That night, Dean takes the longest shower he can remember taking over the last several months. He stands under the hot spray of water, going over the argument he and Rayan have just finished, willing himself to not feel guilty about the whole situation.
Because damn it, Dean knows that the life of hunting isn't for his daughter. He knows that Rayan is supposed to graduate high school near the top of her class just like her uncle, and she's supposed to go to college and actually graduate. She's supposed to grow up and get married to some rich doctor and have a couple of kids, and Dean is supposed to be able to spoil them rotten. And in the end, Rayan is supposed to die at the ripe old age of ninety, all wrinkly and white-haired.
Sadly, Dean's starting to think that his daughter didn't get that message over the years even with all the trouble he's gone through to keep her out of harms way. But maybe that was the problem, Dean starts to think as he fixates his stare on a single tile directly in front of his face. Maybe he tried so hard to keep her safe and away from the dangers of his old life that his daughter could only be happy if she was pushing towards the one thing he didn't want her ever trying.
Dean pounds his fist against the tiled shower wall in aggravation. Leave it to Rayan to somehow find a way of worming inside Dean's head and making him question his parenting skills over the last sixteen years. He decides right there that Rayan is too cunning for her own good, even if she did get that entire trait directly from his bloodline.
It's two hours after Dean locks himself in the bathroom like a petulant teenager that he finally emerges, and he's not surprised to see that the hotel room is submersed in darkness. He can just make out the softly breathing form of Rayan curled up under the covers in one of the motel beds, and Dean sighs softly as he runs a hand through his damp hair. The guilt hits him full force, because Rayan almost always makes it a point to never fall asleep mad when she and Dean have been fighting.
"Too many things can kill you while you're sleeping," Rayan claimed the evening Dean had to inform her about Ellen and Jo's deaths. "If you say something and then that person doesn't come home, you don't want them to die thinking you hate them."
And yet here was Rayan curled up and fast asleep, one arm slung over King's side. The dog is smashed against Rayan, always the protector, and Dean can feel King's blues eyes following him everywhere as he moves silently through the motel room.
Once Dean is finished getting things laid out for the next morning, he makes his way over to Rayan's bed and leans down to give her a soft kiss on top of her head. However, he doesn't get close to accomplishing his goal before King starts to growl low in his throat, slightly bearing his teeth at the oldest Winchester. Dean is surprised, and quickly backs away from the dog, scowling slightly.
"What the hell's your problem?" he accuses in a whisper as he pokes a finger in King's general direction. "It's me, you idiot. I won't hurt her."
King stops growling as soon as Dean is an acceptable distant from Rayan, but his blue eyes never leave the oldest Winchester's form. Dean watches as his daughter unconsciously grips the dog a little tighter and King gently licks her hand in return. It really is amazing how well the animal understands his daughter. In fact, it's almost creepy.
And the reason for King's odd behavior suddenly hits Dean like a MAC truck. The damn animal knows that Dean and Rayan were fighting, and now the dog thinks that it needs to protect Rayan from Dean, of all people. Because he's hurt Rayan, whether he meant to or not. And to King, if you hurt his girl you become enemy number one in the dog's eyes.
Dean lets out a soft sigh and slowly makes his way back towards Rayan, hands outstretched and upturned as a peace offering. King begins to growl softly again, but doesn't make any move to do anything more.
"I'm not here to hurt her, mutt," Dean comments as he cautiously takes another step towards the bed. "I just want to tell her goodnight."
The dog slowly stops growling and eyes the oldest Winchester up and down. It seems for the moment that King has decided Dean is safe enough, so he slowly lowers his arm and gently sits down on the edge of the bed next to Rayan and King.
"You going to go for the throat if I go any closer?" Dean whispers to King. When the dog shows no outward aggression to the oldest Winchester, Dean cautiously reaches out and gently lays a hand on top of his daughter's head.
He stays like that for a moment, taking in Rayan's peaceful features. Dean's surprised by how much older she looks. How her face has lost all of it's childlike roundness and become more angular, and how her freckles have all but disappeared into her tanned skin. It hits Dean in that moment how much his daughter has really grown into a teenager from the little girl who used to give him heart attacks by falling off of kitchen chairs.
"I'm so sorry," Dean whispers to his daughter, even though she's fast asleep and can't hear a word he's saying. "Sometimes I forget you're growing up, short stuff. Sometimes I forget that you're not the little baby I brought home from the hospital."
Dean stops for a moment and wipes at his eyes, because he's starting to cry like a little girl. It's embarrassing really, but suddenly his emotions don't care what Dean wants from them and instead they have taken on a life of their own. Dean goes to give up on the conversation, because really it's pointless to talk to his daughter when she can't even hear him. But just as Dean braces himself to stand from the bed, a large paw smacks him on the thigh, and Dean is surprised to see King staring at him with a challenging look.
And Dean knows that he's losing it right them, because dogs don't have challenging looks.
But either way, the oldest Winchester resettles himself on Rayan's bed and turns his attention back to his daughter once more. "I just wish you could understand where I'm coming from, Rayan. You're all I've got left. I mean sure, Bobby and your Uncle Sam and Cas are all back home, but…it would just kill me if I let something happen to you. I've kind of grown attached to you, okay?"
Dean let's out a soft laugh at his own joke before leaning over and placing a gently kiss on the top of Rayan's head. "I love you, short stuff," Dean whispers before standing from the bed, this time with King's permission, and crawling into his own for the evening.
Rayan wakes the next morning to the smell of pancakes drenched in maple syrup and a rough tongue licking at her cheek.
"King," she groans as she wipes at the dog drool on her face. "That was unnecessary, my friend." The dog simply responds with one final lick to the face before bounding off the bed and towards the small table in front of the couch.
When Rayan manages to sit up, her bleary eyes search out the source of the amazing pancake smell and she's delighted to find Dean opening up two Styrofoam containers from a local diner they passed last night, along with a glass of orange juice for Rayan and a cup of coffee for the oldest Winchester. But her delight soon lessens as Rayan remembers the argument she had with her father last night, and guilt quickly follows. She went to bed angry, and ultimately broke an unspoken rule created years ago between the father and daughter.
In the aftermath of the argument, Rayan didn't care about upsetting her father further. She didn't care if her actions would end up hurting his feelings, or making him feel bad. Actually, she might have been hoping that some sort of guilt would leave her father. But now that she is awake and a lot less angry, Rayan is the one who feels guilty and childish for last night.
When Dean turns around and sees Rayan sitting up in bed, a cheerful smirk spreads across his face. "Morning, short stuff," he says happily. "Sleep with some birds last night? Because you're hair sure looks like a nest."
It takes Rayan all of two seconds to throw the covers off of her legs and jump out of bed. It takes her less than one to run across the small room and throw her arms around her father's waist, burying her face into Dean's shoulder.
Dean's taken by surprise, and stumbles a little as his daughter crashes into him full force. But it doesn't take long for him to respond to the peace offering, because Dean knows that this is what Rayan's providing, and he securely wraps his own arms around his daughter's shoulders.
"I'm so sorry, Dad," Rayan mumbles as she holds tight to her father. "I went to bed angry, and we don't do that. And I was just so selfish and-"
"Ray, relax," Dean commands with a smile as he gently tugs his away to arms length. "We both messed up last night, all right? Why do you think I brought back chocolate chip pancakes for you, and a complete order of bacon for the moron over there." Dean gestures to King, who is dutifully staring at the bacon sitting on the coffee table, and Rayan has to laugh at her father's attempt at avoiding a chick flick moment.
"Okay," is all Rayan says (it's all she needs to say, really), and she settles herself down on the couch in front of her breakfast.
"Okay," Dean replies softly. "Now let's hurry up and eat. We've got an old lady to visit."
An hour later, Rayan and Dean find themselves knocking on the door to apartment 13A, and it doesn't take long for Maybelle to answer. The elderly lady is wearing an apron, and there's a streak of flour in her gray hair, but she genuinely appears pleased when she realizes that it's the Winchester's knocking on her door.
"Boy, I knew you couldn't stay away from my cookin' long," Maybelle chimes as she opens the door wider and lets both Rayan and Dean enter her home. "I was just bakin' up some brownies. Y'all can have some as soon as they've baked and cooled. Now sit down and makes yourselves at home."
"We can't stay too long, May," Dean says to the older woman as he settles down on the leather couch in the living room. Rayan sits down right beside her father, constantly examining the decorative touches to the room. "I just wanted to show Rayan her mom's old apartment building in a better light. Thought we could stop in and pay a visit."
"You are stayin' here and eatin' some of these brownies, Dean Winchester," May scolds as she sticks her head out of the small kitchen and waves a spatula in the oldest Winchester's direction. "And don't even try to fool me with you're 'we just thought we'd pop in' talk. I wasn't born yesterday, son. You want to know about all these murders."
"She's good," Rayan loudly whispers to her father, which earns her a hearty laugh from the elderly woman in the kitchen and a reproachful look from Dean. "What? She is."
"That's not the point," Dean argues, but he's not totally focused on the Rayan's remark because the young Winchester can see her father working a problem in his head.
"What is it, Dad?"
Dean ignores Rayan's question, and instead raises his voice to shout towards Maybelle in the kitchen. "Did you say murders? As in plural?"
"Yeah," Maybelle says as she emerges from the kitchen carrying a tray filled with a pitcher of sweet tea and three glasses. "I figured you'd heard about them."
"No, we just knew about this Carrie girl," Dean says as he takes the glass Maybelle offers him. Rayan follows suit and takes a sip of the liquid as soon as it's offered, humming slightly in appreciation at the sweet taste. "When were these other murders?"
"Oh, the first one was about a month ago. Her name was Selena Ramirez. Found murdered down at Kellerman's Grocery."
"That's where Morgan used to work," Dean throws in, his voice slightly astonished.
"That's the one," Maybelle answers with a small nod. "Killed the same was as Carrie too. The second girl, Abbie Wallace, was found dead with her chest ripped open in the park down the road about a week later. She must've been out joggin' late at night."
"What did these girls look like?" Rayan asks quietly as she places her glass back down on the tray. "Did they have anything in common?"
"Oh they had everythin' in common, baby girl," Maybelle supplies with a new sort of gusto. The Winchesters can practically hear the venom in the elderly woman's voice. "They were all young. Right around the age of twenty-two with brown hair and eyes. Cops are sayin' that it's probably a serial killer on the loose. They've got folks all riled up."
"Wait," Dean cuts in, voice deadly calm. The last time Rayan heard her father speak in a voice so serious was when he first started arguing with Sam about jumping into Lucifer's cage. She has to admit that she's a little scared of what her father is now thinking. "These girls…they all had brown hair and eyes. And they were all twenty-two? Would you say that…well, did they resemble Morgan before she died?"
Maybelle sits in silence for a moment with a look of concentration on her face. Rayan knows the moment the elderly woman makes her decision concerning Dean's question, because May's soft face crumples into a look of pity for the father and daughter sitting across from her.
"I'm sorry Dean, but now that I think about it…those girls practically were Morgan."
