Being Pure

Chapter Twenty-Five: Drain the Glass

Chapter Twenty-Five: Drain the Glass

Addison's POV:

"We are not taking the Camaro," Dean snaps, crossing his arms over his chest in an effort to put his foot down.

"But we always take the Impala! Why can't we take my car?" I cross my arms too, hoping I'll win this argument—even though I know there's no way Dean is leaving his baby behind.

We're standing in the middle of the library and we have been for the past twenty minutes. Sam's already packed his bag and is waiting for us to just pick a car so we can get on the road. But Dean won't budge and I'm far too stubborn to back down. We've already gone on three hunts this week, each one only taking about a day to wrap up. The Impala was the car of choice each time, but for once I would like to take my car.

"What is the point of having a car if we never use it?" I throw my arms up into the air, scowling at the older Winchester.

"You're the one who wanted to keep it!" Dean grabs his bag, intending to walk out the door and get into his car before we've actually finished discussing it. But I grab his arm and yank him back to me.

"We're taking my car!" I bite my lip, realizing touching Dean wasn't the smartest move. Now his face is inches from mine, his hand around my waist, and I can't seem to catch my breath. Seeming to read my mind, Dean ducks down and kisses me hard, making my head spin. But he pulls back, leaving me hanging. "You cheat."

"I know," he laughs, pulling me after him. Sam is already sitting in the Impala. Was it really that obvious that I was gonna lose?

"At least let me drive," I say, forcing Dean to stop. I can see his shoulders tighten as he imagines someone else driving his baby. But when he turns around to look at me, there's a big smile on his face and he tosses me the keys. Doing a little happy dance in my head, I slide into the driver side as Dean sits down in the passenger seat.

"You're letting her drive?" Sam leans forward, his head sticking over the seat. Dean just nods and shoves his bag down by his feet. "But I barely get to drive!"

"Yeah, well, when you start dating me, we'll talk," Dean jokes before letting out a huff of laughter. I crank the car and I'm about to put my foot on the gas when Dean suddenly gets very serious. "But I swear to god if you put one scratch on her, we're dumping your ass on the side of the road, tiger."

"Did you just call her a wild animal?" Sam pokes his head over the front seat, completely confused. We both just laugh, the fact that Sam is just hearing this nickname for the first time seeming impossible.

"Yeah, it's a long story," I say, winking at Dean. Still confused, Sam sits back in his seat and falls silent. Still smiling, I pull away from the bunker and head for the highway. The drive to New Orleans is only a few hours—that's probably why Dean let me drive—but I can tell he's nervous about not being behind the wheel. With every turn there's either a groan or a very obvious flinch that comes from the passenger seat. At first it was kind of funny, but by the time we pull up outside the motel, it's downright annoying.

"See? I didn't crash," I say, poking him in the shoulder. He just grumbles something that sounds like a bunch of curse words before getting out of the car. Sam and I follow suit and after Dean's gotten us a room, we head inside. The second we cross over the threshold I can hear some sort of sexual thumping coming from behind one wall and loud music coming from the other. I glare at Dean before tossing my stuff on the couch and sitting down.