The Hunter's Girl (Dean Winchester Fan Fiction)

Chapter Eighteen: Fight Off The Nightmares

The rest of the night felt like a dream, as cliché as that sounds. Dean and I didn’t really do anything abnormal from what we would have done as just friends. We talked for most of the time we were at the dance. It was surprisingly nice; different from how I had thought it would be to date someone like Dean. But, in a way, it was everything I had hoped it would be.

                Even with prodding from Alyssa, Dean wouldn’t dance with me. Not that I really wanted to, since dancing isn’t exactly my forte. However, Alyssa got very huffy about it. “It’s an important thing that all couples have to do,” she had claimed. Dean just shrugged. Alyssa groaned and went to the dance floor to find somebody to dance with, giving up on Dean and I.

                Afterward, Dean drove me home. We rode in silence for most of the drive, half because we didn’t have much to say at the moment, and half because Sam was in the back seat, so it wasn’t exactly private.

                “You could hang out at the motel with me and Sammy. We’re gonna watch this movie from a couple years ago called Repo! The Genetic Opera,” Dean had offered.

                “I would love to, but I would probably end up falling asleep as soon as I sat down. So I’ll take a rain check,” I answered with a yawn.

                “If you say so. Maybe tomorrow?”

                “Gosh, I didn’t know you’d be so clingy,” I joked, grinning at him. He rolled his eyes in response. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow, Winchester.”

                Dean smiled at me before he pulled into my driveway. I thanked him for the ride and climbed out of the car. Waving goodbye to both him and Sam, they drove away and I went inside. Becka was sitting on the couch when I got home with her nose in a book.

                “Have fun?” She asked, not looking up from whatever she was reading.

                “Yeah,” I said simply.

                Becka looked up finally, closing her book and setting it in her lap. “Kim, we really need to talk soon,” she said firmly. I raised an eyebrow at her, walking towards the couch.

                “About what?”

                “We need to talk about dad. There’s a lot–“ she began, but I cut her off.

                “No. Look, I’ve had a fantastic night. Now is not the time to talk about him. I can’t deal with it right now,” I said sharply, striding passed the couch to the stairs.

                “Kim, this is important!”

                “It can wait!” I responded, jogging up the stairs as quickly as the dress I wore would allow. Becka didn’t come upstairs after me, which was good. As soon as I got to my room, I went inside and shut the door, leaning against the wood for a moment before walking to my dresser.

                What could there possibly be to talk about concerning my dad? He was dead, that was it. Mind racing with thoughts of things that Becka could have wanted to talk about, I peeled off the dress and changed into a pair of comfy pajamas. The clock sitting on my nightstand read 12:32. I still had schoolwork to finish, but I decided to put it off until tomorrow. It occurred to me that putting things off is what I always did. Oh well, I guess old habits die hard, as they say.

                It took what felt like forever to fall asleep. Even though I knew I was tired, my mind refused to rest. After a long time of staring up at my ceiling, I finally felt sleep overwhelm me.