LILITH | DEAN WINCHESTER [ ✓ ]

18. one week with dean

She quickly glanced around the place, avoiding eye contact. The man remained silent and continued to stare, which annoyed the witch. His face clearly showed what he didn't dare to say. She knew she looked terrible! She hadn't been sleeping well for seven months!

"Do you have a hair from Sam?" Lilith asked to break the ice, now irritated by Dean's attitude. His eyes didn't leave her body and were shadowed by a furrowed brow, confused in his memories. "Answer," she demanded impatiently, crossing her arms.

Dean had his mouth slightly open but didn't give a response. He walked to a small table and searched for a flask among aluminum foil, newspapers, leftover food, and beer cans. When he had it in his hand, he approached Lilith, and without warning, disregarding what she had in mind, he splashed her face with holy water.

"Idiot," insulted Lilith, wiping the water off with the back of her hand. She proceeded to count to ten to refrain from ripping his head off right at that moment. "I'm not a demon!"

Dean took a few steps back, doubting her response. If he let her, he was capable of reciting an exorcism or dousing her with more holy water, and he surely had considered the idea of making her fall into a devil's trap.

"The Lilith I know has manners," he said bewildered, trying to be sarcastic even though he spoke from sincerity. "I haven't seen you in months. Not even a hug? A 'hello, Dean'?"

"Hello, Mr. Winchester! Have you had the pleasure of looking out the window and appreciating the delightful rain? I'd love to talk about the weather's probabilities since there are no important topics that require our attention. Do you think it will continue raining for a couple more hours?"

Dean splashed her with holy water again, fueling the witch's hysteria. The flask flew out of her hand and crashed against the corner, making a loud metallic sound, and moments later, it started to burn. Fortunately, the flask wasn't damaged, but Lilith's emerald eyes widened with the shock to the point where she contemplated the possibility of leaving the male body.

"So, shall we get down to business or what?" Lilith captured the attention of the hunter, who was still interested in the flames that appeared out of thin air. Dean blinked and returned his gaze to the young woman's face. "Are you okay, friend?"

The man didn't respond immediately; he only approached her for a hug. They had been talking through messages during those months, and Dean and Sam were aware of how busy she had been. They patiently listened to her complaints about being tired, although Lilith kept many secrets to herself.

"Hello," Dean greeted, stepping back to give her personal space and process (or get used to) the presence of Lilith before his eyes.

"Hello," she replied with a tone of exasperation combined with a subtle tender tone. She was happy to be with him.

She approached the corner where the flask lay, kicked it away, and summoned her suitcase with a swirling magic around her. Dean was surprised; it was the first time he saw how accustomed she had become to using magic in her everyday life. The witch sat on the floor in the corner and opened her luggage. She took out a black cauldron, a Bunsen burner, and an iron laboratory tripod. Then she retrieved a blank paper book where she had compiled her own index of spells, and on the other side, her notebook for quick notes, of which she had plenty in her room.

"You're already like a witch from a movie. Do you have your black cat?" Finally, Dean returned to their usual banter, more friendly and simple. That's what she liked, to be treated as always.

"It's on my next shopping list," she said more animatedly. "Tell me the whole story while I prepare the spell." Lilith had a reason for joining forces with Dean.