Hellhound (Supernatural #1)

22: Special Ops

He smiled at me, appreciating the effort of focusing on the positives. Still, he looked torn. It was like he instinctively knew there was something wrong with the place. Yet without evidence, he couldn't do anything about it. The upside, I suppose, for hellhounds; they weren't bound by law. They could go in and kill everyone without going to a judge for a warrant.

"I think I'm going home and do some last minute cramming."

"Okay. Do you want Hank to drive you?"

"No, I'll walk. The rain on my umbrella is surprisingly relaxing."

He shrugged. "If you're sick you aren't staying home."

"Glad to see you love me so," I retorted with an eye roll. I gathered my things, kissed Dad's cheek and was on my way out.

It wasn't nearly as busy as it had been when all the murders had been happening. Everything seemed to have calmed down and deputies were going home for dinner again. Outside of the station, everything was quiet aside from the rain. There was a thin layer of fog hovering over the ground yet it didn't unsettle me as it once had. Since knowing it was Tate's thing, fog had reverted back to being a simple weather phenomenon.

I didn't fancy walking in the rain as much as I had made Dad believe, but Hank would never drive me anywhere but home. Calling Dean for a ride, which could definitely have been an option, just felt too weird. Tate, sure. Dean, not so much. Though Tate would have come because he didn't want me there, so he could have driven me straight home. Now that he had told me he liked me and that he wanted to keep me out of harm's way, he seemed to want to exclude me entirely. But that was his human side; I knew his hellhound knew that I needed to be there. It explained why Tate didn't try all that hard to keep me away.

By the time I got to the apartment building, I had had more than enough rain. Part of me wondered if there wasn't some supernatural at work to keep the rain going. This wasn't normal. Tate was waiting in the hallway for me. Leaning against the wall as he was, I was struck but how lean he actually was. While Devin was all obvious bulging muscle - though worse could be found - Tate had the musculature of a track runner. His hair was a bit messy but dry, which wasn't often the case considering he couldn't be bothered with an umbrella. And he still wore a t-shirt. Did being a hellhound make him hotter? Hotter as in fire running through his veins, not hotter as in more attractive. Not that he wasn't good looking because he obviously was.

When Tate looked up, I told myself to shut up. "Are you checking me out?" he asked with a smirk.

"That, or I was wondering whether you were out here to physically block the entrance," I replied, not wanting to admit the truth. It would boost his already overly big ego.

"Would you believe me if I said I was waiting for you and nothing more."

"Nope." By then, I was standing next to him, ready to walk in. He grabbed my hand and stopped it before it could grab the handle.

"That's too bad because that was actually the truth." His voice had dropped down to a whisper. His gray eyes were bright as they looked down at me.

"Why do I get the feeling there is an ulterior motive to this welcome."

My own voice had dropped as well. I was pretty certain of where this was headed. If he decided to whisper than it must mean there was someone inside who could hear us otherwise. And he didn't want to be overheard. He was smirking as he leaned in. I could feel it when he kissed me. It was still in place when he pulled away a few seconds later.

"Aren't you a smart cookie." Then he let go and opened the door. "Come on, Pope, we've got work to do."

I rolled my eyes and went inside. As I dropped my umbrella next to the door and hung up my coat, my ears picked up a number of different voices. Some of them I recognized, others I didn't. There were more than I had been expecting. Then again, Dean and Tate ought to know best how many people to involve. I was along for the ride, nothing more.