He hated you.

You knew he did from his presence alone, his tone and general attitude towards you was filled and dripping of some sort of resentment and anger but you didn't know why.

You hadn't even been in the Sierra Madre all that long, maybe a month or two considering it was like hell on earth in that damn place and no matter what you did, those bomb collars wrapped tightly around your neck and the others didn't make anything better

Dean was perched up, sitting now and proper on the rim of the fountain that stood neatly in the middle of the Sierra Madre. The ghoul was smoking a cigarette, occasionally adjusting his black shades as he seemed to be watching you, Christine and Dog idly stand about and either talk or idly look about...as of either option was good enough...Dean seemingly tightened his jaw when his eyes landed on you but he didn't move...