"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. Jessie shrugged and climbed to her feet.
"It happened a long time ago," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. She refused to look at Dean, who decided to drop the subject. Dean noticed how her whole posture changed. Her shoulders were hunched and she was messing with the necklace around her throat. He just stood there awkwardly, not know whether he was in any place to comfort her. Luckily just then, Sam walked through the door with a large pizza in hand, saving them from prolonged silence.
"Anyone hungry?" he asked.
"Starving," Jessie smiled, grabbing a slice from the box.
"It's just pepperoni, I didn't know what you liked," Sam explained.
"Dude, did you bring the pie?" Dean demanded, noticing his brother's hands were empty.
"Uh—no," he said in a small voice. Dean rolled his eyes, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a large bite.
"You owe me pie," he growled.
The rest of the night was pretty quiet. After eating the whole pizza, the three of them settled down to their own corners. Sam was busy typing away at his computer to see if he could find any more information on Henry Jackson; Dean was sprawled out across the bed, flipping through the channels of the old TV before settling on Tom & Jerry. Jessie had excused herself to take a shower a few minutes earlier.
"Finding anything, Sammy?" Dean asked.
"No, Jackson was a normal guy. Nothing to suggest he'd want to kill himself," Sam replied.
"But, nothing that says this is a case of ours," the oldest Winchester pointed out.
"Not really, but I called Ellen because Bobby mentioned multiple deaths and she said that several other people took their lives. I looked into them and they're as clean as Jackson. No criminal records, no warning signs of depression, nothing. It's weird," Sam elaborated.
"Weird is right up our alley, but unless we find something serious we might just have to tell Ellen this is a bust," Jessie interjected, walking out of the bathroom. Steam curled out of the room behind her. She walked out in red cheerleader shorts and an Iron Maiden's Killer shirt. Dean felt his jaw drop slightly, but still regain enough control to keep it from being blatantly obvious.
"We'll still check out Jackson's body tomorrow, just in case," Sam replied, shutting his computer. "We should be getting to bed, it's getting late."
"Sure—Jessie, you can get the bed. I'll the couch," Dean said, rolling off the bed.
"Aw, I guess chivalry isn't dead," Jessie smiled.
"It's because I like the shirt, don't get ahead of yourself," he countered, throwing himself onto the couch.
Sam gave him a look that said, "Yeah, you were staring at the shirt." Knitting his fingers behind his head, Dean closed his eyes and was about to drift to sleep when something soft hit his face. He opened his eyes to see someone had tossed a blanket on top of him; Jessie was leaning on the top of the couch.
"In case you get cold. Motel rooms can be chilly," she said with a small smile.
"Well, I can just share the bed with you if I get cold," Dean grinned. "I just said that?" he asked in his head.
"Nice try, Romeo," Jessie laughed climbing back into bed. He watched her crawl beneath the huge comforter, and then noticed Sam watching them trying not to laugh.
"That girl is going to kill me," Dean thought as he wrapped the blanket around him.