The Nightmare

It was a comforting feeling, the heat on her face and her arms. When she closed her eyes she could see the pale orange light flickering behind her eyelids and she burrowed deeper in her blankets. It was so cold out when they put her to bed, it was nice to feel the fire Dad had started in the hearth was warming up the rest of the house.

She could hear a high-pitched whining and the smell of cooking.

She thought for a moment that her father had the kettle on and that he was making breakfast, there was the sizzling smell of bacon he always made on Sunday mornings. Dad liked to make poached eggs on toast with thick slices of bacon when they could afford it…and when Mom was away on business, of course.

The kettle was feverish now, stirring her from a sound sleep. My God, it was loud!

She opened her eyes for a moment and peeked out from under her comforter. The air was thicker now. Inhaling felt like breathing in hot coals. Something was very, very wrong.

The whining wasn't the kettle, the sizzling wasn't breakfast, and the heat wasn't coming from the hearth. She opened her eyes fully and took in her surroundings - everything was ablaze. The whistling of the kettle was unbearable now, shrieking and howling.

That's when she realized it.

The kettle wasn't a kettle at all.

It had an eerily familiar face…and it was screaming, and screaming, and screaming.

The Job

Rim sat bolt upright in bed in a cold sweat, nauseous and dizzy. Hot. She was hot.

Wrapping herself in the hotel bed sheet she took a few steps on the burnt orange carpet and flung open the front door to the frigid Colorado air, inhaling the crisp cold deep into her lungs. It had been years since she had thought about that day. Years since she had a 'hot flash' her father jokingly liked to call them.

They happened periodically. Being what she was, it was unavoidable. Manageable, but not entirely preventable.

She'd had them ever since she was little; her mother used to laugh and call Rim her 'little space heater' which was cute in the dead of winter. In the heat of summer, running a few degrees warmer than most was a bitch.

She reached up and pulled her hairband out of her long auburn hair and rested her head against the doorframe. Just a few more minutes.

Rim didn't like sleeping with the windows open, not to mention it was terribly unwise in her profession. On some nights, if she felt secure enough, or she felt like she had put enough distance between her and the next job, she would crack the hotel windows and let the brisk winter air caress her to sleep.

Just as Rim drew her head away from the door and took a step inside she realized she was being watched.

Across the parking lot and over the iron railing she could see a man in a green army jacket with short-ish sandy blonde hair and a swagger. He had stopped dead, mid-bite of what looked like some sort of fast food burger, staring mutely up at her. It wasn't a leer, it was a curious stare; the kind she used to get in school when someone noticed something about her wasn't quite…kosher.

She stared back, determined not to be the first to break eye contact. Then she began examining his features. Attractive, sturdy, with an athletic build. Great ass.

That's when Rim remembered the only thing standing between her and the attractive burger-creeper was a thin, white hotel sheet. Boy, was it windy out.

She slammed the door on those piercing green eyes and thought better of going back to bed. Best to pack and move on now, the job was another day's drive anyway.

Best to get started before it had a chance to snow.

Caught

Dean nudged Baby's door closed with his hip, his hands busy hugging a bag of salty fries and burgers, the other busy shoveling the first of many into his stubbled face. He had been driving for a few days now, tracking omens and strange deaths near the Denver and Colorado Springs area.

Too many for it to be a coincidence.

For once he was actually a little nervous that he didn't have back up, it had been a while since he soloed a hunt. Even so, there were perks to hunting alone. He was looking forward to a hot shower and not having to share the hot water with Sammy. His not so little brother liked to hog it all so Dean usually ended up going first. It would be nice to relax and not have to look after someone, even for just a few days.

He had left Sam at the bunker to stew and recover, he hoped. It was impossible to believe just how fast he was deteriorating. No matter what Sammy told him, he knew he wasn't all right. Those damned trials were going to kill him. He couldn't even hit the targets back at the range he was so fried.

As Dean took a bite of his cheeseburger he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck and stopped dead in the frozen parking lot of the motel. He looked around and craned his neck to peer up at the second floor rooms when a flash of red caught his eye.

It was a woman.

A very…unusual woman.

Not to say that she wasn't striking, her crimson hair catching in the streetlight, but something was off. She looked completely unnatural and out of place in the dirty motel. Dean couldn't quite put a finger on it. After decades of hunting he knew there was something about that woman that was just…not right.

It was only then that Dean realized she was wrapped in nothing but a bed sheet and standing in an open door in 20-degree weather. That bed sheet was just a little too thin to be doing the job.

As his gaze traveled up the length of her body he abruptly realized that her eyes were locked in on him.

Watching.

Most women would have immediately ducked back into the safety of their room or done a little more to…cover themselves, but she just stared right back.

It wasn't a glare; it wasn't even accusatory.

Dean felt like a kid with his hand caught in a cookie jar, meeting her gaze. Her dark eyes seemed to communicate across the crisp expanse, Can I help you?

Just as suddenly as he realized she was there, she was gone. Slipped back inside with the door shut firmly behind her.

Dean realized with chagrin that he still held a burger halfway to his mouth and had half a mouthful of food un-chewed. He swallowed and rummaged in his jacket pocket for his room key.

There was something off about that girl for sure, whatever it was it could wait. A hot shower and a quick call to Sammy would put his mind to rest.