TITLE: Becoming Real
SUMMARY: How many of you want to jump back to the beginning of Season Three and fix it? Well, Page Spencer didn't mean to, but saying the wrong thing can get a fanfic writer into trouble.
A/N: This of course started out as an, 'I want to be part of the show' story, but my freaky brain just wouldn't stop writing. So I added an actual story to that plotline and then out of nowhere the sex just appeared. Really, it wasn't planned at all. Really! With that said the story is rated M for obvious reasons.
WARNING: Graphic sex (or as graphic as I can get) and some language.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, unfortunately. As you can see I would let them have more fun.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please read at the end. I'd hate to give too much away. Oh and I divided it into two chapter but technically it's a one shot.
"Real isn't how you are made.
It's a thing that happens to you…
It doesn't happen all at once.
You become.
…once you are Real you can't become unreal again.
It lasts forever."
The Velveteen Rabbit
By
Margery Williams
Becoming Real
"Hey, you ok?"
The voice startled her. Who the hell was in her house? Opening her eyes, Page was surprised to find stars above her. Well, that wasn't good. Her head pounded and briefly she thought she'd gotten drunk. She wouldn't put it past Nick or Lauren to leave her sorry ass in the park again. Then she saw the face that went with the voice.
"Holy crap," she muttered, pushing up and backing away.
"Well, that's a new one," Dean said frowning at her.
"Maybe you scared her," Sam said sauntering up next to him, lowering the gun that was in his brother's hand.
"Y-you… you…" she stammered looking from one to the other. Her brain had completely stopped working. She couldn't make her mouth work.
"Are you ok?" Sam asked smiling at her. If only he knew that really wasn't helping.
"Ok? Am I ok?" Three words in a row, now that was a start.
"Did you hit your head?" Dean asked brow furrowed.
Groaning, she put her hands over her face. She had to be dreaming, because things like this just didn't happen to her. Sam and Dean Winchester looking at her like that? Sam and Dean Winchester looking at her at all? Closing her eyes tightly she willed herself to wake up.
"Dude, I think she fainted," Dean said. She jumped when a hand touched her arm.
"No, don't think so," Sam answered.
She cracked her eyes back open, and they were still there. Sighing she moved to stand.
"Hold up," Dean said raising the gun.
"Ok, not moving," she said eyeing the gun. Typical Dean, trust no one.
Sam stepped between Page and his brother, frowning at the gun. "What are you doing?"
"We don't know who she is. She could be a demon for all we know," Dean said, the gun not wavering at all.
"Christo," Page said, making both turn and look at her surprised. "What?"
"How did…" Sirens echoing through the trees interrupted Dean. Glaring at his brother he pulled Page to her feet and abruptly let her go. Page groaned as the world tilted under her, and she leaned heavily against the closest body.
"Whoa," Sam said, his hands steadying her. She sighed the scent of him rolling over her, burnt gunpowder and earthy soap. He smelled real. He certainly felt real, the tight muscles against her cheek and the strong arms wrapped around her.
"We can't stay here," Dean said.
"I know. Bring her with?"
"Whatever, but we have to go."
Before Page could protest she was lifted up, and found herself held tighter against said muscled chest, one strong arm now under her legs. The movement made her dizzy, and she lost track of time.
The next instant she was in the backseat of a car, the Impala to be exact. Groaning she tried to roll over only to discover her hands cuffed in front of her.
"You awake?" Sam asked.
She eyed him frowning. "I'm not sure."
"Ok, cryptic girl is starting to freak me out," Dean said from the drivers seat.
"Dean," Sam groaned.
Dean gave a frustrated sigh. "Fine, we'll stop at the next motel."
Page wasn't feeling any better when they stopped. Her attempt to get out of the car had her back in Sam's arms and being carried into the motel room.
She sat on the edge of the bed, trying desperately not to throw up, and wondered how this had happened. She wasn't supposed to be there, that was apparent even to her, and things like this didn't happen, so she had to be dreaming. Thinking about it made the pounding in her head worse, which was wrong. You don't feel pain in dreams. This made her a little nervous, not to mention the two guys, deep in quiet discussion, on the other side of the room.
Dean was angry. That was obvious by the waving of his hands and the darting looks he kept sneaking her way. Sam was, well she wasn't really sure. He too kept sneaking glances, but he seemed more curious than anything else.
Sighing, she brought her hands to her forehead, hissing slightly has the cuffs chaffed her wrists. This was going to be a long night.
"Do you have a name?" Dean asked, making her jump. So lost in her own thoughts she hadn't realized they had stopped talking, and Dean now stood a few feet from her, arms crossed, still not happy.
"Page."
"Well, Page, what were you doing out there?" he asked.
"Out where?"
"Sam, I'm gonna…" Dean said turning away from her.
"The woods where we found you. There's nothing out there, not really," Sam interceded.
"Then what were you doing out there?" she asked.
They shared a look before not answering her.
She shook her head. "Let me guess, something nasty hurting hikers, hunters, people who shouldn't be in the woods. Am I close?"
"How did…" Sam started before Dean smacked his arm.
"Dumb ass," Dean mumbled.
"Come on, Dean. Give him a break."
"How do you know my name?" Dean asked, his hand going into the pocket of his coat and pulling out a flask. Holy water, great he still thought she was a demon.
"You wouldn't believe me," she said shaking her head. "I don't believe me."
"Try us. You might be surprised," Sam said.
"Why not. This is a dream anyway. A very strange dream, but…" she sighed.
"I don't know how to break this to you, Sweetheart, but you're awake," Dean said reaching over, splashed a little holy water on her and non-too-gently pinched her.
"Owe," she said glaring at him. "Was that necessary?"
He gave her that, I'm charming but I can be lethal, smile, which only made her angrier.
"God help anyone who actually wants your help," Page mumbled.
"Excuse me," Dean said, standing up straighter and reaching to the small of his back, pulling his gun.
"Great," she said shaking her head. "You really are a jerk, you know that."
Sam turned, trying to hide his smile, earning a glare from his brother.
"Insulting me is not helping your case," Dean said setting the gun on the dresser.
"And what will?" she asked.
"Why were you in the woods?" Dean said.
"Fine," Page said folding her legs under her, deciding the truth was her only option. "I have no idea. The last thing I remember was sitting at my computer."
"Doing what?" Sam asked.
"Writing," she said.
"Writing what?" Dean asked.
"Fanfiction," she sighed.
"What's fanfiction?" Dean asked.
Sam rolled his eyes. "For what show?"
She laughed, throwing her arms up in the air. "This one."
"Huh?" Dean frowned.
"I don't understand," Sam said.
"Neither do I. One minute I'm writing dialogue for Sam Winchester, the next you're standing over me," she said shrugging.
"Dialogue? Sam, what is she talking about?" Dean asked, his hand going back to the gun.
"That's why you thought you were dreaming?" Sam asked, ignoring his brother.
"Yeah. You guys aren't real. You're characters on a TV show," she said.
"Right," Dean said. "The Adventures of Sam and Dean Winchester."
"Actually, it's called Supernatural."
"I'm not listening to anymore of this," Dean said reaching for her gun in hand.
"I can prove it," she said shrinking back.
"How exactly are you going to do that?" he asked still moving towards her.
"I know everything about you." She turned to Sam. "Both of you"
"Really?" Sam asked.
"I know what you do, and why."
"Anybody whose read our FBI files will know most of that," Sam said.
Page smiled and shook her head. "But not everything."
"I guess not," Dean said eyeing her suspiciously.
"How about what your dad told Dean the night the demon killed your mom?"
"That's it," Dean said grabbing her roughly by one arm and pointing the gun at her. "Who sent you? The demons. You can go back and tell them they can't have him. Do you here me?"
Page didn't move. She could only stare at the barrel of the gun, and hope he didn't shot her.
"Dean, stop it," Sam said pulling at Dean's shoulders.
Realizing she had to say something, some of her fear replaced by anger, she pulled at her arm. "I'm not working with the demons, you prick. Now let me go."
"She's a person, damn it," Sam said changing tactics and pulling on Page's arms.
"Doesn't mean she's not full of crap," Dean said releasing her, the gun falling to his side.
Page angrily pulled away from Sam and moved as far back on the bed as she could.
"What did he say?" Sam asked.
"What?" Page asked glaring at Dean.
"What did Dad say?" Sam asked looking from her to Dean.
"Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don't look back," Page said, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.
"That doesn't mean anything," Dean said, verifying she had it right.
"Because so many people know that," Page said sarcastically.
"I need some air," Dean said, grabbing his jacket.
"Dean," Sam called after him. The sound of the door shutting was his answer.
She eyed Sam leaning back against the headboard. "Why do you believe me?"
"Weirder things have happened," Sam said sitting down on the bed.
She tipped her head toward him and smiled. "I guess with what you guys do, weird is kinda normal."
"Normal," Sam laughed.
"For lack of a better word," she shrugged. "I just wish I knew how I got here."
"Maybe we can figure that out. What exactly were you writing?"
"Just a story," she answered purposely being vague.
"Page," he said eyeing her.
"It was an old incantation," she said.
"What was it for?" he asked.
She sighed, looking away. She couldn't tell him, so she lied. "I don't know.""You don't know?" Sam asked pointedly.
"Well, it wasn't like I needed it to work or anything."
"You said it out loud."
"Yeah," Page said, and that was the truth. She always read what she wrote out loud, so she could catch any mistakes.
"That could be the answer."
"What?"
"Whatever the incantation was for, reading it out loud…"
"Sent me here," she said, feeling really stupid. This was not what was supposed to happen.
"We need to find that book," he leaned back, and their arms brushed, and it suddenly occurred to Page that she was sitting on a bed with Sam Winchester. She felt her cheeks grow hot and tried to casually pull away.
"You ok?" Sam asked scooting closer to her.
"Yeah," she stuttered out.
"I'm sorry," he said standing. "I didn't mean to…"
"No, wait," she said. "This is all just… a little strange. I've spent the last three years watching you on TV. Seeing you face to face is…"
"Bad?" he said smirking at her.
"No, definitely not bad," she said looking at the floor.
"Just little strange," he finished for her.
She laughed looking back up at him. "Try a lot strange."
"I guess it's a lot to take in," he said smiling at her.
A real smile, one she hadn't seen for most of season three. It almost made her tell him the truth. Almost. "So, why did the incantation bring me here, now, whatever."
"I don't know. Is there something you wanted to change?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" she asked nonchalantly, hoping he couldn't see through her.
"Most incantations work on how a person is feeling or what they are thinking. I would guess that it sent you to this point because you wanted to change something."
She forgot how good he was at this, getting to the heart of the problem with such a small amount of information.
"But how do I know what to change?" she asked, knowing full well exactly what she wanted to change,
"Give me a timeline. We can figure it out from there."
So she started with the Pilot, moving from one episode to the next. She tried to skip parts, knowing it would bring back bad memories, but some she couldn't avoid. His eyes grew distant when she mentioned Devil's Trap and In My Time of Dying. Two episodes into the second season he started to pace. She had just finished with season two when the door opened. Dean took one look at Sam's stricken face and started toward her.
"What did you do?"
She cringed back away, smelling the whiskey on his breath. "Just talking."
"About what?" he asked stopping directly in front of her.
"What she said is true, Dean. She knows details, things nobody else could know," Sam said.
"Bullshit, Sam. She's filled your head with…"
"No, Dean, she knows details about hunts, only you and I were on. From the day you came to Stanford and got me, until three weeks ago, the Yellow Eyed Demon and Jake… "
Page schooled her expression, trying to calm her racing heart. Three weeks! That gave her almost a whole year… No, she wasn't going there. This was ridiculous, stupid incantation, bringing her here. That was not what it was supposed to do.
Dean took a few steps back, running his hand over his face and through his hair. "This isn't possible."
"Like most of your life," Page mumbled.
"True," Dean said. "But how did she get here?"
"An incantation," Sam said at his brother's look. "She said it out loud."
"You did what?" Dean asked, than held his hands up. "No, don't tell me. You thought it wasn't real."
"It's a TV show, Dean. It isn't supposed to be real," Page said annoyed. Like she meant for this to happen.
"Stop," Sam said stepping between the two of them. "What's the name of the book?"
"What?" Page asked her eyes still fixed on Dean's angry face.
"The book, Page."
"I don't know," she stammered, trying to come up with a good lie.
"What?' both boys said.
"I have lots of book," she said trying for a smidgen of the truth. "After watching the show I tried to learn all I could about the supernatural. Rummage sales, antique book stores, garage sales, I collect them."
"Great," Dean said.
"It did have a unique picture on it. An angel burnt into the leather. At least it looked like an angel to me," she said hoping they would believe her.
"So what now, Einstein?" Dean asked.
"Research," he said.
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Two days later Page was beginning to miss her solitary existence. Not that she wasn't enjoying herself, some of the time, but being around Sam and Dean twenty-four seven was not as much fun as she had imagined.
Her first problem came with the lying. She sucked at it. Keeping track of what she had told them and making sure she told them both the same thing. It was giving her a headache.
Her second problem was Dean. She should have known getting his trust would not be easy, but being handcuffed around the clock was a little much. Her wrist were turning red and having to ask every time she needed to use the bathroom was getting more and more embarrassing. He even left her, handcuffed to the steering wheel, with a threat of bodily harm if she hurt the car in any way, while he and Sam went inside a diner to eat.
It was on the third day of wearing the same clothes, and even disgusting herself with how gross she was, that Sam tossed a bag at her.
"What's that?" Dean asked.
"Just some stuff," Sam said giving Page a small smile.
"Sam," Dean said making a move toward the bag.
"She's stuck here for the time being, Dean. The least we can do is let her change her clothes," Sam said taking the handcuffs off and motioning toward the bathroom.
Page eyed Dean not moving.
"Fine, but one hint of anything…"
Page didn't listen to the rest. She grabbed the bag and hurried to the bathroom before he changed his mind, locking the door behind her.
"Hey," Dean called from the other side of the door. "No locking."
Grumbling to herself, she unlocked the door. "Happy?"
She got no response but hadn't been expecting one. Opening the bag, she dumped the contents onto the floor, and laughed. It was obvious Sam had been serious with Jess. He knew what to buy and had even come close to the sizes on the clothes.
Knowing her time was limited she brushed the knots out of her shoulder length brown hair before slipping her clothes off and jumping in the shower. The warm water felt good, and she lost herself, relaxing against the wall.
"No! Stop!" The images flashed quickly and violently through her head, blood, pain, death.
She gasped her eyes snapping open, reaching for the wall, shaking from the memory.
"Damn it," she hissed, turning the water off and reaching for a towel. She quickly dried off and dressed in the used jeans and black ACDC t-shirt. Running the brush through her hair, she left it loose to dry. Sneaking a glance at her reflection, she frowned at the dark circles under her green eyes. She'd have to ask if they could stop and get her some make-up eventually. With one last furtive look in the mirror she exited the bathroom.
Dean met her at the door with the handcuffs. She sighed, but held her hands out. The next place Sam thought the book might be was over a days drive. Handcuffed in the backseat for twelve hours, was not Page's best day ever, considering she knew Dean's trick and could have gotten out of the handcuffs if she felt like it, but that would have only made him angry again.
They didn't stop until the sun was coming up.
"Give me your hands," Dean growled.
His expression didn't change as he slipped the handcuffs off, and Page eyed him suspiciously.
"This doesn't mean anything," he said getting out of the car and heading for the motel office.
"Thank you," Page whispered before Sam could follow his brother.
"I didn't…"
"Yes you did," Page said opening her door and stepping out. She stretched her hands above her head before sticking her hands in her pockets and finding what she was looking for. Smiling at Sam she headed for the office, passing Dean on the way in.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'd like a room, please," she said ignoring him.
"How…"
She pulled the credit card from her pocket, smiling at him. "Living in New York, I don't carry a purse when I shop, forget it in my pocket all the time."
"Single room?" the man behind the counter said taking the card from her.
"Yes," she said rubbing her wrists.
"Page."
"Dean," she said not looking at him.
"I'm sorry, but this card doesn't work," the man said handing it back to her.
"What?"
"Doesn't work. Got another way to pay?" the man asked looking bored.
"Run it again," she said trying to hand it back.
"I ran it three times," The man said looking over her shoulder at Dean. She felt a hand on her arm and had to suppress the urge to turn and kick him.
"Sorry, she's with us," Dean said physically pulling her out of the office.
"Let go," Page said, turning to glare at Dean.
"Face it, Sweetheart, for now, you're stuck with us, or did you have other ideas on how to pay for the room," Dean said smirking at her.
She didn't realize she'd hit him until she felt the twinge in her hand. She backed away as Dean advanced toward her, blood dripping from his chin.
"Dean," Sam said stepping in front of Page.
"Move, Sam," Dean growled.
"No," Sam said eyeing his brother.
Dean made a noise low in his throat, wiped at the blood on his chin, turned and stalked away.
"You shouldn't have done that," Sam said opening the trunk.
"He deserved it," she said rubbing her hand. She'd never hit anyone before. It hurt.
Sam shut the trunk, slinging both bags over his shoulder. "Probably, but making him angry isn't going to help."
She sighed, flipping the credit card over in her hand. "I guess in this place, I'm not real."
He slipped the card from her hand, and motioned for her to follow, placing a hand gently on the small of her back. "One way to find out."
Page steered clear of Dean once in the room, staying close to Sam as he pulled out the laptop.
"What are you doing?" Dean asked from his spot on the bed.
"Looking for me," Page said.
Dean glared at her and went back to flipping the channels on the TV.
Two hours later, over cheeseburgers and French fries, Page got her answer.
"I'm sorry," Sam said. Nothing, absolutely nothing, no birth certificate or social security number, nothing. Page Spencer did not exist.
"Not your fault," Page sighed, grabbing her bag and heading for the bathroom.
She sat heavily on the toilet willing the tears away. Getting all emotional was not going to help. Wiping a hand over her face, she took a deep breath and stood.
Done in record time, she was surprised when Dean didn't meet her at the door with the handcuffs. He did insist that she sleep on the rollaway against the farthest wall, and moved his bed against the door.
The rollaway was not comfortable, and Dean snored, loudly. She practically growled when Sam woke her.
"Breakfast," he said handing her a donut.
She sleepily eyed the clock. "It's ten o'clock at night."
"And," Dean said snagging the donut and popping the whole thing in his mouth.
She shook her head, grabbed her clothes and walked into the bathroom.
"Don't take all night, Princess," followed her through the door. She didn't care how cute he was, she was going to hurt him.
Sighing, she threw her hair up in a ponytail. Examining the amount of clothes Sam had bought her, she quickly changed into a dark blue t-shirt at least two sizes too big, but left her jeans on, having only three pairs and not knowing when they would do laundry next.
"Did you fall in?" Dean fussed as he banged on the door.
"Go away, or I'll take longer," she called to him.
"I'll leave you here," he called back.
"Bastard," she mumbled, not sure if he was serious and not willing to test him.
Sighing, she grabbed her stuff and stalked out of the bathroom to find just Dean in the room, zipping up his own bag.
"Here," he said tossing it at her.
She caught it and glared at him. "And what your legs are broken?"
"Fine," he said angrily snatching it back and tossing it on the closest bed.
Page finished packing her belongings and headed for the door.
"You could have asked," she said taking his bag off the bed and walking out the door.
Sam stood at the Impala's trunk and eyed her as she angrily tossed the bags in the back seat.
"Playing nice with Dean again," he said smiling.
"Yeah, he's such a peach," she grumbled, leaning back against the passenger door arms crossed.
"You get used to it," Sam said closing the trunk.
The flickering of the parking lot lights cut off Page's retort. Sam moved closer to her, his hand going to the pocket of his coat.
"That can't be good," Page mumbled.
"Sam," Dean called from the motel doorway.
"I know," Sam said, pushing Page back toward the room.
The air crackled with energy, and Page felt her feet leave the ground.
"No!" she heard in tandem before pain exploded along her right side. Groaning, she rolled to her back, scrambling to get her feet under her.
"Page, move!" The panic in Sam's voice made her look up, and she froze. The night manager stood between her and Sam, his eyes black. Worse yet, his hand was up, moving the closest car straight at her.
Spying a large dumpster, she ran, climbing to the top just as the car hit. She could do nothing but scream and hold on as the dumpster slid sideways until it hit the wall of the adjacent building, throwing her once again to the ground.
She was never so glad to here a gunshot.
"Dean!"
The scream was followed by a groan, and Page pulled herself up from behind the dumpster, arm wrapped around her injured side, and took in the site before her. Dean lay unmoving near the motel door, the gun next to him. The demon had turned its attention to Sam, a hand around his throat, feet off the ground.
"No," Page groaned moving toward them. The exorcism slipped from her mouth before she knew what she was doing.
The demon turned, dropping Sam. Its hand came up, and her feet left the ground again.
"Page," Sam gasped.
She hit the side of the building hard, but continued saying the exorcism, as the demon advanced toward her. His hand came up as she finish and the world went dark.
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"Are you sure?" Dean said.
"It was after her, not me," Sam said.
Reluctantly Page opened her eyes and found herself in the back of the Impala. "Great."
They both turned, Dean's attention wavering between her and the road.
"You ok?" Sam asked.
"Been better," she mumbled, gasping as pain shot up her side when she moved.
"Pull over," Sam said, practically crawling into the backseat.
"I'm fine, Sam," she said trying to breath through the pain.
"Right," Dean said, taking the next turn off and pulling into a closed gas station, the lights illuminating the inside of the car. Sam was by her side, car door open, before Dean had the car off.
"Let me see," Sam said moving her hands. She didn't protest as he raised her shirt.
"Son of a bitch," Dean said. A dark bruise was forming from her armpit to her hip.
"About sums it up," Page said. She groaned as Sam gently probed her side.
"Just bruised," he said pulling her shirt down.
"Anything else?" Dean asked.
"No, pretty much landed on my side, both times. You ok?" she asked suddenly remembering his unconscious state.
"I'm fine," he mimicked. "Have a hard head."
She eyed Sam, the question implied.
"I'm good," he said.
"Should be used to the whole chocking thing by now," Page said cringing as she tried to get comfortable.
"Don't do that," Dean said. "It's creepy. By the way, the exorcism, you just happen to have it memorized."
"I've used it a couple of times, got stuck in my head."
"By used, you mean…"
"No, not literally, just in my stories."
With a pat to his brother's back, Dean moved away, slipping back into the driver's seat.
"You sure you're ok?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, just sore," she said not looking at him. Truth be told, she was a bit freaked, but they had enough to worry about.
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As freaked as she was about the demon attack, it rolled off Sam and Dean like an every day occurrence, and they were right back at figuring out a way to get her home. Lying to them was getting harder. Dean was already getting suspicious, and kept questioning her over and over about the book and the incantation. She knew eventually she was going to mess up her story, and Dean wouldn't be happy with her.
But it turned out Dean was the least of her problems. The demons kept coming.
"Stupid… backwoods… waist of time," she mumbled exiting the small building. The library was so behind in the times it had no computers, which meant no Internet. Spying Sam looking at her, she played up the frustration, kicking at a soda can and sending it skipping down the sidewalk.
"We're not giving up, Page. We'll find a way to get you home." The sincerity in his voice made her want to cry.
"How about some food?" she asked, trying to change the subject.
"Sounds good. We passed a café about two blocks back."
Her stomach growled at the mention of real food. "God, yes."
"The Winchester diet not working for you," he said playfully.
"A fixed budget doesn't allow for too much take out. My body's going into shock from all the grease and MSG," she laughed.
They found a table outside next to the street and ordered, a chicken salad for her and a tuna sandwich for him.
"So, any ideas on why the incantation sent you here?" She nearly chocked on her water, setting the glass down carefully, her hands beginning to shake.
"Not a clue," she said shrugging.
"I thought that maybe you… in some way…" Sam stumbled over his words making Page's smile grow.
"Spit it out, Sam," she chuckled.
"I thought maybe you could help with the deal," he said.
She was rescued from this line of questioning by their food arriving, than busied herself with fixing her salad. All the while, trying to think of a good response that didn't give anything away.
"Page," Sam said.
Sighing she laid her fork down. "Honestly, Sam, I don't know why I'm here. If I had to guess, I'd say, the demons being on a different level somehow sense that me being here is wrong."
"They know you're not supposed to be here," he said. "Plausible, but a little far fetched."
"Like ghost trucks," she smirked.
"Dean's right, that's creepy," he chuckled.
All humor left his face, his gaze falling on something behind her. She heard squealing tires, but before she could look, Sam was out of his seat and pulling her toward the building. A large red SUV smashed through railing and sent the table they had been sitting in flying. Arms around her, Sam turned her as they fell covering her as the SUV continued through the outside seating area, through the opposite railing and back onto the street.
"You ok?" Sam asked pulling off her, but keeping his hands on her arms.
"Yeah," she said, letting him help her to her feet. "Sam, the driver's eyes were black."
"What? Are you sure?" he asked. A crowd had started to gather, whispering and pointing. The manager came out asking if any one was hurt.
"Sam, we gottta go," she said taking his hand. Sirens could be heard in the distance.
Sam reassured the manager they were fine, and they slipped through the crowd quickly mingling with the other pedestrians.
Page gasped when he touched the top of her arm.
"You said you were ok," he said trying to pull her to a stop.
"It's nothing, Sam. We need to get back to the motel," she said.
They were silent the rest of the walk back. Sam took her straight back into the bathroom before explaining to Dean what had happened.
"You're sure," Dean said watching Page intently. She sat on the toilet in the bathroom, Sam washing the gravel out of the road rash on her right arm.
"For the hundredth time, yes I'm sure," she hissed as Sam poured antiseptic over her arm.
"Sorry," Sam mumbled.
"Sam," Dean said leaning against the doorframe.
"I didn't see the driver, Dean," Sam said wrapping Pages arm in gauze and tapping it in place.
"Two demons in two week," Dean said. "Are you sure they weren't after you, Sam?"
Sam shrugged, closing the first aid kit. "I don't know."
"Great," Dean said. "I guess we can look forward to more visitors."
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"I thought you said an angel was burnt into the cover," Dean said looking at the picture of the book Sam had pulled up on his laptop.
"No, I said I thought it looked like an angel. The color's right, and it has something burnt into the cover," Page said trying to cover her mistake as Dean eyed her suspiciously.
"That's three hundred miles away," Sam said flipping the computer to mapquest.
"Great, we'll head out in the morning," Dean said grabbing his coat. "I'll be back late."
With that, he was gone. Page hadn't missed the look that had passed between the brothers. The, I know what your doing and I don't like it but I'm not going to say anything, look. Sam had that look on his face a lot lately. Dean either didn't see or ignore it, which made Page angry. She was starting to believe that maybe she was sent here as some sort of punishment. Destined to watch the whole ugly mess play out and not able to stop it.
Pushing those thoughts back, she gave Sam a small smile before slipping into the bathroom to change her clothes.
He was in the same spot when she came out, in front of the computer. Sighing, she said her goodnights and slipped under the covers.
"No! Stop! Dean!" The screams echoed through the room. She reached for the door, but the light stopped her, blinding her to all but the screams. Sam's screams, Dean's screams, and her own all mixed together.
She shot up in the bed. Panting, she pushed her sweaty hair out of her face and found her hands shaking.
"Page?" Sam was sitting on the bed, his hand reaching for hers. She couldn't look at him, not with those images so fresh in her mind.
"I'm ok. Just a nightmare," she said pulling her legs to her chest. "Demons chasing me."
"You screamed my name and Dean's," Sam said.
She shrugged. "All I remember are demons."
She rolled away not looking at him. Knowing she wouldn't go back to sleep, but not wanting to talk. It wasn't her first nightmare, and she was sure it wouldn't be her last.
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Page groaned softly. They were in a library after all. Sam was busy typing away at the computer, and Dean had stalked off to who knows where an hour earlier. Page couldn't blame him. Researching was not Dean's thing.
Standing she walked in between the stacks, running her finger over the books as she went. The library was small, but contained some interesting finds. It had peaked Sam's interesting, which in turn irritated Dean.
"Find what you're looking for?" the librarian asked, making Page jump.
"No, not yet. Thank you," Page said turning her attention back to the books.
"Maybe I can help," she said moving closer to Page.
"No, that's ok. I think we got it covered," she said backing away from the small woman.
"No," she said grabbing Page's arm in a much stronger grip than she should have had. "Let me help you."
"Sam!" she screamed as the librarian dragged her toward the stairs. She kicked and fought the hold on her arm, but she couldn't stop her forward motion.
"You aren't supposed to be here," the librarian said, her eyes going black. With one strong shove, she sent Page toppling down the stairs.
Throwing her arms out, Page tried to stop her decent, pain shooting through first her back than her head. Then blackness overtook her.
The pain was the first thing that registered in her mind. Her whole body hurt, but the elephants stampeding in her head were the worst. She jumped as hands touched her, eyes flying open, trying to push back away from the presents in front of her.
"Page!"
Sam's voice stopped her panic, and he slowly came into focus kneeling in front of her. She groaned and leaned against him.
"Can you stand? We need to leave," he whispered, his hand carefully touching the small of her back.
She nodded, letting him help her to her feet. The room tilted, and she fell against him. "Sam, I don't think I can…"
"Lean against me," he said slipping his arm around her. "We don't want to draw attention to ourselves."
Page managed to stay on her feet long enough to reach the Impala. Sam helped her into the backseat and pulled out his phone.
"Where are you?" Sam paused, listening. "We'll meet you there. No, everything's not alright."
He dropped heavily into the driver's seat and started the engine. Page let her eyes slip closed, relaxing into the seat.
"Page, open your eyes," Sam said his hand on the side of her face.
She groaned, but opened her eyes.
"I need you to stay awake," he said concern lacing his words.
She fixed her eyes on him. Watching the twitch of the muscles in his jaw, and down his neck, the curve of his hands around the steering wheel. Her mind lost focus, staring at a particular scar on his wrist, wondering if it was the one he broke. She couldn't remember. She yelped in surprise as arms came around her and picked her up. Turning her head, she found Dean staring at her.
"What happened?" he asked too loudly in Page's opinion.
"Elephants," Page whispered.
"What?" Dean eyed his brother. "Another demon."
"Yeah, threw her down the stairs," Sam said.
She could hear them, but her focus was lost again. Warmth wrapped around her, making her relax into the feel of leather and the smell of gun oil.
"No, Page, keep your eyes open," Sam's voice floated into the warmth she was lost in, and she groaned as she was jostled. Lazily, she batted at the hands that grabbed at her face. One hand moved to the back of her head, and the pain spiked bringing tears to her eyes.
"Owe!" she growled her eyes coming open. "Stop."
"Her head is bleeding," Dean said from somewhere next to her.
"What?" she mumbled, still unable to really focus.
"Page," Sam said his face in front of hers again. "Hey, you in there."
"Funny," she mumbled.
"This is going to hurt," Dean said and the pain encompassed everything and then there was nothing.
The warmth was back again, but the smell was different, peppermint and coffee. She slowly opened her eyes, focusing first on the arms wrapped around her then on Dean lying on the bed across from her.
"Sleeping Beauty's awake," he said looking from his brother to her.
"Page?" Sam said, his hands rubbing her arms gently.
"Yeah," she croaked, rolling her head slightly so she could look up at him.
"Anymore elephants?" he asked.
"Just a couple," she said, pushing against him. His arms loosened, and she sat up, testing her equilibrium.
"You good?" he asked, his arms up prepared to help if she needed it.
"Yeah," she said her hand going to her forehead.
"These will help," Dean said, handing her two Tylenol and a glass of water.
"Thanks," she said.
"No doubt now that the demons are after you," Dean said sitting on the bed across from her.
"I guess," she said setting the water on the bedside table. "The librarian?"
"She's fine, Page. The demon was just there to hurt you, didn't stick around after it threw you down the stairs."
"Now what?" Page asked.
"We'll just have to be more careful," Dean said lying back on the bed. "One of us will have to stay with you until we figure this out."
"Wonderful," she said letting her self relax back into the bed next to Sam.
"Wait," she heard Sam say and the bed shifted. "Open your eyes for a minute."
"Sam," she groaned.
"Let me check," he said his hand on her face again.
Reluctantly she opened her eyes, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.
He smiled and pulled back, making her roll her eyes. "Can I go back to sleep now?"
"Yeah, pupils are fine." She felt the bed shift again and his warmth pressed against her.
She wouldn't admit it to him, but it made her feel safe.
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Having the Winchesters as her personal bodyguards was good and bad. Sam being the good, and Dean being the bad. Not that Dean was anything but civil, lately, but when Sam wasn't around, she felt uncomfortable, like at any moment he could decide she was a threat and… well, anyway, Dean kinda scared her.
But she was incredibly comfortable around Sam and found herself telling him about her life in New York, her boring yet expensive studio apartment, her crazy cat Moxy, who loved chasing the mice around the laundry room, and her somewhat exciting job at the magazine.
"An editor," Sam said as they walked down the street to yet another bookstore.
"Well, not really. I'm one of the editors' assistants," she smiled looking down at her feet. "You know, I'm the one they scream at for coffee, and yell at when they don't have enough copies of something."
"But you like it?" he asked opening the door for her.
"It's a step towards where I want to be, and I get to learn from the best, even if I don't get credit for most of what I do," she said shrugging.
She looked up to find him smiling at her.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said starting down the first isle of books.
"Really, what?" she asked following him.
All she got was another smile. Rolling her eyes she moved past him.
"Page," he warned when she turned the corner.
"For God sake, I'm three feet away from you," she whined.
"You were sitting across from me when the car almost hit you," he said stepping closer to her.
"Fine," she grumbled. "This is a little ridiculous, you know that, right?"
"Just trying to keep you safe."
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They both stood as she did making her groan. "I'm going to the bathroom, so unless you want to draw that kind of attention, I'm going by myself."
"I can stand outside the door and wait for you," Sam said.
"You can see the bathroom door from here," she said getting angry. "Just stay put."
She was gone for no more than five minutes, but found Sam standing outside the bathroom door when she opened it.
"Sam," she said annoyed.
"You were gone…"
"Shut up," she said stalking back to the table.
"I told you she'd only get mad," Dean said receiving a glare for his troubles.
"This is stupid," she said pushing her food away.
"Page…"
Dean threw some money on the table and stood. "Let's not talk about this here."
Page followed him to the Impala, leaning against the side as Dean opened the trunk. "Give me a gun."
"Excuse me," Dean said eyeing her skeptically.
"Or some sort of weapon. As much as I enjoy your company," she said eyeing Sam. "There are certain places were I have to be alone."
Sam had the good graces to look embarrassed. Dean on the other hand was shaking his head.
"I don't think so."
"I promise not to shot you, Dean," she said smiling sweetly.
"Funny," he said without humor. "The answer is still no."
"But you can have this," Sam said handing her a flask of holy water.
"Great. I feel so much safer now."
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"Sam, what are we doing?" Page asked, walking a step behind Sam into the empty field behind their motel.
"Just follow me," he said.
Page was about to protest again when he stopped and turned to face her. She eyed him, confused by the amused expression on her face. Suddenly arms came around her from behind.
"What are you going to do now?" Dean asked, his hot breath ghosting along her ear.
"I can think of one thing, but walking could be difficult for you if I do," she said kicking her leg back, but stopping just before making contact.
He laughed. "That's one option."
"Let me show you another," Sam said walking toward her. "Depending upon your attackers height, throwing your head back can cause a broken nose or a split lip. If your attacker is too tall for that, you can throw him."
"Excuse me? How do I throw someone who is bigger than me?" Page asked.
"Dean."
"She has to learn," Dean said without much enthusiasm.
"Step back with your right leg in between Deans legs, and at the same time, throw your upper body forward. Dean's weight will pull him over your shoulder."
Page did as she was told thinking it wouldn't work, and was surprised to find Dean in front of her on his back. "Awesome."
"Yeah, wonderful," Dean said getting to his feet.
The afternoon went on like that, with Dean being the attacker, and Sam the teacher. By the time the sun went down, Page was sore and sweaty, and Dean was in a very bad mood.
Back in the motel room, Page headed straight for the bathroom.
"Don't use all the hot water," Dean called after her.
Sighing, she turned the water on and looked in the mirror. A small bruise was forming under her right eye where she had gone right instead of left, and Dean's fist had connected hard. He'd apologized, and considering how many times she had actually hit him, some of which were definitely on purpose, she wasn't holding it against him.
She let herself soak in the heat of the shower for as long as she thought safe, before quickly toweling off and pulling on sweats and a t-shirt.
"All yours," she said, moving quickly out of the way as Dean shot past her, slamming the door behind him.
"Teaching me those things was not Dean's idea, was it?" Page asked.
"How'd you guess?" Sam said from his spot in front of the computer, sneaking glances at the bathroom door.
"He knows," she said sitting down on her bed.
"Knows what?" Sam asked turning to face her.
"That you're looking."
He quickly turned away. "How would you know?"
"Because I know everything," she said leaning back on her hands. It was the closest she'd come to revealing the truth.
He still wouldn't look at her. "He hasn't said anything."
"This is Dean we're talking about," Page laughed.
He laughed softly and closed the computer just as Dean exited the bathroom.
Dean stopped in the doorway, eyeing the pair. "I miss something?"
Laughter was his answer.
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The next attack, of course, happened on her way to the bathroom. Dean was never going to let her forget that. Stuck in the hallway between a dead end and the demon, Page suppressed the urge to scream. Getting someone else hurt because she called attention to her attacker was not something she was willing to do.
The knife in the man's hand swiped down at her, barely giving her enough timed to duck and roll under his arm. She turned hoping the moves Sam had showed her would work, and kicked him hard in the back of his left leg. He cried out, falling to his knee, giving Page the opening she needed to hit him over the head with the flask the holy water had been in. Just as he was falling, face down to the ground, Sam and Dean ran into the hallway.
"Page?" Sam asked looking from her to the man on the ground.
"Got it covered guys," she said handing Dean the now dented flask. "But holy water just made him mad."
"You sure you're ok?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, but we should leave before he wakes up or someone sees."
"Come on," Dean said gruffly, before storming off.
"Did I do something wrong?" Page asked following Sam out of the diner.
"No, just proved me right, which tends to piss him off," Sam said smiling at her.
"Proved you right? About what?"
"That you could take care of yourself," he said, opening the car door for her.
"I could have told you that," she said sliding into the backseat.
Dean fumed in the front seat, instantly turning the music on and ending all conversation.
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Dean's mood did not improve, and Page was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to trust her. Not that she was giving him any reason to, but with her life literally in their hands, she was hoping for more than contempt.
Sam must have noticed too, because he left her alone with Dean less and less until Page felt a little claustrophobic. Her feelings for Sam were growing, and she was having a hard time hiding them. It didn't help, that Sam was a very touchy feeling guy. It wasn't uncommon for him to slip his arm around her shoulders or touch her hand while he talked, each contact making her stomach lurch and her breath hitch. She didn't know what was going to happen, but getting that close to either of them was not a good idea.
She wouldn't say she was comfortable with the situation, but she had grown content, accepting the fact that she was stuck. She should have known it wouldn't last.
"I'll do it," she said grabbing Sam's bag and heading for the door.
"Page," Sam said.
"Sam, I'm just going to the car," Page said rolling her eyes. "You'll be within screaming distance."
She didn't wait for an answer. The Impala was just out the door, unlocked as they packed to leave, again. Forcing herself not to look behind her, she threw the bags in the backseat and quickly turned to go back inside.
"This is a waste of time, Sam. She's not telling us something, or she's out and out lying. I'm starting to think this book doesn't exist at all," Dean said angrily stuffing his clothes into his bag. Page stood by the door, just out of sight.
"Why would she lie?" Sam asked.
"That's a good question. Why don't we ask her," Dean said eyeing his brother.
"You mean why don't I ask her."
"Whatever," Dean said grabbing his bag and moving toward the door.
Page quickly ran to the Impala, sliding into the backseat just as Dean exited the room. She was angry with herself for letting it go this far. She should have left after the first week, before they spent so much time 'helping' her. Now, she felt like she owed them an explanation, an explanation she couldn't give them. If they knew the truth they'd want her to help, and she wasn't sure she could do that. She'd had more than one fantasy about the Winchesters, but saving them had never crossed her mind. She'd have to leave, and the sooner the better.