Freaking Witches

Bad Hair Day

Dean's tongue poked out between his lips as he concentrated on pulling the knife through his thick hair. He had to work quickly because the steam from the shower was rapidly licking at the edges of the mirror and obscuring Dean's reflection. With steady, confident hands, Dean chopped at his hair, the strands drifting messily into the sink and onto the floor. He didn't stop cutting his hair was short on the side and long enough on to be spiked on the top.

Once he had finished, Dean turned his head side to side to examine his work. Only then did he realize that maybe hair cutting required a little more skill, but it wasn't the worst hair style in the world. It would need some more work to look normal, but he was sure that Sam or Cas could help him out. Dean was just happy to have the long locks gone. Anything was better than having hair in his face 24/7.

Dean set the knife aside and bent down brushed the hair that had fallen to the floor into a nice neat little pile. When he stood up again, Dean glanced into the mirror again. However, instead of just giving his reflection a quick glance, Dean had to do a double-take. He could swear that his hair looked longer than it was a second ago. Dean rubbed his hand across the mirror to clear the fog. Maybe the steam was just distorting his reflection. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. The longer he stood and watched himself in the mirror, the longer his hair grew. It tickled at the tops of his ears as it continued to grow. The hair didn't stop growing until it had returned back to its original length.

"What the fuck?" Dean muttered under his breath. "Those bitches better not have-" Dean broke off and picked up his knife again.

He once again cut away at his long hair, the strands falling everywhere and clinging to Dean's skin. However, no sooner than Dean had finished, the hair started to grow back, but this time, it grew twice as fast.

"Son of a bitch," Dean snarled in frustration. He tried cutting the hair over and over but got the same result each time. A red haze of anger washed over his vision. This was so fucking ridiculous. He knew that he was probably getting angrier than he should be about something so petty, but this was just one more thing Dean couldn't change. He had lost pretty much all control over his life. This was just the cherry to top it all off.

"This fucking sucks," Dean growled as he threw the knife down into the sink. It clattered noisily in the basin and bounced back towards Dean. In an attempt to prevent the knife from impaling him, Dean put his hand up to protect himself. He felt the sharp sting of metal cutting into the palm on his hand as the knife sliced across his skin. Blood instantly started to drip from the cut and stain the sink. Dean pulled back his hand, recoiling away from the pain and inspecting the damage.

"God damn it," Dean hissed through gritted teeth. There was a long shallow gash across his palm, and Dean quickly applied pressure to the wound to slow the bleeding.

Once he stopped the bleeding and cleaned up his mess, Dean finally clambered into the shower. He huffed in frustration when he found that the water was already starting to run a bit cold. Fucking motel showers never had enough hot water, at least, not the motels that he and Sam could afford. Dean made quick work of the shower as the water temperature continued to drop at an alarming rate. By the time he climbed out five minutes later, Dean's teeth were practically clattering. He quickly grabbed his towel and wicked up the moisture that clung to his skin.

When he left the bathroom to get a fresh set of clothes to wear, he was hit with the warm aroma of breakfast. Dean had to admit that everything already smelled pretty amazing. However, Dean suddenly realized that he wasn't hungry all that hungry anymore. It was weird. He had been starving just ten minutes ago, but now he had no appetite at all.

After he was dressed and semi-warm again, Dean padded softly into the kitchen and sat down at the rickety table provided in their room. Dean watched Cas in silence as he baked. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he read from a cookbook spread out on the counter.