Witching Hour | Winchester

Nine

Dean and Roxanne were on rocky terms. They were okay, but they weren't even close to being friends again. She ignored him frequently, and he wavered between avoiding her and desperately trying to win her over. She occasionally discussed the situation with Sam, but she refused to go into too much detail.

Dean watches from the corner of the room as Roxanne stitches a hole in one of her favorite shirts. His lips pull down into a frown as her hands quickly thread a needle. Her hair hangs down in her face, and she huffs, tucking it behind her ear. Dean wonders how he never noticed how often she does that.

Of course he wouldn't, he decides. He was too busy being a jerk to her. Now that he desperately wants things to be good again, he notices everything. He's not sure why he refused to treat her like his friend before. He also tries not to dwell on the fact that he considers her a friend. Or on the fact that he feels like he just has to make things right between them.

Roxanne lets out a sigh, setting her work down. As she gets up, Sam, who currently sits on Dean's bed with a book, looks up at her. Without a word, she walks over to her bag to search for a different color thread. She bends down to rummage through it.

And then her jeans rip.

A large tear runs right down the inside of the right thigh, and she groans. She straightens up, examining the damage. Her fingers trace the rip, and she realizes the hole is big enough that she might as well throw them out.

"What happened?" Sam asks.

"I ripped my damn pants."

"Sounds like you need some new clothes. That's the third time I've watched you rip something in a week."

"I like my clothes," she frowns defensively.

Dean watches their interaction from his place in the corner. He gets an idea, getting to his feet and snatching his keys off the table. "Come on, I'll drive you to town."

Roxanne turns to look at him, eyebrows raised. He merely shrugs.

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

She stares at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as she realizes it's about seven in the evening. A lot of the stores around town will be closing soon, so she doesn't have time to waste on arguing. Finally, she pulls another pair of jeans out of her bag and stalks into the bathroom.

Sam smirks, and Dean is quick to notice.

"What are you smiling for?" The older brother demands.

"Three... Two... One," Sam smiles, pointing to the bathroom door.

Roxanne groans from inside the bathroom. "Oh, come on!"

"She ripped that pair yesterday."

Dean raises his eyebrows. The bathroom door opens, and Roxanne stomps over to her bag. She finds only a pair of shorts and the sweatpants she sleeps in. She grimaces at the thought of wearing shorts in the freezing December wind, and all her jeans are ripped or dirty. She stares at the sweatpants for a moment.

Dean's eyes are stuck on Roxanne. Her toned legs are exposed, and so are the scars that decorate them. Her flannel covers only half of her butt, and both brothers find themselves noticing her black underwear. Sam quickly looks away, pretending to bury his nose in his book as his cheeks heat up.

"What?" Roxanne demands, catching Dean's attention as she slips the sweatpants on.

"You ready?"

"Yes, Dean," she snaps.

He holds up his hands. "Alright. Let's go."

She shrugs on a jacket and follows him out to the Impala after waving to Sam. Her hair whips around in the evening wind, and she shivers as she wraps her arms around herself. She decides she'll try not to make a big deal of Dean driving her around to get new clothes. It shouldn't be a big deal. Besides, she's still upset with him.