Shadows danced across the walls as soft snores filled the room and Dean stared up at the dark ceiling, mind reeling, heart aching. He felt Ellen shift beside him and moaned. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Why did he always have to be the one to choose? His own happiness or what was best for Sam, that was what it always came down to in the end, whether the struggle was with Stanford, a djinn, or his own heart. That was it. He could be happy, or his brother could be happy. There was no in-between. One or the other, for the rest of his life. All the marbles.
It wasn't a contest, not really. It was always Sam because, well, he was Sam. Nothing more to it. He'd never asked for the life, never asked to lose his childhood, never asked to have everything taken away from him. As far as Dean was concerned, the kid needed a little happiness in his life.
Yeah. He just kept telling himself that. It was for Sam. It had to be done. No buts about it.
"You all right?"
Dean jumped, startled, and looked beside him. Ellen was propped up on one elbow, gazing at him with concern on her face. "Fine. Just thinking."
"We're gonna get him back."
"Yeah. I know." He sighed and stared back up at the ceiling, at the flickers of light dancing across it. He'd been in a million motels in his lifetime, and after a while they all started to look the same. The ceilings were the same. The walls were the same. The feeling that came from going to bed with someone else in the room and waking up alone never changed, either, and in his life he'd gotten used to it.
Ellen settled in beside him, reaching over and laying an arm across his chest. "It'll work out," she whispered.
"Hope so," he muttered, laying his head against hers. "Can you do me a big favor?"
"Maybe. It depends on what you want."
He swallowed. "It's gonna sound corny, but I want you to be here when I wake up."
"Where else would I be?"
"No, I mean in bed. You know what, it's stupid, ok? Just forget I said anything. Go back to sleep."
"Wait a minute," she said, stopping him as he tried to roll away, "it's not stupid. I'll be here. There any reason why?"
Dean looked over at her, suddenly realizing just how deep he was into this thing, how hard it would be to dig himself out. He could just close his eyes, could ignore her, could remember that none of it was real and this was the stuff that blackmail was made of, or he could take advantage of a good situation when it was presented to him. Maybe he could get something, just once, just a little bit of comfort.
"I don't want to be alone anymore," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her and meeting her eyes, "I'm tired of it. Just for one day…"
Ellen nodded. "Ok, then."
"That's it? Ok?"
"Yeah," she snuggled up beside him, "but you have to make breakfast."
Dean grinned. "Done."
o0o0o0o0o
The air was still and silent as Dean forced his eyes open. He'd fallen asleep thinking about the morning ahead, about the days ahead, about how he should be a little smarter, not give in to temptation, just say no.
He glanced over at the spot in the bed beside him and saw that Ellen was gone. Bathroom, probably. Yeah, she'd gone to the bathroom.
He sat up, unsuccessfully stifling a large yawn, and looked over at Jaye's bed. The covers were rumpled and obviously slept in, but the teen was nowhere to be seen.
"Hello?" Dean called out, looking toward the bathroom, "guys? Where'd you go?"
He waited for a minute, straining his ears, but heard nothing. Not even crickets. That was bad.
Still sitting up in bed, the hunter searched the room, looking for signs of struggle or anything unusual. Nothing was out of place. The only odd thing he could spot was the slight smell of rotten eggs that was undoubtedly wafting from the trashcan, the remnants of a breakfast not quite finished.
That was when he felt it. A small drip, something wet and sticky hitting the top of his head and sliding down the side of his face. "What the-?" Another one, a large plop and that tickling sensation as it traced its way down the back of his neck.
Dean reached back to wipe whatever was dripping on him away. He looked at his hand, at the shining crimson liquid that was smeared across it, and his eyes went wide. It was blood, he could see it as clear as day thanks to the flickering light coming from the ceiling.
He looked up, instantly regretting the decision as he found Ellen plastered above him, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes wide with terror, flames radiating from her body as she burned up right before his eyes.
o0o0o0o0o
Dean sat up straight in bed, gasping for breath as his eyes flew open and he bit back a scream. He searched the room, eyes wide as they roved over the darkness, taking everything in. He stared at his daughter's bed, squinting to make out the shape of a sleeping body under the covers. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. Just a dream. Only just a dream.
He bit back another scream as a soft hand touched his shoulder. Swallowing hard, he turned around to see Ellen, alive and well, sitting beside him.
"You all right?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said slowly, "I don't…"
"Nightmare?"
"Yeah."
"The demon?"
He forced a grin. "Guess you could say that."
"You want to talk about it?"
"I woke up and everyone was gone," he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face and averting his eyes, "it took her and killed you and that was it."
"We're not going anywhere," Ellen assured, wrapping her arms around him, trying to comfort him, "and as soon as Sam calls, we won't have to worry about that demon anymore. It'll all be over."
"Yeah," Dean nodded, still not looking at her, "all of it will be over. Every. Last. Bit."
"That's the spirit," she smiled, obviously not catching his morbid tone, the way he pulled away from her touch, the way he refused to look at her. She laid back down, turning her back to him. "Now get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."
Dean sighed and scooted back under the covers, putting as much space between himself and Ellen as possible. It would all be over as soon as the demon was gone. Sam would either go back to hunting or go back to college, Ellen would hate him, and Jaye would undoubtedly spend summer at the Roadhouse. That would leave Dean with a few straight months of quality time with himself, quality time he could really do without.