【─── Chapter Seven 】

Grumpy Bear

Serafina woke up abruptly. 

Her legs thrashed wildly, and a scream lodged in her throat. Her heartbeat was erratic. In her panic, she flung herself off the bed and landed on the motel floor. The ratty-thin sheets tangled around her. She instinctively grabbed the small handgun she kept under her pillow. 

Like a caged animal, she scanned the room for any potential threat. When she realized what was happening, she leaned on the worn wooden nightstand and shut her eyes.

Vivid, unsettling images from her dreams flickered in her mind. 

It was yet another indecipherable nightmare. One in which memories from the past would infiltrate her dreams like a wraith, giving her just enough to remember really awful things the night her parents died, but not enough to crack the code on what really happened.

With a heavy sigh, she untangled herself from the sheets and placed her gun on the nightstand. Rubbing her hands over her face, she tried to wake up her sleep-deprived eyes. Her eyes darted to the table near the window where her laptop lay open, its screen black. 

The battery was likely dead since she forgot to charge it before falling asleep. 

The table was covered in scattered papers and newspaper clippings, all connected by a thin red string. Notecards with scribbled notes were strategically placed. It resembled a chaotic investigation table, a labyrinth of theories without any solid leads. 

She pulled another all-nighter, investigating a string of cult-like murders that plagued her mind like a parasite. The case made zero sense and the violent deaths of the three victims unsettled her. It felt personal in a way she couldn't explain. Having many facts but no leads or ideas was frustrating, and it kept her up at night more than she'd like to admit. 

Moving to the table, she threw open the curtains a little to allow the first rays of sunrise to give her body a much needed kick in the butt. The orange and pink hues danced together like a kaleidoscope of colors, giving her pause for a brief moment to appreciate the skyline. 

There weren't many things of beauty in her line of work, but the sky was one of them.

Serafina then went to the restroom and attempted to throw herself together. 

The bruise resulting from their altercation the previous night was already healing, with the hues blending into a shade of greenish-yellow. Normally, bruises would take five to ten days to reach this stage, but for Serafina, her bruises would turn this color by the following day and fade away faster than usual. 

That was the last of her concerns though.

The look in the mirror first thing in the morning after a nightmare were always harrowing. Her eyes, usually bright and vexing, were dull as a rusty nail, and the shadows under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights and too much caffeine. 

This was the other side of her. 

It was the part of her that had a reckless streak, often tempted to dip her toes into the waters of self-destruction. There was no one around her to remind her to step back, to pause for a moment and catch her breath. 

So she pushed and pushed...and pushed.

"Get it together, Sera." She mumbled to herself, turning on the bathroom sink. 

She decided to brush her teeth and wash her face. She needed to wake up her tired body and get motivated. Unfortunately, there was hardly any hot water, so when she splashed her face, it was only lukewarm. 

However, it still managed to refresh her face and spark some aliveness. 

As she trudged back into the room, she began sifting through her duffel bag, throwing out a few items before the soft sound of a hesitant knock caught her attention at the door. 

Weirdly enough, she knew it was too soft of a knock to be from Dean. 

Serafina cautiously opened the door and found Sam standing a few steps back, with an anxious smile on his face and his hands in his blue jean pockets. 

"Uh, hey. Good morning," he greeted her, flashing a toothy smile as he casually ran a hand through his shaggy hair. Instantly, his eyes moved to her grumpy care bear pajamas she had snagged at a store on sale, and it seemed like he was holding back a bemused smile.

He must have noticed the challenging look on her face because he thought better of saying anything about her cartoon pajamas. 

"Dean mentioned you might be interested in joining us for breakfast." He nodded down the walkway to their motel room. "I'm just waiting for him to finish getting ready."

Her stomach growled in response. "I could definitely eat." Serafina rubbed at her temple with a sigh, "And I could totally use some liquid crack in a mug because I pulled an all nighter and now I'm paying for it." Her words were laced with thinly veiled agitation. 

Serafina wasn't necessarily a people person in the morning without her coffee and a decent night sleep. And even on the nights she got plenty of sleep, it still never really felt like enough.

Sam knitted his brows in confusion. "All nighter?" 

Serafina couldn't resist a wry chuckle. "Self-induced insomnia is more like it. I've been tackling a case I can't crack and I try to work on it when I have a spare moment. Which ends up being late at night.." 

Sam's eyes brightened with intrigue when she mentioned case. "What's the case about?" 

Serafina hesitated for a moment, but then decided that showing him the mess of chaos would be better than trying to explain it. She opened the door to her motel room and gestured for him to come in. "Come check it out. I just need to change real quick." 

There was a brief moment of apprehension on his part. His eyes darted towards their motel room down the way before connecting back with Serafina. 

Her lips curled into a mischievous grin as a small snicker escaped her. "Is Dean going to get jealous that you're in my motel room before him?"

Sam's breathy laugh made the dimples in his cheek more pronounced and after a moment, curiosity got the better of the youngest Winchester. He finally walked inside, his footsteps echoing over the threshold as she gently shut the door behind him.

Serafina gestured towards the table, covered in a jumble of scattered paperwork. "Welcome to what keeps me up at night." Her head shook with perplexity as she added for context. "It's a case of cult like murders across the Midwest. Three victims so far, and one of them very out of place with the other two." 

Sam walked across the room to the small table near the window, his eyes meticulously scanning the papers. He sat down in the decaying wooden chair after a careful scan, as if curiosity had overridden his self-control.

As he examined the puzzle pieces of the case, his eyebrows furrowed, and he swiftly glanced over his shoulder. 

Reflected in his eyes was the familiar confusion that she knew all too well.

Serafina crossed her arms. "Trust me. I know that look. It's a big mystery."

Sam frowned, his brow furrowing over two faded newspaper clippings. "I feel like I've seen this somewhere before." He brought the clippings closer, his eyes scanning the details.

"Midwest throat slasher ring any bells?" She pressed with a raised brow. 

"Ritualistic symbols carved near the victims, similar to those used in..." His voice trailed off, the gears in his mind turning. Sam's face lit up with realization, his eyes widening in response. "I remember hearing about this one. It had some ritualistic aspects to it, but then it suddenly went cold." 

Before she could respond, there was another knock at the door. 

This one was a stark contrast Sam's - it was bold and assertive. 

Dean.

"I wonder who that could be," Serafina mused, her eyes gleaming with playfulness as she strolled towards the door. 

Dean stood tall and proud, like a weathered oak tree, his hair tussled into a stupidly perfect mess. Over his plain gray shirt, he donned a beat-up brown leather jacket and paired it with denim jeans. His jawline, usually softened by a playful smile, was now etched with a stoic line, and the clear green eyes that normally held a mischievous twinkle were clouded with a sleepy haze. 

The morning sun cast an eerie glow from behind, giving him the appearance of a guardian angel with a shadowed heart. And he was undeniably ruggedly handsome, a fact that did little to soothe the inner turmoil bubbling within her.

"Good morning, sunshine." Serafina chirped with a playful smile.  

At this, his lips flickered into a coy smile. It was as if the sound of her voice cut through his moody morning blues. "Cute PJ's." He remarked as his eyes shamelessly raked over her hour-glass figure from head to toe and then back up again. But when their eyes met, there was a moment of shared respect, despite the emboldened desire blooming in his eyes.

She made a face, sticking her tongue at him like a petulant child. Quickly, she crossed her arms over her chest as if covering up the care bear logo on the front of her cotton thin tank top would make it disappear. "Sam's in here." Serafina walked back inside, leaving the door open as permission for Dean to follow her inside. 

"He's found my table of chaos." She remarked over shoulder with a smirk. 

Dean looked confused as he found Sam sitting at the table. "Table of chaos?" He muttered as his face scrunched in confusion. 

"Dean, this is that case in the Midwest-" Sam started in excitedly, but the words died in his throat as Dean silenced him with a single hand gesture.

"Nope." Dean shook his head, his voice firm.

Sam frowned, throwing a look at Serafina. 

Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again. "Coffee first." He said, his voice low and gruff. "Monsters second."

Sam sighed in defeat, his shoulders sagging slightly. He glanced at Serafina, who met his gaze with a resolute nod. 

"We can talk about it over breakfast," She offered politely. "After grumpy bear has had some coffee." She shot Dean a pointed look who rolled his eyes in return.

Clutching the freshly pulled clothes from her duffel, Serafina made her way to the bathroom. "You guys go get a table. I'll be right behind you." Right before she closed the door for a moment of privacy, she added cheekily, "Oh, and I like my coffee black. Like the depths of my soul." She winked playfully and disappeared.

 ---

Sam and Dean strolled across the street to the diner. The approaching dawn cast an eerie glow through the flickering sign. Dean squinted, the remnants of sleep clinging stubbornly to his eyes despite the still frame in his mind of Serafina in a tiny little pajama set that clung to every inch of her body in just the right way.... 

There was something about her vexing eyes that captivated him. They seemed to hold a thousand secrets, and he found himself drawn to their depths, as if they offered a solace his withering heart craved. He barely knew the girl a day, this hunter chick who waltzed in like she owned a piece of him, and already she had him hooked.

The aroma of coffee hit them like a wave as they entered, a potent blend that promised not just a caffeine kick but a hunter's focus.

It was because of stunts like last night that they had the funds to get by with food. Without the credit card fraud or the gambling, they'd be digging through trash cans and Dean was more than willing to lean on moral ambiguity for food, weapons and necessities.

Dean smirked. "Of course she's into black coffee." He mused to himself as they entered the diner.  "A woman after my own heart." He winked at Sam, a playful glint in his eyes.

Sam rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Just because you can't handle a splash of cream doesn't mean everyone else is out to punish their taste buds, Dean."

"Hey, a good cup of joe keeps you sharp," Dean countered, taking a seat in the booth next to Sammy. "Did you forget the monster-hunting memo? Strong coffee, remember? Or are you planning on fighting demons with sunshine and rainbows?" 

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing two plastic menus from the holder next to the window. He passed one to Dean before looking at his own. 

Sam channeled his focus into figuring out what he wanted for breakfast, passing up all the sweet treats and heading straight for the healthy section. 

After a moment, Dean leaned against the black leather booth, pushing his menu towards the empty side where Serafina would end up sitting. "I'm surprised you made it into her room before me," He mused, but there was a silent edge in his eyes that glimmered like jealousy; a jealousy he wouldn't dare voice because he was too prideful.

Sam chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Relax, man. She invited me in to take a look at the case she's been researching. Besides, hunter life, remember? No attachments, especially with other hunters." He paused before baiting Dean with a playful glint in his eyes, "Unless, of course, you were interested...." 

Dean's cheeks flushed a tell-tale pink. "Psh...interested? Who said I was interested?" He avoided Sam's gaze, fiddling with the worn silver ring on his finger. "Plus, there's nothing wrong with having a little fun, Sammy." He deflected with ease. "You should try it sometime."

The awkward silence shattered with the arrival of a red-haired whirlwind. The waitress, a cascade of freckles dancing across her sun-kissed cheeks, greeted them with a honeyed Southern drawl that could charm the socks off any outlaw.

Dean ordered a pot of their darkest roast, strong enough to wake the dead. He added a wink at the end that sent a blush blooming on the waitress's face.

Sam, per usual, asked for the same, but wanted a side of half and half for his. 

Right as the waitress sashayed away, the diner door swung open, framing Serafina. 

Her smile, a radiant shield against the world, seemed to light up the entire room. She was no in way an angel, that was for sure. She was a contradiction of light and dark; an enigma that had Dean's attention. Her sultry eyes did a quick sweep of the diner before settling on Dean, and a familiar warmth ignited in his gut. 

He had to admit, the woman had no business looking that drop-dead gorgeous at this ungodly hour. It wasn't just a fleeting pang, the kind that came and went with a pretty face. This was a slow burn, a simmering heat that settled low in his chest and refused to be ignored. 

Yet, Dean stubbornly refused to acknowledge it.

Instead, he focused on the details – the way her hair bounced with each confident step, the whisper of emerald silk skimming her curves beneath the thin green blouse, and the black skinny jeans that accentuated her hour-glass figure....

He barely knew her, yet here he was, a sucker punch delivered by a fellow hunter. 

She was doing a damn good job of messing with his usual calm composure.

"Careful not to drool on the table, grumpy bear.." Sam quipped mockingly, amusement clear as day in his eyes.

Dean shot him a look that could curdle milk, then rolled his eyes with the exaggerated nonchalance of a teenage boy as she approached their table.

Author's Note:

I apologize this chapter was a little shorter. I'm currently working on an original book, but wanted to update this in between the chapters of my other work in progress. :) 

I should have another chapter updated soon - next time I promise it'll be a little longer.

I also LOVED the little snippet of getting into Dean's POV at the end. Let me know if you'd like more of those moments in the story as it goes on!!! :)

Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoyed.