Author's Note: Vivi's back, y'all! Welcome to my new story, Family Practice. First of all, I want to thank all of the folks who have started following me and my stories. It's awesome to see that y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Sorry it's taken me so long to post this; I planned to wait a week after IM finished, but the first chapter was slow going and I've been super busy. That's life, right?

Now in case you didn't know, this particular story is a continuation of several plotlines from my previous story titled Internal Medicine. If you haven't read Internal Medicine, I highly recommend it (although I am the author so I'm biased). You might have some trouble with some of the details in this story without that background. I'll do my best to explain confusing elements in this story, but getting it from the plot of IM would be so much more satisfying (in my opinion). So, once again, BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER, if you haven't read Internal Medicine, please do (this chapter has MAJOR SPOILERS for IM). Of course, you can also choose not to. Your choice!

Just a few housekeeping things before we get started. I don't own Supernatural or any of the original characters from the show. However, I have laid claim to the unique situations and plotline I have created. Please don't rip off my original characters! I've rated this story M due to language and some graphic, sometimes violent scenes. I'll put trigger warnings in the Authors Note before each potentially hazardous scene as they come along in the plot. I hope to post a new chapter every week or so.

Now that that's out of the way, here is the first chapter of Family Practice, as promised!

My alarm went off at its usual five a.m. I greeted the twenty-seventh of June, 2010, with a groan before smashing the buttons on my flip phone to turn the annoying ringtone off.

"Is this what zombies feel like?" I muttered to myself as I shuffled over to my dresser. I pulled out a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and downed the recommended dose. Cas and I had gone to the store earlier in the week, secretly, in the middle of the night. He knew I would need things that I couldn't explain to the guys without them finding out and he was willing to help however he could. I didn't much care for how he hounded me about telling them, but his helpfulness was more than appreciated. After tucking the bottle back under a stack of underwear, I shuffled out into the hallway in the dark. The boilers hadn't kicked on; even though it was summer, the bunker ran a chilly fifty five or so degrees because most of it was so far underground. Not that it mattered much to me at this point. Being pregnant has a way of raising your body temperature a few degrees.

With feet chilled by the tile floor, I made my way in the dark to the kitchen. The coffee machine clicked on just as I entered. I glared at it like it had just insulted me. Earlier in the week Cas stopped me in the hall and suggested I stop drinking coffee. He said it was safer that way. I just knew the machine was rubbing it in like it did every single day.

Every morning, I used to get up and set the old machine myself. But Bobby, since he'd been with us for like a week and a half, had gone out and purchased a larger machine, one that could be programmed. Dean played with it for a good half hour before he got it to work and since then it has been the coffee bearer. Predicable and reliable. Just another thing that made me feel obsolete around the bunker.

I grabbed the last granola bar from the bottom cupboard, cringing as I did so. A twinge of pain shot around my flank and I winced. "Damned binding mark." I growled. The thing had done its job, keeping the demon Francesca from escaping me after I tried to kill her, but it still hurt something fierce. I'd carved it deep into my side with my fingernail and it had gotten mildly infected after Francesca tried to escape the police through the woods. She was so weak after I took my body back for a few minutes. Anyway, Dean hadn't seen the bloody mark when he brought me into the dungeon, so dirt and debris sat in there for days before it got treatment. At least he dug the bullet out of my leg before I bled out.

That was a plus. I thought to myself as I shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom. The granola bar slowly made its way into my stomach. It tasted like cardboard, but if I didn't eat it I would get nauseous.

The hot water from the shower felt nice everywhere but on the binding mark and Dean's bullet wound on my calf. By now, I was used to the pain. I was pretty sure my pain tolerance had skyrocketed since knowing the Winchesters.

Glancing down at my body, I realized just how much I hated my scars as of late. I was covered in patterns of wounds varying in color from white to red from the past two months. Here were four thick, pale ridges over my shoulder from where the Wendigo got me just before I found toddler Dean in that mine. Then there was the bullet graze from when we captured Fisher in the woods. Scars all over the bottoms of my feet from when I ran out of the bunker without shoes after Cas spooked the demon remnant in me. A thin scar through my anti-possession tattoo that a shifter with Sam's face had inflicted to let Francesca into my body after I was kidnapped. Scars in the creases of my elbows from IV's being ripped out. A burn scar around my right thumb from where Francesca had been burned when Dean's blessed silver ring came into contact with spilled water at a bar and made holy water under her hands. And bruises, bruises everywhere from shifters, demons, car accidents, exorcisms, rough CPR… Bruises on my thighs that the guys weren't allowed to see because I didn't want them to be suspicious…

On top of all the marks, the demon had dyed my once beautifully brown hair bright blonde. I hated it. I also hated this short bob, but I'd done that to myself after a near run in with the local PD. If they recognized me, they'd have me lethally injected for sure. Francesca's death toll under my hands was 99 souls. I'd felt the lives of 99 people end at my own hands as the demon used my lips to smile.

At least my location warding tattoo was still intact. I knew there were probably more than a few demons still looking for me. Plus, I really liked that one; it was beautiful to me. Cas had the same one on his side. Mine was right above the anti-possession tattoo on my left flank, just under my bra line. The curves and shapes of the Enochian letters fascinated me and were strangely comforting. I was glad Cas wasn't able to carve my ribs like he did Sam and Dean's. If he had, I may have gotten the location tattoo anyway. That reminded me. My anti-possession tattoo was useless at the moment. It had a chunk missing.

"Really need to get this tattoo fixed." I said to myself as I washed my hair, trying to keep the soap out of my wounds. Any little thing I could do to keep control of my own body was worth it as far as I was concerned. Whenever I lost control, my hands ended up taking at least twenty lives. Of course, I'd have to somehow hide the bruises and the healing binding mark from the artist who would be fixing my ink, but I'd pull it off somehow. Blame it all on a car accident or something…

"Your possession tattoo?" I jumped at the voice and got soap in my bullet wound. I sighed as I let the hot water wash it out to stop the burning.

"Sam, you need to use your crutches." I said over the flow of the water. If he'd been using them, I would have heard him come into the shower room. Obviously, he wasn't following the physical therapist's instructions.

"I am. They're just quieter now that I've got the hang of it again." He replied. "You were talking about your possession tattoo, right? We can get that done later today, if you want. There's a place about an hour from here. I've got nothing planned."

"Why are you up so early?" I asked, not even trying to hide my grumpiness.

"I'm trying to get back in a rhythm. Why are you up so early?" He asked. I heard another shower start up.

"I always get up at five, Sam. I have almost every morning since I've known you." I said. "Don't get that brace wet, or the cast."

"You know you can sleep in a little, right? You don't have to be up at five every day. There are no pressing matters to attend to at five in the morning." He said. His voice was muffled; he must have gotten into the other stall by now. I finished up and shut the water off in my own stall before getting dressed with the curtain still drawn. Sam tended not to mind if someone else was using the shower room and come right in; he'd only caught me half-dressed once. After that, I dressed and undressed in the shower stall when the water was off. Dean was a little more careful. He'd barge in too, but he'd keep his eyes on the ground until he knew it was safe.

"It's an old habit." I said. "Why are you trying to get on a rhythm? Your leg heals faster when you're asleep."

"I've been sleeping a lot lately and I'm starting to feel it. I'm achy and I can tell I'm losing muscle mass." Sam said.

I stepped out of my stall and gathered my things, careful to bend in a way that didn't irritate my side too much. "Hey, speaking of muscle mass, do you think I could work out with you guys? I could use the exercise and if I'm going to help out with future hunts, I need to be physically able to contribute."

Sam's shower stopped and I saw him grab his towel before emerging with it around his waist. His brace hung on the towel rack outside the shower, but he was careful to not put any weight on his bad leg as he left the stall. There was a thick plastic bag taped tightly around the cast on his foot. "Ali, you don't seriously think you need to help us on jobs, do you?"

I blushed and tried to control my eyes. Sure, I knew Sam was gorgeous and every time he walked by my door in a towel, the room got a little hotter, but I hadn't really noticed it until I woke up from my trip to Heaven. I was still impressed that Sam, Dean, and Bobby had managed to restart my heart after I went into cardiac arrest. Those few days after Bobby took Francesca out, I had no intention of coming back at all. If I died, she died. Yet somehow I ended up on the floor of the bunker surrounded by three hunters who were smiling like idiots as I gasped for my own breath and beat my own heart.

If Sam was losing muscle mass, I sure couldn't tell. Before I could stop myself, my eyes went to his anti-possession tattoo. Ours were the same, as was Dean's. I had to close my eyes for a second to get them to focus on Sam's face. He was smirking at me. Damn it. "I want to help. You could use a fourth wheel, right? Add a little stability to your tricycle of crazy?" I returned his smile wholeheartedly.

He laughed. "I wouldn't mind you working out with us, but we'd have to ask Dean if you can join us on jobs. It's his car."

"Alright."

"Want to go get that tattoo fixed later?" Sam smiled. He leaned against the wall and reached for his brace.

"I suppose, but only so you'll stop pestering me about it. Are you going that stir crazy already? It's only been a week and a half." I said.

"You have no idea." He said. I could hear the angst in his voice. He and Dean didn't usually butt heads too often in their down time, but his past week had been rough. Bobby and I were trying to get Dean to cut down on his drinking, which made Dean grumpy. Dean was still sick, which made Dean grumpy. Dean felt the need to look after Sam at all hours of the day, which made Sam grumpy, which made Dean grumpy. Grumpy Winchesters made Bobby grumpy and having so many grumpy people breathing down my back made me tense. Maybe a fieldtrip with Sam would quell my nerves.

"When would you like to go?" I asked.

"That depends. You got any plans?" Sam asked.

"I was gonna make breakfast." I shrugged.

"For yourself?"

I rolled my eyes and snorted. "Sam, when have I ever made breakfast just for myself when someone else was awake?"

"Really Ali, we honestly survived years without someone cooking for us all the time. We can make our own breakfasts." Sam said.

"You know why I cook, Sam." I said, folding my arms over my used towel.

"Yeah, yeah. Stress relief." He smirked, somehow pleased with my stubbornness. "Do we have any blueberries?"

"We're actually running low on almost everything. After breakfast, we should probably head to the grocery store. Where is this tattoo place you mentioned?" I asked, strolling towards the door.

"It's, uh, south of Concordia. We could get supplies on our way back." He said. I heard the straps of his brace tighten up as I put my hand on the door.

"It's a date. I'll see you in a few minutes then." I said casually, leaving the shower room and heading for my bedroom to drop off my things.

All we really had left in the kitchen was flour, some butter, a few eggs, and bread. I made do. One by one, the occupants of the bunker made their appearances. Sam first, of course, since he was already up. He was acting jittery though. I wondered if he snuck a cup of coffee behind my back; his medicines from the hip surgery were pretty strong, even by Winchester standards. I didn't want anything interacting with them and making them worse. It was bad enough that my demon had broken most of his toes, dislocated his hip, and nearly ruined his sciatic nerve. Until Cas was charged up again, Sam was under strict orders to follow a good diet, do his physical therapy, keep weight off his leg, and mostly just relax. Needless to say, that was hard for Sam. I could see why he was trying to get back into a normal rhythm.

Bobby came in shortly after Sam arrived, then Dean, then Cas. The days usually started early in the bunker. I really didn't know why. We weren't actively hunting anything; nothing was actively hunting us. Old habits, I guess.

Bobby and Sam started talking about some people I'd never heard of before. It sounded like casual conversation, nothing important. Still, I tried to pick up as many names as I could. Might come in handy someday.

Pastor Jim, Rufus, Ellen, Walt, Jo, Roy, Garth, and Delilah were a few names that I committed to memory. I seemed to remember having heard of Ellen, Delilah, and Jo before, but I couldn't place exactly when I'd heard of them.

"What's the subject of today's discussion?" Dean asked as he sat down next to me with a big pile of pancakes and a cup of coffee that made me gag a little when the scent reached my nose.

"Ellen's thinking about having a pack day down at the farm. Sometime in the next three months or so." Bobby said. "Heard about it when I was callin' around tryin' a find that box we put the demon in."

I flinched a little when he mentioned the demon so casually. Then again, if he hadn't called in some favors and found the box, they'd have sent the demon back to Hell, where she'd have just broken out and come back for me. This way, with her in that little box on the shelf in room 7B, at least she was contained and predictable. And even though she was closer than I'd like her to be, she was farther than ever from getting at my baby. That's all that mattered.

"She hasn't hosted one of those in… years, I think. Sam, d'you remember when Dad took us to a hunter pack?" Dean asked with a smirk on his face.

"Uh, yeah. Bobby about tore him a new one and I had my first drink. Drinks." Sam laughed lightly.

Dean turned to me and spoke in a hushed tone. "He got plastered and almost fell on his hunting knife. Dad carried him out on his shoulder after he found him in the bathroom passed out. Sam was like twelve."

"You were egging me on, dude." Sam said.

"I thought you were the smart one."

"You told me it was just strong soda. The burn is just from the carbonation, Sam. Don't be a little bitch. Remember, you jerk?"

"Needless to say, Dad didn't let us go to another one." Dean said as he sipped his coffee.

"Smart move on his side." Bobby grumbled. "Shouldn't let kids go to those things at all. Too much drinkin' and too many tall tales. Get kids worked up."

"What exactly is a hunter pack?" I asked as Cas pulled up a chair at the end of the table. He was moving more quickly than earlier in the week, but I could tell he was still achy and drained. Some nights he even slept a few hours. I was terrified when I found him sound asleep in one of the old cars in the garage last week, but Dean reassured me that he sleeps when his mojo is really low. His situation was understandable; he only just regained full access to his grace after the witch's curse was broken. Hopefully he would recover soon and fix Sam's leg and Dean's cold. Then the grumpiness in the bunker could settle down.

"It's an event that some hunters put on to bring other hunters around and get their contact info. Mostly we just swap stories and strategies and drink 'til the sun comes up. 'S a good way to meet helpful people. Also a good way to get a kid in serious trouble." Bobby glared at Dean, then Sam, before returning his gaze to me. "Ellen hasn't had one in a few years and I'm past due on updating my contact list. I go to other packs, occasionally, but hers seems to draw the biggest crowd of seasoned pros."

"So it's like a convention?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam shrugged.

"And Ellen is hosting it?"

"'S what I said." Bobby replied.

"Who is Ellen, then?" I asked just before taking a bite of my pancakes.

"Old friend of mine and John's. The boys have worked with her daughter Jo, against Ellen's will." Bobby took a moment to glare at Dean, who was busy with his pancakes. "She owns a plot a land up in Nebraska. Call it the farm, but they don't have any animals. Just an old farmhouse and a big barn out back that they fixed up after their roadhouse and home burned a couple years back. Demons caught up to 'em." He took a long draw on his coffee.

"A friend of ours, Ash, died in the fire." Sam said somberly. "Ellen and Jo lived with us and Bobby in his house for a few weeks while they found a new place and fixed it up."

"Those two months were brutal." Dean shivered. "Had to go through four menstral cycles with two pissy women. Sam and me were hardly there. Worked like crazy to get away from the crazy."

"And left me to defend myself." Bobby grumbled. "Anyway, they fixed up the barn to host weddings and conferences and the like for those uppity folk who enjoy that sort of thing. They convert it to a bar on the weekends. They're both hunters, but that's how they make a living. Seems to be workin' for 'em."

"When did you say the pack was going to be?" Sam asked. "I'd like to add a few numbers to my contacts. The past few weeks made me realize just how few lifelines we actually have."

"Not for a few months, I don't think. Ellen hadn't decided yet when I called her a couple days ago to tell her we resolved the issue. I'll let you know when she picks a date." Bobby said. I was glad he didn't look at me as he said 'issue'. Maybe he didn't completely hate me.

"Good. Thanks." Sam returned to his pancakes. We ate in silence for a few minutes before Dean got up and went to the coffee machine.

"Anybody else want the last cup? We're out after this one." He said, waiting only a second before pouring it in his cup. He was halfway back to the table when he caught sight of my glass of water; we were out of milk. "Did you get any coffee, Li?" He asked.

"No, after that one cup made me almost throw up a few days ago, I just can't stomach it anymore." I shook my head. "Even the smell gets me."

"You sick or something?" He asked as he sat down. "You've been acting kinda weird since that book cracked you over the head."

I tried to stop the blush from rushing to my cheeks but I failed. The book had hit my head in the Cas-quake when the angel got his mojo back from the witch's binding spell. He pulled me aside after that to tell me I was pregnant. I had a feeling that if I looked at Cas right now, I'd be able to read the phrase 'tell them' in his eyes. Luckily, I'd somehow gotten him to promise not to spill the beans himself. He could pester me all he wanted; I wasn't going to tell them about the baby until I was sure that's what I had to do. In the meantime, I simply looked down at my pancakes and shook my head. "I feel fine."

"Maybe it's the soul thing?" Sam piped up.

I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped Cas wouldn't break his promise to not tell them about the baby. He'd seen it as a blur before he got his mojo back and told everyone that my soul had gotten brighter. Why wouldn't they just leave the subject alone like I'd already asked several times? "Maybe. But I feel fine. Just because my soul is a little brighter doesn't mean anything is wrong. I thought we agreed to forget about it."

"Right. Sorry." Sam said. He stood and Dean grabbed his plate, putting it under his own before Sam could attempt to take it to the sink. "I can wash my own plate, Dean."

"I can wash it too, Sam." Dean said, taking another big bite of pancake.

Sam rolled his eyes and looked at me. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Ready for what?" Cas asked.

"We're going to fix my tattoo today. And we need groceries. Badly." I said as I finished up my own meal.

"May I suggest an additional tattoo, Allison? It will help with your soul situation." Cas said, his voice casual but his eyes full of that classic intensity.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? Draw it out for me, I'll take it to the artist. See what they can do." I washed my plate and put it away. Sam clicked out to the library on his crutches while I had my back turned.

"When do you plan to leave, Allison?" Cas asked. He was busy scrawling out the tattoo design on some paper he'd found.

"I don't know. Nothing will be open for a few hours still. I was gonna go do some reading."

"What're you reading?" Dean asked.

"Uh, just more demon stuff." I said quickly. Actually, it was the truth. Know your enemy, right? I just didn't want to tell him that I was looking into whether or not demons or witches could track fetuses. I had no idea if my baby was completely safe inside me. Hopefully my location warding would keep both of us safe, but I wanted to be sure.

"Sounds about right." Dean said, joining me at the sink. "Why so jumpy?"

"Dean, you've seen me when I'm jumpy. I'm not jumpy today." I said firmly, trying to quell my nerves. "I haven't even had coffee."

"Yeah, I don't know about that. You still seem uneasy."

"Maybe it's all these testosterone fueled hunters breathing down my neck." I muttered to myself.

"I heard that." Dean said, smiling at me as he washed Sam's plate. "We're gonna get Bobby's house back in a few weeks, once Cas can fix Sam's leg. That'll be at least five percent of the testosterone gone."

"What're you talkin' about, boy?" Bobby snapped from the table. He must have excellent hearing.

"You heard me." Dean grinned like a kid.

"I've got more testosterone in my little finger than you do in your whole body, kid." Bobby said, putting his plate on the counter next to the sink. "Take care of that, kid."

Dean just laughed and added the plate to the sink. Bobby skulked out of the room. I saw this as my opportunity. Dean was in a relatively good mood for once.

"Hey, Dean. I have a question for you." I said, leaning against the counter next to him.

"I have an answer for you." He said, scrubbing at a particularly sticky plate.

"Can I start working out with you guys? I want to be able to help out on jobs and I'm tired of getting hurt all the time." I said quickly. Chancing a quick glance at Cas, I saw him look up from his sketch to send me a wary look. I broke eye contact before Dean noticed.

Dean looked at me with concern plastered on his face. "You don't have to help us on jobs, Li. We can handle ourselves."

"I know that. It's just… I want to help. I feel like a bump on a log staying here all the time knowing I could help you guys with cases." I said.

"You can help us from here. We need a good nerd on call."

"But I want to go with you. I hate being left alone." I crossed my arms, but it felt more like a hug than a gesture of strength.

Dean looked down at me again with a more appraising look on his face. I had a feeling that I knew what was coming next. "You can work out with us, but if you wanna come on jobs, you'll have to pass some tests." He finished washing the dishes and dried his hands. "If you don't pass them, you don't come along. We can't afford to keep one eye on the bad guy and one eye on you all the time."

I smiled; my prediction had been spot on. Dean was all about tests. Granted those tests were usually nearly impossible to pass on the first try, but at least they were doable. "That's what I'm saying. I want to help."

"It'll be hard. We're not gonna go easy on you just because you're a girl." Dean said. It sounded like a warning.

"I know."

"And it'll hurt, the training at least. Aching muscles, bruises, cuts, probably a few black eyes. You'll be bone tired for at least two weeks." He turned away and coughed hard into his elbow a few times before sniffing his nose and turning back to me, both nose and eyes now red. He crossed his arms in front of him and looked down at me with that same appraising look.

"I understand." I said, not daring to glance at Cas.

"You can quit any time, but once you quit you can't take it back up. No second chances, just like the real world."

"Got it. When do we start?" I asked with a confident grin.

Dean's smirk had a little devious pleasure in it. "Right now."

A/N: Well, that was the beginning of Family Practice! Let me know what you think. Questions, comments, casual remarks- all are welcome in the reviews! I love hearing from you and it only takes a second (Guests can review too, by the way)!