Heartbeat [spn]

Part 3

You woke up to Dean aggressively coughing above you. That was when you realized that you were tangled up in Sam's arms and legs. You gently pushed away from Sam, allowing him to turn so his back was now to you, and climbed out of bed. Dean chuckled, shaking his head and plopping himself down at the table.

"What?" You asked, sitting across from him.

He continued to shake his head, "Nothing. Uh- I was thinking of swinging by your place to swipe for clues. You should come. Get some clothes and stuff."

You nodded, looking back at Sam's sleeping body. "And him?"

Dean joined you in watching Sam breath deep and slow breaths, "I'll leave a note." Dean searched the tabletop for a pen and paper. He jot down a few scribbles and gave you a smile. "Let's go."

You followed him, realizing how quickly he walked and bringing yourself to a small run to the ominous black car. Dean didn't hesitate to slip into the front seat and roar the engine to life. While you, you hovered your hand over the passenger seat handle. You were thankful Dean wasn't rushing you, but knowing he was waiting on you forced you to pry open the door and quickly join Dean in the large front seat.

Dean was silent the whole car ride, he had the radio on low, allowing for some noise to take place between the two of you instead of dead silence. Dean slowed as he pulled into your driveway. The remnants of cops, coroner's, and others still littered your front yard. Yellow cation tape lined the yard, and various large posters basically saying to keep out covered windows and doors.

You sighed, looking over the place that once brought you so much joy. Dean killed the engine and leaned back in his seat, running his hands over his thighs and sucking in a deep breath. "I know its going to be hard to go in there. I'll sit with you until you're ready. Take all the time you need."

"Thanks Dean, but I don't need to wait. Lets just get this over with." The words left your mouth before you knew it, before you could even register what you were saying. And while you wanted to believe them, your hand still clung to your own thigh, still shaking. Dean did as he promised, sitting there looking up at your childhood home with you, not rushing you at all.

Eventually you told yourself you had to get out of the car, that you couldn't just sit in there and hide any longer. You threw open the door and set your feet on the cold concrete that was your driveway. Dean didn't leave the car yet, he sat with his hands still on his thighs giving you a moment to yourself. You slammed the door shut and made your way to the front door, where suddenly Dean appeared next to you.

He pulled a knife out of his pocket, slicing away at the warning sticker keeping your front door shut. It wasn't locked, which allowed you easy access into the home. Although you had been there only a few hours ago, everything seemed as if it had been years.

You eased into the room slowly, this hadn't been the room where anything happened, but it was just the prelude to where you were starting to fear what was upstairs. Had they cleaned? You knew your parents couldn't possibly still be up there, but you still feared the memories of just the night before.

The stairs were the hardest part, step after step your heart started racing, but the confront of knowing Dean was right behind you, coaxing you along with ease. Every few steps you would turn to him, silently begging to be reassured that you were going to be okay. And with the smallest smile he did, and you would go up a few more stairs.

Eventually, you reached the top. "You go pack a bag, I want to search your parents room for a moment." Dean rested his hand on your shoulder as he spoke. You nodded, giving your parents door a quick glance before practically running into your own room.

It took you a moment to remember why your room was torn apart, why there was a small scorch mark on the ground, why your mattress was stabbed open. You sighed, making your way to your already opened closet, grabbing a bag and throwing it on your bed. You threw in clothes, not paying any mind to what or how they fit inside the bag, all you knew was that you wanted to quickly get out of this room.

You zipped up the bag, and sat next to it for a moment. You drank in your room, making mental notes of the belongings that you had. You pat your bed. Walked towards your dresser and held a family photo. You drug your fingers across your parents smiling faces, and felt the tears threatening your eyes.

"Its okay to cry." Dean stood in the doorway, leaning his head against the frame "I remember when my dad died; I cried like a baby for about a week. Never in front of Sam though." He raised a finger and gave a sad smile, which quickly faded.

You wiped the fallen tears from your cheeks. "You lost your dad?"

Dean nodded, looking up from his finger nails as he entered your room. "And our mom." Dean sat on your bed where you previously had been. He looked around your room for a moment before settling his gaze on you. "But Sam doesn't remember that."

"That must have been hard." You leaned against your dresser, the picture still in your hands but your focus on the man in front of you. He was looking at his hands again, ringing them together

"It was." Dean sighed, "Still is. But its life. Its this life."

"What? The supernatural life?" You rolled your eyes, still not willing to grasp that all this was real.

"A hunter's life." Dean chuckled, rubbing the palms of his hands together. "I know you heard me talking to Sam last night. You understand why you can't be a part of this life right?" He looked up at you now, he tried to hide his true feelings, but you could see behind that chiseled jaw that he was fighting back more than he was willing to admit.

"I understand why you think I shouldn't be." You set the photo down behind you. "But something killed my parents." You pointed to your parent's room, "Something tried to kill me." You pointed to your chest. "I can't just walk away from that."

"And no one is asking you too. But you help us solve this case and we go find another. Without you."

You nodded, agreeing with Dean that you shouldn't go out on the road with them. Dean silently stood, making his way back into the hallway without looking back at you. You couldn't tell if he was telling you it was time to go or if he was simply giving you time to say goodbye to your room.

"You should take that photo." Dean added before he completely disappeared. You didn't listen to him though, you left that picture on your dresser and grabbed your bag. Throwing the strap over your shoulder and following Dean. He made his way back into your parent's room, he bent to his knees in front of their bed. "She had cuts like you right?" Dean asked without turning around.

"Uh yeah. But my father didn't. He uh- he choked." You scratched at your arms, suddenly feeling sad about it all. "Why would they attack us different?" You never actually entered the room, instead you stood in the door frame with your arms over your chest.

Dean opened a few of the dresser drawers, rummaging through them quickly before moving on. "Well actually your father's report came back that he too was covered in small cuts. Just not as deeps and not until after he was dead." Dean moved to the closet, you could hear him shuffling things around in there as well. But what he was searching for you had no idea.

"How do you know that?" You asked, eyeing him.

"Perks of the job." He raised his hands in defense. "There's nothing in here. You get clothes?" You nodded, tugging at the bag over your shoulder. "Sam should be calling any minute. I say we get some breakfast and head back to the motel."

When you returned to the hotel room Dean chuckled as he made his way past the still sleeping Sam. "You must have kept him up late." Dean joked, setting his food down on the edge of his bed.

"No, it wasn't-" You started, but Sam shifted, hugging a pillow close to his chest and groaning into it. "I'm going to take a shower."