Just before the finish, Dean stopped at a gas station to refuel. Josie took the opportunity and took her pantsuit to the bathroom. She changed and looked in the mirror to see if everything fit. She was top styled for an FBI agent, but the expression on her face seemed out of place. The more she tried to look relaxed, the more uncomfortable she felt. Carefully, she dabbed cool water on her cheeks and neck, then opened the door and breathed in the fresh air. From a distance, she saw Dean put on his jacket, then he too was changed.
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Spending half his life in a car lowered his inhibitions, and aside from an old gas station attendant, there was no one around for miles.
"We're good to go," Josie informed him, tossing her everyday clothes into the trunk Dean stood in front of.
With his eyes he followed her movements. He forced himself not to reach for the bare skin on her arms, and even more he forced himself not to just grab her, push her onto the trunk and just kiss her. It might have been the demon-Dean's way of taking what wasn't his, but not the hunter's. Lost in thought, he stared at the black trunk lid while Josie reached for the gas nozzle sticking out of the Impala's overflowing tank and then held it out to Dean.
"Dean?" it rang through his daydreams.
Hastily, he shook his thoughts away and took the hose from her.
"What were you just thinking about?" she inquired, speculating that he was once again thinking about the bloody scenarios.
"Nothing in particular," he evaded awkwardly and quickly got into the car.
Once at the crime scene, they went about their business, questioning the victim's wife. Dean, however, was not quite with it. The smell of blood still hung heavy in the room and the floor was still slightly stained red from the makeshift cleaning.
"I can deal with this alone if it's too much for you," Josie whispered sympathetically, instinctively touching him affectionately on the arm, but realizing this, she withdrew her hand and meekly apologized.
In the brief moment the widow disappeared for a moment to grab a tissue, Dean grabbed Josie's head and leaned his forehead against hers. It didn't help, he needed this, no matter what his mind said.
"Go ahead and wait in the car," she urged, just letting him.
She had to admit to herself that she was no different than he was. Both, her heart and her mind told her she had better stay away from him, but still it was in her nature to give comfort to the one who needed it. Artfully he obeyed her and went outside, where the cruel images in his mind's eye slowly disappeared.
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Josie saw through the window how he supported himself with his arms on the roof of the car and let his head sink. Curious, the witness followed Josie's gaze.
"Is your partner okay?" she worried, crumpling her handkerchief in her hand.
"Yes. No. I don't know," the huntress stammered uncertainly, changing the subject back to the case.
A short time later, she joined Dean, who was thoughtfully playing with a withered leaf on the roof of the car.
"Hey, are you okay?" the would-be agent inquired of her colleague.
"I remember the smell of blood, I was constantly soaked in it. Sometimes I feel like I still smell it, even when I've had a fresh shower. But back then it didn't bother me in the least," he recounted, staring at the leaf between his fingers before looking up into Josie's face, "Why not? Why didn't I care about any of it?"
"Because it wasn't you"
"If it wasn't me, why does it feel like it was?"
"Well, you kind of were, just your darkest and most depraved side. But Dean, it's just one side of you, you have a good one too!"
Agreeing, he nodded and threw the greenery away.
"Did you find out anything?" he deflected and Josie began to narrate as they got in the car and headed to a nearby motel.
Dean checked into a room of his own, just so he wouldn't be tempted to do anything rash that would drive Josie away again. The slayer nevertheless joined Dean to do some research with him, so at least they could consult better. The whole day they tried to find out which monster could cause such a bloodbath. Again and again it occurred to Dean that it could have been a demon who just felt like killing out of boredom.
"What if it was an angel? The man agreed to do it, but his body was too weak to hold the angel, which is why it exploded," Josie reasoned, glancing at Dean, who was sitting on the bed with his laptop.
"There were no blood splatters on the ceiling, just on the floor and walls. There should have been shreds of flesh splattered on the ceiling, too, if it had been an angel," the experienced hunter stated monotonously.
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Saddened, Josie turned back to her book. They spent the rest of the late afternoon evaluating all the information, until Josie noticed that Dean was slowly but surely getting tired.
"I'm going to go over and finish up there then, so you can sleep," she said, grabbing her things off the table.
"It's okay, I'm used to it from Sam," Dean fought back, as just her presence calmed him down and didn't make him think of the bad images.
"No really, it's better if I go over there, I was going to call Sam and talk to him about it anyway. You seem exhausted and you really should sleep!"
Dean didn't say anything more in reply, he just tried not to freak out at the thought that they had only been gone from home for a few hours and Josie was already going to call Sam. He himself used to go hunting for days at a time, and Josie never once inquired about him.
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"Good night," she wished him still smiling and let the door fall into the lock.
This day was really the most exhausting in a long time. First and foremost Dean's moods were hard to bear. But then there were those moments when she realized that Dean's life was generally exhausting for him at the moment and she could actually consider herself lucky not to have to deal with all that.
