𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭

(𝐯𝐢𝐢)

ＣＨＡＰＴＥＲ ＳＥＶＥＮ
𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐝

⛧⛧⛧

The Impala roared down the road, a dark streak against the black canvas of the night. Dean’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, foot pressing firmly on the gas pedal, his face a stoic mask broken only by the glances he shot at Sam.

Odessa noticed them too from the backseat, a quiet tension hanging thick in the air between the three of them.

Sam had seen something, another premonition. But this time, he thought they’d save precious time by heading to the Roadhouse to let Ash help pinpoint the scene in his vision. He figured Ash didn’t need to know everything, just enough to narrow down the location.

As they rolled into the Roadhouse parking lot, they saw Jo waiting at the entrance. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on Dean, a smile playing on her lips, her gaze lingering in a way that made Odessa roll her eyes.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” Jo teased, her voice warm as she looked at Dean.

Dean’s lips curved in a slight smile. “Hey, Jo, how’s—”

“Where’s Ash?” Sam interrupted, pushing past Dean before Jo could reply. Her smile faded, replaced with a slight frown as she gestured to the back.

“He’s in his room,” she said, but Sam had already brushed past her, determination etched into his face.

Odessa gave Jo a polite nod before following Sam, and Dean brought up the rear with a quick apology, throwing Jo a sheepish look before trailing after his brother and Odessa.

They stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, the sound of thumping music bleeding through the cracks.

Sam pounded on the door. “Ash!” he called out, raising his voice over the music. He glanced at Odessa and Dean with a look of annoyance. “Doctor Badass?” He pointed to the sign on door.

The door cracked open, revealing a very disheveled— and very naked— Ash. Odessa’s eyes went wide as she quickly turned away, raising a hand to shield her vision.

“Oh, God, Ash. Really?” She grimaced.

“Sam? Dean? Odessa? Sam, Dean, and Odessa!” Ash grinned, oblivious or uncaring about his lack of attire, then stepped back slightly to hide more of himself behind the door.

“Hey, Ash.” Sam coughed, looking anywhere but directly at him. “Uh, we need your help.”

Ash shrugged nonchalantly, as if welcoming them mid-streak was a daily occurrence. “Well, hell then. Guess I need my pants.” He shut the door with a wink, leaving the three hunters in the hallway.

The redhead sighed, casting a sideways glance at the brothers. “I did not need to see that,” she whispered.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as they made their way back to the bar to wait. They didn’t have to wait long; minutes later, Ash emerged, fully clothed, and led them to a corner booth.