A/N: I lost my muse, and I'm not sure if I have her back fully yet, but you'll know when she is when you see more updates than what I am doing right now in the present for this story and others. Here is the next chapter and I hope you enjoy! :)

Me, being not a real people person, was asking and actually wanting to get into another one's life to find out who they really were…what the hell was wrong with me? I wasn't this way, this wasn't who I was, you know what, I think it's better that I don't know anything about Dean and his brother.

"Never mind. Your business is your business, and frankly I don't want to hear about your sappy background and shit," I said, interrupting Dean before he could speak.

There I was. Not something that I wasn't, and I was internally happy for stopping him from explaining. Some stuff was better left unsaid, unknown, and buried deep into the ground; for instance, me.

"Damn it," I muttered, my attention shooting to the coffee pot at the smell of badly made brew.

Grabbing it I went over to the sink and dumped it down. In all honesty, I couldn't make coffee for the life of me; I always relied on Starbucks, diners, and gas stations for that part of my living.

Dean was at my side in an instant, which startled me, however, I didn't let it show. His hand took the pot from mine and placed it back into its place on the machine and turned back to look at me. "Move," he ordered.

My eyebrows rose in incredulity as I stayed my ground, hands crossed over my chest, and leg popped to the side while the other took on the brunt of my weight. "Why?"

"I said it before, and I am saying it again, 3a.m. is an insane time to be awake and functioning. I'll move my ass back to the couch, but you go back to sleep."

"What if I don't? What if I refuse?"

I grinned, seeing him think things through on exactly how he could make me do something against my will. In fact, I'm not afraid to admit I'm a real hard ass when it comes to people. I've dealt with a lot in my line of work and life to know that they get on my nerves. What with the whole damsel, or arrogant dickhead to save…I'm not the only brave soul out in the world who can defend themselves and others. My job isn't pulling their heads out of their asses and shoving it into the face of danger to give them the hint there is something else in this world besides them.

"Then I'll have to force you."

"That'd be nice to see Dean. Can you pull a rabbit out of a hat too?" I scoffed.

He took a step towards me, obviously not kidding on the forcing part of his words, and I flinched visibly. He grinned, causing me to have a small shiver run throughout my body. This was new. Never had dealing with the opposite sex affected me in such a manner, and now with Dean grinning the way he was it was affecting me greatly.

"Scared Daisy?" he took another step.

"Not at all Derwood." I counteracted his movement and went backwards.

"Is that so? Then why are you backing up?"

"You are the one who is trying to attack me, this is instinctive."

He kept at it, coming forward with me mirroring his move, only, away from him. "Tell me something then Camry…" he began, pausing as he gave a thoughtful expression, now continuing his steps towards me no longer hesitant and teasing, "What are you instincts saying to you now?"

My face contorted into confusion at what he was asking, but not long did it last as my back hit the surface of the wall behind me. I was cornered. Yep, and he planned it too, the jackass.

"That you think you have the upper hand and I don't," I replied, eyes trained on his while I formed a means of escape in my head.

"Ding. Ding. Correct."

"Actually Dean…" I stopped as he came to a halt right before me, close enough that we were almost touching, "Wrong."

I took his arm and went underneath, twisting it behind his back and shoving him into the wall with a smug chuckle. "Next time you want to play this game, better do it right," I whispered roughly in his ear, letting go of his arm and walking over to the door of the motel room.

Dean turned around and grunted, rotating his shoulder and shaking out his arm as he watched me. "Where are you going?"

I didn't have to explain to him where I was going, what I was going to do, so I just gave him a hard look before exiting the room.

Pulling out my pack of smokes, taking one from the many and replacing it into my jean pocket where I always kept them in any pair of mine, I began to light the one in my hand. I took a drag and exhaled the cloud of deadly smoke, poisoning my lungs within but I didn't care. My life was screwed up anyways, and no matter how much I'd love to go down swinging, I can't bring myself to have that be the only reason I die.

"Fuck," I grunted, flicking the burnt up butt to the asphalt and digging my shoe on it to extinguish what little flame was left.

Why did things have to be so complicated for me? Not only was I hunter but also, I was killing myself. I wonder what my father would think of me now? The image of his daughter, so fragile; young, and innocent at the age of seven; running and jumping into his arms, just begging for a story. But, smoking, hunting, lying, killing, removing myself almost damn near permanently from the human race and their socializing…yeah, I can see why if he were still alive he'd be disappointed.

Two words could describe me beyond the fact of bitchy…not normal. I think I already established that though, so maybe another choice of words. How about a monster? Perfect.

Author End Note: Thanks for reading and please review.