Stranger

Chapter 32

Nevaeh hisses when she accidentally presses too hard on a bruise as she wipes the dried blood off her face. She looks up when she spots movement in the mirror from the corner of her eye. She bites the inside of her cheek.

"How is he?" She asks Dean, whose back is pressed against the bathroom wall, right next to the doorway.

"He just needs a little rest, that's all. And so do you."

She waves a dismissive hand. "And Sam?"

"He's salting the door and windows. His back is a little sore, but he'll be okay. How are you?"

Nevaeh nods, and puts a little bit of alcohol on a new napkin. She flushes the toilet, which is full of bloody napkins so that she doesn't clog it. "I'm fine. I'll survive." She looks up, and presses the napkin to her cheek, hissing. "You don't think we were followed, do you?"

Dean shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't think so, I mean, we couldn't have found a more out-of-the-way place to hole up."

Nevaeh raises a shoulder. "True." Nevaeh licks her lips, staring down at the bloody napkin. She clears her throat. "Hey, Dean, you, um... you saved my life back there." She throws the napkin in the toilet.

Dean chuckles softly. "So I guess you're glad I brought the gun then, huh?"

Nevaeh rolls her eyes. "Still, no." She sighs, "look man, I'm trying to thank you here."

Dean meets her eyes in the mirror. "You're welcome," he says.

Nevaeh waits a second, but she isn't sure what for. She splashes her face with water to get rid of the alcohol smell and dries her face off. She sighs, and starts for the door.

"Hey, Nevaeh?" Dean says when she's right next to him, one foot right out the door, and she stops.

"Yeah?"

"You know that guy I shot?"

She doesn't answer, but he knows she's listening. "There was a person in there."

She turns to face him, guilt written all over his face. "You didn't have much of a choice, Dean."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I know. That's not what bothers me."

She frowns. "Then what is it?"

He swallows. Takes a deep breath. "Killing that guy, killing Meg... I didn't hesitate, I didn't even flinch."

Nevaeh holds her breath, her eyes roaming his face.

"I mean, for you, Sam, my dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill, it's just, uh... it scares me sometimes."

Nevaeh doesn't know what to say. She takes a deep breath of relief when she hears John behind her say, "it shouldn't. You did good."

Dean looks up from her to John, a quizzical frown on his face. "You're not mad?"

"For what?"

"Using a bullet?"

"Mad?" John sounds confused. "I'm proud of you. You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you—you watch out for this family. You always have."

Nevaeh frowns. Her eyes don't leave Dean's face. He looks perfectly calm, pleased, even. But Nevaeh doesn't miss the tick in his jaw, or the small arch in his eyebrows.

The light starts blinking, and the wind blows. Nevaeh looks back as John moves from behind her, rushing over to the windows. She turns back to Dean, who's already eying her. It's as if they'd read each other's mind.

Nevaeh turns, and Dean slips the gun from her waistband.

"It found us. It's here," John turns back around.