The Night After


"Come back and haunt me
Follow me home
Give me a motive
Swallow me whole"


He wasn't sure why he had woken up, but once he was awake, there was absolutely no doubt that there was no way in hell he was falling back asleep.

Sam, on the other hand, appeared to be sleeping deeply enough for both of them. Dean couldn't help but grin at how idiotic Sam had always looked when he was asleep; his mouth agape, drool creeping down to the pillowcase...yeah, his little brother wasn't exactly easy on the eyes once he fell so deeply asleep that he'd sleep through a freaking hurricane.

Dean repressed a groan as he rolled over to face the clock. And then the numbers that glowed back at him in the darkness made it impossible for him not to groan.

It was 1:03 AM.

They had just finished a hunt, which meant that Sam would remain in his whole comatose state for at least another nine hours. It was an unspoken pact for the Winchesters- you may deprive a man his sleep for a hunt, but once the hunt is over, you best let the man sleep, or that man will probably strangle you. And Sam was a big fan of the whole sleeping all day after a couple sleepless nights- well, normally Dean was too. In fact, he was still rather enthusiastic about the idea. He was just having some difficulty with the application.

He wasn't drunk enough to go to a bar. After midnight, if you weren't wasted off your ass, you just didn't bother going for a drink. All the cute chicks had already gone home with some other hot piece of ass, and all that was really left were the night's rejects and a couple of whores. Neither really appealed to Dean.

It wasn't quite morning enough to go fetch breakfast and coffee. Not to mention that he wasn't hungry and the last thing he needed at that moment was freaking coffee.

And other than that...what is there to do? Seriously. All there was on TV were the stupidest infomercials that he had ever seen. "World's sharpest steak knives- they can cut through anything!" Hah. Dean liked his knives just fine. Plus, he knew for a fact that they could cut through anything, both supernatural and not-so-supernatural. He doubted that they had thought to put a note in the warrantee about chopping off the heads of vampires.

He didn't feel like doing anything. He didn't want to play around on the laptop. He didn't want to watch TV. He didn't want to take a Sharpie and draw all over Sam- well, that was a lie. He really liked that idea, but 1) Sam was not that deep of a sleeper, so Sam would 2) wake up and strangle him, which would 3) not ultimately help him with the problem of entertaining himself.

Dean sighed.

This hunt had sucked more than usual. Figured he couldn't even catch a couple hours of sleep to get away from it all.

He closed his eyes, willing whatever God there was in heaven to realize that he was supposed to curse some other bastard with insomnia and amend His error. But all he can see is her face- dammit. He'd been trying to forget that face for twenty-four hours, and he had done pretty damn well. But now? Oh, no. Now it's all he can think about.

Huh. Dean works for the good guys, and he gets a bad case of insomnia coupled with a massive guilt trip? Where was the encouragement for doing the right thing? You're supposed to reap what you sow, and Dean had never sown anything to deserve this-

Oh, yes, he had.

He screwed his eyes shut fiercely.

And it all started playing over again in his head.


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