There's a vampire in Dean's shower.

There's a vampire in Dean's shower and he doesn't know how to feel about that.

It sounds ridiculous in his head; kind of, but this was coming from someone who actually did believe in aliens and ghosts and fucking weirdness like that. Who was to say Seth wasn't a creature of the undead? Certainly not Dean.

Seth has been in the shower for almost an hour. Steam is billowing out in thick wisps from under the bathroom door, and it's so quiet in there that Dean wonders if he's just standing under the spray, doing absolutely nothing.

He would also wonder why Seth was using up all of the hot water, but he figures that after a year under the ground, hot water was a luxury that couldn't be wasted. As far as Dean was concerned, he could go crazy in there. After all, when he thinks about what Seth must've had to go through to get topside again…

Dean shivers and pushes the thought back. He has a pretty good idea in his head anyway.

Focusing on other things is hard enough on a sleep-deprived mind, and added with the realization that Seth was actually alive and was in his shower, Dean thinks it's next to impossible to go back to sleep.

Yet somehow, he finds his eyelids slipping shut, his body relaxing against the headboard, all the while feeling as though cool hands were guiding him into sleep.

Trying to fight it is hard; Dean knows he needs to stay awake, has to stay awake to keep Seth here. He can't let him get away again.

Not again…

Seth is standing, fresh from the shower, in the bathroom. He is dripping wet in front of the mirror, and he can't see his reflection.

Oh, not because of superstition, it's just really foggy in there.

Seth tilts his head to the side and rubs at his neck. He really should look up his new side effects soon; he has no idea what he's doing. He'd never believed in superstitions, so this is all kind of cliché to him. How come he can see himself? Will he die if he touches silver? And he really likes pizza, will he burn from the inside out if he eats it in all it's garlic-y glory?

It feels great to have had a hot shower. He stood under the spray until he couldn't feel the sensation of dirt on his skin anymore, until he was sure he'd probably used up all of Dean's hot water. He should apologize later. He regarded his fingernails. The dirt had been washed clean from underneath them, but he could still feel how sore they were from furiously digging. Phantom pain, was what it was called, wasn't it?

He wondered what had become of his grave. Someone was bound to notice that he was gone and that the hole in the ground was too deep for a normal human being to dig themselves out of. Seth remembered that night like it was yesterday. The few times he had found sleep, his newfound claustrophobia had haunted his dreams.

He could still remember the sting of teeth gnawing into his jugular, and then, nothing.

He'd died that night. He knew it. But here he was, alive and breathing and…and hungry. So hungry. He hadn't eaten since the night he rose for the first time, and he was not going to relive that clusterfuck of an evening.

Which was why he had to leave.

Seth can feel the hunger pulling at him, gnashing against his very being, telling him to eat. And he can't do that to Dean. He cannot –will not- have a repeat of his rising, even if he has to starve himself to death doing it. He can't kill someone.

Not again.

When Seth exits the bathroom, he's relieved to find Dean asleep.

"Looks like I'm good for something after all," he murmurs. Maybe it was a little rude to have pried into Dean's mind like that and force him to sleep, but Seth knew his best friend would never let him go if he was awake. It was for the best, he rationalizes. For the both of them.

Seth is turning to go when he hears a small noise. He winces at it and suddenly it feels as though the room is swaying from under his feet.

"Where are you going?" comes Dean's groggy voice, and like magic, the swaying stops. Seth shakes his head to clear his thoughts. What the hell was that?

"I'm leaving," Seth replies quietly, matter-of-factly, because he has no time for arguments; not like this, not while he's starving.

"No," says Dean, clearly not picking up on the 'no-room-for-arguments' tone of Seth's voice. "You're not." He sits up and tries to stand, still groggy from induced sleep. "You're going to stay here, get some rest, and tell me what the hell is going on," he says stubbornly.

Seth sighs, already feeling a headache coming on. "No, Dean. I can't. I'm-"

"Staying. Here." Dean is standing behind him, blue eyes steely and determined. Seth finally turns to him, and it's the first time that Dean has fully seen his face.

He looks just as he did the day he died. Dean swallows hard.

"You don't understand," Seth explains patiently. "I really can't stay here."

"Don't make me put you in a chokehold and drag you over here," says Dean, as easy and cool as ever. Seth's eyes flash gold. "You're going to make me?" he says incredulously.

Dean flexes his fingers at the joints to make his point clear. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Seth shakes his head. "That's dangerous, Dean." He didn't even know his own strength yet, though he doubted it was safe to roughhouse, not when he had broken his own coffin just by frantically banging on eight feet underground. He hated to think of what would happen if he tried that against Dean.

"Look, we have all night to argue. But you're not leaving this apartment until you get some sleep and I get some answers," Dean pauses. "And you look like shit. You really need to rest." He looks conflicted for a moment and then adds, "I have to know. I have to know what happened to you. You can't just come looking for me and not tell me anything. Not after I spent a whole year thinking you were dead."

Seth looks at Dean for a long time. Dean never realized how unsettling it was to be stared at by a pair of otherworldly eyes; Seth hears that thought rattling around in his head. He blinks, sighing, and frowns. The floor is suddenly more interesting than explaining himself to Dean.

"It's all new to me too," he says quietly. "I don't know all the answers; hell, I just started being normal again-" Seth pauses and rethinks that last statement. "Um…being alive again, I mean, six months ago. For a long time, I still didn't even know how to function properly. I can't help you anymore than I can help myself."

"So?" says Dean sharply enough to make Seth jump. "We can figure that out later. Together. So you can't leave. You've been all alone for way too long, man; I want to figure this out as much as you do."

It was true Seth had been alone since his death in the basement. He was alone when he'd died, and he'd been alone (mostly) when he'd risen. And truth be told, he was kind of tired of it; being scared and hungry with nowhere to turn and no answers to be found. Yeah, he was scared; he was a fucking vampire for crying out loud!

A freak of nature.

Yet Dean still wanted to help him? Even death and whatever the hell Seth was supposed to be now hadn't changed that. A voice in his head told him to pounce –metaphorically- on that offer. This was quite possibly the only help he'd get. At least he hadn't eaten Dean yet. And no one was threatening to kill him again.

Seth sighs, shoulders relaxing. When he looks back up at Dean, the blonde is jerking his thumb in the direction of his bed.

"Sleep," he says, with a hint of a smile in his voice. "Now."