Brielle was staring at the water as it left the bathtub, swirling silently around the drain when a knock on the door startled her. She gripped the white towel around her torso even tighter, her damp hair brushing her bare shoulders as her head snapped to the door. "Brielle?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was softer now, not so full of fear. She heard the knob turn slowly and the door opened a bit.

"Hey." Dean's eyes met hers for a second before she averted her gaze, almost embarrassed. He kept his hand on the knob. "I came down to check on you." The brunette didn't say anything. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm going to bed." Was all Brielle said.

"Can I tuck you in?" He moved into the bathroom slowly, moving to blow out the candles that were flickering on the countertop. His gaze settled on her face, but she still wouldn't look at him.

"Yeah." Dean followed her up the hall to her bedroom and she turned slightly, speaking to himover her left shoulder. "I'm going to put on pajamas." Just wait here was implied and he cleared his throat nervously.

"Of course." That broke Dean's heart a little; they'd seen each other undressed hundreds of times and now she didn't even want to slip on some old tshirt and pants under her towel? He gave her a minute behind the closed door before he said her name. The door opened and she let him in, her hair combed and damp.

Dean was relieved to see his old tshirt on her frame, along with her purple pajama bottoms. She moved to the bed and stilled when he reached around her to pull back the covers so she could climb in.

Brielle settled down, curling up on her left side, facing the door. He pulled up the blankets to her chin and his left hand moved to brush her damp hair back from her face when he caught sight of a red mark on her neck.

She stiffened when he did so and his brow wrinkled slightly. "You want me to sit here while you sleep?"

"No."

"Can I kiss you goodnight?" Her eyes fluttered closed and his jaw clenched. "Okay. You let me know if you need me." Dean's hand itched to touch her in some way, but he refrained from doing so. "Night, Brie."

She didn't reply right away, then..."Lock the door please."

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Dean stalked out to the kitchen to find Sam and Camilla had finshed their food and wrapped his up for the refrigerator. "Dean?"

"This is so fucked up." He ground out. Camilla glanced at Sam, whose eyes were trained on his brother. "She won't even let me fuckin' touch her. Did she let you check her out physically, Sam? Becuase I swear, there's something she ain't tellin' us."

"She told me she was fine... he hadn't hurt her."

"Well she's got some red ass burn mark on her neck. Saw it when I put her to bed." He slammed a closed fist on the table, making Camilla jump. "You need to check her out, Sam, because I can't." He rested his shaking hands on the tabletop, his head down, trying to get ahold of his emotions.

"Okay." Sam spoke softly. "I will in a few hours. She's not bleeding to death here. Let her try to get some rest. I will, brother, first thing." That made the muscles in Dean's shoulders relax some under his tshirt. "Go to bed. I'll check her in a few hours." He pushed off the kitchen table and stalked out of the kitchen, grabbing a half of bottle of jack on his way out.

"You wanna take me home, or..." Camilla asked softly. They both flinched when they heard Dean's bedroom door slam shut. "It's almost 3 am."

Sam made a face. "You absolutely have to get home right now? You wanna just stay?"

"I can stay... I just don't wanna be in the way here." He smiled down at the blonde.

"You wanna stay in one of the guest rooms or my room...?"

"Either way's fine with me." Camilla covered a yawn with her hand. "Lead the way."

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Dean was feeling buzzed. He hadn't drank like this in a year or so. His stomach was in knots over the events over the last 18 hours. He took another swig and hissed at the familiar burn. The very thought of Brielle still being tormented by something that was already dead made his blood boil.

She was obviously shoving something down, avoiding acknowledging the emotion she was trying to hide from him.

Wow. That sounds familiar, he thought bitterly.

Dean set the bottle on his nightstand and sighed before yanking off his tshirt and flannel. All's he wanted was for her to open her door and lift her covers for him to snuggle in close to her, figuratively and literally.

Let him pull her close and hold her, let her cry and not talk about it. Just let her feel.

He decided on a shower and padded down the hallway, shucking his clothing off in the bathroom before turning on the hot water. He washed his body absently as he thought about that shifter. Dean knew just how he'd weaseled his way past Brielle's radar; they could sort of download the memories of whoever they took the form of and play the part perfectly.

Nothing was striking him as strange until he suddenly wondered how, exactly, that Brielle knew it wasn't him. How had she been with him for hours and then suddenly realizing she was with an imposter? That blew his mind and he made a mental note to ask Sam about that in the morning.

The morning was now, he supposed, but he wasn't sure he was going to sleep anytime soon.

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The sounds of soft sobbing woke Dean up from the light doze he'd managed and he scrambled to throw on his lounge pants before he skidded out into the hallway, his eyes on Brielle's door. It was still locked and he swore before shouldering the old door open, breaking the lock.

Ignoring the pain his his right shoulder, Dean knelt at her bedside, his hands grasping her upper arms. "Brielle, it's me." She was thrashing around and gasped, sitting up suddenly, leaning on her left elbow as she tried to calm her pounding heart. "I'm here. You're safe." She resisted a bit, but Dean pulled her into his chest, hugging her close. "Don't push me away, sweetheart." He kissed the side of her head.

"I'm so sorry." Her broken whisper made his eyes close. Dean felt her sob silently this time, trying to hold back.

"Let it go." Was his only reply. "Let it go." That was all it took for her to lose it. Brielle sobbed openly into him and he shifted on his knees as she twisted towards him, still on her back. His skin was moist with her tears as she cried against his warm skin. "Sweetheart, lemme get you a tissue." Dean looked around her room, but came up empty. "Here." He pulled a tanktop out of her top nightstand drawer with his right hand. She took it from him to wipe her face and blow her nose into it.

Brielle sniffled and knew she must've looked like hell right then, but he just watched her sit up and swing her legs over the bed. He sat back on his heels a bit, taking her in. She wiped her nose again, avoiding his eyes. "Brielle, look at me."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Becasue I can't."

Dean refrained from rolling his eyes at her vague reason. "Brielle, talk to me here. I don't know what to do to help you." His hand cupped her cheek, making her swollen eyes close. "Did that bastard hurt you?"

"No." Her eyes squeezed closed even more. "I can't." She moved away from his touch. "Please don't do this." Dean was genuinely confused and he moved to sit next to her.

"Brielle, you're scaring the hell out of me, here." His voice was quiet now. His arm came around her shoulders and he hugged her to his side. "I'm here, sweetheart. You're not alone. I won't leave." The brunette pushed away from him some.

"I'm going back to bed." Brielle mumbled and his shoulders slumped. He got up and she got back into bed, still holding the tanktop.

"I'm staying here." Dean didn't give her the option this time. He pulled the chair in the corner to her bedside and sat down. He turned down her lamp a notch. "I'm right here." His right hand moved to the bed next to her and she rolled over on her side to face him. Brielle slowly reached out to intertwine her fingers with his.

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Hey beautiful readers!

Hope you all had a wonderful week so far! Let me know what you think. Reviews are love!

CitrineMama