Superstitions {Dean Winchester 2}

Chapter 15

Simon Said

Sam had stopped the man from shooting himself but now instead he was hit by a bus. Sam sat a few feet away from where the paramedics were zipping up the body bag. Dean knelt next to him.

"I kept him out of the gun store." Sam says. "Thought he was okay. I thought he was past it, at least--"

"It's okay, Sammy." I tell him. "You couldn't have known."

"I should've stayed with him." Sam continued.

I sighed. "I'm sorry."

___

Across the street sat the Impala. Dean let out a breath of relief. "Thank God."

"You know, I'm pretty sure I could be kidnapped and he wouldn't be as relieved finding me as he was when he found the car." I say jokingly.

He ran across the street. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again." He tells his car.

"See?" I looked at Sam.

"At least he left the keys in it." Dean says.

"Yeah." Sam scoffed. "Real Samaritan, this guy."

"Looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitching his nose. He's gotta use verbal commands." Dean stated.

"Doctor had just gotten off his cell phone when he stepped in front of that bus. Andy must have called or something."

"I don't know, maybe." Dean shrugged.

"Beg your pardon?"

"I just don't know if he's our guy, Sammy."

"Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his Bronco and you doubt this?" Sam asked.

"He doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type, that's all." Dean argued. "And O.J. was guilty."

"Dean's right about that." I spoke up.

"Either way, how are we gonna track this guy down?" Sam asked.   

Dean went silent, thinking it over. "Not a problem."

"Care to share with the class, Mr. Winchester?" I asked. 

___

"Not exactly an inconspicuous ride." Dean remarked as we walked toward Andy's van. 

"More like the biggest eye-sore in town." I muttered. 

"Let's have a look." Dean continued, popping the two back doors open. He chuckled. "Oh, come on."

A mini disco ball hung from the ceiling. Pillows and blankets were filling the back of the van. A tapestry hung on the one wall depicting a tiger lying under the moon. Books and a large bong sat on top of the blankets. 

"This is--This is magnificent, that's what this is." Dean says.

"It seems more like my worst nightmare." I exaggerate.

"Not exactly a serial killers lair, though." Dean continued.  "There's no clown paintings on the walls or scissors stuck in victims' photos. But the tiger..." he trailed off.

"It's horrible." I filled in.

"You're just boring, my lovely little hitchhiker." Dean set his hand on my waist. 

Though it was just a joke, it still stung a little. It wouldn't have normally. But with all my insecurities being dragged into the light by Jo, it was hard not to hang onto it. I know he wasn't trying to hurt my feelings--maybe if I weren't so fragile we wouldn't be here anyway.