samlicker-eightyone:
impalas-and-pie:
samlicker-eightyone:
impalas-and-pie:
“Okay.” comes his short reply, accompanied by a half-hearted chuckle. He sticks his head around the kitchen door. Dean’s eyes dart around the room and he gives a whistle. He finally rests his gaze on Becky, slightly taken aback by how much younger she looks. He takes a breath.
“You want some help with this?” Dean asks, going into kitchen properly and pointing to the ground beef. “And how are you feeling? Probably should have asked that first…”
”Hungry.” the immediate response came without her thinking, and she looked startled for it, then shook her head.
“All I’ve been hungry for for days now is raw meat, and that’s… that’s disgusting. But whenever I try to eat normal food, it won’t stay down.”
She looked down at her…at her paw, because that was what it was, and bit back a sob. She’d been trying her best not to look at it, or acknowledge it, but she’d managed to tear through the washcloth she held, and now had to use her other hand to detangle her claws.
She shook her head once freed, and leaned back against her counter, carefully staying as far as possible from Dean. She felt skittish, afraid that any second now he’d pull that gun, or some salt or holy water, and she’d be in agonizing pain.
And thought of Holy water only reminded her of Father Christopher, whose church she would never be able to visit, if that was the reaction.
“And the wolves are at my door, almost literally, and I’m just… just scared. Tired, scared, hungry, and I feel like I’m about twenty years old right now.”
He listens and nods, keeping an eye on her. He’s so used to seeing her all hyped up and smiling that seeing her on the edge of tears is almost a shock to the system. Dean stays quiet for a moment, watching her remove the ragged bits of cloth from her…claws.
“We’re gonna figure out what’s happening, I promise. Sam’s downtown right now looking for anything he can that might help. Why don’t you try and get some rest for a bit? I’m here now, I can make sure you don’t do anything strange.” Dean suggests, looking up from her hand and stepping closer again.
As she caught his movement at the edge of her vision, she flinched backwards, the reaction automatic, and immediately regretted it when her hip hit the counter.
She crossed the clawed hand across her chest, as though it were held in place by an invisible splint, and used the human hand to rub her side sheepishly.
“Sorry. I’m just… jumpy.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, still not quite used to the dark color of it, and shook her head, trying to avoid looking at him, knowing what he must be seeing when he looked at her.
“When I sleep walked as a kid, my parents would just move me back to bed, and tuck me in, and as long as they were gentle, everything was okay. I panicked when I woke up if they were loud or whatever. But…” She trailed off uncertainly, not sure she could tell him.
“Dean, when I do fall asleep… I’ve just been really hungry, and then I dream of… of people, and… if I sleepwalk, it might be best if you wake me up. From far away.” She looked up, wanting to be sure he got the message.
“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.” he replies, knitting his brows. He listens with rapt attention as Becky talks, not looking away from her for a second. Dean doesn’t want to miss anything. So far he’s got a steaming pile of nothing to help Becky, and he’s hoping she might drop a few clues without knowing it. He’s hoping Sam comes up with something good in the town.
“Far away. Got it.” Dean confirms. “I’ll make sure nothin’ happens, okay?”
He stays quiet for a moment, thinking back to the things Becky told him earlier. “Have you tried eating cooked meat..?” Dean suggests. “If your body wants meat, you might be able to stomach it cooked.”
