A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews. They make my day. This chapter is a little short, but I hope you like it. There's a great bit at the end, I promise.

A/N 2: I'm still undecided about what I want to call this, so feel free to put in your two cents.

A/N 3: I'm thinking about adding a section where Sam admits to Dean that he likes to ride with Lindy just because she lets him listen to whatever he wants. Which leads me to the question, what kind of music does Sam like? Any ideas? I was thinking about making him a John Mayer fan just for kicks, but I'm open to suggestions. Hell, I could make him love the Spice Girls. I have the power. Mwahahahaha!

I feel rather pleased with myself as I climb out of the car to meet Dean. I know it was childish and stupid to race him here, but I won, so it's all good. I even manage to grin at Dean when he looks at me over the hood of his Impala. Maybe some crazy driving is what I really needed to shake myself up and get me back to normal.

"What was that all about?" he asks.

I shrug dismissively, "Nothing."

He smiles a little and rolls his eyes, which makes me feel a little weak at the knees. Which makes me feel like an idiot. Just because my little stunt has gotten him to loosen up a little bit, doesn't mean that he's interested in me at all. And it certainly doesn't mean that he's going to change his mind about wanting me along on this little trip. I still have to prove to both Dean and Sam that I belong in this ghost hunt as much as they do. I have a job to do, too, after all. I have an amazing article that needs to be written and hopefully these boys will provide me with just the new angle the magazine needs to keep the presses moving.

"Front desk is that way." Dean says, breaking through my thoughts.

He points me towards the front of the building. I nod quickly and head in that direction.

"Dean and I are in 103 if you need anything." Sam calls after me.

"Okay." I call back over my shoulder, smiling to myself when I notice Dean punch Sam in the arm.

I'd overheard a little of the brother's "talk" before, at least the part about Sam being in charge of keeping me out of trouble. Apparently, he's taken the job to heart and I find it kind of sweet that he's worried about me. For some reason, Sam inspires that kind of reaction, I think. Not sure why.

I shrug it off as I walk inside the main office to the annoying chime of bells. I have yet to figure out why some places find it necessary to announce the presence of a customer with the same noise associated with a fat man who gets pulled around by reindeer. A grumpy guy in desperate need of a shave is sitting behind the counter, watching a television with the volume a tad to high for what I feel is professional.

"Can I help you?" he asks it like he's daring me to inconvenience him.

"I'd like a room for the night." I answer, staying a couple feet away more because of the overpowering smell of his cheap cologne than anything else.

"It's fifty bucks. Cash." he says, eyeing me up and down.

I suppress a shudder and reach for my wallet. He's ripping me off. This place can't be worth that much, but I'm too tired to argue. I pull the cash out of my wallet and hold it up so that he can see I'm genuine. He reaches out his hand for the money, so I take a step forward and toss it onto the desk.

"Here." he says, stashing the cash and tossing me a key, "104."

"Fantastic." I mutter to myself as I catch the key before it hits me in the face.

I quickly make an about face and head back outside to go find my room, almost gasping in the fresh air once the door swings shut behind me. I pass the boys' room on my way there, of course, and my eyes linger on the door. I wonder briefly if I'm letting my hormones make my decisions again. Sure, it's an awesome angle for the story to tag along with these guys, but to be honest with myself, that's not why I really wanted to join them. To be brutally honest, that's not why I want to join Dean right now.

"Stop it." I snap at myself, forcing my body to continue on to my car where I can grab the things I'll need for the night and some clothes for tomorrow "You're tired. Go to sleep."

Yeah, sleep. Everything will be clearer in the morning. Hours from now when Dean's sort of grin from earlier isn't so fresh in my memory. I wonder how many girls that grin has gotten out of their clothes. Probably more than a few. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I crush on guys like him?

"Because he's totally hot." I answer myself as I let myself into my room and collapse on the bed.

Bad move since there's a spring hidden under the sheets that's poking through the mattress, apparently waiting to stab me. I jump back up to my feet and carefully feel where I'm going to sit before I lower my now sensitive rear to the bed. I can't believe I spent fifty bucks on a mattress that is literally a pain in the ass.

But back to Dean, my one track mind urges me. I can understand why he's been so moody. If I was going around hunting supernatural beings, I probably wouldn't want a reporter along, cramping my style. Much less a girl reporter who can't seem to remember her own name when Dean is around. But I'll show them that I can be helpful. In fact, I'll do something spectacular and Dean will be flabbergasted, fall to his knees and propose. Yeah, right. And while I'm at it, I'll win the Pulitzer for reporting on haunted houses. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I am a little crazy. Don't you have to be to choose this kind of life? Well, crazy or not, I'd rather be here, chasing ghosts than in law school or whatever other plans she may have had in her twisted head for me.

"Sleep." I remind myself.

I'm sure the boys will want to get up early and sitting here reminiscing on my less-than-Gilmore Girls relationship with my mother is not going to make getting up in the morning any easier. I carefully feel out the space behind me for more hidden springs before lying down. The two pillows combined hardly equal one normal pillow, so I fold the top one in half and remind myself that I want to be here. Uncomfortable as the arrangement is, I soon find myself drifting off to sleep. I linger for a moment in that strange place between sleep and awake that seems kind of like a daydream, watching from some distant perspective as the dream version of myself chases after Dean and Sam. Dean is wearing a mask and a superhero costume that says "Hot Guy" across the chest while Sam has a towel pinned to his shoulders and is carrying his laptop. I hear myself yelling, "Hot Guy, Laptop Boy, please! I promise I can help! You won't have to save me!" Then, thankfully, I fall completely asleep before my drowsy brain can begin to question the meaning behind my thoughts.