Dean awoke sometime after the nine o'clock shift change. He was groggy from the aesthetic and unsure why he was unable to move. The pain in his side, from where they'd stitched him up, was throbbing, but it was easily bearable compared to what he was used to.

He reached out sluggishly to touch his side and did so with a gentle sweep of his hand. He winced even though he didn't put much pressure on it. It was still swollen, purple and sore, and probably would be for quite some time. Though he didn't want to admit it, this was probably the worst injury he'd manage to sustain while on a job. He was actually worried when the doctor had mentioned surgery.

Dean went to move his other hand, and that's when he became aware of something attached to it.

It was Vala.

Asleep in the same position she started off in, hand clamped to his, she breathed in a shallow, peaceful rhythm. Her hair hung in every direction, like a blanket over her head, obscuring her features from view.

Dean reached for the controls to his bed with his free hand, found the button he was looking for easily, and adjusted his position so he was more upright.

He peeled his hand away from his, painfully slowly, as letting her go was the last thing he wanted to do. Dean used that hand, once unrestrained, to tenderly brush the hair from Vala's face, tucking what stray ends he could behind her ear.

Dean kept his eyes glued to her as he thought. He was really glad she had stayed, and a bit surprised too. She stuck around without an explanation as to why he needed her there, sat quietly when Dean just needed the silent company, and told him things would be just fine when he needed to hear it.
He did that for a while. Just sitting there, thinking, and sweeping her hair with his hand, feeling the silky waves run between his fingers. It made his heart beat stronger, with heavy, audible thumps, to be so close to her, this girl who used to be his mortal enemy.

He breathed a deep, resounding breath and thought his last thought again. The girl who USED TO be his mortal enemy. Past tense. As in she wasn't anymore.

Dean had subconsciously decided he wasn't mad at Vala anymore. Probably had something to do with that dream, he thought to himself as he continued to manhandle her locks. But, if he wasn't angry with her, then what did he feel for her? It certainly wasn't friendship. He felt friendship for Bobby, and Cas, and a few of the girls he'd conquered while on his hunting adventures. It wasn't the kind of love he had for Sammy, the undying brotherly connection they had was special. No, this; this feeling he had when he was around her was entirely different from anything he'd felt before.

His heart raced uncontrollably. He broke out into a light sweat. His thoughts raged, occasionally on the verge of illegal. His breathing slowed into a deep beat. His soul broke free from the fury it carried into a pacified stillness he couldn't quite describe.

He moved his hand, in an attempt to grasp a stray lock that continued to get away. In doing so Dean accidentally brushed his finger across Vala's face, softly over her eyebrow. Her eye twitched and she smiled ever so slightly, the corner of her mouth turning up a touch. From his touch.

Dean felt his heart climb up from his chest and rest in his throat. She was downright beautiful when she smiled.

And that's when he knew. Dean didn't just want her around. He needed her around. He needed her beside him. He couldn't stand the idea of her being away from him. Dean had never felt so strongly for another person before. Not for Cassie, or Jo, or Lisa. It was Vala. The woman he no more than twelve hour ago would have pushed out a moving car without so much as a second thought he would have driven across the country to get to.

He knew it. He knew it like he knew his mission in life, but his mind and body froze at a paralyzing thought.

How did Vala feel about him?