More Than a Feeling

Chapter 5

Dean shoveled another mouthful of stew into his mouth and moaned. "Thiff iv amaving." He squeezed the words around a big chunk of tender beef.

Ruthie sat in the brown recliner to the right of the bed, eating her stew with considerably better manners. She beamed at the compliment. "It's my dad's favorite." She flinched, then looked down into her bowl.

Dean stirred his own stew, giving her a moment of privacy.

Soon, she smiled again. "He was a terrible cook. He'd mess up Hamburger Helper. I figured out pretty young that if I ever wanted good food, I'd have to make it myself."

"So you taught yourself?"

She nodded. "With a lot of trial and error."

"Well, here's the thing: I can see vegetables in here. And I don't even care." He took another giant bite and closed his eyes while he chewed. "Sam will be jealous. He's been trying to get me to eat vegetables for years."

She raised her head, a sudden spark of interest in her eye. "Sam? Is he your brother?"

Damn. Her cooking was making him careless. No more slip-ups. He gave her a brief nod, as though this wasn't important information. "How about you? Brothers? Sisters?"

She shook her head. "I'm an only child."

"Mom?"

"She died when I was little. It was always just me and Dad."

For a minute, it was quiet, just the sounds of their spoons scraping their bowls. Dean had been alone before. He knew how it felt. He didn't wish it on anyone. "But you've got people, right? A life to go back to? Friends? A boyfriend?"

She gave a tiny start, and her eyes jumped to his. Damn again. He didn't mean it that way.

Her face went all deer-in-the-headlights for a few seconds. Then she shook her head, and went back to staring at her bowl. Dean waited, but apparently that was her answer.

"So, you're not working now? Gonna start job hunting soon?"

She shrugged.

He set his bowl aside. "Hey, listen. I've lost people too, okay? It sucks. It's the worst. But you can't just shut everybody out. It won't help, trust me. You know people in Boise. You should give them a call; let them help you."

She raised her face to meet his gaze. He wasn't prepared for the fierce set of her jaw or the blaze in her eyes. "Let me ask you something, Christina. Am I in danger?"

"What?"

"You're so eager to tell me how to live my life, but you won't tell me who or what attacked you in my backyard. As though I'm safer not knowing. As though someone or something is going to come looking for you. So I want to know: am I in danger?"

Yes. Of course she was in danger. She was helping Dean Winchester. When did that work out well for anyone?

As she watched his face, her expression softened. In a quieter tone, she asked, "Are we in danger?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "It's possible, yeah."

She took a shaky breath and sat back in her chair. "You're not...you're not some drug lord or violent felon or something, are you? Am I going to be arrested for harboring a wanted criminal?"

That put a half smile on his face. "No. You're not. I'm not." He had been on the FBI's Most Wanted list once or twice, but she didn't need to know that.