Fallen [Dean Winchester FanFiction]

XXIV

Twenty-Four

Three weeks. It's been three long weeks since Dean and Alaine have spoken a word to each other. Following the events of that morning, she found herself being kept at a distance by the hunter. He hardly left his room, leaving her no choice but to move back in to her old bedroom. He'd secluded himself almost entirely, going as far as to even push his own brother away. Sam had tried the best he could to talk to Dean, however nothing he said got him to open up.

For the first few days, Alaine's torment would keep her up at night. She'd cry until no tears were left, and would fall asleep with a heavy feeling in her chest. She wanted to give him time to come around, but after the fourth day of waiting she caved and decided to try again. She'd waited for hours for him to come out of his room. When he finally did, she cornered him in the kitchen. He'd gone to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of beer and as she stood in the entryway, she could feel her heart jump into a wild gallop. He appeared unkempt, his hair lying in a disarray on top of his head. His clothes were horribly wrinkled, and his beard looked darker than it had days ago. As he turned to leave, he stopped abruptly, his eyes meeting hers.

"Dean," she murmured, her voice careful and soft. Longing flashed in her bright gaze, and Dean clamped his hand tightly around his beer bottle, the muscle in his jaw tightening.

"Excuse me."

He tried to move past her without coming into contact, but her small hand had latched around his wrist, sending a current of sensation up his entire arm. He breathed in sharply and before she could sway him with her words, he wrenched out of her grasp and stormed away.

The complications between them worsened from here on out. The day that the course of their relationship changed, Alaine had spent it cooped up in her bedroom, cleaning out her arsenal. Around midnight, she decided to go shower and call it a night. Due to the undefined circumstances of her and Dean's current situation, she'd gone and claimed a bathroom for herself rather than share the one they'd been using until now. After freshening up, she went to slip into a change of clothes when the realization hit her: she had none. Whatever clothes she'd been using so far were the ones she'd left in her old bedroom. Everything else that was clean was in Dean's room and she was now faced with an issue.

What the hell was she going to do?

She had two choices. Option one was to head back to her room in her towel and attempt to do a small load of laundry while the brothers were asleep. Option two, she'd head to Dean's room and ask him nicely to hand her some clothes. She considered both options for a moment, deciding that the less risky one was to try to face Dean rather than have Sam accidentally walk in on her washing clothes in nothing but a towel.

Quickly, she bolted down the hallway, the cold air hitting her damp skin and making her shiver. When she reached Dean's room, she found his door had been left slightly ajar. She stopped to steal a small peak inside. It was empty. She looked down both ends of the hallway. All she needed was a couple of minutes to be in and out.

Pushing the door open, she slipped inside, making a beeline for the dresser. She pulled open the top two drawers where the rest of her clothes were folded into neat piles and began grabbing as much as her arms could carry. With a handful underwear, shirts and jeans, she turned to make a quick exit and came to a sudden halt when Dean appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

His gaze scanned her face quietly, then fell to the clothes lying in her arms before it settled onto the small, white towel wrapped around her body.

"I'm sorry," she rushed out. "I ran out of clothes and needed to grab some more. I didn't mean to barge in. I was going to ask but I saw you weren't here and—"