drink of doom and smiles happily-
The other dreams I had, were very off the wall. There was a bit of a theme to them, feeling lost and very alone even among friends whose faces I can't recall. And there was a color tone to everything too, which was different. Shades of blue and gray, night colors. Everything seemed very dull and cold. Empty in a sense. Void of warmth. I remember I was searching for a way out and no matter how many times I'd find myself blocked, I find a way around it. I was trapped in a huge house that seemed to have been through one hell of an earthquake, but the structure itself was untouched.
And I felt as though something was always behind me; the constant knowing of eyes glaring into my back, waiting for me to be alone. For an opening.
So maybe that's why I've been on edge recently after I've gotten out of bed. My dreams haven't been exactly pleasant, which are my only true escape anymore due to my reality resembling an ongoing nightmare I can't wake from.
-shrugs and takes another drink of her coffee-
Well muh luvlies, I think I shall find myself brain-melting over a FaceDesk game or two and maybe find something else to occupy my time until Dad gets up again.
Toodles.
-Adieu
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