"What do you think is going to happen to her?" Sam asked his brother, in a low voice. In the backseat, Addy was asleep with her head resting against the window.
"I dunno," Dean replied. "I guess she'll go and live with family or something."
"What's she going to tell them?"
"She won't have to tell them anything. The police will handle it."
But Sam was still worried. "We have to keep her with us, until we find the rest of the demons. In case they try to finish her off too. You know that, right?"
"Of course I know that," Dean replied gruffly. "And we'll need her help to find those bastards."
They lapsed into a short silence. Sam glanced into the rear view mirror, looking at the girl. "How old do you think she is?" he asked his brother. His brother wasn't the one that answered though.
"I'll be eighteen in a month," Addy said, still not opening her eyes.
Sam looked away from the mirror, embarrassed.
For the next few miles no one said anything. Then Dean broke the silence.
"Addy, we need you to tell us what happened tonight. We need to know everything you can tell us."
"Dean," Sam said warningly. In the back of the car Addy opened her eyes.
"I don't – I don't want to think about it," she murmured.
Before Sam could stop him Dean was saying harshly, "I know you don't want to think about it. But it doesn't change the fact that there could be more demons out there ready to track you down or murder another family. So we need to know what happened if we want to stop them."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "It really started about a week ago. I came home one day and the stuff in my room was moved around. I figured my mom…" At the mention of her mother a tear rolled down the girl's cheek and Sam felt a pang of sympathy for her. He'd lost his mom when he was a baby, before he even really knew her. But Addy… Addy had spent nearly eighteen years with her parents. Eighteen years in which she grew to love and depend on them.
And she'd witnessed their deaths.
"I figured she had been cleaning," Addy continued. "But then, the next day I was walking home and I was sure I saw someone watching me. But every time I tried to get a good look at them they were gone. I thought I was going crazy." She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself. "Tonight, I was in my room when heard my mom scream." The tears were pouring down her face. "I ran out into the living room and there were three of those… things. My dad ran in behind me and tried to tackle one of them… but it… it stabbed him in the head.
"My mom screamed and started to run, but another one stabbed her again and again and I tried to get out of there, but it threw me back. It didn't even really touch me, I don't think, but I was flying through the air. I hit the wall and the other two just vanished. And the one that was left cut my arm and I think it was going to kill me, but that's when you got here and…" she inhaled once again. "And that's what I remember."
Sam's mind was churning and he could see his brother thinking as well. The monster they had seen hadn't appeared too be anything unique; just another demon after innocent lives. There didn't seem to be a motive that would draw them to that particular family. It was completely random as far as they knew. It could have happened to anyone.
But it had happened to this girl. And she had lost everything because of it.
No one said anything. They just drove.
- - -
When we finally stopped driving, Dean had parked in front of a motel. We all got out and he unlocked the door to room 237, beckoning me through the door as well. Inside there were two beds, a table, and a TV that had to be more than a little past its prime. There was a big mirror and a sink outside a door that I was guessing led to one of those too-small bathrooms.
Sam shut and locked the door behind us before taking in my bloody shirt and matted hair.
"You'll probably want to shower," he said. Then, "The cut on your arm doesn't look like it needs stitches so you can clean it and then I'll bandage it for you." He paused before rummaging around in a suitcase on the floor, finally extracting a light blue t-shirt. "And, since your shirt right now is a little… well, macabre, you can have this."
He tossed the shirt to me and I caught it, muttering, "Thanks."
I went to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. After I had washed my hair and cleaned the area around my still bleeding wound I dried off and pulled on my jeans and Sam's shirt.
When I re-entered the main room both brothers were reading a large, leather bound book. They glanced up at me and Sam grabbed a stack of small gauze pads and a roll of what looked like athletic tape from the table they were seated at.
Standing up and starting towards me he regarded the cut on my arm again. It continued to bleed, but it wasn't gushing or anything dramatic like that.
"Looks like I'm not going to bleed to death," I joked weakly. He smiled.
"I think we can rule that out." I held my arm out for him and he pressed the gauze pads against the wound before wrapping the tape around my arm twice. He ripped the end of the tape and stuck it down before examining his handiwork. "I think that'll work."
I traced the bandage with my fingers and said, "Thank you."
"You can go to sleep if you want," Sam offered.
I shook my head. I didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to dream.
"We just saved your life," Dean said from where he sat at the small, round table. He sounded annoyed. "You can trust us."
"It's not that," I told him, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds. "I just don't want to fall asleep." I must have been convincing enough because Sam just shrugged.
The boys went back to discussing something about summoning the rest of the demons and exorcising them and, at some point, I did drift off. Only, when I did, I kept seeing my father and mother as they were murdered. I saw the hooded figure turn toward me, knife in hand.
I woke with a start to a dark room. For a second, I thought I was alone, and I was scared. But as I sat up, pushing the covers that someone had put over me off, I saw that Dean was sound asleep in the second bed and, on the floor between the two beds, Sam's face was buried in a pillow.
Slowly, I eased myself down under the covers again. But I didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to see my dead parents. Instead, I watched Sam's chest move up and down with each breath.
- - -
