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Chapter 2: Answers

You startled awake to a thud and cursing. The sleep still sat heavy on your eyelids, so you rubbed them with one hand, knife ready in the other.

A shirtless Dean met your eyes in shock. His green eyes grew wider as they drifted to the knife you had clearly stolen from his nightstand drawer. You were in shock too, but for different reasons. Standing in front of you was a man that you thought only existed in the books. Not only was his face chiseled, but so was his body.

You took advantage of the moment and looked over him, remembering as much as you could. His hair and body were both damp, surely a result from a shower. His face with a dimpled chin, you could tell, had seen a few too many fights. Yet, somehow, that didn't detract from his appeal in any way. He had full lips and you scolded yourself when your mind wandered to kissing those lips.

He began stuttering and throwing apologies your way. "I was trying to let you sleep and then I stubbed my dang toe off the bed. And I guess you know the rest."

Your eyes finally averted from him and you stared down at the scratchy blanket you used all night. It was an unattractive tan color and you knew these boys didn't care too much about comfort. A smirk tugged at your lips.

These people are definitely hunters.

"It's okay, sorry I'm invading your room."

He shrugged and pulled a dark t-shirt over his head and layered it with a flannel shirt. "Sammy went to town to pick some clothes up for you. He's better with the shopping stuff." Dean grabbed a grey robe from a hook on the bathroom door and handed it to you as you sat still covered on the bed. "In the meantime, throw this on and meet me in the main room."

He left without another word and you slipped the robe over your shoulders. Now that you weren't near death, you noticed all of the guns and knives that were hung on the wall.

Seriously, you thought. How didn't I see that last night?

It surely would have been easier and less awkward than snooping through his drawers and stumbling across his boxer briefs. Sighing, you placed the knife you found in his nightstand drawer back in place. You really should have checked there first.

You found your way to the main area, clutching the robe closed so that no extra flesh would be showing. The bare skin on your feet was chilled. Have these guys never heard of carpet before?

"Alice," Dean smiled, looking up from a laptop. "Take a seat." You noticed that he was no longer wearing glasses. At first, you had assumed it was only because of his shower. Maybe he wore contacts.

You obeyed, with your neck craning all around taking in the amazing view of the bunker. Everything had an old time lavishness to it. The room you were currently standing in had a few tables with green lamps placed neatly in the middle of each. Book shelves surrounded you, each book looking old and filled with information your hands were itching to pick up.

"What is this place?" you questioned in awe. Despite smelling dusty and ancient, the place was still incredible.

"It's a bunker. It keeps us safe from," he hesitated, "from evils, like those things that attacked you last night."

A chill ran through your body at the memory of the pain and fear you had felt. Hellhounds were always scary, but they never fazed you much since they weren't after you. Last night, however, was a completely different story. Those Hellhounds wanted you dead.

"You're lucky we were just getting back, otherwise you would be puppy chow."

"Thanks for the kind words," you replied with a sharp tone.