Author's notes: Just to make it clear – I know that the original Headless Horseman story takes place in New York but before starting this fic I went through some stories and records and found a bunch of other legends about the Headless Horseman scattered all over the United States. Besides, it's just a fic, read – the result of my restless imagination, so… No flames :)) Hope you're going to enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 2

"Bela?"

The beam of Dean's flashlight was dancing around, casting angled, oddly shaped shadows as it kept hitting trees and bushes.

"Terrific!" He breathed out with frustration.

Damned woman couldn't do what she was asked to even in a life and death situation! What the hell was wrong with her?! Okay, maybe life and death was pushing it a little bit, especially the death part. But he left her for some freaking five minutes and now she was gone without a trace. Okay, Dean admitted, he wasn't really thinking that she just turned away and left. Not really. But she couldn't just disappear, could she?

So, it wasn't a Headless Horseman after all, it was a moose and meeting it some two hundred feet away from where he left Bela freaked him out. Maybe even a bit more than if he'd actually stumbled into the real Headless Horseman, or something else… ghostly. Except for that there was no such thing as the Headless Horseman, for God's sake!

Dean considered himself lucky that the animal did not attack him. He didn't want to shoot poor thing only because it happened to be mistaken for something else. Besides, Dean seriously doubted that rock salt would cause any harm to anything that wasn't already dead but he was quite certain that it would piss that moose off which wasn't the brightest of all prospects. So, he dealt with the situation with the rare manly coolness… and scrammed quickly and quietly before he was spotted. Made extra circle to be sure that there were no other two- or four-legged creatures in the area, and headed back.

So why? Why wouldn't she just stay where he had left her? And did this woman even know that she was causing almost unbelievable amount of trouble?

Still, as much as Dean would like to think so, he seriously doubted that Bela would miss her chance to observe the results of yet another sick joke of hers, for one thing. Not her style. Where was fun in that? And this realization was quite enough to make Dean worry and push him forward darting his eyes from side to side and listening intensely while he was replaying the last conversation with Sam in his mind...

"You can't be serious, Dean!" Sam snorted and shook his head.

"Why?"

"Come on, dude! It's Bela! You should know better than that."

"She said it was a case," Dean pointed out.

"Yeah, and now we're believing everything she says. Since when? Should I remind you the general rule – we hear from Bela Talbot, we run away in another direction, remember?"

"It can be a case, you know. She knows the stuff and everything."

"She knows how to make profit out of everything that comes along her way, Dean."

"So? It's Halloween, we…"

"Exactly, Dean. Halloween. Her case can be a prank of some geek."

"Yeah, and sitting holed up in the motel is the best way to spend a holiday." Dean rolled his eyes, although Sam had a point here.

Halloween was the worst time of the year for both of them, or for the hunters generally, for that mater. Damned holiday was usually messing everything up. A haunted house could be "haunted" by the next-door neighbors, a bunch of zombies usually turned out to be a bunch of dressed up teens and even black magic rituals were in most cases the result of watching too much shows on cable. Dean thought it was nothing until he nearly shot a "vampire" whose big idea was to scare crap out of his girlfriend. After that he and Sam decided to be more careful around Halloween. The thing was that right at the moment Dean couldn't afford having a vacation, not with his head being stuffed with all these I'll-die-soon thoughts. He needed a case. Any case. Anything to occupy his mind for a while.

"Not that I'd mind but that's boring. And I don't want to waste my time…" He trailed off when Sam looked away and cleared his throat. "I want to have some fun, okay?"

"You have a weird understanding of fun, Dean."

"Huh?"

"Why are you doing this for her again?"

"Excuse me? I do not do anything for anyone. If Bela's right then people's lives could be at stake. If she's not, it'll be my excuse to finally kill the bitch. I'll be back in two days at most. You sure you don't wanna come with me?"

"No, thanks! Bela and Halloween – that's too much Halloween for me. Remember the last one? We spent a week chasing a ghost and in the end it was a student from local college who thought that his landlord would cut the rent if he proved that the house was haunted. I've got to admit that the sound effects were high-class but it was seven days of wasted time. You wanna have it again – be my guest. I'd rather visit Bobby and look for some real case." Read, try to break your fool's deal, as if Dean didn't know. But none of them said it out loud although both knew that it was what the other thought. Playing cool wasn't a problem though.

"Whatever. Bake some cookies for the local kids."

"Good luck with real witch," Sam snorted in response. "Do not be surprised, man, if she flies out of the chimney in the end leaving you with a whole lot of problems." Dean chuckled. "Can I trust you to be careful?"

"Sure, Mom! I promise to brush my teeth twice a day and eat all Brussels sprouts instead of throwing them out of the window like other kids."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"I know. And do you know that you're getting paranoid?"

"You're messing up with Bela. It can't lead to anything good."

"I'm not messing up with anyone. Besides, after her last joke," Dan cringed at the memory – Gordon's red blood-thirsty eyes and his maniacal desire to kill Sam, "she wouldn't dare to just get in our way without a reason."

"She always has one and in most cases it is safer for us not to know anything about any of them."

"Listen, I know, she's been a pain in the ass… a couple of times…"

"But you keep taking her side regardless. Tell me you're doing it not because you think she's hot, Dean."

Dean's brows shot up. "You said it, Sammy. Not me." He grinned.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me I didn't warn you, okay?"

"It's Pennsylvania, Sam. What on earth can go wrong in Pennsylvania?"

"Anything can go wrong anywhere, and you know it."

"Okay, I got your point. Look, it's nothing special. I'm sure Bela will give me whatever information she has and then flee with light heart, the way she usually does. We've been through this before, right? Through Halloween I mean. I'll know if it is a bogus, and if it is, I'll be right back. I just want to make sure, is all."

So that was it. Sam sighed in defeat and Dean – with relief. Fighting over every case that Sam thought was nothing but crap – and they all were now that he had so many other things in mind, like breaking the unbreakable deal – started getting on his nerves long before Bela's call. It was almost a relief to have an excuse to get away for a while and have some air. He felt guilty for it, too. His time was running out. It made sense to spend as much time with his little bro as possible but Dean doubted that kicking Sam's ass for being so annoying could be a good thing to remember.

"Call me if you need some help," Sam breathed out with frustration in the end.

"Sure I will," Dean patted him on the back smiling and flopped on the couch to finish his double burger before departing…

"Bela?" He span around when a branch creaked behind him but it was just a bird that had taken off of the tree.

He took a deep breath filling his lungs with cool damp air and then let it out slowly willing his heart to slow down its quickened pace. Absently, Dean noticed the fog that started rising from the river they'd passed an hour ago and crawling along the ground catching at the rocks and tangling in the branches, panic crawling into him just as easily. His hands were almost numb and most of all in the world he wished he could just drop his shotgun and a flashlight and tuck them into the pockets of his jacket. Temperature seemed to drop even lower, and to top it all, it started to drizzle.

"I'm going to kill her," he breathed out contemplating slow and painful torture as soon as he found her. The thought made his lips quirk into a dreamy smile.

Bloody hell, he had so little time left and what was he doing? Losing priceless bits of it looking for Bela Talbot in the woods of Pennsylvania! At night. In the rain. Risking to turn into a popsicle long before dawn. What did she drag him into this time?

Moose! Gee!

***

It was cold and… wet? And the first thing that Bela found out was that something sharp was angling into her side. Her face was pressed into the earth and the smell of fallen leaves that filled her nostrils and probably her whole head was so strong that for a moment or two she thought it would be enough to send her back into unconsciousness.

God, she was pathetic, really! She knew how to take an impact of the fall and group so that in the end she could all but stand up, straighten her clothes and look like she had just made her way down the well-lit staircase in her best cocktail dress, more or less, not like a victim of a plane crash. But this time it was too unexpected and too fast, and she simply didn't have a chance to try and make the consequences of the fall less dramatic. But knowing that wasn't making her feel any better.

Here is to hunting the ghosts!

Bela gathered all her strength to roll over onto her back and moaned quietly when this simple movement set every single cell of her body on fire wishing she'd stayed knocked out for a little while longer.

And it was only the top of an iceberg. Her head hurt badly and when it came in contact with the ground Bela could have sworn that something exploded inside of it. It took her a couple of moments to realize that something was not right with her right shoulder, too. The pain was pooling there and spreading down her arm and all over her chest making the whole process of breathing quite unpleasant. That led to realization that her ribs might be damaged as well and at this point Bela decided that it was right about time to start panicking.

Slowly, she dared to open her eyes only to find out that they were practically pounding out of her scull. Great! What next? Bela didn't know if it was a good idea to move, like – at all! But she just had no other choice. Her teeth began to chatter unevenly and she knew without doubt that everything from broken ribs to severe concussion would be the least of her problems if she caught pneumonia.

Damn it!

"Bloody hell," she moaned and nearly passed out once again when she accidentally moved her right arm. Was it broken or what? She didn't even know if her cell phone survived the fall or if it was going to work in this middle of nowhere. Perfect!

O-okay, and what was her plan B now?

And wait a minute, was she even alive anyway? That was not an easy question to answer but she knew that she felt too bad to be dead. But she did see the Headless Horseman and no one… The memory anything but made her jump and try to run away, and had she been in better shape that would be exactly what she'd do. If only she could, of course. Bela thought sourly about becoming the second Gabe Wilson, town's freak, and stifled a nervous giggle. Yes, she definitely didn't escape the concussion.

So, her cell phone…

"Bela?"

Um, she didn't call him yet, right? Then where—?

A beam of light hit her face.

Anyone asked for the light in the end of the tunnel? Bela squinted and blinked with confusion and surprise and did her best to concentrate on the source of it. Her eyes followed up the slope, which looked like a really long way to fall now that she could see the top of it. Too damn long. And rocky, and…

And there was Dean Winchester in the end of the tunnel as well, with the flashlight (she lost hers somewhere between here and there). Amen. Her rescue party arrived.

Dean made three big circles around the spot where he thought he saw her last, which was a long shot since the forest looked pretty much the same to him wherever he went. His panic-o-meter was overloaded by this time and he started thinking about calling the police or 911, or Ghostbusters even, when he saw them. The tracks that ended at the very edge of a rather deep hollow. And, seriously, who was he to start hoping that it was just a coincidence?

"Hey," she breathed out in relief not at all sure he could hear it, what with all that rain and that dull noise all around.

Oh, that noise must have been in her head only. Okay then.

"What are you doing there?" He shouted.

Good question!

"Watching the stars," Bela answered honestly.

Dean looked up, puzzled, and felt steady raindrops falling on his face. "There are no stars in the sky, Bela."

Huh? What else is new? "They are before my eyes, see the difference."

"Oh." He blinked. "Right." Like in Looney Tunes. Nice. "How did you get there anyway?"

"I fell."

"And… Did it help?"

Mm, what? Okay, what was he talking about again? Say something so that he knew you're still alive!

"Depends…" Did she say it or only thought?

"Can you move?" What again? "Bela?" A pause. "Oh, crap. Change of plan. Don't move! Just hold on there, okay? I'll be right down."

Sure! Why the hell not? Not that she had a wide range of choices anyway. Besides, Bela liked the idea that there was no need anymore to try and fetch her cell phone from the left back pocket of her jeans.

"Dammit." Dean looked around hesitantly before starting to slide down the slope clutching at the tree trunks and thorny branches to slow down his descending, his feet slipping on wet rocks, damp earth and a thick layer of fallen leaves, which reminded him that he had never been fans of skiing. Balancing with a flashlight in one hand and a shotgun in another and trying not to end up flying down head-forward was sort of similar to it. And what was the fun in that? He never got it.

Once down, he crouched beside Bela and put a shotgun onto the pile of leaves formed by his skidding to a halt, a beam of flashlight traveled up and down her body as he searched for obvious injures, like open fractures.

"Hey, Dean."

"Hey, Dean? That's it? Not impressive." At least she seemed to still be in one piece. Sort of. "You look terrible, sweetheart," he announced in the end, chuckling, his fingers brushed her hair away from her face and cleared some leaves that got stuck in the strands. "How it feels?"

"The same." Like I was run over by a herd of angry bulls.

"That bad, huh?" In case she had a concussion, which he couldn't say for sure just like that, it was better to keep her talking.

"Try to repeat my trick, and we'll see how you're going to like it."

"Sure, first thing in the morning." Damn it, she didn't look good at all. Dean raised his hand. "How many fingers?"

"One flashlight. Can you please try to blind someone else?"

"Sorry." He put it down beside them. "And now?"

"Three."

Shit! "It's two, actually." Dean sighed. She looked frightened like hell; her eyes big and terrified, face twisted with pain and too pale for his liking. "So, what was it, Bela? An attempt to cut your way back to the car? You took the wrong turn somewhere, I'm afraid."

"What?" She frowned at him. "No, it was… Did you see him?"

"Who?"

The moose spooked her? Nah, with Bela it must have ended the other way around – poor animal would run away, screaming.

"The Headless Horseman."

Oh, that. Sure. Easter Bunny, Santa Claus and Headless Horseman, followed by Snow-White and her horde of dwarfs, the whole gang. "You have a pretty nasty bump here, see." His fingers traveled down the back of her head, and immediately he felt something warm and sticky. Oh, hell, she was bleeding. A cut, not just a bump. Any other nice surprises?

"Cut the crap!" Bela snapped and pushed his hand away from her face with her healthy arm, annoyed. She saw what she saw!

"Whatever." Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on. We need to get out of here somehow. The bluish color of your lips freaks shit out of me," he helped her up to the sitting position, one arm wrapped supportively around her waist but that simple gesture sent a shock of pain through her entire body. "What is it?" He asked quickly and with a great deal of panic when she gasped and tensed all over; the color drained off of her face and she became paler than the sheet.

"It's nothing, I just…" She trailed off when the train of her thought suddenly turned in another direction and disappeared in the fog that was filling her head. For now, throbbing pain was all she could think about. And where did all these bright spots came from? Oh, God, she just wanted to sleep.

"Bela?"

"My shoulder," she breathed out not quite up to… anything. "Something's wrong with it." Among all other things. And did I ever mention that the world is spinning in funny circles around me?

"That's just friggin' terrific."

Now that she said it, he finally noticed that her shoulder was obviously dislocated. Years of experiencing all kinds of traumas taught him to see such things better than if he was a professional surgeon. When it wasn't that dark around, of course. Yet, it explained her strained voice. Dean cringed at the thought of the pain she must have been having.

"Shoulda stayed in that fancy hotel of yours," he pointed out.

"Should have put more trust in you," she agreed unwillingly.

"What?! Now that's plain insulting!" He hesitated for a moment, considering. "Um, Bela…"

"What?" In a weak voice, obviously not expecting anything good from this life generally.

"We need to relocate your shoulder first."

"Re-?" No! "Oh, crap." Yeah, that was exactly what she needed to make her night perfect. A bullet in the head would work too, though. Bela closed her eyes for a moment wondering how really screwed up she was, and then opened them again locking her gaze with his. If only it wasn't getting worse with each passing second… "Don't fuck it up, Winchester."

And, here we are! Now he was some bloody ER, and she was still a bitch.

"It's going to hurt," Dean warned her.

"Seriously? Now that's a surprise!" She hemmed, voice ringing with suppressed pain and teeth beating a rapid staccato between the words. "And people usually say that it tickles."

"Damn, I shoulda let you believe that." He chuckled nervously never looking away from her face. "On the count of three, okay?" Bela paused and then nodded. You're so going to hate me for this, Dean thought. "One…" and without hesitation he snapped her shoulder back in place. That was John Winchester's favorite trick. He always said that the pain was less severe when it was unexpected. It never worked for Dean though. The pain was still… well, the pain.

Caught off-guard, Bela let out a stifled whimpering sob. She caught her breath for a moment and then exhaled slowly sagging into Dean, not even trying to fight unbidden tears that filled her eyes. It felt so much worse than she remembered, as if something white-hot exploded under her skin. Or maybe her arm was just torn off. She'd check it later, Bela decided, when she got back her ability to think. As for now… She was so cold that her limbs were going numb whereas Dean bloody Winchester was so warm and smelled like rain and something that she thought probably was his aftershave lotion, and something else, something very familiar, which she failed to recognize, and for a very long time it was all Bela could think of, drowsiness and weakness winning over everything else.

"Sorry about that," Dean whispered folding his arm around her. She was shaking all over, from pain or cold he didn't know. Probably both. "I know it hurts like hell. Good news – it wasn't actual dislocation, just an uncomfortable shift. Otherwise it could be worse."

Huh, really?

He tightened his grip on Bela and held her like that waiting for her short, sharp intakes of breath to become more deep and even.

The rain grew stronger.

He grabbed the flashlight and lit as much of the slope and the beam could reach. There was no chance for her to climb back up on her own. Fantastic! Mentally, Dean tried to imagine where he left the car and figure their route back to it. That was where the GPS could come handy, not on the roads where good old maps were still working. He tried to ignore his hair that slicked to his scull and his wet jeans that clung to the skin of his legs, which was just gross. He was cold and tired and that deep cut that he got somewhere on his way down began to throb. Save alone the fact that he had a nearly unconscious woman for a company. Let the party never stop!

"Bela?" Her eyes were half closed when Dean looked down and she was staring sightlessly into nowhere, breath still pretty convulsive. "Could this day get any more screwed up?" He muttered. As if in response to his question thunder scattered across the sky and died away in the distance. Dean looked up. "Thanks. I knew it."

One hand still around her upper body, he slipped the other one under her knees and stood up picking her into his arms, careful not to touch her right shoulder to avoid and unnecessary pain. "Okay now, here we go."

"So cold." Bela murmured shivering violently. Her head was on his shoulder, hot breath falling on his neck making Dean's skin tingle.

"Tell me that." If only his own teeth weren't chattering, too, he'd probably scoff. "Not only you get all the fun, you also have the best services," he said with reproach shaking his head, and added, "Don't you dare to pass out on me," wondering how could she fuck everything up without a mere effort every time they happened to end up stuck with each other for some reason.

***

Back in the motel, Dean kicked the door closed behind them and reached awkwardly to flick the switch. "A-and, here we are," he announced when two reading lamps on the nightstands and a sconce hanging on the opposite wall came to life. "Home, sweet home." No roaches!

He lowered Bela onto the small couch near the window and after a short hesitation rushed outside once again on a hurried warning, "Don't go anywhere."

Oh, just give me a chance, Bela thought absently. Mind foggy, she looked around to observe whatever place she ended up in from under the veil of her lashes, one arm wrapped around her chest in a vain attempt to stop trembling.

There were two double beds and a scarred table in the middle of the room with three chairs around it that weren't matching either the table or each other, or any other piece of furniture speaking of that. She also spotted a wood dresser with four drawers and a small old TV perched on top of it that looked like the newest thing in the room. Nothing fancy, but it was warm and although Bela was still trembling, the sound of water dripping from her clothes and hair almost made her believe that that piece of ice that she thought she was steadily turning into finally began to melt.

Bluntly, she peered down at her toes, and then wiggled them watching pink nail polish wink at her through her nylons. She didn't remember at what point her shoes were gone. Hell, she didn't remember much. How did she get here by the way? Her head felt terrible; as if someone with a hammer got in there and was now trying to thump his way out. Even the sound of her own heartbeats seemed to be too loud to stand. She was a mess and, surprisingly, she couldn't care les.

When Dean got back to the room a couple of minutes later with a first aid kit clutched in his hand leaving a trace of water drops behind and feverishly trying to recall when was the last time he checked its supplies, he found Bela exactly where he left her, curled in the corner of the couch and looking impossibly miserable. She hadn't moved an inch and Dean's heart wrenched at the thought that it was extremely wrong for her to look like that. Generally.

He paused for a moment as if not sure what to pick from his long list of to-do things, then heaved a long sigh, tossed car keys and first aid kit onto one of the beds and crouched down in front of her.

"Hey, you still here?"

He smiled softly when she turned her head to look back at him. "Hey." Her voice was weak and hoarse and could hardly be called a sound at all.

"You okay?" His eyes traveled around her face. "Stupid question, I know," Dean admitted on a sigh when she didn't respond. And what did he expect to hear? Never better? "Look, we've gotta do something with that cut of yours now, alright?" After a short pause Bela nodded slowly. "Good."

He nodded too, relieved to notice some color appearing on her cheeks again. And her lips no longer were bluish and rimy like those that Leo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet had in their final scene of "Titanic", which looked too creepy even for him. Dammit, he hated himself for even remembering that scene. Sam and his worst taste for movies…

Dean got up and first of all shrugged out of his jacket cringing and making faces all the way. There were not so many things that he liked less than wearing wet clothes. He hated the way they were clinging to his skin making him flinch with revulsion every time he had to move. He hung his jacket onto the back of one of the chairs and then dragged another one closer to the couch to set his first aid kit onto the seat.

"You mind?"

"What are you doing, Dean?" Bela shifted slightly to give him some room and he sat next to her, their hips touching. She could feel the warmth of his body even through their clothes.

"Playing MASH. You woulda saved us both a whole lot of trouble, Bela, if you tried to fall between the rocks." But despite his vague irritation he was gentle and she could all but relax and trust him to know what he was about to do.

Carefully, Dean pulled off the elastic band letting her hair loose. The cut wasn't that big or deep; it was bleeding badly though, just like any other head injure, but it wasn't a big deal. Not for Dean at least. Still, it had to be taken care of.

"Ouch!" She tensed all over when sudden pain brought her back to reality.

"Sorry," he whispered raking his fingers gently through her hair. His breath that was falling on the base of her neck sent shivers down Bela's spine. She swallowed hard and bit her lower lip confused by sudden moment of intimacy.

"I'm fine," she said quietly and tried to concentrate on something neutral, like that feeling of coolness caused by whatever Dean sprinkled on the cotton pad. It smelled nice, like a body lotion, not like regular medical stuff. Besides, she was happy to realize that the whole fun of having a concussion went past her. "You know, you could've taken me to the hospital. Instead of whining."

He winced when she said that. Hospitals. He hated them. And not having legal insurance wasn't exactly helping matters. For the Winchesters hospitals were something that they kept as a last resort. Yeah, there were things that they couldn't handle without a piece of help but there always was a chance that their fake credit cards or forged insurances wouldn't work. The list of side effects of living illegal life was endless. Not that it ever happened before, but why take risks?

"I would," he said, "if you had something that I couldn't cope with myself. Like if you needed stitches or something." He paused and added, "It's just a scratch." A shrug followed, or so Bela guessed assuming the bounce of the couch beneath them. "Besides, what would you say in the hospital? That you decided to try sky-diving while attempting to run away from the Headless Horseman?" He chuckled. "They'd X-ray you just fine, stuff you with the painkillers and lock you in the ward with padded walls."

"Charming," Bela huffed. "No, I’d say that you were my husband and that you beat me with a baseball bat."

"What?! Aw, come on! No one would ever believe that!"

"Why? It happens all the time. Statistically speaking, family violence…"

"No. I mean no one in their right mind would ever believe that we are married," he explained seriously. "Obviously, I am much too good for you, Bela." And after a short consideration. "Okay, let's assume for a moment, theoretically, that they believed you. I'm positive that in a minute or so around you everyone from chief surgeon to part-time janitor woulda taken my side."

Bela snorted. "Just for the record, I would never agree to marry you, even if you were desperate and begging," she pointed out.

"Right back at you, sweetheart," Dean signsonged but his voice was light and his fingers were still tender, and either Bela was stupid and delusional, or it wasn't mean to be an insult.

"Dean?" She called after a little while, and turned her head when he didn't say anything. "Thank you." Their eyes met, and it was the moment when time stopped.

He didn't expect her to turn around. Didn't expect her to be so close that he could practically feel her breath of his lips. Didn't expect…

Say something, you moron! Dean swallowed uneasily. Like You're welcome, or Never mind, or Did you do it on purpose? Come on, you can do it, before she actually believed that you're too think to form a coherent response!

But the words froze on his lips. So, he just watched her, waiting for God knows what and counting the heartbeats, his or hers he couldn't say. And when Bela's face suddenly drew closer the best he managed to come up with was, "You should take off your clothes."

Bela spluttered for a moment, confused, and pulled back. "I beg your pardon?"

The charm was broken, the magic of the moment gone for good, and Dean rolled his eyes, both relieved and cursing himself, and knowing that whatever choice he'd made, it would be the wrong one.

"Don't be ridiculous!" He felt his cheeks heat up when it came to him how it must have sounded to her, and hopped up from the couch on a sudden urge to close the first aid kit and to put it onto the dresser next to the TV, the speed of his retreat implying that the world would probably end if he didn't do it right away. "I just wanted to take a look at your shoulder to, you know, make sure that it is still where should be." All insulted dignity as if her assumption was the most insane, impossible and offensive thing he had ever head in his life.

"Nice try! But it is doing perfect, thank you, and if you're looking for a free show…"

"If I were, I'd sure as hell know where to go," Dean grimaced, and Bela scowled at him a little more hurt by his behavior than she'd like to admit. "You need to get out of these sopping wet clothes anyway."

And he was right. It felt even worse now that she started to get warm. The slightest stirring of the air was sending goose-bumps down her body.

"Playing caring now, are we?" She said all the same regaining her-bitchy-self surprisingly quickly.

They regarded each other for a while, and then Dean sighed, like it was a truce.

"Look, Bela, I'm serious." Feeling extremely tired all of a sudden as if the events of the night drained him out completely and not at all up to any kind of fight at this point, he ran his fingers through his still wet hair making them stick out in odd spiky kinks. "You need to change before you got… cold." He paused trying to make his mind work in the right direction. "Um… there are bathrobes and towels in the bathroom. You can take a shower…" He trailed off eventually, cleared his throat and looked away. So not the mental image I need at the moment. "If you need some help…"

"No, I'll be fine," she assured him hurriedly.

"Sure. Right." Dean cleared his throat once again. "Okay then, I guess I'll go to get some… some aspirin." And beer. Yes, beer. There was plenty of aspirin in the first aid kit but she didn't know that, and he needed some time for himself. And yes, beer was probably a very good idea, too. "I'll be back soon."

On that he was gone, fleeing more or less, leaving Bela all alone with that terrible headache of hers and puzzlement over what had just happened.

She was playing cool about her shoulder though, and it quickly became obvious that getting undressed using only one properly functioning arm was a hell of an entertainment. Save alone the fact that the walls were not exactly steady around her and each movement was weakening Bela even more. The mirror above the sink revealed a huge purplish bruise all over her right shoulder which hurt badly even when she was motionless and holding her breath – maybe having it X-rayed was not such a bad idea. Bela sighed and willed herself to ignore minor damage such as smaller bruises and scratches all over her body for a while.

Drowsiness almost won when the idea to send the whole shower thing to hell and just go to sleep occurred to her, but instead she turned on hot water, leaned her forehead against the tiled wall inside of the cubicle and let herself melt for what seemed like eternity, wincing and groaning each time water drops fell on the wound on her head. Good thing was that it didn't look like anyone could hear her anyway.

When Dean returned to the motel, a six-pack in his hand, feeling like he had just lost a couple of rounds in the fight with wet towels, he found Bela curled up in a ball on the edge of one of the beds, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe and fast asleep.

He paused in the doorway for a moment before walking in and closing the door behind his back. It squealed quietly in protest but the sound didn't seem to bother her. Sighing, Dean put his beer onto the couch and crossed the room to fetch extra quilt from the depths of a huge wardrobe. Threw it over Bela and went to the bathroom that was still filled with the remains of white steam. It took him ten minutes to believe that his blood finally started turning from blue back to red again, sharp darts of hot water brining him back to life better than anything.

He was exhausted and barely able to stand without staggering and most of all in the world he wished to just collapse onto his bed and fall asleep for the next week, or few. Yet, despite everything, Dean found himself pacing around the room strangely alive with some nervous energy, checking on Bela every now and then to make sure that extended hypothermia didn't backfire and trying to understand the reasons of his anxiety.

In the end he flopped onto the couch and tipped his head back against the back of it, staring up at the ceiling.

Oh, God! Had he almost kissed her? Okay, they had almost kissed, which truthfully wasn't making a big difference to him. What was he doing? What was he thinking?

Dean rubbed his hand over his face. Something was happening between them ever since they met first; something was changing now and he was too tired to keep ignoring it the way he tended to. Not that it had any sense anyway. He almost hated her for that. For the impact she had on him because really, how could it be that Bela wiggled her finely manicured finger and he rushed ahead without a single question?

Well, it wasn't just that of course. He came because he thought it was a case and lives of many people could depend on him, and until he proved that all murders were nothing but a sick game of a homicidal maniac who decided to revive the creepiest Halloween story of all times it still was a case. Sort of. At least he couldn't deny the fact that people were killed. Bela was quite right about one thing after all – had he heard about all of this before her call, they'd most likely come to check it anyway, Halloween or not.

Dean only wished that he could honestly believe that it was all.

Another circle around the room, great distance that it was, a hand through his hair, and he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed beside her. Reading lamps were still on and in their dim light she looked strangely vulnerable, features unfamiliarly soft. Almost human. Soft chuckle escaped his lips at the thought. He let himself tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and run his fingers down her cheek. God, she was beautiful, and he was a blind dolt if it took him so long to open his eyes and see it. She was beautiful, and he was dying. End of story.

On a sigh, Dean pushed himself up and made his way to his own bed. Didn't bother to change or pull the covers up. He simply slumped onto the comforter and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, the images of black horses and jack-o-lanterns and headless bodies swirling before his mind's eye until they were all consumed by the hellfire.

To be continued…

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