The Runaway | Supernatural | ✓

Chapter I - Be Good To Yourself

Leila drew in a shaking breath as she looked at Dean Winchester.

"Hunters?" she asked. Her head felt like it was spinning. No longer swimming in static but she still felt like she was in the black nothingness of her nightmare. That's what it was, really. She wished she could stop calling them dreams. "Like..." Leila looked back at the pile of black dust. "That wasn't an animal, are you nuts?" She held a hand out. "That thing looked... I don't know..." She still felt like she wanted to vomit. "I don't want to say human..."

But it was exactly what she meant.

            "Can I see your arm?" Sam asked as he walked back into the room.

            Leila eyed him for a moment before realizing the throbbing was beginning to make her feel numb. She held her arm out toward him as he walked to where she was seated in her bed.

            "This isn't going to feel good," Sam said. He pressed the towel to her arm, putting pressure on the wound. Leila drew in a sharp breath that sounded too much like the creature hissing than she would've liked to admit. Goosebumps prickled her skin remembering the void of it's eyes.

            Dean looked around the room. He narrowed his eyes at Leila. "Where's your mom? Sammy said you were staying here with her."

            "Um..." Leila's brain was fried. Lies usually slipped off her tongue easily. It was how she made it through home life. "Out? Buying snacks."

            "At four o'clock in the morning?" Dean asked. He quirked an eyebrow.

Leila hated that she knew he was reading right through her. She was usually better at this. But she had to see the lie through at that point. "She usually works early. Gets hungry." Sam pushed harder on her arm after checking the towel. Leila stopped herself from screaming. "Ow."

            "Sorry," Sam mumbled. The expression on his face seemed like he meant it.

            "You sharing a bed with your mom?" Dean asked. He pushed the door closed only to have it creak open again. Leila could see the glint of the doorknob hanging from the door.

            She would not be paying for damages that Dean Winchester inflicted on her motel door. That was for certain.

Leila's eyes darted to Dean. "That's really none of your business. Is it?"

            "Are you okay to walk?" Sam asked. "We should wash this."

            "Sure..." Leila slowly made her way to her feet, Sam still putting pressure on the wound on her arm. She hated that the creature had been close enough while she was asleep to scratch her. And she hated more that she hadn't noticed until Sam had pointed it out.

            Sam and Leila walked to the bathroom, where he stuck her arm under the faucet and began attempting to clean it. Leila fought the urge to exclaim in pain. While it was better than any disinfectant, water on an open wound did not feel good.

            Leila could see Dean walk around her bed, examining the scratches on the wall. "You know, kid," he said, running his hand along the marks. "If you tell us the truth, we can help. Makes it easier for everyone."

            "I don't talk to strangers I just met," Leila said. Wondering where she was finding the courage to sass a man that could probably break her arm by flicking it.

            "We're talking right now. It's a great conversation." Dean lay on her bed, putting his hands behind his head. Comfortable—like it was his own bed and not one from a dingy motel. Leila didn't know how he could be comfortable when the comforter was balled up underneath him. It also felt like a prison cot. So there was that, too.