[1] Rock Salt and Silver | d.winchester

9

"Michael." At this point, Stevie forgot of Dean Winchester's miraculous return, she forgot about Danny, she forgot any and all feeling she ever had for the man stood in front of her.

The only thing she could think about was how convenient this all was, how random after five years Dean happened to show up and now, three years on, Michael shows up at Dean's hotel room. It's impossible and ridiculous.

"Stevie, oh God-" He appears to be chocking back tears, his eyes bloodshot and raw; desperate. "I can't believe it's really you!" Stevie could truly point out the feeling was completely and utterly mutual.

"Get out of here." Stevie closed the door before she even finished her own sentence, his body pressing against the other side of the wood pathetically attempting to keep it open.

"Who was that?" Dean was now sat on the end of the bed, elbows resting on his knees with a mixture of confusion and concern on his face.

"No one."  The poison in her own words, Stevie could have sworn, physically burnt her throat. She, subconsciously, reached for the empty glass and half full whiskey bottle, pouring herself more than she should have.

"Stevie." Ignorance, Stevie heard, was bliss. So she tipped her head back anticipating the bittersweet sensation of whiskey neat, attacking her mouth. But nothing happened, she opened her eyes to no glass in her hand and a sour disappointment filled her stomach at the sound of the tumbler clanking back against the table.

"Dude, 'the hell-"

"Stev-" The hunter pulls the glass out of Dean's grip, scowling at his hardened glare and his uncertainty. She wasn't even sure she trusted him right now. It all seemed much too coincidental."What's going on-" Why can't he just leave it alone?

"Stevie, I'm sorry! Please, you have to believe me." She made a sound in her throat, his shouts echoing through the door, "It's been so hard to find-"  The familiar, retched sound of Michael Latun's voice drills into her head and Stevie gets hold of the glass tumbler again, but this time it shatters against the door of their room, splatters of untouched whiskey staining the wood.

"Shut up!" Stevie could barely stand without trembling, the anger, the hatred, boiling and shaking her body. Her breath had grown raged and whistled through her clenched teeth and Dean, for once, didn't know what to do. He wanted to know who was at the door, he couldn't careless to why they were outside his room, but he did care about why he had the power to upset Stevie -Stevie- so much.

"I'm not leaving! You're not leaving me again, Stevie." The stranger's voice was desperate and rattling but Dean had started to hate it, he could hear an undertone of an intensity he didn't trust.

"Steph-" Before Dean even finished her name, her hands were clutching her head and she slams a fist on the table- her voice laced with disappointment when she spoke in a raspy whisper.

"My ex-boyfriend." Stevie closed her eyes with a defeated sigh and slumps into the wooden chair to her right, her stomach knotting and the inability to look at the Winchester in the eyes. Dean goes to laugh, hoping to relax her because they'll just tell this guy to piss off and then Dean can spend his night teasing her about how much this 'Michael' gets under her skin. But then he speaks again, and Dean sees it isn't going to go like that. She snaps.

The wooden chair she was sitting on clatters to the floor and Stevie lunges for the door. She throws it open and grabs the just-about 6 ft. male by the head. Her fingers lace in his dark hair, wrapping in to it and she pulls his head down, closer to her mouth. He stands, hunched over and struggling in her grip. "Look what you've gone and walked into-" Dean lifted his arms, ready to pull her away but he can't, because something in her voice completely startles him, "I'm going to kill your sorry ass, do you understand me?"

With that, and the animalistic growl snarling from her throat, Dean loops his arms through hers, pulling her away from the man stood in the hallway. Strangely, theres a lopsided grin on his mouth when he straightens up And Stevie struggles in deans grip, though she knows it's pointless. She relaxes I'm familiar arms until he lets her go and she spits in the man's direction. To anyone else, there would only be the purest of hate in Stevie's eyes but to Dean, he could see something else. He could see a very faint spark of fear, but it was fear all the same.

"Look at you." The man's voice was different now, mocking. "Eventually grown a pair, have we?" Michael, a wide built man just an inch smaller than Dean, stood in their doorway, his hands shoved leisurely in his back pockets while he rocked on his heels. In that one sentence, Dean regretted pulling her away.

"Excuse me?" Dean found himself walking forward, covering Stevie's body with his own a little without thinking, his eyebrows raised at the man stood in front of him.

"Got yourself a toy boy, eh Steph? I can see why you like him. You always had a thing for being a slut."

~~~
Author's note
I'm sorry if this chapter offends anyone! Please don't let it, Micheal is just a super horrible guy but he's a key factor to character development and the storyline, just bare with it :)