Anger
"I swear to God Jane, if he asks me one more time, I'm going to knock his teeth down his throat."
Jane sat on what remained of a hood to one of the many junkers in Bobby's personal car part Heaven, watching as Dean worked on the Impala. Ever since the boys had buried John, or burnt him because apparently that was what Hunter's did, Dean had been working on his beloved car nonstop.
Bobby and Sam were both worried about him, and to be honest, so was she. But she didn't know what to say, she barely knew Dean, and she sure as hell knew nothing about John. What little she did know had been from their brief meeting and the tiny tidbits Bobby had thrown her way.
She had mentioned returning home only once, and that had gotten her some insults on top of explanations as to why she couldn't. It had been decided, without her consent, that the best place for her to stay at the moment, was with Bobby. Bobby didn't seem all that thrilled with the idea of having a strange woman underfoot, but he had reluctantly agreed.
He had also laid down some ground rules. She wasn't to attempt cleaning his mess; he liked his shit where it was. She wasn't to go snooping around the house, there were dangerous items all over and he wasn't going to be scraping her ass off walls if she touched the wrong thing. So long as she minded her own business, they'd get along fine. Yeah… right.
Her first night in the house, Bobby had designated what was to be her room for her stay and mumbled something about taking her to town to pick up whatever she needed in the way of feminine items. He had nearly blushed, and he had definitely been awkward, if she had been in her usual mood, she would have teased him. As it was, she just didn't have the heart and had simply thanked him.
Dean had come into the room that night. He hadn't said anything; he had just climbed in bed and pulled her into his arms. Neither of them had spoken. He just held her until he fell into a fitful half-sleep and she had allowed him, dozing very little that night.
The sleeping arrangements had continued and nobody had said anything about it.
During the day, this was what he did. At night he'd come in and eat whatever was handy, drink and ignore the looks he was given from his brother. Then when he couldn't tolerate the looks, or the questions and concern, he'd tell Jane it was time for bed, and she'd follow him upstairs.
She felt a bit like a dog to be honest.
She spent her days either outside with him, just watching and listening to him rant when he felt like it, or inside with Sam and Bobby. More often than not, she was outside, she felt less like an intruder that way.
"He's worried Dean." She said softly, shifting to a bit of a more comfortable position and folded her legs beneath her. "He can't help it."
"Well, he needs to stop worrying about me and worry about his own damn self." Dean snarled, shooting her a look over her shoulder, like this was all her fault. "What are you doing out here anyway?"
"Listening to you bitch."
Growling, he dropped his wrench and turned towards her, fire flashing in what were definitely green eyes. "Nobody asked you to be here, Jane." He said angrily, covering ground until he was standing in front of her. "What makes you think you're even wanted?"
She knew instinctively he was lashing out because she was the most convenient choice, the nearest person, and one who if he hurt, well… She knew where she ranked in this little set-up they had going. He was pissed with Sam, but he didn't want to hurt Sam, not really. "Send me away then." She challenged quietly, knowing why she was taking the brunt of his anger but not about to just lie down and accept it either.
His eyes flashed and his dirty, greasy hands were on her legs, drawing them out so he could pull her towards him. With her legs soon wrapped around his waist, he wasted little time in pulling the rest of her flush against him and claiming her lips in an angry kiss.
Her hands went to his chest, as if she would push him away, and that was what she had intended to do, but instead she was pulling him closer, if that were possible. His hand was in her hair, and she could smell sweat, oil, and dirt, it was enveloping her. His other hand was now tugging on the waist of her pants, and she pulled away. "No."
Dean hesitated, knowing if he dropped an order, she would probably follow it. She wasn't a push-over, but she did have a thing for letting him take over. They both had some dom/sub issues that were never going to be addressed. "Jane…"
"Not out here."
If Bobby knew what they had done in his shower, he wasn't saying anything. He just grunted when they came downstairs, her hair still wet, his slightly spiked as he finger combed it dry. Sam looked up from the couch, where he was browsing through one of the many old, musty books Bobby had laying around. His eyes took in Dean before moving over Jane, one eyebrow rising.
She just stared right back at him, her chin out, daring him to say something. This was just a giant messed up situation, and they all knew it. She didn't belong there and the only reason she was… well, apparently she was a means to torment Dean. She was also a great stress relief apparently.
Dean looked away from his brother and reached down to take her hand, leading the way to the kitchen. "You need to eat something."
"So do you."
His response was to let go and retrieve himself a beer, making what he intended for his meal quite clear.
"Dean… that's not food."
"Shut up, sweetheart. Make yourself a sandwich or something."
"Excuse me?"
Bobby and Sam were slowly gravitating towards the kitchen.
"You're going to eat, Winchester."
"Not likely, Mrs. Winchester."
"BOBBY!"
Bobby almost actually jumped when she shrieked. "I'm right here, woman! No need to yell."
"Do you have a cast iron skillet?"
Silently, he retrieved her one.
Dean's eyes widened when she began advancing on him.
"So help me God, you will eat and if you give me anymore shit I will shove this pan up your arrogant ass!"
That was Bobby and Sam's cue to leave, neither about to get involved in a marital dispute.
