"You know you can just go talk to him, right?" Sam offered for the umpteenth time that night, an amused smile gracing his face. I glared at him with narrowed, irritable eyes and turned back towards Dean. His back was to me and he was speaking to Ellen's daughter. I hadn't introduced myself to her yet, though I believed her name was Jo.
"No, I don't want to be a bother. He can talk to whoever he wants," I spoke, trying and failing to keep the bitter tone out of my voice. I slumped back in my seat, arms folded tightly, and scowled at the laughing pair. "So what's up with this vision you had? Another demon thing?"
"Demons?" Andrew questioned as he made his way over to our table, a few beers in hand. He did his best to maneuver around the tables and sea of drunks without spilling the beverages, although he wasn't the most graceful. "Like that one that put you in the hospital? Don't tell me you're going up against that thing again."
Sam chuckled and took a beer from the younger boy. "No- no, I don't think it's that demon. I don't know what it is, really," he took a swig of his beer and set it back on the table, a grim expression on his face. "I just know that someone's going to die and that I might be able to prevent it."
I nodded slowly along with his words and gripped my own beer bottle tighter, ignoring the cold sensation it left on my skin. "What are you going to do if it's a demon and not some wackjob?" I questioned. Sam lifted his gaze to meet mine, surprised by my question. "You don't have the Colt anymore. What are you going to do, exorcise it?"
Sam shrugged and furrowed his brows in thought, eyes fixated once more on his beer. "I guess if it is a demon, we'll figure out what to do when we find it."
I clenched my jaw in irritation. This sort of reckless behavior was what had landed us in the hospital in the first place - it had nearly gotten Dean killed. I opened my mouth to retort but was quickly silenced by a thundering of feet coming down a staircase.
The scraggly hunter who had been talking with Sam and Dean when I first arrived popped his head from around the corner, his messy mullet on display. I cringed; mullets should have been left in the '80s.
"I think I found your logo-" he called out to Sam. Before he even had a chance to finish his sentence, Sam was on his feet and pushing past the numerous hunters that stood in his way, earning him a chorus of swears. I turned towards Dean, who looked rather confused by Sam's sudden disappearance - it was clear he hadn't seen Ash.
I stood, sliding my chair roughly across the wooden floors, and gestured for Dean to follow. Andrew rose slowly but froze when I held a hand out to halt him. "Stay here," I ordered, gesturing for him to sit back down. He scowled but didn't argue.
I raced after Sam with Dean close behind, watching as the pair seated themselves at a nearby table, in the corner of the room. Ash opened his laptop, eyes scanning whatever page he previously had open.
"I got a match," Ash began, lifting his gaze to meet Dean and I made our way to the corner. It seemed Ash wasn't interested in any light other than that of his computer screen -- his pale complexion and dim office were evidence enough. The lights of the bar only seemed to enhance the already obvious fact. "It's the logo from the Blue Ridge bus lines in Guthrie, Oklahoma."
"Check Guthrie for any signs of demonic activity," Sam ordered and pulled out a chair by his side for Dean. I leaned against the wall, watching the display.
Ash cast the younger Winchester a concerned glance. "You think maybe your demon pal's there?"
"Maybe," Sam replied with a shrug. Ash looked as though he wanted to say something else, but was promptly cut off by Dean.
"Just run it," Dean ordered. I turned to face him, taking in the serious scowl on his features. He looked... determined. I wouldn't have minded the expression if it was directed towards anything other than Yellow-eyes. That was the same look he held that night in the cabin. I pursed my lips and turned back to Ash, my eyes never leaving Dean's profile.
Ash busied himself with his laptop, eyes scanning the bright screen with such intensity that I worried his eyes might pop out. Finally, after several long and painful seconds, he leaned back in his chair and splayed his fingers across his stomach. "No sir, nothing. No demon."
I breathed an audible sigh of relief and ignored the look Dean cast me from the corner of his eye. The boys weren't ready to face off against a demon again.
"Alright, try something else for me," Sam pressed. My eyes snapped open with renewed interest and concern. "Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983, fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, the night of the kid's six-month birthday."
Ash looked startled, turning to face Sam with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "OK, now that is just weird, man. Why the hell would I be looking for that?" Dean glanced slowly around the room, checking for eavesdroppers The bar was quickly emptying, leaving a few stragglers and Jo, who had chosen to busy herself with scrubbing tables.
"Cause there's a PBR in it for you," Sam offered, motioning to the rows of beer bottles behind the bar. I grimaced; PBR wasn't my style.
Ash paused for a moment, pondering Sam's offer. Finally, he sighed and nodded. "Give me fifteen." Sam grinned. I scowled and spun on my heel, back to where I had left Andrew. He had hardly made a dent in his beer, although that didn't surprise me. He was a lightweight and he knew it.
"Any luck?" he asked as I flopped into my chair beside him with a frown on my lips. I shook my head and reached for my own beer before taking a swig.
"He needs a few more minutes. Seems like it's pretty slow going," I replied, eyes fixated on Ash as he typed away at his laptop. I narrowed my eyes as Dean stood and made his way over to Jo, who stood beside the jukebox that was now belting REO Speedwagon.
Andrew followed my gaze, an amused smile gracing his freckled face. "You do know you can just go talk to him, right? I know Sam keeps pushing it, but I don't think you-"
"I know," I cut him off. He clamped his mouth shut tightly and turned his green eye back to mine. "But I don't want to be a bother. I can talk to him anytime."
Andrew frowned and turned back to the pair. "Do you want to go with them?" I cast him a curious glance. "On their hunt. Do you want to go?" he clarified. I paused for a moment and thought, eyes glued to Dean's form.
"Yeah, I do," I replied softly, nails digging into my glass bottle that was now nearly empty. I didn't mind though - I wasn't even buzzed. "They need all the help they can get. They're reckless for their own goods," I added with a laugh, a soft grin spreading across my lips. "I missed them. I missed hunting..."
"Then why'd you give it up?" Andrew pressed, taking a sip of his own bottle. "If you love it so much, why give it up?"
I frowned and leaned forward in my seat, tracing the grains of the table with a stray finger. "Because sometimes it's better to give up what you love than deal with the pain that comes with it, I guess. I got tired of not doing anything right, of never being able to save anyone."
Andrew furrowed his brows in thought. He had never understood that philosophy; if you love something, wouldn't you want to stick with it and make it work? It had never made sense to him. "You can't save everyone - it's not possible."
I pursed my lips and stopped my slow tracing movements. "Yeah, I guess not. Doesn't make it hurt any less, though."
Andrew opened his mouth to speak again but was quickly silenced by Sam as he crossed the bar, a slip of paper in hand. "We've got a match, Dean. Time to go." Dean did a double-take before saying his goodbyes to Jo.
I glanced nervously between them, back tense and eyes wide. Sam waved to Andrew and me, offering a quick 'it was nice to see you, we'll call you later.' I turned my wild eyes on Andrew, who seemed equally as startled. He motioned to follow them when I glanced hurriedly between him and the brothers.
Without a second thought, I stood from my seat, palms planted firmly on the table and called out to them. "Hey boys!" The brothers whipped around, twin looks of curiosity on their features. I glanced one last time at Andrew, looking for confirmation. He nodded. "You mind if we tag along?" I asked with a grin.
---
I almost regretted asking to join them. Almost. It was late, and Andrew and I had been driving most of the day. I would have loved to ride in the Impala with the Winchesters, but I didn't want to leave a stolen car outside Ellen's bar. So, I chose to take the Subaru with me, much to my dismay.
"How did you even know to look for this guy?" came Dean's voice from the speakerphone. The boys had opted to call me so they could run through the case with Andrew and me.
"Every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon they're about the other kids the demon visited. Like Max Miller, remember him?" Sam answered. Dean scoffed, and I could only imagine he was glaring down the beaten highway at Sam's words.
"Wasn't Max Miller that psychic kid who decapitated his uncle with a window?" I questioned, remembering the odd case. They had mentioned bits of it to me, although it was months ago. I didn't remember much of it.
"That was his dad, actually. Killed his uncle in the garage," Sam clarified. I turned to Andrew, who looked startled by the exchange. I couldn't help but grin; he was no doubt going to learn soon that hunting rarely made sense.
"The point is, Miller was a nasty little psycho," Dean spat. I chuckled and braked a bit, giving the Impala some room to maneuver around a wide corner.
"The point is," Sam sassed, "he was killing people. And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy. I'm not even sure where to start looking for the guy. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills - phone, credit, utilities..."
"Collection agency flags?" Dean asked. I didn't hear Sam's response but based on the displeased scoff Dean offered, I knew he had shaken his head. "They just let him walk?"
"Looks like it," Sam replied. I huffed and gripped the wheel tighter. How do you find a guy with no trail? It was like he didn't even exist. "There's a work address from his last W-2, about a year ago. Let's start there-"
"In the morning," I interrupted. "We'll start there in the morning. I don't know about you guys, but it's late and I need some rest." Hums of agreement from the other end of the line followed my statement. Beside me, Andrew yawned.
"We're not too far from Guthrie. I say we find a motel and crash for the night," Dean offered. I muttered my agreement, said my goodbyes, and ended the call.
It wasn't long before Dean pulled the Impala off the road and into the parking lot of a surprisingly good-looking motel; I was thankful, as the road was beginning to blur. Sam had already made his way into the main office by the time I parked the car. With one sweep of my hand through my hair, I stepped out of the well-maintained Subaru and ushered for Andrew to follow.
"Mind helping me change to plates one last time?" I asked, already pulling a screwdriver from the backseat, beside the emergency medical bag. Andrew shrugged and held out his hands expectantly; I deposited the tool easily, and he was off to steal someone's plates, all the while remaining wary of the cameras.
"Changing plates?" I heard Dean's voice call from the driver's side of the Impala. He had his arms rested on the roof of the car, an amused smile upon his freckled features. The golden glow of the streetlamps cast him in a warm light that had butterflies rising in my stomach. How was it possible for him to look more handsome than he had before?
"Figured it would make it more difficult for the police to track us," I answered with a shrug and leaned against the car. "Might give us some extra time-"
"Done!" Andrew cheered, popping his head around the back of the car to meet my shocked gaze with a triumphant smile.
"Already?" I asked. He nodded vigorously. "Damn, you've gotten good at that. And just in time too," I added with a smirk and gestured towards Sam's form marching towards us. I held up a hand to catch the keys as he tossed them to me and called out the room number.
Andrew and I hurriedly pulled our belongings from the car and carried the heavy bags toward our room. It was right beside the Winchester's, although they had already disappeared into the depths after wishing the both of us a good night. I struggled to unlock the door with one hand, the other occupied with holding the medical bag packed so full with bandages and God knows what else that it weighed more than my own luggage.
When the door finally swung open to reveal the darkroom, I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't care that the bags were strewn haphazardly in the middle of the walkway, or that I had collapsed onto the bed with my shoes still on. Andrew chuckled as I fell face-first onto the plush mattress and pulled the edge of the comforter up and around me like some misshapen burrito.
The younger boy offered a quiet good night, to which I hummed in response. He shuffled in the darkness and inevitably collapsed into his own bed, the bed frame creaking under his weight softly. It wasn't long before his breathing evened out, alerting me to his slumber.
I sighed and rolled onto my back, dragging the blanket with me. Despite the drawn curtains and lack of a light source, the room was still decently lit up. Passing cars along the highway cast a dim glow beneath the curtain, briefly lighting up the room. It bothered me, although I was used to it. Blocking out the light was not easy for a monster with better vision than a human.
I shut my eyes tightly and willed sleep to overtake me, for the first time in weeks. And, for the first time in weeks, it didn't comply. I huffed in response and opened my eyes, wondering just how long I had been laying silently in the darkness. Of course, the moment I actually wanted to sleep, I wouldn't be able to.
Andrew rolled onto his back and snored loudly, jarring me so much that I sat up suddenly on my bed and whipped to face him. I flopped back onto the bed and smashed a pillow over my face as he snored again, attempting to block out the outrageous sound.
My heart rate increased with each passing minute that his snores persisted. I flailed beneath the comforter, effectively pulling it every which way across the surface of the mattress, tying it in knots as I tried to find the best way to block out his snores. After several long minutes, I finally gave up.
I threw the comforter off my body and grimaced at the chill in the room. Without a second thought, I stormed across the room and towards the motel room door. I opened and closed it as softly as I could and stood at the edge of the parking lot, staring up at the empty night sky. It was startling, to see the brilliant stars that speckled the sky. I had grown so used to the darkness and the white wolf it brought with it.
I spun on my heel and faced the door to Sam and Dean's room, mouth set in a firm line as I rose my hand to knock. I paused, my face falling into one of concern. Did I really want to wake them for something as trivial as this? Would they even let me stay? I lowered my fist slowly, frowning at the negative train of thoughts.
I jumped as the door swung open, moonlight filtering into the dim room. I lifted my gaze and met Dean's bright green eyes with a startled expression. A blush rose to my cheeks as I took in his disheveled figure, hair mussed as though he too had been tossing and turning, clothes in disarray, and boots still firmly on his feet, although the laces were much looser than they had been before.
I stared at him with wide eyes and red cheeks as he leaned against the doorway, hands buried in his pockets and a cocky smirk on his lips. "Can I help you?" he finally asked. I jumped and sputtered, flustered and unable to find the words.
"Uh, I uh-" I stuttered and glanced down at my shoes. "Andrew snores," I finally managed. Dean quirked an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. "I couldn't sleep. I was wondering... if I could crash with you guys?" I asked, finally meeting his eyes.
His gaze softened and he straightened the doorway, his smirk fading to an affectionate grin. "Sure, Scoob. You can take my bed - I was just about to go on a drive anyway." It was only as he stepped past me that I noticed the keys t the Impala in his hand. He strolled past and made his way towards the sleek, black car, the moon's reflection decorating its surface.
I glanced between him and the open door before I inevitably spun to face him again. "Dean!" I called. He paused and half-turned to face me expectantly with a quizzical expression. I smiled sheepishly and shut the door to his motel room. "Got room for one more?"
A grin split across his lips and butterflies filled my stomach once again. "I thought you'd never ask." I grinned and raced across the parking lot, sliding easily into the passenger seat of the Impala, shivering at the chill of the leather seats against my skin.
We drove in silence for several minutes, gliding easily down the highway. I perked up as the glow of a gas station came into view, the neon sign blazing through the trees. I recognized it as one we had passed not long before arriving in town. Dean slowed as we approached and pulled into the parking lot.
"Why're we stopping?" I questioned as the car rolled to a halt, skewed in the parking space - not that it mattered, no one else was there. I followed Dean out of the car, waiting for his answer.
"Figured we could grab some beers," he offered and held the gas station door open for me. I padded into the store and winced under the harsh white lights that bore down on us. "Might help us both sleep better. You look like you need it."
"Right back at you, Winchester," I teased. He rolled his eyes playfully and strode down the aisles. "Seriously though Dean, you look like you haven't slept in a week." I frowned, thinking back on the prominent circles under his eyes that I had nearly missed the first time I saw him that night.
"I could say the same for you," he replied with a chuckle and pulled a six-pack of beer from the shelf. He turned his green eyes on mine, suddenly stern. "When was the last time you actually slept through the night?"
I paused and thought about it for a moment, fidgeting under his watchful gaze. When was the last time I had gotten a good night's sleep? Not since the hospital at the very least. I flashed him a sheepish look that told him all he needed to know.
"Yeah. Me too," he grumbled as he thrust the beer cans into my arms. I jumped and fumbled to hold them as he pushed past me. "Wait here," he ordered and disappeared around the corner of the aisle. I watched his retreating figure with bewilderment.
Seconds later, he returned with two small cardboard boxes and a pair of plastic forks. I lifted a brow as he handed one of the small boxes to me. He placed a hand on the back of his neck and watched me nervously as I inspected the contents. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got you cherry," he spoke with a hesitant chuckle.
I beamed down at the little pie nestled between my hands. "I like cherries," I answered and grinned up at Dean, who breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Good," he said with a wide grin and took the case of beers from my hand. "Cause it's definitely the best flavor." I laughed and made my way towards the cash register with Dean by my side. The cashier looked to be only a few years younger than me, perhaps college age. He was quiet and rather monotone when he spoke, likely tired of standing around and doing nothing all night.
I handed Dean a rather thin lump of cash, enough to cover my share of the expenses. He gave the stack an incredulous look before pushing my hand away. He handed a no doubt stolen credit card to the boy; I watched with narrowed eyes as he paid quickly and strode out of the store.
"You should have let me pay a bit," I chastised with a click of my tongue as I jogged across the parking lot after him.
Dean shook his head and laughed. "You should be saving money, fido - you've got more mouths to feed."
"As long as there are plenty of fresh hearts around, food will never be an issue for us," I grumbled and leaned beside him against the side of the Impala. Dean frowned as he popped open his pie box; he often forgot about the things we ate. He had never seen us hunt anything other than monsters, and ghouls and werewolves weren't exactly part of our palate.
Sometimes Dean forgot what it meant to be a monster. It seemed monsters were always either rabid, uncontrollable beasts, or they were simply... human. Or something close to human, at least.
I drove a fork into my pie and shoved a rather large bite into my mouth. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I opened the box - I hadn't eaten anything since before we arrived at the Roadhouse, and that was several hours ago. I didn't care how I looked though, scarfing down the pie like that. Dean was doing the same, so he wasn't one to judge.
"Isn't the sugar going to keep us awake, or something?" I asked him. Dean chuckled around a mouthful of pie and shook his head.
"Nah," he finally responded after struggling to swallow. "Beer's supposed to make you tired, right? It'll balance out." I hummed along with his words, not quite believing it, but still willing to give it a shot. Maybe if I was exhausted enough I could avoid seeing that wolf tonight. It was worth a try.
I didn't hesitate to down my drink after Dean popped the cap off. He followed, hardly pausing to breathe; he grimaced at the now empty bottle, the cheap beer leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Wordlessly, Dean pushed off the car and made his way to the front seat, not carrying that the car rocked when he dropped down into the seat so clumsily.
I jumped when he started the car, not expecting the sudden and rather loud hum of the engine and the growing heat on the backs of my thighs. I cast Dean a glare, only to be met with his hand waving for me to join him in the car. With a huff, I flopped into my seat and took another swig of beer.
"Heading back already?" I asked as I fastened my seatbelt. Dean hummed and nodded, eyes clearly heavier than before. At least maybe he would sleep tonight; I still felt jittery and wide awake.
We both jumped when he turned the radio on, music blasting loudly from the speakers. It took me several seconds to realize that it was in fact music and not a banshee after our throats. My heart raced as he turned down the volume, hand shaking ever so slightly from the fright.
I perked up, hearing a familiar tune as a new song began to play on the radio. A wide grin split across my lips as Dean reached for the radio, promptly changing the station with a disgruntled look on his face. "What, don't like Bon Jovi?" I teased as the notes to 'Livin' on a Prayer' faded into a song by the Scorpions.
Dean scoffed, his grip momentarily slipping on the wheel as he swung around a curve. "You know I don't. Just a bunch of whining and bullshit about love."
I hummed along with his words, not entirely convinced. There was the occasional moment when Dean would let that steely countenance slip when the New Jersey band was on the radio. It wasn't often, but occasionally he would let them play and even tap his foot along with the music.
I reached for the glove compartment and Dean eyed me with stark curiosity, nerves apparent as he tightened his grip on the wheel. "What are you doing?" he questioned, voice clipped and rougher than before. It didn't bother me - rather, a part of me liked the rougher tone.
"Proving you wrong," I replied with a shit-eating grin as the compartment dropped open, revealing his many cassettes. I rifled through them until my fingers landed on a worn cassette reading 'Foreigner 2'. "Gotcha," I declared, hoping my suspicions were correct.
"What's Foreigner got to do with Bon Jovi?" he demanded, knuckles going white as he somehow gripped the wheel tighter.
"Please, as if you have two Foreigner cassettes. How many good songs do they have, really? Like six? Eight?" I glowered playfully at him and slipped the cassette into the player, enjoying the rather obvious sweat Dean was trying to conceal.
My eyes lit up as the opening notes to an oh-so-familiar Bon Jovi song filled the car, a wide, toothy grin splitting my lips. I punched the air in triumph and hollered, "I fucking knew it!" Dean's cheeks flushed as I whooped and cheered at my success, embarrassed at having been exposed.
The opening notes to 'You Want To Make a Memory', a lesser-known but still fantastic ballad filled the car; I belted out the lyrics and turned up the volume, watching his face suddenly pale.
"Hello again, it's you and me, kinda always like it used to be!" I shouted along, not caring that I was out of tune. Dean shot me a withering glare as I continued. "Sippin' wine, killin' time, trying to solve life's mysteries!"
I shoved Dean playfully in the shoulder, earning a glare back. With a wide grin, I gave him another shove, egging him on. Finally, he sighed and gave in, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.
"How's your life? It's been a while - God it's good to see you smile," he grumbled along with the song, casting another glare my way as if he couldn't believe I had forced this upon him. I laughed and nodded at him to keep going as the chorus arose.
"If you don't know if you should stay-!" I exclaimed along with him, his voice steadily rising to meet my own as we sang (albeit poorly) along. "If you don't say what's on your mind, baby just breathe, there's nowhere else tonight we should be-!"
Dean's voice rose higher than mine until he was belting out the lyrics, tapping his hand against the wheel in time with the song as I did my best to dance in the confining seat. Suddenly, his voice dropped along with the song and I turned to face him with a softer grin. His eyes met mine, a sleepy, yet still happy smile on his own lips.
"You want to make a memory?" he finished the chorus, eyes holding mine. My cheeks flushed at the words, forgetting about my previous dancing and his thrills with the song. My eyes traced over his, catching every fleck of gold and a radiant bit of green that seemed to draw me in closer with each passing second.
God, why did he have to look so good?
Finally, he turned away, eyes back on the road. It felt like hours when really it was only a few seconds, but it was enough for me. I turned back to the road, cheeks flushed and chest tight with sudden emotions I hadn't felt in a long time. As he hummed along with the song, I sat back in my seat and waited for my racing heart to steady. I couldn't possibly be catching feelings.
Right?
5024 words.
Edited 05/08/22.