{Decay} all [around] .me, [Rated M]

[Aurora Bailey]

She had not been asleep for more than an hour before waking up. She propped herself up against the pillows from the bed and stared into the darkness. After all these years of wondering and hiding in the dark or killing that which bumped around in it, she found that it still enjoyed playing with you. Rubbing her hands over her face she tried to erase the week's events from memory. Taking in a deep breath, wincing as she placed her hand over the sore spot where she had been punched earlier in the night she let her eyes fall down to the sheets. "Shit..." Rubbing her eyes she cursed herself silently again hitting her head against the wall and hissing. Being awake was allowing the pain to come to; head, gut, short ribs all were starting to ache.

She threw the covers off and swung her legs out to hang over the bed. Charlie sat there looking down at her feet before forcing herself up. As long as she was unable to sleep, she was going to do something productive and hopefully tire herself out with that. Moving towards the outdated wooden table she threw her jacket onto the chair and withdrew a leather bound book that had seen better days and threw it before her onto the table and pulled the chair of an out dated table lamp. As the weak light washed over a small section of the table she began to flip through its scribble filled pages, bored, looking at the rough sketches she had made of the various creatures she had encountered, keeping notes of what seemed to be effective against them or just really piss them off.

Her study sessions usually were able to put her to sleep but she was finding her mind too wound up over the fight with Dean to concentrate on anything else. She had to admit to herself, seeing him in pain had made her feel better despite whether it was right or wrong to attack someone the way she had without them fully knowing why. A twisted grin danced at the corners of her lips as she settled back in the chair and brought one of her knees to her chest. "Karma is a bitch," she reminded herself, letting her head hang over the back of the wooden chair. "Let's only hope there's no more encounters with him. I'm thinking that it would be better for both our bodies not to take beatings like that on a regular basis," she said to herself as she lightly poked a bruise forming under her ribs. By far, this was not the worse she had been after fight, however, she was used to fighting monsters and those possessed by demons, not other hunters; they could be just as bad if not worse. Tonight had gotten out of control and could just as well have ended in the worst case scenario and a possible long stint in jail had she gotten caught for what she almost did.

"No. Fuck him," Charlie told herself quietly, "Fuck him. He had it coming," she repeated. "Consider yourself part of his personal Karma, you just happened to catch up with him." The room fell silent again as she let her eyes readjust. Why was this tearing her up so much? He had gotten what he deserved, didn't he? Hell, it was light compared to what he had given her. All he really needed to do was hold her down, maybe simply just knock her out, but he shouldn't have gotten as far as he did. She pushed herself out of the chair and began to pace the room slowly.

Into the bathroom and lingering in front of the mirror she put her hands down and stared back at herself, looking into her eyes, focusing on them directly as if she half expected them to black out again and the demon to come out of hiding as if it had never left her to begin with. Minutes passed and nothing happened, her eyes were as clear as a crystal ball, not even a hint of what they had looked like all those years ago. And yet, vivid memories still lingered, the voice still lingered, and that is what bothered her the most. It had been expelled from her, and yet she still felt as if it was there. She knew, however, that it couldn't be with her, she had not only worn the symbol, but eventually got the mark tattooed on herself to keep out that which might try and possess her, so was she just crazy? She started to run the faucet, cupping her hands under the cool running water and splashing it against her face a few times and toweling it off.

Shaking the feeling she seemed to return to her old self. That knowing smirk reflecting back to her in the mirror told her that much. Everything was going to be alright. Cracking her neck she shook the fear and general human responses to the events of the night out and fell back into the hunter mindset. It was almost like a split personality that she could turn on and off when things got out of control and she liked it that way. It was more or less how she used to be before the possession and then after, part of her she did not want to become again but sometimes fell prey to, only to fight it off and make herself up again. That was the greatest thing about being a hunter, you could be just about anyone you wanted, you almost never saw the same face twice. Back into the room she changed into a pair of pants and tied her hair up, grabbing her jacket from the chair as she left the room.

Stepping outside into the crisp night air she inhaled deeply, tilting her head up to the sky and closing her eyes while she embraced the slight chill in the air. Looking around she watched a few late night travelers pass the motel in search for better places, as those that chose the motel made their way to their respective rooms.

There was one in particular that caught her attention. It was already late as their car pulled in, the engine purring as they slide into a spot and made their way to the front desk for a key. It was the way they carried themselves that made her interested. Too far to hear a voice, and not the right angle for the face, all she had to work on was the back of the head in the dark. She stepped back into her room for only a moment to grab the ice bucket to give her a reason to walk down the hall/balcony to try and get a better look at the mystery man. Passing the stairwell and almost the the ice room she was able to get a look into the front desk and could see the somewhat bewildered woman hand him a key. She stepped back into the shadows and into the ice room to fill the bucket and come out slowly just in time to see the back of the man's head reaching the top of the stairs. She stopped, the light illuminating the features as he turned. "Well shit..." she said aloud, perhaps a bit louder than she had expected to. It was him. Of all the motels he had to pick to rest up for the night, he had to pick this one. Standing in the hallway with a full ice bucket in hand and no real will to confront him again she waited, hoping that he would just continue on to his room without looking her way, but when was luck ever that much on her side?

[Dean Winchester]

We try to make a difference, but no one wants to listen.

--- words. Aurora. Tada!

God, he was exhausted.

Sometimes, especially times like these, when exhaustion let Hell drift closer to the surface of his thoughts, he thought it might be easier to be Michael; to have some angel mojo of his own, and just will all of it away. The exhaustion, the weight of his memories, and all the fucking emotions that went with them; it would be so much easier if he didn‘t have to deal with it. He knew better than that , though, had always known better than to take the easy way out, and he heaved a sigh, pausing on his way to his room to scrub viciously at his face, bits of rust-red flaking off in the process. “So done with fucking zombies,” he muttered, making a face as his bones creaked when he moved again. At least they‘d been relatively easy to put down; shot to the head, and bam; dead zombies. It was a little harder to get rid of humans who pissed him off; he couldn‘t just gank the bitch, and be done with it, unfortunately.

It took him a minute, or two to really notice her standing there, which was a testament to how tired he really was, and was more likely to get him killed than anything. He needed to get his fucking head back in the game, and he didn‘t hesitate to react. There was no way he was giving her another chance to try to beat him to Hell, and he had his knife out, and against her throat in the span of time it took for him to slam her backwards into the wall with one arm braced across her chest.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you following me? What the Hell do you want, lady?” he asked roughly, staring her down. Dean was careful to keep his hand still, to keep from drawing any blood, and fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing; he had to keep his eyes fixed on her face, away from the knife against her skin, or Hell would swamp him, and he‘d lose it, again. He could do this; it didn‘t have any goddamn power over him. Maybe if he told himself that enough, he‘d start to believe it. “One wrong move, and I swear I will fucking slit your goddamned throat.” He really, really, wasn‘t in the mood for this.

brought to you by stalkmeredneck of caution 2.0

[Aurora Bailey]

She was not in the mood for this at all. Her luck seemed to finally decide to let karma catch up, and brought everything to this nice little motel. Within seconds of him spotting her, she knew that the metaphorical shit had hit the fan and they were going to have to deal with this one way or another. Soon she felt him upon her forcing her grip on the ice bucket in hand to loosen until it fell and soon found herself up against a wall with his knife pressed against her.

Show no fear. It was one thing she had been taught over the years, and only thing she could do well. His angry eyes stared right back into her own as she stood there, wincing a bit as the stuccoed wall dug into her back. She glanced down at his arm that held the knife and looked back at him, commending him on the control he had to fight himself over to not kill her right now, but she knew better than that, she had done plenty of research on the boys and knew more than most about Dean.

"I was here first," she pointed out calmly, "I had no intention of ever running into you again." There was no point in lying to him now, or ever, "What I want, I can not have, you of all people know that things in your past can't be undone. Tell me, do you remember anything in Wake Forest, North Carolina?" There was a brief moment in which she considered telling, or more, reminding him of the last time they had crossed paths, but she went against it, that would be for a later time. Her eyes drifted down to his arm again, lingering for a moment, "How much are you willing to beat yourself up if you kill me?" she asked him, knowing she was pressing a dangerous button that could very well kill her, "Or did you really enjoy Hell that much?" She was ready to accept that knife digging into her for that comment, maybe it would be a release to this hellish life every hunter lived, an escape from all the memories.