Chapter 8

Sam easily pulled Baby into a parking spot outside their motel room after dropping off J and Jo back at Ellen's. Dean didn't even want to worry about having to drive tonight, his mind was so weighed down with information. Sam even gave him a weird look when he tossed him the keys when they left The Roadhouse. It wasn't every day Dean road shotgun.

As they walked in the door of their room, Sam turned on Dean.

"You know it's ok to like her, right, Dean?"

"What? Who are you talking about?" Dean shot back, almost defensively.

"Dude, you did not see your face at The Roadhouse tonight. The look on your face whenever you looked at J. She was obviously singing to you on that last song. You'd have to be blind to miss that one. And it shows. I can see it on your face. Right now!"

"Sammy, I just got a lot on my mind. A lot has happened tonight. I just want to hit the hay."

Sam made a bitchface. "Ok, I'll take the first shower then so you can brood in there as long as you want. I won't have to worry about you taking up all the hot water while you 'process things'."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

The hot water cascaded down Deans stiff and rigid muscles. He had not realized how wound up he had gotten. His shoulders were up to his ears with tension. His jaw hurt from clenching it for so long. Exactly how long that has been going on, Dean had no idea. It seemed as if he had been tensing every muscle, and had been carrying himself as such for most of the day. As he tried to relax the best he could, he also relaxed his mind. Letting it run freely over every bit of that day.

The job gone wrong and the 'awkward karaoke' afterward. The fact that Jo had told him his dream was not just of his subconscious. That it was also the product of its subject; J.

How could she have any kind of control over his dreams? Isn't that the safest place from someone like her? A psychic like her? Someone who could read minds? Or did it just make it easier for her to do her psychic thang? Was he vulnerable in his sleep?

Then came the memories of running out the backdoor of The Roadhouse and seeing the look in J's eyes. Knowing instantly he had just royally fucked up. He was going to have to apologize for that. There was no excuse for his actions. For putting everyone in danger like that.

The image of J and that Pretty Boy inside the bar still tore at Dean's navel with a burning fire that licked the inside of his being. Right up his throat. He had to swallow to keep it at bay. One thing was certain. He did NOT like seeing her on the arm of another man. He did not like watching her hands all over another man. He had to be truthful, even if it was only to himself.

Seeing her with Jo was different. Because it was Jo. He knew Jo. Jo was Jo. And because Dean had to admit, he had always had a thing for her. It was just something neither of them talked about. So, the idea of those two was very hot and something he could focus on for quite a long while. As he came to find out exactly how long, the water started to run cold. The briskness of the suddenly cold water brought him back to his senses.

He finished up and turned off the now freezing cold water and just stood there dripping for a second. Still lost in thought. A shiver ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water or the fact that he was still sopping wet.

As he stepped out of the shower and toweled himself off, he mentally took stock of what he was sure of. What was Dean absolutely sure of? He was sure he was attracted to J, and to some extent, she had been attracted to him, too. At least before he pulled his little stunt earlier. He was hoping she would forgive him for his blatant mistake and understand that he wasn't actually thinking when it happened. Like that was any kind of good enough excuse. She deserved better. He thought bitterly to himself. Self-loathing and Dean Winchester were synonymous.

He knew, for sure. that Jo and J had something going on, but Jo had still silently given her consent when it came to the idea of Dean and J. She had even told him that J liked him back to a certain extent. If that was even true, or if that was just a wild guess.

Dean was sure that his mind was usually safe, but not as much as J let on. She claimed she felt it was an invasion of someone's privacy, but she had also proved that she was listening to him and had made that apparent. She was at least listening to him more than to anyone else. Sam and Jo included. 'Her eyes could tell you that much.' He thought to himself.

Dean could barely think anymore when he emerged from the bathroom. The only light was from the small TV that Sam had left on for Dean so he wouldn't be tripping over anything trying to get to bed. Sam was fast asleep, snoring softly under the covers of his own bed. Feet sticking off a few inches. Dean thought, again, how grateful he was that J was such an accurate knife thrower. He would have to ask her more about that. Eventually. And also, to remember to be more grateful to be considered the 'short' brother.

As Dean climbed into his own bed, he wondered to himself if he would have a dreamless sleep tonight. Or if he would dream again. If he would dream like normal, or if he would be visited again.

As he drifted off into the obliviousness of sleep, he thought he could hear J softly singing "walk me home in the dead of night" into his ear. "I can't be alone with all that's on my mind."

He mumbled the last words to himself, barely still clinging to consciousness. "So, say you'll stay with me tonight…"

Dean was back at The Roadhouse. He was ponied up to the bar waiting for Jo to grab him some more beer from the back.

"What's taking that girl so long? Did she get lost?" he said to himself under his breath.

Suddenly he wasn't alone at the bar.

"Hey there, Dean. How are your dreams tonight?"

He looked over and saw J, just as dolled and dressed up as when he had last seen her. She was sitting next to him, leaning up against the bar, with her head turned toward him. Her face was tilted up to look into his.

"Jo isn't coming back with my beer, is she?" Dean asked. Although he had already guessed what the answer would be.

"No. She's not coming back. But, this is your dream. I just set the stage, so you COULD just get yourself your own beer at any time." J replied.

Huh. Dean had not thought of that. If this is his dream, he had control over everything, right? When he looked back down there was a frosty bottle of freshly-opened beer where his empty one had been a split second before.

"Well, that's pretty cool," Dean said, more to himself than anything.

"And you are probably already aware that I am not, in fact, part of your imagination. I believe Jo told you something earlier to that effect. Enough for you to know that this is real. At least that I am real. To be honest, I was hoping both of you would have kept it more to yourselves. That she should have kept what she knew to herself. Merely to give me more time to let you figure it out on your own."

Dean scoffed at that last part and side-eyed J. "Define 'This is real.' If this is real, then how am I able to manipulate everything? Magic myself my own beer?" Dean questioned, completely ignoring the latter part of her statement. But also, genuinely wondering where the line was drawn. Until just now, he didn't even know there was a line of reality and imagination in his own dreams.

"Great question. Even Jo never asked me that one."

J sighed and looked up towards bottles that lines the top shelf of the bar.

"I am psychic, as you already know. You know how my mind reading works. This is along the same lines. Only I'm magnifying your own latent psychic abilities to flex mine. To project my own picture. We are more open to outside influence in our dreaming state. I'm Dream Walking. At least that is what it's called. We are both very much asleep in our own beds. I just got up in my head and came over to see what's going on in yours. This is very much your personal reality that you can manipulate at any time. I am just a visitor here. Well, an intruder really. A psychic projection. If you wanted to, you could kick me out entirely now that you are aware that you can."

"My reality, huh? Then can I do something like… this?" Dean looked down at her leather pants and saw that they had been replaced with a short pencil leather skirt. Complete with fishnet stockings and a spiked thigh harness to match her collar.

"Good one. Nice mental flex. Now, please don't do that again unless you want me to go back to my own head. I came here to talk to you."

"If you stay wearing that, I'll keep listening." Dean teased. Totally joking around, but completely serious at the same time. "Can you read my thoughts in here?" He continued, asking slightly apprehensively.

"Another great question. You are surprising me, Dean Winchester." J looked down at her skirt that was a pair of pants a minute ago. "No, I cannot. Unless, you pull a weird mental flex like the one you just did, or when I saw the choker/harness pairing the last time I was here. I just did my best at guessing. I am usually right, either way. My intuition is a little more finely tuned than most people's. So, anything you think in here, right now, is completely your own. Technically, I'm already in your head. I cannot go any deeper than this. You hold the power here. Just don't flex."

Dean felt relieved that they were now on a semi-level playing field. Don't flex?

Dean needed to know what this mental flexing thing was. It seemed semi-important. Right now, there was something else that was even more important and needed addressing.

"What did you come here to talk to me about?" Dean got straight to the point. He desperately wanted to know why she was here. Looking like that. Now that he knew it was her choice to be here.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier tonight. With the witch, and his goons, and your brother."

Dean's stomach fell. He was expecting this, but was not prepared for what came next.

"I am sorry for the way I spoke with you earlier. I treated you like a child. I didn't let you know why it was so important to follow my directions, just that you had to. Then when a mistake was made, I didn't give you the chance to speak for yourself before I completely tore you down. I came here to say I am sorry, but I hope you understand where it all came from. I'm not used to having to explain myself and my ways to other people; because other people just don't listen. And it gets personal. When it comes to the things I can do and the things I can see, sometimes hunters look at me weird. Like maybe I should be the one hunted. Not the one hunting. Another reason why I work alone."

Dean was so surprised he was still staring at the side of her face, now steadily getting redder, while he processed everything she had just said.

He finally spoke. But his voice was nowhere near as strong as he wished it was. It came out more like a whisper. Like her was admitting to something he would normally never admit to.

"It's ok. I deserved the tongue lashing you gave me. God knows my dad has laid into me far worse and for far less than you did today. I deserved every word of it. You were right. It was foolish of me to do what I did. Considering you had already warned me not to interfere in any way. I acted without thinking and that had consequences. I am very thankful and grateful for your quick thinking. I want to thank you for saving Sammy after I put him in danger. As a big brother, that is something I will never get over as long as I live. As old as we get. I feel responsible for him and he could have gotten seriously hurt tonight, because of my careless actions. So, basically, I'm saying thank you for saving me and my brother. And thank you for putting me in my place."

"You are something else entirely, Dean. Every chance you get, you throw me for a fucking loop. That's twice now." J finally looked at him.

There was something behind those amazing eyes again. This time he had the choice to keep what he thought he saw to himself or to ask. But before he had a chance to formulate any questions, she beat him to the punch.

"Tell me what you were thinking." She asked quietly. Staring into his eyes. A hungry look in hers. An almost deprived look.

"Honey-covered emeralds," Dean mumbled, without thinking.

"Excuse me?" J tilted her head to the side slightly again. A quizzical look on her face.

"Your eyes." Dean clarified. Embarrassed that he couldn't even keep that little bit to himself; in his own dreams. "Your eyes remind me of honey-covered emeralds."

J's face split into the biggest smile he had seen from her yet. "So that's why you're always staring into my soul whenever I catch your eye!? It's just been my freaky eyes this whole time? I was thinking way too much into it." She said, suddenly lighthearted.

"I thought you had an issue with me… Like I'm something to be hunted." she said just as suddenly. All laughter gone, replaced with a very serious expression.

"Well, I do have an issue with you. But that relies on the fact that I still don't think you are 100% human. There is no way you can be as smoking hot as you are, have the set of lungs you have, the abilities you have, with the trained skills you have, on top of having the most insanely pretty eyes I've ever seen. I'm still in need of some convincing." Dean said rather nonchalantly.

J's face fell into one of shocked horror at what Dean said.

He jumped up out of his chair to put his hand on her cheek this time. She was real. She was REALLY real. He tilted her head up.

"Look at me, J." J kept looking down. Avoiding any eye contact with him. She seemed like she had thrown a wall up between them all of a sudden. Dean would come to find out later that it was for good reason.

When she finally met his eyes again, he spoke.

"I do not think you are anything that needs to be hunted." He said firmly.

"I think you are something I might actually be entirely interested in. I just haven't been thinking about it since I was afraid of what you would be able to 'hear'. I know I certainly wasn't thinking about it when I went after you and that witch. I wasn't thinking at all at that point. I just acted. Acted on instinct to keep you safe. My interest was in another area completely. And for that I am sorry. I should not have let my interests overpower my judgment." Now it was Dean's turn to drop his gaze, and his hand, from her face.

"I have been the distraction this whole time, haven't I?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, and Jo likes to make it worse because she likes you and she thinks that I like you, too. Well, she's not entirely wrong. Sammy didn't pick that song because it was hard. He picked it because it was hard AND also happens to be one of my favorite songs from any movie soundtrack, like ever. I don't think he even knows exactly what he was doing to me when he had you sing that. Holy shit. By the way."

Now he felt both of her hands on either side of his face. When he looked up, he was met with soft lips. Immediately his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the sudden heat, harder as his hands found their way to her face and neck. She deepened the kiss and his hand wove through her hair at the base of her neck. The other hand sliding down her spine, forcing her body into his. He felt her hands reach up and her fingers rake through his own hair roughly.

J's tiny leather skirt had ridden up to reveal red lace. Dean's other hand was firmly grasping one side of that amazing ass. He lifted his hand and brought it down sharply. Making her whole ass wiggle under his hand.

J inhaled sharply, pulling her face away from Dean's, at the stinging contact. Then the slow transformation that was stinging pain to the dull ache of a nice and neat handprint.

She pulled his face away from hers. Only by an inch more, and said "Now this is where I draw my line at Dream Walking and Talking. No Dream Making out or anything like that. I will only partake in reality. She hummed softly. Starting to pull away.

He felt her breath against his lips, she was still so close. He managed to steal a peck before saying, "I thought you said this was real." While feeling the skin beginning to burn hot, and raise under his hand from his strike of it. Dean felt proud of himself.

"Tsk tsk tsk. This is in your head, what makes you think it's not real? I mean we both need to be awake for this. We both need to be outside of our heads. I promise to not read your mind. As long as you're not screaming at me in it. But you need to promise to make the move I made here. I know you're afraid of what Jo will think. But if she already clued you in on my Dream Walking, and initiated tonight's karaoke party, I think she is silently screaming at you to do what she did.

"And what, pray tell, did Jo do?" Dean asked, his voice husky from the absolutely filthy thoughts running through his mind. Ones that were completely safe from J no matter how loud he thought them.

J leaned in and whispered into Dean's ear. "She went for me. Instead of just staring and allowing me to Dream Walk, she came after me in the 'real world' too."

J nipped at his earlobe before continuing, breathing heavily into his ear. She got the shivers she wanted out of Dean almost immediately. "I have learned most people will do just about anything in dreams, but never follow through when1 it comes down to brass tax. This is an open invitation."

She pulled away while running her hands under his shirt, over his chest.

"I would like to continue with this." She said innocently as she dug her nails sharply into his skin. Making Dean's breath catch in his throat. Oh, she was such a tease!

She leaned in, pressed her whole body into his while capturing his lips one last time, for just a hot second. A hot, and passionate, second. Before she pulled away completely. Before he had the chance to put his hands up around her. Just as fast as she came, she was gone.

Dean sighed and looked around when he knew he was alone in his head again.

It was rather lonely now. And peculiarly cold. He wished she would come back. Even if it wasn't in the same way she had left. He wanted her there. And he was determined to tell her so, face to face, person to person… Sometime in the very near future…

Dean awoke with a start. He sat up, still feeling where J had dug her nails into his chest. He could feel it still, but it was fading fast. Like the memory of a fleeting dream. He was still entirely apprehensive about this being real, even though it was all in his head.

He sat in the dark and the silence for a few moments before turning over to try and go back to sleep. Could he even go back to sleep after what he had just dreamt of? After what had just happened? He was so amped up in so many different ways.

He needed to come clean to Sam, not about everything of course when he woke up. Dean would keep most of his dream to himself. There were a few points that were just too much for him to wrap his head around. He needed some help. No matter how embarrassing it might be.