Seventeen

There was a hard rap on the door to their room and Sam put down the swab he'd been using to clean a nasty gash along Dean's left bicep to open the door for Bobby. "I come bearing anesthetic," Bobby declared as held up a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Bless you," Dean cried, practically jumping from his seat.

He grabbed the bottle out of Bobby's hand, unscrewed the lid, and gulped down the amber liquor. Dean winced as the alcohol burned his still achingly dry throat, but took another drink anyway.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Ya might want to slow down though," Bobby scolded, taking the bottle from Dean and screwing the lid back on. "I'm guessin' it's been a while since you last ate."

"Don't get all maternal on me, Bobby. I just spent the last several hours being tortured by a bunch of ghouls. I think I deserve to get a little drunk."

"It's paternal and I'm sure ya would, but I ain't got anymore booze and Reggie's gonna need some of this," Bobby snapped, waving the bottle in front of Dean.

"All right," Dean relented and sat back down.

Bobby put the bottle on the table and sat down on the end of Dean's bed. They heard the shower shut off and Dean got up, grabbing the t-shirt he had pulled out for Reggie. He walked to the bathroom, knocking lightly on the door. It cracked open and a wave of steam poured out as Reggie stuck her head through the opening.

"Here," Dean said, shoving the shirt through the door.

"Thanks," Reggie replied as she took the offered shirt before shutting the door.

A few minutes later, she emerged wearing the t-shirt. Although it was big on her slight frame, the shirt only covered Reggie to the top of her thighs. All three men averted their eyes, feeling awkward as she stood there.

"I think I have an old pair of sweats that might fit you," Sam said, hurrying over to his duffle bag.

He rifled through the bag, finding the sweatpants at the bottom, and tossed them to her. Reggie pulled them on, a grin stretching across her face.

"I didn't know you three were so bashful," she teased.

"Just sit down so we can bandage you up," Dean grunted, pushing the chair Sam had been sitting in with his foot. Reggie grinned as she obediently sat down, reaching for the bottle of Jack. She swallowed a large mouthful and nodded at Dean.

"Be gentle with me," she said, batting her eyelashes at him, before beginning to chuckle.

Dean growled at her, rolling his eyes, and, grabbing the bottom of the chair in one hand, yanked her towards him. He could hear Bobby and Sam snickering behind him. Dean started with the smaller cuts on Reggie's chin and forehead, dabbing them with alcohol before putting butterfly stitches over them.

As he worked, Sam and Bobby sat talking over the nights' events. Dean tried his best to tune them out, tired of the shop talk, at least for the night. Reggie took sips of the bottle as he worked, her eyes getting glossy as the liquor worked through her system.

"You're going to have to hold the collar out of the way," Dean instructed as he peered at the deep cut across her collar bone again. Reggie took another swig of the bottle and handed it to Dean.

She yanked at the oversized shirt, pulling it off her shoulder, exposing a large area of skin. "This work?"

Dean nodded at her and gulped down some liquor, feeling a heat in his cheeks from more than just the booze.

"You ready?" he asked as he picked up the already threaded needle.

"I'm good, go ahead," Reggie stated and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth.

Reggie flinched only once as Dean sewed the wound closed. It took him only a few minutes to finish and, as he snipped the end of the thread, she opened her eyes again. Reggie's cheeks had gone a light pink from the alcohol and she smiled lazily up at him. Dean grabbed the bottle from her hand and shook it, the last bits of amber booze sloshing around at the bottom. He hadn't realized she'd been drinking the whole time he worked.

"I didn't know you were such a lush," he cried, dropping the nearly empty bottle onto the table. Reggie shrugged nonchalantly.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," she mumbled, pulling the shoulder of the shirt back up. She tipped sideways on the chair and Dean grabbed her arm, holding her in place. "I'm okay, Dean," she said lazily, pushing his hand away.

Bobby snorted and got up from his seat on the end of Dean's bed. "I think I'm gonna hit the hay," he said. He stretched and walked to the door.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said, getting up from his chair and offering his hand to the hunter.

"Anytime, kid." Bobby shook Dean's hand, a grin stretching across his face. "I'm startin' to get used to swoopin' in and savin' your asses, anyway," he joked. Dean playfully punched the man in the arm as both he and Sam followed Bobby to the door. "See you three in the mornin'," he said, nodding at Reggie.

Sam closed the door and turned around, leaning against it. "Are you going to go take your shower now or can I jump in?" he asked.

"Were you held captive by a bunch of crazy freaks determined to eat you after they tortured you?" Dean snapped playfully. "No, you weren't! I think that gives me precedence, don't you?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "All right, then go already." Dean grabbed some clean clothes out of his duffle bag and headed into the bathroom. Sam could feel Reggie's eyes on him and he looked over at her.

"The ghouls knew about your...abilities, Sam," Reggie stated bluntly.

"Really?" Sam replied, his voice rising in a bit of shock.

"They talked about your family, about what's happened to all of you. Your mom's death and what the yellow-eyed demon did to you that night. John's deal to save Dean and Dean's deal to save you. They even knew about him being brought back by Castiel." Reggie shook her head and got up. "It's not much more than what we all know, but I don't like it all the same. If they know..."

"Then who else does," Sam finished for her. She nodded at him.

"I know you don't think your abilities are dangerous and that you can use them for good. And I'm sure you've had this argument a thousand times with Dean, but I don't think you should be messing around with them anymore. You're playing with fire, Sam." Reggie stood at his side, looking up at him. "I probably overstepped my boundaries there, huh?"

"No, it's okay. Dean and I have fought about it a lot, but there are things that neither of you understand." Sam smiled at her, trying to allay the uneasy expression on her face. "It's okay, Reggie, really. And I'm glad you told me about the ghouls."

She yawned again and her eyes drooped. "Sorry," she apologized, smiling weakly at him.

Sam laughed and gave her a light nudge toward the beds. "Go lie down before you collapse on the floor," he chuckled. Reggie gave him another weak smile which developed into another yawn and shuffled over, dropping onto the edge of Dean's bed.

"I wanted to say thank you," Reggie said through yet another yawn. She slid back on the bed, laying her head on one of the pillows.

"What for?"

"For coming to Bridgewater. If you two hadn't come, I'd probably be dead," she mumbled as she began to drift off.

"No problem," Sam said.

He turned off the lights, leaving only the light by the table on and sat down, gathering up the trash leftover from dressing Reggie and Dean's wounds. A while later, Sam heard the bathroom door open as Dean came out, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans.

He glanced over at Reggie as he passed the bed. "Bathroom's all yours," Dean whispered. Sam nodded at him, gathered up some clean clothes, and slipped into the bathroom.

Dean stood in the middle of the room, staring at Reggie, watching as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her face peaceful. It was a major contrast to what she had looked like when they were being tortured by the ghouls at it put his mind at rest to see her look so safe now.

Dean sighed, remembering what Cassandra had said about Reggie being more concerned for his safety than her own. He hoped it wasn't true, that it was just another game the ghouls had been playing. He didn't deserve to have someone feel that way about him.

"Are you planning on standing there all night," Reggie grumbled. Her eyes were open and she was watching Dean, reading whatever expressions that had flashed across his face. She sat up, a disgruntled look on her face. "What's bothering you?"

He shrugged, trying to look apathetic. "Nothing." Even in the dark room, Dean could see Reggie roll her eyes at him.

"Don't even try it, Dean. I think I've learned to read you pretty well by now and I know there's some thought chasing its way around that head of yours." Reggie patted the spot next to her on the bed. "Just talk to me." When Dean didn't move she added, "please?"

The gentle pleading face she gave him made Dean's stomach flip-flop nervously. He sighed again and crossed the room, flopping onto his back on the bed beside her. Dean lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of something he could say instead of what he was actually thinking.

"Well," she said impatiently.

"I was just thinking about the ghoul that got away." He turned his face towards her and saw the obvious skepticism written across Reggie's own.

"Do you really expect to me to believe that?"

"It was worth a shot, wasn't it?" Dean asked, shrugging with a sly grin. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"They weren't wrong," Reggie stated into the silence. "The ghouls weren't playing some twisted game when they said what they said," she mumbled. Dean eyes snapped open and he turned his head, staring at her. Reggie's eyes were fixed on the ceiling above them, her jaw clenched determinedly.

"I care about you, Dean. Maybe more than I should." She finally turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. "I know that's probably something you don't want to hear, but it's the truth and, considering how our lives have been going..." Dean saw her already rosy skin go an even more red as she blushed. "I don't expect anything from you, Dean. I just thought you should know," she added.

Dean struggled with what to say, how to respond, to Reggie. Her words swirled in his brain, a thunderstorm of thoughts. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the bathroom door opened as Sam came out. He paused in the doorway, the light from the bathroom casting a light glow over Dean and Reggie. They lay there, silent and still, listening to Sam's breathing as he watched them.

After a few seconds, thinking that Reggie and Dean had fallen asleep, Sam turned off the light and made his way over to his bed. A few minutes later, he turned out the last light and they heard him get into bed. Reggie and Dean lay there, staring at each other in the darkness, listening to Sam's steady breathing as he slept. Slowly, they too drifted off to sleep.

The strong smell of coffee woke Dean, his nose twitching as the delicious aroma wafted towards him. He opened his eyes and stretched, feeling the soreness of his muscles as he moved. He glanced around the room and spotted the source of the aroma on the nightstand beside him; a large cup of coffee, with the lid already off, sat waiting.

Dean pushed himself up, resting his back against the wood headboard and reached for the coffee, wincing as he extended the arm of his still tender shoulder. He took a sip, relishing the warm liquid as it rolled down his throat. The door to the motel room opened and Dean looked up, noticing for the first time that he was alone in the room. Sam entered and smiled at Dean.

"Hey man! Glad to see you're finally up!"

"Where'd everybody go?" Dean asked as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his face and took another sip of his coffee.

"Bobby and I went back to the house while you two were still sleeping and got Reggie's things. I just saw Bobby pull back in from dropping her off at the bar so she could get her car." Sam plopped down onto one of the dining chairs and opened his laptop.

Dean got up, his legs aching painfully, and strolled over, pulling back the edge of the curtain. He had to squint against the bright sunlight shining outside. Dean could see Bobby at the trunk of his Chevelle as he loaded the car.

"Looks like Bobby's getting ready to head out," he stated.

"Yeah. Bobby mentioned that he had some business stuff to take care of later today. Some guy looking for a part for his car," Sam replied distractedly.

Dean let the curtain fall closed and glanced at the screen on Sam's computer. He saw that Sam had brought up the digital version of their father's journal and was adding to the small entry their father had written on ghouls.

There was a knock on the door and Dean went to answer it, tearing his eyes away from the screen. "Hey Bobby," Dean greeted the older man. He stepped aside so that Bobby could enter.

"Mornin'," Bobby replied, nodding at Dean. "I'm 'bout ready to hit the road, but I wanted to stop and say goodbye 'fore I do."

"Thanks for coming out, Bobby," Sam said. He shut his laptop and got up, joining Dean and Bobby as they stood by the door.

"No problem." Bobby shrugged. "Just promise me you'll try and keep outta trouble for awhile?"

"We always try," Dean said, grinning at the older man.

"Sure ya do," Bobby grumbled with a smile. All three broke into laughter as Bobby made his way outside. He turned back as Sam and Dean stood in the doorway. "Tell Reggie I said to give me a call once she gets outta town."

"Will do," Sam replied. They waved as Bobby climbed into his car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean stood just outside the door, watching the road, his face scrunched in a frown. "Reggie still isn't back yet," he stated. He saw Sam shrug his broad shoulders as he stepped back into the room.

Sam sat back down at the table and opened his laptop again. "I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"Yeah, probably..." Dean muttered.

He seemed lost in thought, but Sam barely noticed, too wrapped up in what he was doing. A few minutes passed in silence before, suddenly, Dean nodded to himself and grabbed his boots off the floor. Sitting down on the end of his bed, he tugged them on.

"I think I'm gonna go out for a bit. You okay being stuck here for a little while?" Dean asked.

"Sure, I guess," Sam said, finally tearing his eyes away from the computer and looking his brother over carefully. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Nah, I'll be fine," Dean said, waving his hand dismissively.

Dean grabbed his leather jacket and shrugged it on, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. When he didn't find them he looked up. Sam was holding his hand out, the Impala's keys dangling from his index finger.

"I found them in a puddle in the alley," he said as Dean took the keys from him.

"Stupid man-eating freaks," Dean grumbled under his breath. "Thanks, Sammy," he added as he stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind him.

Dean walked over to the Impala, running his hand over the smooth, cold metal. He smiled and climbed in behind the wheel. The engine roared to life and, as Dean pulled out onto the road, he cranked up the stereo, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel in time to the music.