Life with Dean and Sam Winchester.

The Coping --DEAN--

--Dean POV--

My eyes met the familiar misty eyes that stared at me, like when dad died. Keyla's hand placed it's self on my shoulder, trying to be comforting. My eyes blurred when I looked down to see the crumpled and dead form of my younger sister in the arms of my younger brother. "You're right, Sammy." My voice croaked out in pain. I moved from Keyla's side to help Sam with the body. Keyla had shooed me and Sam away, eyes sad.

"I'll fix her up. Go set up a coffin or something." She had muttered quickly before pushing myself, Ryan, and Sam from the room. Within 2 hours, Sam and I had lowered a casket filled with the non-ashy remains of our sister 6 feet under. Ryan helped with burying her again. Castiel had left at the time only to look for the angel who thought it smart to posses the weak form of my sister.

Keyla had mourned, crying for someone she didn't even know, but she fixed herself and looked decent enough. I, on the other hand, didn't let myself cry. Sam, Keyla, Ryan and myself thought it smart to hang at the abandoned house for the night, seeing as it was much too dark to go back to walking to their Jeep and hoping it would start.

It wasn't long till Sam and Ryan had fallen asleep near the fire-place and Keyla and I were the only two awake. She wore her glasses as she sat up in a mess of blankets. She was flipping through a book with weird manuscript scribbled all in it. A bottle of beer rested in my grasp. My 3rd of the night. I was taking it slow due to lack of supplies.

Keyla seemed engulfed in the book. Engulfed in work that wasn't there. I watched her, taking a swig of my beer once more. She was pretty, I realized for once. Her eyes were big doe-eyes with warm brown orbs floating in them. The firelight flickered along her high cheek-bones and her small nose that was a tad-bit odd. Her glasses kept slipping down her face as she pursed her well-shaped lips.

Her eyes flickered up and noticed my staring, in which she blushed. I gulped down another swig of beer. "Dean, take a picture. It lasts longer." She said softly and then placed her book down. Her eyes turned to me. Pain still filled hr own from seeing the pain in my eyes.

"How ya loose your family?' I asked suddenly and most likely stupidly. Her eyes went wide and pain flashed through them, but then they calmed down. I bit my lip at my own stupidity as I silently cursed myself.

"I...I lost them in a Harpy attack." She said quietly. Keyla looked at me, eyes intense and filled with severe pain. "It was a Christmas Party a couple years ago. We were singing and laughing. A woman walked through the door. An old friend of my husbands...She waltzed in and suddenly, it was a giant blood bath. My oldest brother was the first to go. Then, my father. My mother after him. My husband was torn limb from limb infront of me and my brothers mutilated body was strung across the porch. Ryan and I...we were the only ones to survive the attack. The police said it was a mass murder, but we know what we saw. She sprouted talons and wings and suddenly was a piegon-bitch." Keyla described, face getting more and more fearful with each word.

"I can hear them sometimes. Their screams of pain. Torture. They revirberate in my dreams and across the fitfull moments I try and convince myself that running away from the place was the best thing to do. My husband begged me to run and my brothers dying breath told me to go, but I just wanted to be there and help them through their suffering...To stop it. I killed the Harpy about a week later...Never saw it coming.." Her fingers gripped the blankets under her hands. I scooted closer to her and she accepted me coming into her space. "I won't ask about yours."

I watched her quietly as we sat in silence for a long moment. "Your husband. What was he like?" I asked quietly. That brought a grin onto her lips. A big and beautiful grin.

"My Brett..." She laughed softly. "I met him in college. English." She looked at me with big warm eyes. "Brett was so bad at being smooth. The class A nerd. I found him sexy for being like that. He wrote me poems every day till I agreed to go out and get coffee with him. We hit it off and got married soon." She then let out a soft sigh. "Never had the chance to go on our honeymoon..." She smiled lightly and sadly.

"Ah..." I said softly. "Sounds like a nice guy." She seemed to relax a bit. She didn't dare to press into my life, shockingly. I got up and grabbed onto another beer. My fourth and I was already feeling a tiny bit tipsey. Keyla had followed me.

"You drink?" I asked, looking over the girl who looked so sweet and innocent, who was now smirking with her glasses from her face and her hair down.

"I'm from West Virginia, Dean. Not one person there doesn't drink." She gave me a light laugh as she moved to a special pack that she and Ryan had great care carrying. She grabbed up a jar of clear liquid. Was it what I thought it was?

"Corn liquor?" I asked, only to get a grin from her. She stood and then sat at the old table with the jar. I took the seat across from her.

"Yep. Have a swig or two." She said after unscrewing the top and taking a drink of the strong liquid. She turned lightly  red from the first drink. " So, how are you coping?" She asked, finally pressing into my emotions.

"Fine..." I grumbled before taking a swig of the burning liquid and slamming down the jar. "I'm...Coping." I tried to drink away the pain of the pale form of Paige. "How do you cope?"

"I burry myself in unnessasary work and I drink. Some." She said softly and looked up at me. Oh wow. Those eyes looked like  they held the light of the stars in them when she sat towards the broken wondow. I smiled and then stood, she stood as well. "I'm going to go to bed." Her eyes were on mine for a long moment. A very long moment.

Before I knew it, my lips were hot on hers as she was pressed to the wall. I don't know what had come over me, but I was kissing a very confused and passionate huntress. She pushed me away quickly, breathing hard. Her eyes scanned mine, then I was to the wall. She pressed her form to mine, shockingly.

In moments, she had moved away from me and blushed a furious red. "I-I'm going to bed!" Her voice was a squeak. She then moved and curled up into her mess of blankets. I still  wasn't sure what was going on. Maybe kissing a woman was part of my coping. HELL! Making out with any woman was part of his day, but oh well. I slowly slid into my chair and began to drink again