Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

A/N: My take on the whole Krissy Chambers thing. Set after Season 7 Freaks and Geeks, but I've adjusted her age to 16 – it just worked better for me. Some things are the same, some are different … and I really hope you like!

She closed the bathroom door and slowly began to peel her sticky jeans down and off. She tossed them into one of the garbage bags she kept stashed in a neatly stacked pile under the sink. She thought her shirt could be saved. Probably. It went into the sink with some bleach to soak. She grabbed a bar of Ivory soap from the case she kept next to the garbage bags. She would not use that bar again. One of her rules. The "After A Kill" shower soap always got tossed. She had killed a monster for sure tonight. At least, she was fairly sure he was dead. She checked her line of weapons next to the sliding shower door. Knife – check. Her favorite gun, filled with both silver and regular bullets. She always emptied her gun into whatever she shot, just to be sure she covered all supernatural bases. Krissy had rules. She was smart like that.

She limped into the shower and let the hot water spill through her hair and down her cut and bruised body. Her collar bone jutted down at an awkward angle. She drew in a sharp breath as she reached up to wash the caked blood out of her hair. She was seriously wrecked. The water swirled dark pink in pools around her ankles and she had to lean against the stall to keep herself upright. This would not be easy, because: No. Hospitals. Ever. Her #1 Rule. Too risky.

Half an hour later she dragged herself out of the bathroom with her used-to-be-wearable clothes. She couldn't save her shirt. When you were 16 years old and completely on your own you had to be careful. You couldn't just go walking around in torn, blood-stained clothing – that would make you memorable, and memorable was the last thing Krissy Chambers wanted to be. She gingerly made her way down the hall, leaning and stopping, making her way to the kitchen. She was dying of thirst and all she wanted was some water. Instead, she heard the light switch flip and a strong voice behind her say "You didn't call." Shit. Sam.

Krissy turned carefully to face him, almost dropping the towel she had wrapped around her body in the process. "Sam, what the fuu…" she began. "Hey, hey, hey," he exclaimed, "What the HELL happened to you?" She stared at him. Dark spots began to swim in front of her eyes, blocking him out and making him seem very far away. "Everything" she said softly, before it all spun and turned black. She felt herself being caught before hitting the floor.

Voices. Far away … she must be dreaming, because there was nobody left that had a voice for her to hear. They were all gone and those days were long gone. She didn't like thinking about that, so she focused on the voices. It was nice to dream of not being alone. She half smiled as the voices continued in the dark void.

"…issy, open your eyes… Try… Come on, it's Sam… Gus, wake up," he said louder, using the nickname he had given her... she was not a fan… "Move Sammy", she heard a second voice interrupt and immediately felt a sharp pain tear down her shoulder. Her eyes flew open. Dean. She saw the triumphant look across his face as he said to his brother "I told you I could wake her up."

She was disoriented. Why were they here? She hadn't called them. How did they FIND her? She needed to get up, and oh God, she needed to get DRESSED. And get them the hell away from her. She tried to sit up but her head began to swim. She felt a cold cloth on her forehead as she was firmly pushed back down against the pillow. "You stay put" Sam ordered. "And knock off that one-eyed glare you're giving me. Seriously, kid? You didn't call. Again. She watched as he brought a cold glass to her lips. "Here, take a sip of water. Just a sip," he said. She felt the cold liquid hit her throat and had to keep drinking. " Slow, slow" he cautioned. "You have a head injury and a shitload of other things. Go easy. . . You can have more if you keep that down." She felt the cold goodness of that water taken away. Krissy felt a wave of anger and embarrassment despite her injuries. She wanted her water back! She wasn't used to being treated like a child, and she hadn't been spoken to like that in, well, what felt like forever. No, it had been forever. " More" she croaked out. "No can do,", Sam said, as she heard the glass being set down far out of her reach. He could be such an asshole.

"Clothes. Top drawer… please" she added, hoping to sound like she was asking and not demanding. Sam got up and opened the small dresser drawer. Lined in a neat row were four sets of comfortable clothing complete with matching socks. He left behind her bra and scooped up the everything else. He took them over to the bed and set them beside her. "I'll help you," he stated. She looked at him like he had three heads. "The hell you will," she thought. Instead, she said "Dude, I think you forgot something I need." Pain pulled at her from every part of her body. God everything hurt. Dean appeared beside Sam (they were like that, tag teaming their way through her life) and said "Sweetheart, Sammy here hasn't forgotten anything. You have a broken collar bone and a dislocated shoulder, just for starters. So forget the bra. You got nothin' we haven't seen before." She glared at him and reached out to snatch her clothes. A world of pain hit her and she bit it back. It was so much worse now. "You guys haven't seen MY junk before so get the hell out and let me get dressed. I don't want you here," she spit out in pain and frustration. "Okay," Sam said, looking her up and down with an odd combination of concern, anger, and … sadness? "But I'm leaving the door open and if I hear you face plant I'm not waiting for an invitation." Krissy struggled to shrug. "I never sent you one to begin with," she mumbled.

She sat on the edge of the bed looking for the water. Ugh. Asshole took it with him. What a control freak. She managed to slide on her underwear and shorts together. She couldn't reach above her head to slide on her tee, so she bent at the waist and pushed her head and good arm in, struggling to pull the other side down. Blood began to drip onto her thigh from somewhere. She gave up trying to fit her right arm into the sleeve and pulled the whole thing straight down over her right side. She sucked air in deeply as the cloth pressed tightly against her injured side. Tears filled her brown eyes, but she quickly blinked them away before they could slide down her face. Sam cleared his throat outside the door. "Okay, ready or not I'm coming in," he announced. He entered the room and found Krissy half-standing in front of the full length mirror with her good hand braced against the wall for leverage. She looked bad, Sam thought, and she looked broken. Krissy caught his eye in the reflection of the mirror. "Hey, can you get that towel off the floor?" she asked mirror-Sam, as if it were the most important thing in the world right now. As if she hadn't just narrowly escaped the Grim Reaper. F'n Reapers, he thought. She didn't seem to even care. Sam grabbed the towel and tossed it into the hamper. He had seen enough. He looked directly at her and gave her "the look". "I've got your shoes, he said. "You're going to the hospital."