Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, I'm just borrowing it.

Author's Note: This is number five in the Andrea series. It opens with the events of WIAWSNB from Sam and Andrea's point of view. It also contains spoilers for the season 2 finale. I've used Jefferson, whose name was mentioned in the first season, but we've never learned anything else about him. For a visual, imagine Michael Clarke Duncan (Balthazar from the Scorpion King).

The Hard Road

Highway to Hell was blaring at top volume as I paid the last toll on I-80 and blasted out of the craziness of Chicago traffic and construction. I'd been driving with the pedal to the metal all day. Between road fatigue after 15 hours of driving and the pain of my injuries I was barely hanging in there. I just wanted to get to Joliet, to Sam and Dean, and make sure they were ok before I collapsed.

Despite having checked my pack before we parted, I had forgotten something. I'd forgotten my cellphone charger. My phone was dead, and they had no way to contact me. I was worried. I shouldn't have been. They were grown men, and they'd been hunting all of their lives. They knew what they were doing, and they were better equipped to take care of themselves than I was, but I was still worried.

I spotted a sign for a gas station at the Mokena exit, so I pulled off and prayed that there would be a working payphone. I wasn't far from Joliet, and I needed to find out what motel they were staying in. I tried to tell myself that that was the only reason I was calling, and that the bad feeling in my gut had nothing to do with it.

It had been threatening to rain all evening, and as I climbed out of the Jeep an ominous rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. The little gas station did have a payphone mounted on the wall just outside the door. Miracle of miracles, it worked, too.

Sam picked up on the first ring, "Dean?" He sounded worried.

"No, it's Andrea. I'm about fifteen miles from Joliet. Isn't Dean with you?" My heart was in my throat. If Sam didn't know where Dean was then something was wrong.

"Andrea! Why is your cell off? We've been trying to reach you all day!"

"I left my charger in the Impala, my battery died. Sam, where's Dean?"

"He went out to see what he could find out about the disappearances. I figured out that we were looking for a Djinn while he was out, and when he called in I told him about it. He said he saw some ruins a few miles from where he was and was going to check them out. He hasn't checked back in and I'm starting to get worried, he should have called half an hour ago." It was standard practice with us that when we were on a job and someone was solo we'd call and check in every two hours. If Dean didn't check in then he was in trouble.

"OK, where are you?" My heart was racing, and adrenaline was pushing my pain into the background.

"The Joliet Motel, take the Chicago St. exit and go north about half a mile, it's on the left. We're in room 12."

"I'll be there in ten minutes." I tossed the phone handset at the cradle and didn't stop to fix it when I missed and it just swung there at the end of its cord. I swung the Jeep back out onto the road with a squeal of rubber on asphalt and I slalomed in and out between slower moving vehicles as I covered the last ten miles of interstate to the Chicago St. exit. Sam was standing outside the room as I pulled to a stop in front of the door.

He started to climb into the passenger seat, but once he got a look at my black and blue face he stopped and practically ran around to the driver's side. "Oh my God, Andrea!" He reached out to touch my face, but hesitated, afraid that he would hurt me. "What happened?"

"I'm ok. It looks worse than it is. Come on, get in, we've got to find Dean." It really did hurt as bad as it looked, but I was too scared for Dean to worry about myself.

"Let me drive, you look exhausted. Besides, I've been staring at maps of the area all day. I've pretty much got the streets memorized." He took my arm to help me out of the Jeep and he gasped again when his hand found the sticky wet spot on my side. My wounds had bled through the bandages, and I hadn't taken the time to stop and change them. "You're bleeding!"

I let him help me out of the Jeep. The red spot on my shirt wasn't that big, Bruce had done a good job of stitching me up, but I'd re-opened the wound a little when I'd jumped back into the Jeep at the gas station in my hurry to get to Sam.

He made me lean back against the Jeep as he lifted my shirt and took a look at my injuries. I tried to push his hands away. "I'm fine, Sam. We don't have time for this," I protested. He turned pale when he saw the long, deep scratches that ran diagonally down my left side from just below my breast to the waistband of my pants.

"You are not fine! You drove all the way here like this? Andrea…" I could hear the worry in his voice, and see the pain in his eyes. "Come on, you need to lie down. I can go find Dean."

"Damn it, Sam! This is no worse than some of the wounds you and Dean have had. I'm a hunter, this is in the job description. You are not going to pamper me like I'm a child." I swayed a little as I tried to push him away so I could get back in the Jeep. How dare he try to treat me like… like a girl! Like I couldn't handle a little scratch. He was going to… I swallowed, forcing the tears back. If he was going to walk knowingly to his own death, I could damn well deal with a minor flesh wound! I stalked around the Jeep as steadily as I could force myself to. I wasn't going to let him see how much pain I was in, especially since not all of the pain was from my physical injuries.

"Andrea…"

"Just get in and drive."

He did, and as he turned the key I thought I heard him mutter something about Dean and me being like two peas in a pod.

As he pulled the Jeep out onto the road I could feel his eyes on me, then he sighed when I didn't move my gaze from my angry, straight ahead stare. He must have decided that a change of topic was in order, "Ok, so Dean was checking out the area around the quarry when I talked to him, and he said he'd passed the ruins he was going to check out a few miles back, so I was looking at the maps and Google Earth, and I think I know where he was going. There's an abandoned chemical manufacturing plant a little south of the quarry. That's where we'll check first. If he's not there we'll try the burnt out warehouse by the river."

I stayed quiet, my lips pressed together in a line of anger and determination, but I couldn't stay mad at him for long. He was worried about me, and we were both worried about Dean. "Ok," I said, having pity on him, "Tell me about Djinns, what are we going up against? I mean, are we talking about 'Phenomenal cosmic power, itty bitty living space' type genies here or what?"

He glanced over at me with an eyebrow raised. "At least you aren't going on about Barbara Eden."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind." He shook his head, "I'm not entirely sure what to expect. There is a lot of lore about them, they're all over the Koran, and Middle Eastern mythology is full of them. The only thing I know for sure is that hey are supposed to have godlike powers, and you need a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood to kill one." He patted his jacket to indicate that he had one.

It didn't take long to find the old chemical plant. We both breathed a sigh of relief when we saw the Impala parked outside. Sam put the Jeep in neutral and killed the engine, coasting to a silent stop next to the Impala. He pulled out the knife and a flashlight from his jacket. "You stay here." He raised a hand to cut off my protest, "Listen, you may be ok, but you're exhausted and wobbly, and this will go faster if I'm not worried about you passing out on me." He took my shoulder in a firm grip, and I think he was fighting the urge to kiss me, reminding himself that that wasn't an option anymore. He looked me in the eyes, "You did good with those Daevas. You're a good hunter, and I'm not doubting your ability to handle yourself. Just let me take care of this one, ok?"

I swallowed my pride and nodded. He was right. I was in no shape to be walking into a monster's lair. I leaned back in my seat and watched him as he disappeared into the old building.

The rain that had been threatening all night started and large drops splashed against the windshield as I waited. Time seemed to drag on forever. I kept checking my watch, and when Sam had been gone seven minutes I just couldn't sit and wait any longer.

I gritted my teeth against the pain in my side and swung my legs out of the Jeep. Just as I made it to the door of the old factory it swung open and Dean emerged carrying the limp form of a young woman. Sam was just behind them, ready to support his brother if he should need it. Dean was pale, but his jaw was set in a determined line. Weak as he was from whatever ordeal he had endured, he was determined to carry the girl in his arms to safety.

"Dean!" I was at his side in an instant and he looked up at me. I saw him flinch when he saw the state of my face.

"Andrea…" Sam was suddenly there, taking the limp girl from Dean's arms as his knees buckled just slightly. He recovered quickly, but he let Sam take the girl and he flung his arms around me in a powerful hug. I returned the embrace, but winced with a pained intake of breath when he squeezed my side too hard.

He pulled back quickly, looking at my side and seeing the bloodstain on my shirt for the first time. He put a gentle hand on the side of my face, "What happened?"

"I'll tell you the whole story when we get out of this rain." We were getting soaked. "You look like you've had a pretty rough night yourself." I slipped an arm around his shoulders and we limped back to the Impala supporting each other like two wounded soldiers.

Sam slipped the unconscious girl into the passenger side of the Jeep and buckled her in. He turned back to us, "I'm going to get her to the hospital. Dean, are you going to be ok to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm good, dude. You take care of her. She saved my life."

Sam nodded and slipped behind the wheel of the Jeep. Dean and I got into the Impala. He ran his hand over the steering wheel and sighed before he turned the key. His usual cocky mask was gone, and his emotions were raw and so close to the surface. I desperately wanted to know what had happened to him inside the old factory that could tear his walls down so completely, but he wouldn't appreciate me asking. I gave him the time he needed to pull himself back together. On the ride back to the motel I filled him in on what had happened with the Daevas.

When I'd finished telling him he pulled the Impala over on the side of the road and turned it off. He stared strait ahead out the windshield as if mesmerized by the rain. "Dean?"

"Do you ever wonder if all of this is worth it? I mean, I know you chose this life. You had a regular, normal life, even if it wasn't the greatest. You had a life where you didn't have to worry about living through the night, where you didn't have to worry about the people you care for being torn to shreds by something out of Clive Barker's nightmares. Do you ever want to go back to that?" He didn't look at me as he spoke. He just stared straight ahead, his arms propped on the steering wheel. "Even Sammy had a couple of years where he got to live a normal life, but this life – hunting – is all I've ever known."

"Normal isn't all it's cracked up to be. Normal, to me at least, means slogging away at a dead-end job to make a paycheck that's already spent before you get it. It means wondering if anything you do can make a difference, and wondering if the world would even miss you if you weren't in it. It's sleepwalking through a day you've already lived a thousand times, and it's a life sentence. This, what we are doing, is living. It's making a difference, and it makes you really appreciate the people you love, and the people who love you. Would I ever want to go back to normal? Not in a million years, even if I knew for a fact that I was going to die tomorrow." I hadn't realized that I felt that way, not until I said it aloud. I knew I didn't want to go back to my life the way it was before, but now I understood why, and I understood how Sam could be so calm about what he knew. I'm not sure if what I said helped Dean, but it helped me.

Dean was still watching the rain with his thousand yard stare. After a minute he ran a hand down his face and cracked his brilliant cocky smirk, "Yeah, I guess the grass really is always greener on the other side, huh?" He looked over at me and took my chin gently in his strong hand. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead, careful to avoid my injuries. His expression went serious again, "That Djinn granted my wish. It was all in my head, but I didn't know that. Mom was alive, Sam was going to law school, and he was engaged to Jessica. You and me were shacked up while you were finishing your degree." His grin returned as he relived some memory from his time in that other world, "We were all happy."

"Do you wish you could have stayed?"

"I almost did. It was everything I've always wanted. But I gave it up. I gave it up even before I knew it wasn't real. I was willing to sacrifice not just my happiness, but Mom's and Sam's and yours for the sake of all the strangers Dad and Sam and me have saved over the years. I guess I'm just not meant for normal either." He started the car and put it in gear, "But you know, this life does have its perks."

"Oh, and what would those be?"

"I have a trunk full of cool weapons, no bills to pay, and a brother who also happens to be my best friend. Oh, and did I mention that I have a girlfriend who can kick a demon's ass back to hell?" He shot me a crooked grin and pulled out onto the road and I couldn't help but smile.

Sam got back to the motel nearly an hour after we did. Dean had re-bandaged my wounds and we shared a shower – more to make sure that neither of us passed out and cracked our heads open than for any romantic purpose. Knowing that we were safe for the moment, I took one of the knock-out pain pills Bruce had given me. I was drifting in and out of consciousness despite the pill's effect, and I caught little snatches of Sam and Dean's conversation. The last thing I heard before sleep claimed me for the night was Sam saying, "It's worth it." Well, at least we're all on the same page where that's concerned.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.o0o.

We stayed for two more nights at that little motel recuperating from our various wounds, both physical and emotional. I wasn't a very cooperative patient I'm afraid, and Dean was crawling the walls under Sam's gruff but loving nursing. Dean was fine after a night's sleep and some orange juice, but Sam was insisting that he take it easy after his blood loss. By the morning we left we were all cranky and out of sorts. We needed a hunt. We needed something to distract us from the emotional rollercoaster the three of us found ourselves riding.

Sam was doing his level best to stick to the decision he'd made back in Maine. He even cleared out for a while and gave Dean and me some space. It wasn't easy, but I was trying as hard as I could to see him as a brother. I could only hope that it would get easier for us in time, and I prayed that we would have the time.

Dean could tell that something was eating at Sam, that Sam was hiding something from him. He was like a dog with a bone trying to pry the secret from his brother, but Sam wouldn't tell him. It all came to a head as we were packing the Impala the day we got back on the road.

"Dean, have you seen my electric razor? I could have sworn I left it in the bathroom."

"What are you asking me for? I don't keep track of your stuff." Dean grabbed up his shaving bag and crammed it into his duffle with exaggerated force. Sam's eyes narrowed in annoyance and he turned on his heel to check the bathroom once again for his missing razor.

He stormed out again almost immediately, "Dude, how did my shirt end up wet on the floor? I can't pack it wet, it'll mildew." He tossed the soaking shirt over the back of a chair, inadvertently splashing his brother in the process. Dean wiped the drops of water from his face and I could see his neck starting to turn red as he got more annoyed. Trying to diffuse the situation I handed Sam his shaver, which I'd found sitting on the bedside table. It didn't work. He took it and packed it with a tight-lipped nod of thanks, and shot an angry glare at his brother.

Dean zipped his bag shut and turned to head for the door. He made it two steps before he tripped over Sam's laptop case which had been leaned against the foot of one of the beds. He caught his balance, and then kicked out at the offending bag.

"Dean! That's my laptop!"

"Well watch where you put your stuff!"

"You better hope you didn't break it."

"Oh yeah! What are you going to do about it if I did, Francis?"

Sam's right hook came out of nowhere, but Dean's reflexes were just as fast as his brother's. He got an arm up to block the punch, and he dropped his duffle. Before I could say anything they had tackled one another. The next thing I knew they were rolling on the bed and off onto the floor, each one trying to pin the other. Their faces were red with anger. I yelled, trying to stop them, but nothing I said did any good, so I grabbed the ice bucket and filled it with cold water. In my defense, I did warn them before I doused them.

When the icy water hit them they broke apart sputtering. They looked at me wide eyed with surprise, their argument forgotten for the moment. Then they looked at each other with pure mischief in their eyes. The next thing I knew I was being tackled by the both of them. I kicked and fought, but they were stronger and I was no match for both of them working together. They picked me up and carried me into the bathroom. Dean turned the shower on cold and they shoved me under it, but I managed to get a firm grip on Sam and pulled him in with me. We were both lying in the bottom of the tub getting soaked with cold water. We helped each other to our feet, and, acting as one, we reached out and pulled a laughing, gloating Dean in with us. All for one, and one for all. We were soaked, but we were laughing and the fight was forgotten for the moment.

We took long enough to change clothes, and we hit the road. We stopped off at Bobby's to drop off Johnny's Jeep for safekeeping, but the grizzled old hunter was off on a hunt of his own. We left the Jeep parked behind the house, and Sam gave him a call to let him know what was going on.

"Hey, Bobby told me where the spare house key is. He says we're welcome to stay the night if we want to. He also mentioned that there's a file we might want to take a look at on the kitchen table." Sam told us when he got off the phone. He went to one of the hubcaps that were hanging on the side of the house and tilted it just a bit so he could get his fingers in behind it. He pulled his hand out with Bobby's spare key.

"So what's he out hunting?" Dean asked as he followed his brother up the steps. I was right behind them.

"He's not sure. Whatever it is, it has a taste for newlyweds, though. He's in Las Vegas."

"That sly old dog; it figures he'd take the fun hunt." Dean made a bee-line for the fridge. Sam went straight for the thick manila folder on the table. I pulled up a seat next to Sam at the table, and once Dean had found himself something to munch on he came over to lean on the back of my chair. We watched as Sam pulled out the newspaper clippings and spread them out over the table. They all had bits circled with red marker, and we each grabbed one and started reading.

"Two bodies found in West Memphis, Arkansas, apparently died from heatstroke." Sam summarized the clipping he had picked up.

"This one's from Ontario, California, same thing – two dead from heatstroke." Dean dropped the clipping and picked up a couple more.

"Mine's the same, two heatstroke deaths in Carlisle, Pennsylvania."

"These are more of the same, from Laredo, Texas, and Joplin, Missouri. Two stiffs each time."

"It's definitely a pattern, but it's moving. Here, let me see all those and lets put them in order." Sam took back all the clippings and started sorting them by date.

"I can already tell you one thing all those cities have in common. Every one of those is a truck stop town."

"Andrea, lots of towns have truck stops." Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, but not like the ones in those clippings. Those towns each have a cluster of several large truck stops." I cleared some room on the table and pulled my laptop out of its case. By the time I had it booted up and my map software running Sam had finished sorting the articles. There were eight of them in all. Dean leaned over my shoulder and watched as Sam read them off in order, and I plotted them out on my map.

"It started in Laredo, then El Paso, Texas; Kingman, Arizona; Ontario, California; Amarillo, Texas; Joplin, Missouri; West Memphis, Arkansas; and finally Carlisle, Pennsylvania."

"It's not jumping around, it's traveling the interstates." Dean pointed out as I plotted the route our killer had taken.

"It's either a truck driver, or it's hitching rides with truckers." I studied the route I'd plotted on the map, thinking about all of the times I'd stopped in those cities during my two year stint as a truck driver. "If it started in Laredo, then it's a good bet that whatever it is came up out of Mexico."

"What kind of time period are we looking at here?" Dean asked.

Sam flipped back to the first clipping, "The Laredo deaths happened on the first of July, and the most recent one is from…" He shuffled the clippings again, "Two days ago, August 4th."

I did a little calculating out loud, "Ok, so a solo truck driver can only drive for eleven hours a day by law, and that's about 600 to 700 miles, so…" I double checked the mileage, "Ok, if you fudge your logbooks a little its one day's drive from Laredo to El Paso. What was the date on the El Paso death?"

"July 2nd," Sam supplied, and leaned over to watch as I checked the next leg of the trip.

"It's the same out to LA from El Paso - one day's hard push. Whoever was driving could have made it out to LA on the third, but where ever he was delivering to would be closed for the holiday, so he would have had to stop at one of the TA's in Ontario. Those two truck stops are just about the only ones in the LA area with any parking."

Sam confirmed, "Yeah, the Ontario killings were the night of the 3rd. After that there's a ten day gap before the next deaths."

I thought for a minute, "You know, we might not be looking for a truck or a driver. We might be looking for a trailer. If he dropped his trailer at a receiver, or on a drop yard it could have sat for a week before the next driver picked it up."

"Ok, so we have to find one semi trailer out of all the trailers out there on the highways. Talk about your needle in a haystack." Dean snarked. "And what the hell uses heatstroke to kill people?"

"It looks like we've got some research to do." Sam stood up to go get his computer, "And even thought your theory fits, Andrea, we don't know for sure that it's right. Let's see if we can find any more information before we start chasing down truck drivers." He slipped out of the kitchen to get his bag from the Impala.

Dean leaned over me and planted an upside down kiss on my forehead, "I think it's a brilliant theory, but then, I think I'm a little biased." He pulled up a chair and started re-reading the clippings looking for anything we might have missed. Sam came back in a couple of minutes and we went to work trying to figure out what we were after.