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"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ROPED ME INTO THIS." Liz mumbled, worrying her lip as she sat anxiously in the passenger seat of the Impala. It was dark and the only lights that were on were the headlights of the car and the street lights that illuminated the sidewalk.
Dean sighed next to her, his hands still tightly wrapped around the steering wheel. His knuckles turning white from the tension. "I can't believe you actually agreed if I'm being honest." He looked around the street from the comfort of the car and safely behind the glass, watching as a few drunk bystanders, possibly students, stumbled wobbly along the path.
Liz did a double take and stared intensely at the side of her driver's head. "What?" She replied, well more like shouted because that little tidbit of information he hadn't decided to disclose until now. "You mean you weren't even directly asking me to come along, you just wanted information?"
She really didn't want him to answer that.
"Well, yeah, kinda. I thought you'd blatantly refuse to come with me, probably prefer to not be even a hundred feet of me." He said it nonchalantly as if it didn't matter that she'd just up and left with him in the middle of the night, completely forgetting all about the case she was originally following.
"So you're telling me I didn't have to come!" Not a question. Definitely not a question. Because now she was beyond annoyed. "I could have been in a warm bed enjoying my piece and quiet but instead I'm here, with you! Is that what you're telling me?" Liz hoped Dean could feel two burning holes in the side of his face, because she wanted him to feel pain right that second.
But he didn't flinch. He could feel the anger seething from her every pore and knew he was in for a world of pain and hell. Except he did actually need her help. He was actually really glad she was here sitting beside him.
"Look I'm sorry I wasn't specific, but you know I need you for this. He's not exactly going to listen to me is he? He trusts you." Dean sighed again, this one lasted longer, like he was trying to control his breathing.
And Liz noticed it. Calming herself slightly so that she didn't murder the Winchester, even though she desperately wanted to.
"You're nervous aren't you?" Her eyes returned to the street in front of them. To the block of apartments that resided their, and to the window she knew belonged to a certain shaggy haired college student.
They both sat there, watching the window, wondering if they could see any movement, even a shadow. But there was nothing. The two people who lived inside the apartment had long gone to bed.
