Heartbeat [spn]

Part 2

The hotel room looked just as you thought when you pulled into the parking lot; like it had been paid for by the hour. And when you entered it, it only confirmed your thoughts with the printed wallpapers, the plain beds, and the few decorations on the walls.

Dean kicked his feet on top of the table as Sam threw him a beer from an ice chest nearby. "Excuse me?" Your voice was small; so small you didn't think that either had ever heard you. But they both looked up at you, consoling eyes on as they looked over you.

"Are you sure that you don't know anyone that would have it out against your parents?" Dean asked, his voice much deeper than Sam's.

You gulped running a hand through your hair and cringing at the pain when you stretched too far. "I don't know. No. I mean my parents weren't rude or anything." You tried to think of anything, of overhearing them talk, or seeing any signs. Only nothing came to mind, nothing absolutely nobody you could think of that would even be mad at your parents. "Nope. Nothing."

Dean and Sam shared a look, Dean leaned back in his seat and took a long drink out of his beer. "Okay. Do you know anyone that would want to hurt you?" Sam asked, he leaned forward, both hands wrapped around the bottle in his hand.

"Really?" You scoffed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You ran your hands up and down your exposed and cut up legs, letting your fingers dance across a few of the cuts that seemed to still be bleeding. You got lost in thinking about everything that happened. Witches didn't seem to be too farfetched the more you thought about it. There wasn't any other explanation you could come up with as to how some invisible force attacked you and your family.

"Look." Dean started, and your attention quickly jumped to meet his gaze. His face was softer now, which made you feel more at ease talking to him, and yet you were hesitant. "Witches don't just kill random people. They have motive. We're just trying to find out what the motive was for this witch."

You closed your eyes tight, breathing in steady deep breaths. You could name a few people that had disliked you, nobody that would be willing to kill because of you though. "We know this is hard, you just lost both your parents, we understand if you need the night to think about it." Sam's added.

You looked back and forth between the two of them; a sadness flashing across both of their faces. You could tell that they too had lost someone important to them. "There's nothing to think about guys. I don't know anyone. No one who would do... this." You picked at one of the cuts on your leg, a drop of blood bubbling against your skin.

"Here," Sam rose to his feet, making his way past you. He shuffled through a bag to your left and produced a small vial of cream, a shirt, and sweats. He gave you a weary smile, "The cream helps with cuts. Heals them faster without scaring."

Hesitantly you took the belongings and slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind you. You looked into the mirror for the first time all night and didn't even recognize the person staring back at you. Your hair was a rat's nest on top of your head, tangles from the deep sleep you had been in. Your makeup from the previous day smeared and running down your face from the tears you didn't even remember crying.

You sighed, looking down into the empty sink. Your arms, chest, legs, and stomach were littered with cuts, all small, but enough to send searing pain throughout your body. It wasn't until now, now that you were looking down and able to assess the damage done to you that you felt the pain. Searing hot stinging pain.

You set the toilet seat down and sat on top of it. The cream smelt like a bunch of herbs, as if you walked into a hippy market. It soothed you though, enough to make your previously on fire body feel cold. You told yourself over and over again to thank Sam for the clothes. In all the craziness you hadn't had time to register that you were in your own pajamas, which mainly consisted of tiny shorts and a tank-top.