The Hunt.

Ch. 8 Moving In... Again.

When we reached his house, I wasn't even aware I'd been running that long. But I still wasn't used to shifting. So after shifting back, I stumbled. Dean caught me, and we stared at each other for a few seconds, and I turned, staring up at an old fashioned, two story house. "That's where you lived?" He nodded wordlessly. "I haven't been here since I left." Since he punched his father in the face, and left. His father is dead.
"Do you want to see where he's buried?" Levi asked tentatively, "I hope he's rolling in the grave." Dean responded coldly, I stared at him, feeling his explosion of mixed emotions,, and bitter resentment. Resting my hand on his shoulder, I whisper asked, "You alright?" He nodded, and before he could walk off I took his hand, lacing his fingers through mine. "Oh Sandra," Dean's voice was somewhat hoarse, "Yeah?"
"My dad is dead, my mother isn't."
"Don't worry about mom Dean, she doesn't talk anymore."
Dean looked at Levi, who shrugged, Diane looking concerned. "Ever since dad died, she just walks around, does everything, but she doesn't talk." He rubbed his temples, and Dean sighed. "Let me guess, you and Diane built your own house?" Dean asked, Levi nodded. "Sorry brother, but I don't want to stay there either." Dean sighed, and I tightened my grip, and he looked at me.
Slowly, we walked up to the door, and Dean knocked, because it was locked. A woman answered, she had long, pepper grey and black hair, in a braid, an eerie white dress, her lips pressed into a hard line, wrinkles, and green eyes. It took me a few seconds for me to process this was Dean's mother. There was no affection in their gaze, just sadness. They would've stood there all night if Dean hadn't said, "Move."
She moved to the side, and I tightened my grip on his hand even more as we walked in. "This is my house, not the happiest place." His mother kept unnerving eye contact with me as Dean led me up the stairs. He opened the door, there was a medium sized, cube shaped room. A bed, with an old wooden bed post, vintage floral sheets was next to the window, and old book shelf, with old lemon yellow painted walls. "This was my room. You can stay in here, I'll stay in the room over." As he went to leave, I caught his wrist. "I'm staying with you." I could feel his depression. He sighed, "Sandra." When he tried to pull away, I pulled him closer.
"Dean," I cupped the side of his face, so he looked at me. "I'm not going to let you be all depressed by yourself okay. Either you're going to stay here, and I'll find a way to make you happy or we'll be depressed together." I declared, he smiled a little. Kissing his lips lightly, I pulled back. "I'm with you, okay?" I whispered, he nodded, and I pulled him into a hug.
"I love you and I'm here for you."
"I love you too kitten."
Nuzzling my face against him, he let out a small sigh.
"There's only twin beds in each room."
"I will literally sleep on top of you if I have to, understand mister?"
Dean chuckled.
"Perfectly kitten, I understand perfectly."