Resident Identification #74837 Security Level: HIGH RISK Subject Status: MISSING
Last seen in Breyton, Vermont, in the company of two Caucasian adult males, identified as Dean and Sam Winchester. Subject is unarmed, and to be considered extremely dangerous. Accomplices reported to be armed, and considered extremely dangerous. Orders: RETURN ALIVE :: Rated M for violence, language, and adult situations.
AU/Begins at the start of season 3, and you can expect some episode re-writes to tie certain elements into this story. Or just because I feel like it. I may even do this upon request as a one-shot or shortfic side project, if there's a particular episode you'd like to see here. But only if you ask nice enough. Maybe.
So, welcome to all newcomers, and welcome back to those who are returning, now that I've pulled this story back down off of the dusty shelf it's been sitting on for way, WAY too long! I'm really excited to get this story told, now, and I hope you're just as excited to see what happens...For those who have read this before, you'll want to read through this first chapter again, since it's been re-written to not only merge it with what was previously chapter two, but because, as with any re-write, there have been some changes that you really won't want to miss. Just a heads-up – I have a tendency to slip details in that here and there that might seem trivial at the time, but come back to the surface in a big way, later. **winks**
Anyway, on with the show...
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters, they are the property of Eric Kripke and the CW network. However, there are certain characters and settings that are of my own creation.
This is for my Drenny doll, without whom my ass might never have bothered writing this. Thanks for all the help, babes!
Breaking Benjamin :: 'So Cold'
Chapter 1
"Dammit," Sam Winchester hissed, shutting his laptop with a slap and shoving it into the bag at his feet. His older brother took his eyes off the road ahead to look over at him.
"What the hell's your problem?" Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Sam rolled his eyes and glared at him. "Battery's dead. Again."
"Cry about it, why don't ya."
"Dean," Sam growled, turning in his seat to look at his brother. "We need to stop. Seriously. We've been driving around for days, and haven't found a single job. We need food, fuel, and sleep. And I need to charge up the laptop so we're not running around completely clueless."
Dean heaved a sigh and pulled to a stop at a red light. "You worry too much, Sammy."
"You don't worry enough."
"Au contraire, mon frère."
Sam quirked an eyebrow at him. "French? Really, Dean? Where did you learn that?"
Dean glanced over at him, scowling slightly. "What? I'm cultured!" Sam's eyebrow rose higher, and Dean rolled his eyes, his scowl deepening as the light turned green and he hit the gas. He could feel his little brother staring at him, and sighed heavily. "I heard it in a candy bar commercial."
Sam smirked. "That's what I thought. Seriously though, dude, we need to stop. There isn't much sense in driving around aimlessly—"
"Oh, lighten the fuck up, would you?" Dean said, glancing over at him with a tight frown. "Seriously, dude. You've been workin' yourself to death—"
"Yeah, I did. Then YOU brought me back—"
"Okay, smartass. I was speaking figuratively—"
"Wow, Dean, that was a big word. Hope you didn't hurt yourself."
"Dammit, Sam, shut your fucking cakehole, already!" Dean half-shouted, glaring at his brother. Sam lifted his hands in surrender, muttering a rather insincere apology. Dean rolled his eyes again, turning his attention back to the road as he made a right turn. "As I was saying, you've been busting your ass, and don't hand me any of that 'looking for a job' bullshit. You're trying to find a way to break me out of this deal that I told you to leave the hell alone! You need to give it a fucking REST!"
Sam furrowed his brow, looking over at him. "Is that why you've been keeping us moving nonstop? To try and prevent me from finding a way to keep you out of Hell?"
"Mostly, yeah," Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand through his short hair. He was starting to get one of those 'my-brother-is-a-pain-in-the-ass' headaches he'd come to know all too well over the years, and he had the sudden urge to pull over at the next bar he saw for a shot of whiskey, or two. Or a whole damn bottle. Taking a slow, deep breath in a weak effort to calm his nerves, he glanced back over at Sam. "Look...the clock is tickin' for me, man. Ya know? And all you're doing is wasting valuable time trying to find a solution to an unsolvable problem. All's quiet on the home front for a change, so why don't you just kick back, relax, and enjoy it for once?"
It was Sam's turn to roll his eyes, and he snorted derisively. "Relax? Knowing that my brother is sitting on a one-way ticket to Hell and not being able to do a damn thing about it doesn't exactly spell vacation to me, Dean. And besides that, you know as well as I do that 'all's quiet' usually means something's brewing. I don't know about you, but I'd rather find it, before it finds us."
As they pulled up to another red light, Dean took the opportunity to close his eyes and take another deep breath, his lips pressed tightly together.
Yep. Definitely going to need some booze.
"Sam, just…chill," he mumbled, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "If it'll make you quit your bitchin', we'll stop at the next motel. Alright?"
"Thank you," Sam said with exaggerated relief, picking up the computer bag and moving it to the backseat so he could stretch his long legs. It didn't really make much more room, but it was better than being as cramped up as a bean in a burrito. And while we're on the topic of food, even in metaphoric context, his stomach was growling. Loudly. Looking back over at Dean, he was surprised his brother wasn't absolutely starving. Sometimes, he swore the man had a bottomless pit for a stomach. "We need food, too."
"Sam, I swear…" Dean growled, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing at his temple. Screw booze, he needed a baseball bat to beat his brother over the head with. Not enough to hurt him, not really. Just enough to knock him out a little. Maybe then Sam would shut the hell up. "Fine. If I see an open drive-thru, I'll swing by. Happy?"
Sam nodded, grinning victoriously. Leaning his head back on the seat, he closed his eyes and got as comfortable as he could, smirking to himself when he heard the tires squeal as the light finally changed and Dean hit the gas. He'd gotten under his big brother's skin.
Score one for Sam Winchester.
Too bad his mental victory dance didn't get to last long.
"FUCK!" Dean shouted suddenly, slamming on the brakes so hard, Sam was sent flying forward. The only thing that stopped him from being unceremoniously introduced to the dashboard was his reflexes, catching himself just in time. Flipping his hair out of his eyes, he turned to glare at his brother.
"Dean, what the hell—" He froze when he saw the look on Dean's face, his eyes wide and staring straight ahead. His brow creasing, he dropped his voice to a near whisper. "Dean?"
"Where the hell did she come from?" Dean's voice was quiet, laced with confusion and surprise.
Turning to follow his gaze, Sam's expression almost matched his brother's when he saw the young woman standing in front of the car, staring back at them. Before he could fully register her sudden appearance, or contemplate how close Dean had come to hitting her, the older Winchester opened his door and was out of the car.
Oh, shit.
Sam scrambled out after him like the devil was on his ass.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" Dean hissed as he charged towards the girl, his upper lip curled in anger. "Are you fucking insane?!"
"Dean," Sam said firmly, holding a hand out towards his brother, stopping him in his tracks. Dean shot him a look but he ignored it, focusing on the girl who had, apparently, very nearly become roadkill.
She was small and thin, and couldn't have been older than twenty-one, if that. Her dark hair hung limply past her shoulders, and she was almost swimming in the over-sized gray t-shirt she wore. What he noticed above all else, though, was the thin line of blood trickling from her nose, and her eyes, ringed in dark circles and so wide as they flicked back and forth between them, it gave her the appearance of a deer caught in headlights. Which, in a way, she was, bathed in the Impala's beams. Sam could just barely see her chin trembling, but it didn't look as if she were about to cry. No, she looked terrified.
Beyond terrified.
Sam took a step towards her, and her eyes grew impossibly wider as she followed, keeping the distance between them. The sound of something crunching as she moved drew his eyes to her bare feet, and he froze at the sight of the broken glass that littered the pavement, droplets of blood shining red in the glow of the headlights. Not wanting her to hurt herself any more than she already was, he remained still as he looked back up at her, his hands lifting in a placating gesture to show that he meant her no harm.
"It's alright," he said, keeping his voice calm and soft. "We're not going to hurt you—"
"To hell with that," Dean spat, and Sam sent him a glare. Dean returned the look with one of his own, jabbing a finger towards the girl, who had yet to say a word. "Dude, she came out of nowhere, I could have fucking killed her!"
"Shut up," Sam hissed, seeing her face go pale as she looked at his brother, taking another step backward. Wincing at another snap of glass beneath skin, he turned back to her, forcing his expression to soften as he resumed his quiet attempt at calming her. "I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean. We're not going to hurt you." Dean made a sound in his throat, but he ignored it, taking another small step towards the girl. She didn't step back this time, but her gaze continued to move back and forth between them, and he could tell she was struggling with the urge to turn and flee.
Something had this young woman petrified, and he had a feeling it wasn't just them, or her close encounter with the Impala's fender.
Lowering his hands slowly to his sides, Sam tilted his head, keeping his eyes on her. "Are you okay?"
She fell still at last and looked at him fully, the slightest crease appearing in her brow as she studied him for a long moment, as if she were searching for something in his face. But her expression didn't change, she didn't even appear inclined to answer. And for a moment, he started to wonder...
...mute?
"Hey!" Dean said suddenly, his sharp tone startling Sam out of his brief reverie and making her jump, her eyes snapping back to the older hunter. She was visibly shaking as she looked at him nervously, and when he moved closer, she flinched. "You know, I asked you a question. What the hell is your deal, jumping out in front of a moving car like that? What, do you have a death wish, or something?"
Sam rolled his eyes, ready to shove a foot up his brother's ass. "Dean, seriously! You're scaring her!"
Dean glared at him, letting out a huff of indignation. "Scaring her? Dude, what about me? I nearly shit my pants—"
"Knock it off, asshole!" Sam growled, turning back to the girl.
She wasn't looking at them anymore, though, either of them, focused instead on something in the distance. Something that caused her breathing to hitch suddenly, and the fear in her eyes to intensify to another level. Looking back over his shoulder to follow her gaze, he frowned in confusion when he saw the three tall figures standing just a few feet from the Impala's rear bumper, their sharp black suits seeming very out of place in the middle of the darkened street.
Something about them was off, way off, and Sam vaguely registered his hand reaching towards the girl as the trio exchanged brief glances with one another before looking back in their direction, seeming to be just zeroed in on the strange young woman as SHE was on THEM.
Crunching footsteps made Sam glance back to find the girl looking between the brothers and the suits as she took a few staggering steps backward, her breathing picking up rapidly as panic flashed across her features. But suddenly, her face became almost pained as she seemed to struggle with herself for a long moment, and her glare turned angry as her eyes landed on him once again, her jaw setting and her lip curling as, at last, she spoke.
One word. One simple word that ground out of her in a soft, raspy but unquestionably commanding near-whisper.
"Run."
The Winchesters had no chance to respond, because the word was barely out of her mouth before she turned to do just what she'd suggested to them, her bare, bloodied feet slapping on the pavement as she bolted away.
"STOP!" A heavy, thunderous voice boomed through the air, and Dean nearly jumped out of his skin as his head whipped around to face the suited strangers, every instinct inside of him telling him to reach for his gun, damn certain these creepy bastards were going to go after the girl, for whatever reason. But she was gone, the sound of her running footsteps fading into the distance as she skirted around a corner and disappeared.
That did nothing to deter the the suits, though, and just as he'd predicted, they began to move, their feet making no sound against the asphalt as they began walking toward them.
No, not walking.
More like gliding.
It was eerie, the way they moved in perfect sync with one another, their slow but steady pace as unsettling as their sudden appearance, itself. Dean could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise as they drew closer, the aura they gave off reminiscent of a horror movie killer. And before the brothers knew it, they were jumping out of the way of the suits, the tall, balding one in the middle merely stepping onto the Impala's back fender and walking over the car as if it were part of the street.
Never mind the fact the car hadn't so much as budged under the creep's weight, never mind that there was no sound of creaking metal or footsteps across the hood.
There was no way in hell Dean Winchester was going to let that shit slide.
Nobody touched his baby and got away with it.
"Stop right there!" he shouted after the suits, ignoring his brother's hissing protests and finally pulling the pistol from his waistband, the barrel coming up to aim at the back of Baldy's skinny head. The men ignored him, continuing on the trail of the girl, and it only served to piss him off more. "Hey, asshole! I'm talking to you!"
The creeps came to a halt at that, and the smallest of the three slowly turned back to face him, his lips spreading into a terrifyingly manic grin. Dean's jaw tensed as he started to step forward, his thumb pulling back on the hammer and his mouth opening to shout again. But he didn't get far before he was suddenly on his ass, the back of his head coming dangerously close to the edge of Baby's fender and the gun tossed aside as his hand clamped over his throbbing nose.
What the hell just happened?
He heard Sam shouting his name, and his brother appeared beside him before the stars that had exploded in front of his eyes began to fade, helping him sit up. He wasn't really paying attention to Sam, though, too busy trying to figure out how the hell the guy had managed to hit him, when he was nowhere near the freaks. And even stranger was the fact that he wasn't actually bleeding; that sort of blow should have broken his nose. But all he felt was the pain. No impact, no blood, and he could breath easily, despite the throbbing.
"Are you alright, man?" Sam was asking, and he blinked a couple of times to clear his vision.
Oh, man...what the fuck?
"Yeah," he finally managed to get out, the pain slowly beginning to subside. Wiping a hand over his face, he nodded. "Yeah, Sammy. What the hell was that?"
"I think it was our next job," Sam said, and suddenly he was on his feet, dragging Dean with him.
Dean shrugged him off, glaring at him. "What the fuck, Sam?"
"Come on, we have to get her."
He quirked a brow, looking at his younger brother in irritation. He couldn't argue, though – those creeps spelled 'trouble', and leaving someone in possible danger was not something the Winchesters did.
Not if they could possibly help it.
Sighing heavily, he nodded and hurried back to the car. Sliding behind the wheel as Sam climbed in on the other side, Dean gunned the engine and took off, the squealing of the tires echoing in the otherwise quiet night air. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam was sitting at the ready, leaning forward with his hand on the door handle, bracing himself when Dean took a sharp turn around the corner and skidded past the suits. He could just barely make out the form of the girl up ahead, and he steered in her direction, pulling alongside her.
When the Impala drew up level with her, Sam saw her head turn towards them in surprise, but her pace didn't slow.
Good.
A moment later, working on instincts that came from somewhere that neither man could explain, the Winchester brothers jumped into action.
Dean applied pressure to the gas pedal, pulling past her just enough to give Sam room to throw the door open, and as he stomped on the brakes, he muttered a silent apology to his baby for the abuse. The girl didn't have time to react, or maybe she somehow realized what they were planning, because she charged ahead, making no move to change course as her path was blocked. And looking over when Sam's arms shot out and caught her around the waist, Dean could swear she almost seemed to jump into them, all but diving into his brother's lap.
The moment she was safely inside and the door slammed shut, Dean mashed the gas pedal again, ready to get the hell out of there, and away from the creeps that had finally appeared in the rear-view mirror.
Only problem was, the Impala didn't seem to want to move.
The tires squealed loudly and the smell of heated rubber filled the air, but the car didn't budge, spinning out.
"What the fuck?!" Dean shouted in frustration, making sure the car was in gear.
"Hey!" Sam said at the same time, though his tone was very different. Dean glanced over to see the girl twisting around in his arms, soft, desperate grunts and whimpers coming from her as she turned herself so she was pressed against his little brother's chest, looking over his shoulder. Her expression was strange, pained and forcibly focused on something, and Dean's eyes moved back to the rear-view mirror.
The suits had stopped, and the larger of the two sidekicks was holding a hand in their direction, his expression similar to the one on the girl's face, yet more relaxed.
Dean blinked, his foot easing off the gas slightly.
No fucking way.
"Calm down!"
He blinked again when Sam's voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked to see the girl pressing a hand to the side of her head. Even in the dim light of the lamp posts, Dean could see her face turning red, her lips curling back in concentration. The sound of creaking metal and snapping lines vaguely registered at the same instant that a flicker of light danced off of her upper lip, and a brief thought ran through his head...
...her nose is bleeding again...
...as he turned his eyes back to the mirror again, just in time to see a large, heavy sign tumble from the front of a building, just above the thugs.
The men reacted instantly, but while Thing One and Thing Two managed to jump to safety, Baldy wasn't so lucky.
The streets of Breyton, Vermont had their human pancake, after all.
If that thing was human. The boys weren't keen on sticking around long enough to find out in person. It was situations like this when Dean knew Sam was right: research is an asset. They had no idea what they were up against, but it was pretty obvious that it was likely to be something right up their alley. First things first, though, they needed to get the girl out of there, and see what they could find out from her.
The car lurched forward as the cronies fussed over their leader, and Dean wasted no time. He wanted to put as much distance between them and the suited freaks as he possibly could.
"Dean," Sam said, his voice tinged with panic, and he looked over to find his brother cradling the girl against him with one arm, his other hand pressed against the side of her face to keep her head still. She'd gone lifeless, her eyes rolled back behind slitted lids, and her skin was almost ghost-like beneath the thick stream of blood flowing over her lips and chin, staining the front of Sam's shirt. "She's losing too much blood, we need to stop it!"
"Shit," Dean muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. He'd never seen a nose bleed so heavily, and a pit formed in his stomach.
This was bad. Very bad.
As the lights of the town up ahead drew closer, he saw the familiar blue "H" of a hospital sign, and cursed under his breath as he flipped on the turn signal and steered towards it.
The girl was fucked up. And they needed to fix her, before they could find out why.
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The ground beneath her feet was both foreign and painful as she darted down the darkened street, her entire being focused now on one single goal.
Escape.
She didn't know why she had warned those men, but there was something about the tall one - Sam Winchester, she thought he had called himself - and she'd fought off the instinct to leave them to their own devices.
They were coming.
The Agents were after her, and the men would be in grave danger if they were to get in the way, especially Sam Winchester. She had pushed herself to her limit, running as fast as she possibly could, knowing that pursuing her was more important than a couple of outsiders, that she would lead the Agents away from the two men.
She hadn't expected the men to come after her, too.
It scared her, the sound of loud roaring behind her, the brightness of lights surrounding her, and the awful squealing that echoed in her ears just as it echoed in the darkened street. Her head turned almost instinctively in that direction when they drew close, and for a single moment, her eyes locked with Sam Winchester's from where he sat inside the strange, black machine the angry man seemed to be controlling. And in that fleeting instant that their gazes were locked, she knew what he wanted her to do.
Saw it clearly, playing in her head like a memory.
That was why she continued to run straight, rather than turning. That was why she didn't slow her pace, even when she saw the side fly open and the machine screeched to a stop.
And that was why, when Sam Winchester reached for her, she folded her body towards him, letting him pull her inside the frighteningly loud machine.
She twisted around so she could see behind them, and the squealing sound came again as smoke rose around them, making the angry man beside her - Dean, was that what Sam Winchester had called him? - curse under his breath. Straining to see through the smoke, she could see them. The Agents were catching up quickly, much faster than these men seem to have expected, and the sense of panic in the air picked up a beat or two.
Looking around desperately, she caught sight of that sign, hanging loosely above the door of the building the Agents were approaching, and she struggled, paying no attention to what the men around her were saying as she tried to get a better view of it. She felt something restraining her, keeping her from getting a good view, but she fought against whatever it was, ignoring Sam Winchester's protests and focusing on the few thick wires that held the sign in place. She strained, she pressed as hard as she could, pushing her way through the fog of her mind.
Her chance finally came when the squealing fell silent for a brief moment, just long enough for some of the smoke to clear.
She could feel the warm stickiness running over her lips and dripping down her chin, and damn, did it hurt. Her head would ache later, but she would deal with that when the time came. All she cared about now was the sign, finally breaking free with a painfully loud creak and snapping sound, crushing the tallest Agent. She didn't have much time to feel relief, though, as she realized that what she'd thought was a trickle was actually a steady stream, soaking the collar of her t-shirt, and the material covering the strong shoulder her chin came down to rest on. The edges of her vision began to fade to black, and the sensation around her waist got more noticeable, like whatever was squeezing her was doing it harder.
It occurred to her that it was Sam Winchester's arms, just as she was dragged into the darkness...
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Dean's mind was racing as he sped towards the hospital, turning over everything that had just happened. He could vaguely hear Sam off to his right, speaking softly to the unconscious girl, his voice tense and worried as he tried to coax her awake. He rolled his eyes and didn't bother to look over as he made another turn, following the hospital signs until he finally saw the brightly lit parking lot up ahead. A thought occurred to him as he drew closer, though, one that nearly made him turn around and head straight for Bobby's, made him realize the hospital may not be the right place to take her.
Is she even human?
He had seen that sign coming down, and damned if it didn't seem like she had somehow willed it to happen. Everything about her in the moment it had fallen just screamed that possibility. The expression on her face, the way she was glaring at it, her hand, the blood...
Is she human...
It wouldn't leave him alone, but Sam didn't seem to even consider the idea, shooting him a look when he suddenly pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park.
"What the hell are you doing, Dean?!" Sam demanded, his face a mask of concern and fierce urgency. When he spoke again, his voice was a little loud, a little more high-pitched than he'd intended, betraying his alarm. "We have to get her to the hospital!"
"Do we, Sam?" Dean replied, his tone somewhat flat and surprisingly calm. He looked over at his brother, and while he wasn't quite frowning, he certainly wasn't smiling. "What if that's the wrong move? We don't know what she is-"
"She's a person," the younger Winchester hissed, and Dean blinked in mild shock. "A person who needs our help."
How the hell could he know that for sure?
Sam sighed heavily, speaking quickly, and it would have been obvious to anyone who could have seen them in that moment that he was desperately anxious to get moving. "Look, alright. I get your point, man. But don't you think we should take the chance? For Christ's sake, we just saved her ass from those goons back there, obviously she needs help. And right now, she needs medical help, and if the hospital's the wrong place then we'll figure it out. Come on!"
Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow, annoyed breath. He wasn't an idiot, and he wasn't blind. He could see as clearly as Sam could that this chick was in some kind of trouble, and after what had just happened with those suited freaks, it seemed like the brothers were just the right men to help her. But on the other side of the same token, there was obviously a reason those men were after her, and Dean had no way of knowing whether she was truly the victim, or the danger.
He knew Sam wasn't going to let it go, though, and he had a point. Taking her to the hospital first was at least worth a try, and if it became clear that they were wrong, well...they'd just have to get her out of there and take her to Bobby's.
Or gank her. Whichever the case may be.
Dean's fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly as he thought again about just turning around and heading straight to South Dakota, now.
"Come on, Dean," Sam said, almost pleading, and he sighed heavily, dropping his hand to the gearshift and glancing over at his little brother as he put the car into gear. A moment later, though, he threw it right back into park, and Sam almost growled in frustration. "Dean-"
Dean turned on the seat to face him, his hands lifting in a defensive gesture. "Hang on, Sammy, just hear me out for a second. I'm gonna paint you a picture here, alright?" Sam narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, his jaw clenched angrily, but he said nothing. Licking his lips and taking a deep breath, Dean looked at him seriously. "Say we take her to the hospital, right? She wakes up, snaps out of it, whatever, and it turns out you're wrong. We have no idea what the hell she is, and we've just set her loose in a building full of potential victims-"
"You don't know that, Dean-"
"Neither do you, Sam!" Dean stopped, sitting back and closing his eyes for a moment. They needed to calm the hell down. All they were succeeding in doing right now was wasting time, and he wanted to get moving; he didn't relish the idea of her waking up while the three of them were stuffed together in the front seat of the car.
Not after what he saw back there. And especially not when she was cradled in his brother's lap, the way she was now, her face inches from his throat.
He needed to talk some sense into the kid, and pronto. Pressing his fingers against his temple, Dean took a few slow, deep breaths, and his voice was steady and almost calm when he continued. "Think about it, you know I'm right. This chick comes out of nowhere, lookin' like she's been through the grinder, with those freaks in monkey suits on her ass. Alright, I can see that looking like the typical damsel-in-distress situation we deal with all the time. But then she pulled that shit with the sign-"
"What sign?" Sam asked suddenly, his eyebrows pinched together in confusion.
"Dude, you didn't see that?" Dean shook his head incredulously. "That huge sign over that building, it came down and flattened bald 'n ugly! That's how we got away!"
Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise and he glanced down at the unconscious girl in his arms. No, he hadn't seen that, he'd been a little too preoccupied with simultaneously trying to calm her down, and protecting the jewels as she'd thrashed around in his lap.
She had some seriously sharp knees.
"Are you sure she did that, though? I mean, it could have been a coincidence-"
Dean stared at him in mild disbelief. "A coincidence. Right. Three creeps with crazy-ass voodoo mind powers are chasing after a girl, and a sign just randomly falls on them just in time for her to get away-"
"For us to get away," Sam stressed, his head turning to look at his brother again. "If she had anything to do with that - and that's a big IF - she saved us, too..."
"Like she had a choice! She was in the damn car with us, Sammy, if she didn't get all of us out of there, she wouldn't have escaped-"
"Then why the hell would she warn us before she took off?! You heard her, Dean, she told us to run! Why would she do that, if she's dangerous?"
"Gee, I don't know, a villain with a heart of gold? What the fuck does it matter, Sam? The point is, those dicks were after her for some reason, and until we know what that reason is, we can't take any chances! If you'd pull your head outta your ass for a minute, you'd know I'm right."
Silence fell over the brothers as they glared at each other, Dean's jaw clenched and Sam's face pinched into a scowl. It was a classic Winchester stand-off; each could see the others' point, but neither was willing to budge.
"Alright, look," Dean finally said after what seemed like ages, heaving as long sigh and scrubbing a hand across his forehead. "How's she doin', right this minute? She still bleeding?"
Sam frowned and looked down at her, lifting a hand to tip her head back carefully so he could see her face. "No, it's stopped...but she's still out."
"Well, as long as she's not bleeding, she's probably not dying, so we have some time. I say we head for Bobby's-"
"Dean-"
"Just shut up and hear me out, dammit! We head for Bobby's, and if anything goes wrong before we get there, we'll try to dig up a doc who knows about the shit we deal with. How does that sound?"
Sam's eyes narrowed and he stared at his older brother skeptically, his argument dancing on the tip of his tongue. He didn't like this; it would be at least a day and a half before they'd reach Bobby's, and while the bleeding stopped, that didn't exactly mean she was alright.
When he took too long to respond, Dean knew he was fighting a losing battle. He had no choice; he had to put his foot down. Sighing heavily, he nodded. "Alright, then. Let me put it this way...New rule: driver picks what to do with the weird chick, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Is that better?"
Sam glared at him, but movement out of the corner of his eye caught both of their attention before he could say anything. Glancing back through the rear window, he squinted his eyes to see clearly through the fog of the car's exhaust, and he heard Dean's sharp curse at the same instant that he made out the figures marching towards them.
"What the fuck?!" Dean hissed, counting the familiar forms as they approached far quicker than they appeared to be moving.
One...two...THREE...
No fucking way, he'd seen Baldy get splattered back there!
Sam's heart was thudding in his chest and he turned to his brother, his arms instinctively tightening around the girl. "Dean, go! Go, go, go!"
His voice echoed in the Impala's interior, breaking through Dean's stupor, and the oldest Winchester spun in his seat, throwing the car into gear and slamming his foot down on the gas. There was no resistance this time, nothing holding them back, and the tires screeched piercingly as they roared down the road, leaving the suits behind in a cloud of dust.
"Do you see what I mean, Sammy?" Dean half-shouted over the engine, his voice tinged with panic. "Something isn't fucking right here! Demons, witches, something is going on, and taking her to that damned hospital-"
"Alright, Dean, I get it!" Sam growled loudly, looking back again to make sure the creeps weren't following them. He couldn't see them, but the more distance they put between themselves and the suits, the better. "I get it, just get us the hell out of here!"
Dean didn't have to be told twice, and it was a rare stroke of luck for the Winchesters that no cops appeared on the roads as they crossed the Vermont border into New York, in a quarter of the time it should have taken. It wasn't far enough though, not nearly, as far as he was concerned. And despite his earlier protests to the idea of heading straight to Bobby's, Sam seemed to be in agreement now, making no arguments as Dean kept going until the road grew blurry and his eyelids felt like lead weights.
Three days of constant driving had to catch up with him sometime.
Just outside of Syracuse, Sam spotted a small, run-down motel, and Dean pulled the Impala into the nearly deserted parking lot, finding a spot that was concealed by some thick shrubs. As he ran into the dimly lit office to secure a room, Sam pushed his door open and shifted the girl around a little in his arms, grimacing as he managed to twist himself around to stretch his protesting legs out over the asphalt. She was small, but damn, that girl had been a dead weight in his lap for the last four-and-a-half hours.
Even his junk was numb.
The plus side was that around the time they'd passed a sign welcoming them to Lake Pleasant, she'd stirred a little, though she didn't so much as open her eyes as she transitioned from unconsciousness into a deep sleep. Not that it made it any easier to move her around; her entire body had gone slack, and when his brother came back out to help him, they had a hell of a time transferring her to Dean's arms without knocking her head against the door frame.
Nosebleed aside, she was going to have quite the headache when she woke.
Grabbing their duffels from the trunk and slinging them over his shoulder, Sam staggered after his brother to their room, taking the key out of Dean's jacket pocket and unlocking the door marked with the number '14' scrawled under the peephole in fading paint. Flicking on the lights and tossing the bags on one of the beds, he opened his own to seek out the vial of salt he kept filled at all times, as Dean laid the girl gently on the other mattress. The sound of metal clicking made his head whip around, though, just in time to see the handcuff being closed around her slender wrist, the other end attached to the bed frame. His brow furrowing, irritation flared inside him, and he glared at his brother.
"Really, Dean? Chaining her to the bed?"
Dean shrugged, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at him. "Told ya, I'm not taking any chances. Besides, at least now we know she's not a shifter." Pointing to the silver cuff, he gave his younger brother a pointed look before grabbing his duffel and digging through it, producing a piece of chalk and a jar of rock salt.
Sighing heavily, Sam knew what was coming next, and didn't bother waiting for Dean to ask before moving to help him noisily drag the bed she was laying on to the side. While the older Winchester was busy sketching out the Devil's trap on the floorboards, he set himself to the task of drawing salt lines along the windowsills and in front of the door, the same precautions they always took when settling in for a night somewhere.
You can never be too safe, when you live the life of a hunter.
Tossing the bit of chalk back into his bag, Dean stood back to admire his handiwork. He'd drawn hundreds of these symbols over the years, but never failed to make sure he'd done them properly; he knew too well how much trouble one little mistake could lead to. After shoving the bed back into its regular spot, concealing the trap from easy view, he unscrewed the jar of salt and sprinkled a thin line around the entire base of the frame, debating a moment about sprinkling some holy water on her sleeping form before deciding he'd done enough for the night. Tucking his things back into his bag, he looked up to see Sam watching him again, his face etched in worry.
Rolling his eyes, Dean shrugged off his jacket, quirking an irritated brow. "What?"
Sam scowled slightly as he glanced down at the girl, then back up at him, shaking his head. "I don't know, do you think we should...clean her up, or something? I mean, she's kind of a mess..."
Pursing his lips, Dean followed his gaze to the sleeping girl's face, cringing at the almost gruesome sight of dried blood caked over her lips and chin. Her clothing was stained even worse than Sam's shirt - she would have to borrow something to wear from one of them before they took her out of here – and though a quick assessment of the cuts on her bare feet told him she probably wouldn't need any stitches, they were a mess of blood and dirt.
Sam was right...she was a mess.
Heaving a sigh, he rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Do whatever you want, I'm too exhausted to give a shit. Just wake me up in a few hours, so we can get back on the road."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "So that's it? You're just going to sleep?"
"Fucking right, I am. You can sleep in the car, Sasquatch. I can't." Tossing their duffels onto the overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room, Dean flopped down on the bed, letting out a groan as he flipped onto his stomach and stretched out, shoving his arms under the pillow he buried his face in. His voice was muffled and slurred when he spoke again, just loud enough to know Sam could hear him. "You get first watch. 'Night, bitch..."
Glaring at his brother's back, Sam knew there was no point in arguing. Rolling his eyes, he shook his head and grabbed his laptop, plugging it into the outlet beside the small card table that was obviously meant to be used for eating. Firing it up, he settled into one of the hard plastic chairs and hit the keys to connect to the motel's wi-fi, glancing over at his already snoring brother one more time and mumbling as he waited for his browser to come up.
"Jerk."
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It's gonna be a wild ride.
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