Ghosts That We Knew - Supernatural - Dean/Tessa - Part 2/3

[twisted_slinky]

Title: Ghosts That We Knew
Author: twisted_slinky
Artist: dollysdoodles
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Tessa
Warning: Non-explicit sexual situations and nudity, language
Summary: Season 8. When Tessa goes after one of her own, she discovers that the rogue reaper has set up an ancient spell to create life where there is none. She finds herself lost in the human world, lost but not alone. One of the souls in her charge, the one who always managed to get away, is close by, which is good, because Dean Winchester is the only person she knows who can help her now.
Wordcount: ~14k
Prompts: Written for the 2013 angstbigbang. I somehow managed to fill two bingo squares with this angst-filled story: the "Dean/Tessa" square for spnpairingbingo, the "Life" square for the Dark Fantasy bingo.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Written for fun, not profit. The title of this story is based on the song by Mumford & Sons.
A/N: This story is set during Season 8's "Torn and Frayed". It's somewhat a "what if" for that episode, so Sam is absent for most of this story.
STORY MASTERPOST
ART MASTERPOST


PART 2

The world outside was gray, this time because the early winter sun had began to set, and the Impala was a glistening black beacon on the lonely back road cutting through the woodland. It had taken most of the afternoon for him to question enough locals to find the general location of the "cult" hangout, and in that time Dean had determined that Joyce the Waitress had been right about the cult not really being a cult but a bunch of kids. But those teens probably would have sworn on a stack on anarchy cookbooks that they'd been chased away from their usual loveshack by some sort of angry spirit.

He'd started hunts on less info or evidence. Or so he kept telling himself every time he tried to reason whether this day counted as day one of Sam's "few" or day two. Screw it-there was work to be done. He hoped. He hoped to God there was a hunt here, because he simply couldn't take the alternative of going back to the empty cabin.

The watch was what made him think that maybe he wasn't just some paranoid bastard. It wasn't just what the kids described. Teens were always pretending to have been spooked by ghosts, the need for attention or some such shit, but the watch stopping…That detail nagged at Dean, and not just because apparently outcasts liked to wear bow ties and pocket-watches now-he would never understand trends. The watch stopping wasn't the usual sign for a haunting, but he could remember vividly when he'd seen it happen before…And he had absolutely no clue why that would be happening here, but it was worth checking out.

Dean acted on impulse as soon as he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He hit the brakes, pleased to feel them catch in time. When the car came to a full stop, his hand went straight from the wheel to his Colt, because that movement hadn't been an animal preparing to cross the road.

Even in the dim light, he could see her body as she stood. It was a woman. He raised a brow in surprise. Definitely a woman.

She was maybe thirty feet away, just barely managing to pull herself up the side of the ditch, and Dean couldn't help but note the first significant detail of her appearance, her lack of clothing. She turned, arms wrapped around her to ward off the chill, and faced the Impala. Her dark hair was covering half her face, but he could still make out her features, ones he'd recognize anywhere, even though he'd only remembered seeing them three times before.

Dean let out a long breath, waiting for something to happen. Waiting to feel the change.

Because he was dead. Obviously, he was dead. His reaper was standing right in front of his car. Nude for some reason he couldn't comprehend. Unless she'd finally taken mercy on him this go around…

Had he wrecked the Impala? Shit. He was hoping Baby didn't die with him, but at least Sam wasn't in the passenger's seat. Small favors. Sam could go back to Amelia now, no decision to be made. He could forget about closing Hell or picking up the phone.

And Dean could finally follow Tessa to where he belonged. To where he should have been a long time ago.

Dean took another breath and realized something was wrong here, because he didn't feel very…dead. And Tessa didn't exactly look like he remembered. In fact she looked like she was in pain.

Damn it.

Without hesitation, Dean stepped out of the car, tucking his gun against the small of his back and hoping he didn't need to use it, before he took off at a run toward her. She took a step forward to meet him but stopped short, her eyes rolling up into her head as her knees buckled. He didn't reach her in time to stop her fall, but he dropped to his knees at her side, catching her head before it hit blacktop.

"Tessa?"

He quickly surveyed the sides of the road, looking for danger and finding none, before he went back staring at her pale face.

Her eyes opened slowly, as did her mouth. He could barely hear her scratchy voice. "Found me, Dean."

She sounded hoarse. Thirsty. Which she shouldn't have been, seeing as she was a reaper and all. In fact, he shouldn't have been able to see her at all. And he shouldn't have been able to feel her warmth against his hand. She shouldn't have warmth to feel, should she?

The tenseness left her body, and she passed out again.

"Tessa? Stay with me, dead-girl." He reached down, pressing a hand to her neck. She had a pulse. Tessa, the grim reaper, had a friggin' pulse. "What the Hell happened to you?" he whispered.

She didn't reply.

Dean pulled himself back down to earth, taking in the situation at hand, because he was suddenly aware of what was actually in front of him. A woman. Just a woman. How that had happened, he wasn't sure, but he was sure of one thing. She needed help.

He slipped the jacket of his back, draping it over her as best he could manage, and quickly checked her for injuries. He slipped his fingers through her hair and found a swollen lump and then a nice matching set of bruises at her jaw line. Her arm was scraped up, too, but not as badly as her feet, which looked like…

Dean shook his head. "Running barefoot isn't fun, is it?"

Slipping his arm under her shoulders, he pushed her up, letting her head fall against his chest, hooked his arm under her knees, and lifted the both of them up off the blacktop with one heave.

Dean quickly walked back to the Impala, shaking his head and cursing under his breath. He was putting a naked reaper in his car. A naked reaper, who apparently, could bleed and bruise like a person now.

What the hell happened, Tessa?

The sound was familiar, constant, and thundering. It took Tessa another moment to realize it was the sound of her heartbeat, of blood rushing in her ears. Of life.

She blinked awake, exhaustion keeping her from pulling herself up off of the mattress, and stared out at the room, wishing she could see more than drab wallpaper covered in faded floral. The pillow beneath her was soft, comforting, but soaked with the tickling scent of old cigarette smoke, and the blanket covering her bare body was scratchy but warm. Still, she knew she needed to move.

She rolled fully onto her back, wincing. The yellow bulb from a lamp assaulted her eyes, and she reached up, patting her head at the sudden pain. She found a bandage there, and now that she knew the feel of it, she realized there was another at her elbow and something similar covering the bottoms of her feet. And she ached, every bit of her, but the worse of it seemed to be coming from her stomach. She felt empty there, as if all the muscles below her ribs were squeezing that void; she felt hungry.

"Tessa."

That voice was familiar. It belonged to a ghost she once knew.

She forced her eyes open again, and he was there, blocking out the blinding light, his green eyes cautious. But despite whatever suspicions she suspected he felt, he eased himself down onto the edge of the mattress beside her. When she tried to lift herself up, she felt his hand slip beneath her neck, cradling it.

"Try a little water-take it slow."

Tessa nodded, more to herself than him, and let a straw be pressed between her lips. The cold rush of liquid down her throat left her humming with pleasure, but he pulled the drink away before she could have nearly enough to satisfy. Still, she felt more awake now, enough to push herself up a bit higher. She rested her shoulder blades against the cool headboard, the scratchy blanket tucked beneath her arms to keep it up.

Dean let out a slow breath, as if he'd been holding it a while and leaned away from her, sitting the cup aside. Tessa wondered what else had been in the drink. Holy water? She had no doubt, and she let out a choked huff, as close to a laugh as her weary body would allow.

Dean raised a brow. "So…Tessa, long time, no see. Which is kinda the way it's supposed to work. Mind telling me how the hell I'm seeing you now?"

An image of Ankou's wraithlike form flashed through her mind, and she felt her pulse pick up speed. Her eyes widened as they sought out the closed door to the motel room. "Have you warded this place?" she asked, her voice still hoarse. "Have you laid down salt, painted sigils?"

Tessa felt a weight on her knee, Dean's hand over the blanket, holding her in place.

"Whoa-slow it down," he said, but despite his words, she could see the tension take over his body, stringing him even tighter than usual. "I figured you were running from something-by the way, you might want to invest in a pair of shoes. I put up protection as soon as I got you here. Now, back to you telling me what's going on, and what exactly I'm protecting us from."

Tessa shook her head. "I'm not even sure where to…" Her voice trailed off, and she started over when Dean's gaze hardened. "I followed another reaper here when I realized none of the souls he'd been called to collect recently had made it to their next destination. I thought he, Ankou, might be in danger, but…he was collecting the spirits. Seven, for a sacrifice."

Dean's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Aren't sacrifices usually better if they're, you know, alive?"

"Generally, but not for what Ankou had planned. He'd found a sacred relic of an old god named Mictlantecuhtli, one of the gods of death and a powerful being in his day. Not so much anymore, but the statue Ankou found still carries the magic of the underworld. Ankou must have been searching for ages to find the right spell to do what he's done." Tessa paused, swallowing down the memory of those ghosts, their blank stares. Those souls were no more now. They had been used. She'd felt their strength pass through her, become part of her and of Ankou. "He needed seven souls of the dead to create new life."

Dean stared at her a moment, as if seeing her anew. "Wait…is that how you're…? New life as in human life?"

Tessa shook her head. "I'm not sure that human life is what he intended…He was in his other form when he worked the spell. When I interfered, I was…as I now am."

"Human." Dean looked away from her, running a hand over his face. Tessa wished she could read his mind and know exactly what he was thinking. He was, after all, a hunter. He had lines that he didn't cross, and some that he did. Tessa had no clue where she fell now. "If you stopped him, if you're like this, then that means he didn't get what he wanted, right?"

"I wish I could said that worked. I didn't stop him," Tessa confessed. "We both touched the statue…Souls are powerful. Somehow, they were enough to change us both. But Ankou wasn't very happy to see me afterward-I don't think this worked out the way he wanted it to."

"So you're saying he wanted to be some living creature with all the reaper perks but instead he just turned into some flesh and blood fugly? And you, where's that leave you?"

Tessa ran her fingers over her arms, crossing them in front of her chest. "Corporeal. But it's more than that-some reapers, they go rogue, use magic to make themselves visible and solid. This is different. Like you said, I think," she hesitated, her voice lost, "I think I might have become a human. I can't feel anything, like I did before. I can't feel Death, I can't see the spirit realm anymore. My list is gone from my mind, as if it never existed. I can't change my form or move."

Weak, was what she didn't say, but that was what she felt. She glanced up, feeling pinpricks in the corners of her eyes as the emotion welled inside her. This wasn't a common problem; no matter what she felt for the souls in her charge, fear and uncertainty were not familiar emotions for reapers. As a reaper, she knew her place, her duty.

She hated the way her voice shook. "Dean, what am I going to do?"

Dean stood up, and she watched his throat constrict as he swallowed down whatever he was going to say. "You're going to put some clothes on and eat some take out," he finally replied. He bit his bottom lip, that lost, confusing expression in his eyes again, and added, more quietly, "'Cause that's what a human would do."

God, he needed to call someone. It was his first instinct, picking up the phone, but now that he had it, he remembered that he'd promised himself he wouldn't be the one to call Sam back. That he'd let his brother choose. And, Benny…Dean didn't know how Benny could help matters. Cas sure as hell could, if the angel would have actually answered the prayers Dean had been muttering since he picked a friggin' reaper up off the road-and Dean really didn't want to consider why the angel wasn't answering. And Bobby…well, that was a number he couldn't reach anymore.

Dean closed the phone again, pocketing it, and winced. Had it really been asking too much? Wanting one simple hunt to take his mind off of the shitstorm that was his family? Instead of simple, though, he'd gotten…Tessa.

Dean let out a sigh but didn't turn back around, staring at the closed curtains instead as he waited for the movement behind him to quiet. He told himself the antsy feeling wasn't from being forced to turn his back to her, but because the delivery boy was taking too long with their damn pizzas. And it certainly didn't have a thing to do with her being naked. Nope, been there, done that, which was, frankly, the only upside to his day so far.

"You can turn around. I'm decent."

Dean glanced over his shoulder, raising an appreciative brow when he saw her shifting her weight from foot to foot. He was lucky he'd had a pair of drawstring sweats in his duffel, but she was still swimming in them, her feet hidden by the extra inches of fabric. She'd tucked the front of his black T-shirt into the waist, but it wouldn't do to go out in the outfit. He'd have to pick her up some clothes of her own. And shoes. Guessing the size would be a bitch-jeeze, that shopping was even on his mind showed what a hell of a day he was having.

Noticing the frown on her face hadn't disappeared, he tacked on a doggish grin. "Yes, ma'am. You are, indeed."

It had the desired effect. Tessa bit down a smirk, a bit of the sadness in her eyes fading. "Such a gentleman," she muttered. "Quit acting like you didn't sneak a peek."

"Guilty. Might've copped a feel, too, while I was carrying your ass off the road," Dean returned.

"So, we're having pizza then?" She shifted again, obviously not able to find comfort and then eased back down on to the mattress. "I guess this is what you mean when you say you're starving."

Dean's brow furrowed. He'd almost forgotten about her feet. The soles were shredded and bruised, but there wasn't much to be done for them at the moment. He realized now why she'd opted to wait about showering until after the meal-she probably couldn't stand for that long yet. Dean made a mental note to give her some pain meds with the meal.

"Yeah-figured junk food was the way to go. After all, Death seems to enjoy it." Dean plopped down into the chair next to the lone round table instead of joining her-another note to self, Mr. I'll-opt-for-the-King-size, ask to switch to a room with two fulls. "Uh, speaking of your, uh, boss…"

Tessa shook her head. "I've told you once before, Dean, we don't find him, he finds us. You can try summoning him, but there's a chance…Well, he doesn't necessarily show up whenever we're in a bind. And this?" Tessa glanced down at herself. "I don't know if he'd help me anyhow now that I'm not...his."

Dean frowned. "Hey, I've met a lot of douchebags in the supernatural world, and he's, by far, not the douchiest of them all. You can't tell me he'd just leave one of his own hanging."

"Maybe not. But he tends to know when one of us has gotten ourselves into trouble, and he expects us to fix our problems ourselves. Much like your Father." Tessa picked at the bandage on her elbow. "Also, have you considered what will happen to you if we manage to get his attention?"

Dean bypassed Tessa's water cup for his beer bottle and gave it a sheepish frown. "Heard about the whole-?"

"The whole trying to put a leash on Death thing? Yeah, I did. Honestly, Dean, will you ever learn to not piss of things more powerful than you are?"

Dean took a swig. "Probably not. So, in conclusion, we shouldn't call on your boss unless I'd like to be wearing my skin inside out?" He sat the bottle back down, leaning back against the chair. Then, just as quickly, he leaned forward again, a new thought entering his head. "And how'd you know about the leash thing? Don't tell me there's a newsletter."

Tessa chuckled. "Sorry to rain on your parade, but the only memos we receive concern soul transportation. I found out because it was you who did the leashing. You're one of mine, Dean, and-"

Dean looked up when her voice broke off and noticed the slight flush to her cheeks. He grinned. "Wait, you keep up with me? Is that how you knew I'd be nearby? Why, aren't we the little spirit stalker…"

Tessa rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she groaned. "Don't flatter yourself, Dean. I knew you were nearby, but I had no clue you'd be the next car to drive past me. And, as for stalking you? You're a trouble maker. For me, for all reapers-and you really don't want to hear the things Fate has said about you-so, yes, I do keep an eye on you, but it's because I'm afraid of what chaos you might unleash when I'm not looking."

"I have a guardian reaper," Dean mused. "That's helpful…in no way." Tessa huffed at that, but didn't sound put-out. When Dean gave her another glance, she was fixated on a spot on the wall, a guilty expression on his face. "What about when I was in Purgatory?"

She flinched, and Dean knew he'd hit home. "I knew you were there," she said, quietly.

"Huh." Dean suddenly didn't have much taste for his stale beer. "What if I had died there?"

Tessa was silent a moment, but then she turned, facing him, wearing an expression on her face that Dean couldn't quite get a read on. A sense of strangeness crept over him like building dread, because he realized he wasn't sure he'd like the answer she'd give him.

Not that he'd come to expect good things from supernatural entities-the opposite, actually-but Dean had felt himself unwinding as they spoke. Maybe it was Benny's influence, or maybe it was just her. Whether it was because she was his reaper or because he couldn't keep his mouth shut in the face of dying, Tessa knew him-really knew him-in a way that few on this planet or off of it did. He'd spoken to her freely in the past, because, hell, who was she going to tell? And she'd been just as frank with him. Steered him in the right direction a couple times too. He'd hate to admit it, but there were a couple answers to his question she could give that might cut straight to the bone.

"I would have come after your soul," she finally said, "whether you were on my list or not. I would have went into Purgatory and taken you where you needed to go. Because you didn't belong there, Dean, and you've already went somewhere you didn't belong, once before."

Dean let out a slow, relieved breath, giving his phone a glance. "And because I'm one of yours?"

She opened her mouth, but the sound of a knock at the door cut her off.

Dean clapped his hands together, ending the conversation. "Pizza's here."

"-I mean, not to say your issue isn't an…issue, but I think this reaper-wraith thing is priority. Not that I'm sure where we should begin looking for answers on how to kill it, since, technically, I guess one hasn't ever existed…Tessa?"

Tessa hadn't realized her eyes had drifted closed until she heard the sound of her name. Sleep's call was more soothing than she had expected it to be, and now that the chill of late night was in the air and her belly full, she felt its pull tenfold. Straightening against the headboard, she refocused on Dean, whose amused expression said he'd seen her eyes close.

"I'm listening," she assured, sounding more awake than she was. And, in actuality, she wasn't sure why she was still listening. Dean had already went over her story again, picking it apart for details, researching the statue on his computer as he spoke.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head, and started to fold away the empty pizza box and toss the greasy napkins in the trash. "You look like a kid who's fighting a nap. Why don't you just lay down for a bit. I need to take a shower before I head out."

Tessa frowned. "Head out?"

"Just to the store," he assured. "Don't worry, whatever the hell this guy has turned himself into, he's still a creature, and creatures work by certain rules. The wards should hold while I'm out."

"I wasn't worried," she snapped.

Dean shrugged one shoulder, ignoring her. "Go to bed."

Tessa had a few choice words for him concerning his commanding tone of voice, but the lull of sleep made her forget them quickly enough. She slid down beneath the covers, enjoying the feel of the soft clothing much more than the coarse blanket. And the scent was pleasing as well, clean but carrying a light musk. Dean's scent. She fell asleep with the conclusion in mind and awoke for the first time with that same scent, much stronger on its humid cloud, hitting her face.

She blinked, eyes squinting against the dull light of the room, and realized the odd sensation was steam rolling off the body standing next to the bed and drifting out of the open bathroom door. Dean had his back to her. It was bare, a white towel wrapped low around his waist, and he was close enough, as he dug through the duffel bag he had propped onto the chair, for her to see the beads of wetness rolling over his skin.

Tessa wondered what that damp flesh would feel like against her palm. She wasn't sure where the thought came from or why it sent a tingle of electricity down her body. Heat rose to fill her cheeks. This was lust, she realized. She'd never quite felt it before. She'd seen many naked bodies before, couples engaged in intimate poses during the final minutes of their lives, bathers awaiting a wet grave…She'd seen the form of a male many times, but her body had never reacted to it in the past.

Tessa realized her breathing had quickened and tried to even it once more before closing her eyes. She fell back into sleep so quickly that she wondered if the sight of Dean wasn't part of a dream-she'd always heard the humans talk about how vivid they could be-but she knew that wasn't the case when a nightmare greeted her. It was a familiar, though she'd never been to this dark forest before. She recognized it, Purgatory, even though no monsters greeted her there. She was alone and searching, unable to find him.

When she awoke the second time, she was frustrated, her body fidgeting between the covers, her head heavy on the pillow. She slapped a hand against the mattress, groaning at the lingering anxiety circling her mind.

The nightmare had never reached a conclusion, just as she had never reached one during the year Dean was gone. That was the last time she had tried to call upon her Master-she wasn't lying to Dean. Their father didn't come to them, his reapers, whenever they had a question. She knew from experience, because she'd tried to find him, ask if she should go into Purgatory for Dean Winchester. Reapers had a way of reaching the domain, a secret they had guarded well in the past, but it took breaking from their duty to do so. Tessa had never done such a thing, she didn't plan to do so then, but…

Tessa hadn't lied to Dean. She had reached the decision to go and fetch his soul if she felt him passing, but the longer he stayed away, still alive in that world of monsters, the more she wanted to fetch him before his time. But she was afraid of the consequences of such an action. Would helping him cause a greater ripple than leaving him there? Death had never answered her when she'd tried to ask him that very question.

And he wouldn't answer her now if she asked. Once he told her that was why he had given his reapers freewill, so they could find answers of their own. Tessa didn't understand the point of that at times.

Tessa pulled herself up, but she already knew Dean wasn't in the room with her. It was still, dark, but warm, the heater in the wall humming loudly. Too awake to fall back asleep, Tessa moved to the bathroom, her tender feet screaming at her as they were pressed into the stiff, stained carpet.

Peeling off the bandages had been a chore and adjusting the loose shower faucet an even greater one, but she was finally able to relax beneath hot water. It washed away the dirt at her hands and knees, the skin she'd scraped off her elbow, the small twigs and leaves still stuck in her hair. Her muscles lost their tightness beneath the stream. She hadn't realized something so simple could be so pleasurable for a human. No wonder they missed their lives so.

She sighed with relief, then with regret when she turned the faucet off again. She could hear movement in the other room-Dean was back.

Wrapping a clean towel around her chest, she shivered when she stepped out into the main room. "Dean?"

Distress was written across his face, but it disappeared when he looked up at her. Tessa cocked her head, enjoying his dazed expression. She had almost forgotten how appreciative he was of this form. My only form now, she thought, but the idea didn't taste as bitter anymore, especially now that she'd seen Dean's approving stare. It wasn't the worse body to be stuck in.

"You told me I should take a shower."

Dean opened and closed his mouth. "I…yeah. I did." He shook himself back to the present and raised one arm, holding up two heavy plastic bags. "I had to guess with the sizes, but these looked about right. All the basics, and I got you a coat, too-good thing these department stores are all staying open on a hunter's schedule these days. If it wasn't for twenty-four hour places, we'd never get anything new. Why don't you, uh, put these on…okay? Then we'll re-wrap your feet."

Tessa took the bags from him but didn't move, even after he turned back to the computer. Loading it back up again. Something was wrong, she could see it in the way he moved. "Dean, don't you have to sleep?"

He shook his head, not bothering to look up. "I think you know the line, sister: I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"Hilarious," Tessa said, rolling her eyes. She hesitated a moment longer. "Dean, if you're uncomfortable with me…With me being here while you sleep, perhaps we could-"

Dean's sharp glance cut her off. "No." He sighed. "Listen, I was going to get another room, but I don't think that's such a good idea anymore. We'll talk about it when you get dressed."

Tessa had never cared much for his bossy tone. She stood her ground. "We'll talk now. What's wrong, Dean? You're keeping something from me."

Dean attempted to stare her down and failed. He snorted. "You're picking up on this human stuff a lot faster than Cas."

"I deal directly with moody humans daily. Angels, traditionally, don't have that pleasure. Now spill, Winchester. Is this…is this about Ankou?"

Dean eased down into his chair, running both hands down his face and looking more exhausted than before. "Maybe. I heard the store clerk talking to a cop…There was a body found a few hours ago. It was, well, the official line is 'mauled by an animal' but the local gossip was leaning less toward the word 'maul' and more toward 'eaten'. I'm about to check and see if a report's been put up yet. Could have been an animal."

"Or it could have been him." Tessa shook her head, droplets sliding off her hair and onto her shoulder. "We don't… I mean, reapers don't eat people."

"Good to know."

"But eating human flesh is part of the Mictlantecuhtli lore."

Dean pursed his lips, nodding. "Yeah, I figured that might be the case. Think some of those good ol' pagan god munchies rubbed off on Ankou?"

Tessa didn't have a solid answer to that, but she knew Dean was determined to find one. "Dean, you need sleep."

Dean snorted. "Well, look at who's suddenly an expert on human needs," he muttered, typing something into the computer. Tessa marched to the table and closed the laptop. He pulled his fingers off the keys just in time and stared up, flabbergasted. "What the hell?"

"Are you always this big of an idiot? You're, what exactly? Going to drive out to find Ankou in the middle of the night-"

"Technically early morning…"

"-and then face something you've never fought before while you're half asleep? Is that part of the plan? Get yourself killed so you can ask your next reaper to help us out?"

Dean blinked. "I'm too tired for this shit."

"My point exactly."

"Christ, fine!" Dean threw his hands up in surrender. "I'll catch a few hours of sleep first and hope the megalomaniac-reaper is full. But I'm calling the bed."

Tessa raised a brow at him.

Dean huffed, kicking his boots off and dimming the center lamp. "Fine, sweetheart, you wanna share, we'll share. It's a big bed. Just try to control yourself during the night-I know you're getting in touch with your human side, and all, but..."

Dean ignored her glare, collapsing down on top of the blankets, still in his jeans and flannel over-shirt. Tessa took his closed eyes for permission and let the towel fall free, dabbing the dampness out of her hair and slipping back into his sweats and shirt. She could go through her new clothes in the morning.

She slid into the bed, as far from his side as she could manage and curled beneath the covers, her back to him.

"Tessa?" Dean's voice was already groggy, but it came out clear enough to catch her attention. "You didn't ask about Sam."

Tessa stared out at the dimly lit room. "Do you want me to?"

He was quiet a moment, and Tessa wanted to tell him that he didn't need to say a word, that she already knew, but that would be confessing how closely she sometimes kept an eye on him. He saved her from that embarrassment.

"No," he whispered. "Thanks."

"Goodnight, Dean."

"G'night, bossy stalker."

PART 3