Part of the Family Business (A Supernatural Fanfic)

Chapter Seven

"What?" Dean utters. He glances around, apparently trying to find something. Then he picks up a file and opens it. "Just his heart's missing," he mentions, skimming down the page. Dean puts it down on the table again and pulls off his gloves.

"Well, I guess we're done here," he says, giving me a smile. I grin at him, taking my gloves off, too; Sam does the same.

When we leave the building, Sam says, "I'm surprised you didn't hit on her, Dean."

"What do you mean?" Dean says, clearly confused. He opens the back car door for me - I get in - and closes it for me.

"I mean," Sam says, shutting the door as he sits, "that coroner was hot, and you didn't make even a single attempt at a cheesy pick-up line."

"Maybe I don't like cheesy pick-up lines anymore," Dean replies flatly; we're on the road to the motel again.

"But," Sam continues, "there was still an absence of pick-up lines."

Dean just shrugs, and that ends the conversation. He pulls into the parking spot in front of our room and gets out; Dean opens the door for me again. I say my thanks and go up behind Sam, who's unlocking the motel door.

Sam hangs the room key on the key hook beside the door. Then he pulls off his suit jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair; Dean does the same, putting it over a different chair.

"So," Dean says, "what do you think this could be?" He slides out a kitchen chair and plops down into it, crossing his arms.

Sam shrugs and walks over to the beds, undoing his tie. "From the first victim, I'd think it would be a werewolf... but the second victim suggests differently"

"The second victim," I point out, "suggests it's a kitsune."

"A kitsune?" Dean speaks up. "Like that one girl - what was her name - Amy?" He glances over to Sam, who nods. I see his eyes look down as if in mourning or something; she must have been significant.

"Wait, so," Sam lays on his bed, putting his laptop on his lap, "what about the blood loss thing? Do you think it was just a coincidence, and we could toss the idea of it being a vamp?"

Frowning, I glance over to Dean who shrugs. "It didn't look like he died of coincidental blood loss. But, I don't know what it looks like when someone does die of blood loss," he points out, frowning at the wall behind me.

"There weren't any entry wounds from fangs," I say, pulling off my jacket. Dean watches, and I squint slightly at him; he looks away, in Sam's direction across the room.

"There weren't any entry wounds of anything," Sam says from his bed. "No fangs, no needles..."

"Maybe the creature sucked the blood through its claws," I say, shrugging and putting my jacket on the chair beside Dean. The two glance at me with curious frowns as I sit.

"What kind of creature does that?" Sam says eventually. I roll my eyes while sighing. Then I shrug.

"I don't know."

There's a thoughtful silence, and Dean clears his throat. It looks like he's about to say something, but he bites his bottom lip slightly and stares at his folded hands on the table.

I stand up to go shower; I don't like feeling as if I just swam in syrup. But Dean stops me.

"Where you going?" he says softly. Eyeing him suspiciously, I take a step back.

"To take a shower," I respond. He clears his throat again and taps the space on the table in front of where I was sitting.

"Actually," he says, "I wanted to tell you something - or ask you something, really." I return to my seat and stare at him, trying to figure out what he wants to say before he actually does; he seems nervous and looks almost everywhere but at me.

"Yes?" I say, tilting my head slightly. Finally, he looks at me and starts to speak; he stops himself again, and I knit my eyebrows together. "You can say it," I whisper to him, reaching my hand out to touch his. I stop short, resting my fingers close enough to pull back but close enough for him to touch them if he wanted.

"I just," he whispers, "wanted to know what we are..." Dean pauses. "What do you think we are?"

We whisper still, and I respond, "What do you think we are?" He smirks at me.

"Me?" he says softly. "I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend."

"Glad we're on the same page," I say, no longer a whisper, and stand to go take my shower.