Chapter 2
It had been a long drive back to the bunker. They hadn't been planning on returning that night but the situation had forced a change. Grabbing their gear left in the musty little hotel room, they chucked it into the Impala and hit the highway more on edge and afraid than they had been before wiping that vamp nest out.
During the thirty minute drive back to the motel, they had carefully questioned and attempted to soothe an obviously terrified Lily. She had been snatched from the bar where they had been watching the vampires but Sam and Dean had figured that out quickly and tracked her down within a few hours.
It didn't seem like enough time for anything traumatic to happen. However, it became clear that her memory loss was authentic and profound- she kept forgetting her own name.
They had explained who she was; who they were; what they did as delicately as they could but even then they knew it must have sounded insane and deeply horrifying. Despite the panic she was feeling and the doubt that dripped off her heavier than sweat, the physical toll of the ordeal took hold and she eventually slumped against Dean and nodded off. Deep, sound sleep covered over, leaving her looking simple and peaceful.
"Sam," he whispered hoarsely, reassured that Lily just snuggled into his jacket a little deeper.
"Yeah," Sam mumbled softly looking sideways at his brother.
"Man, what are we going to do?" he asked as he glanced down at Lily.
"I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. They were just vampires; nothing unusual or weird about them. When we get home, I want to look her over if we can- see if there are any marks or sigils anywhere," Sam explained, looking carefully at what he could see of her.
"She seems pretty freaked out man, I don't know if she wants us anywhere near her," Dean said, the sight of her scurrying away from him still stinging in his mind.
"Well, she seems to be comfortable with you, at least on a subconscious level," Sam smiled as he watched Lily's sleeping hand clutch onto the loose leather jacket like it was holding her to reality. Dean shifted a little to put her head at a more comfortable angle on his shoulder. His heart fluttered a little when she reached her other hand over and rested it on his jeans. A gesture that had been done a thousand times but right now it meant more than it ever had.
"Besides, she still has her knife on her, so the silver would be burning her up if she were shifter," Dean added. Sam reached a long finger over and pulled at the collar of her shirt. There, just under the strap of her tank top, her anti-possession tattoo was complete and unbroken. Both brothers eyed it, knowing that put them even further in the dark.
Three hours later the sun was starting to creep over the horizon as Dean guided the old muscle car through the little winding driveway that led to the well-hidden garage door of the bunker. Pressing an olive green button clipped to the ashtray, a black door slid open. Grinding from the motor creaked over the roar of the engine, rousing the sleeping girl. Blinking blearily a few times, it took a moment before remembrance dawned on her along with a look of fear which made a fist clench around both men's stomachs.
"Hey, Lil. We're home," Sam said softly. She looked at the well-lit long garage lined with different types of vehicles and the odd gun strapped to the wall. Her eyes then slid down her appearance and she paled under the soft brown curls wreathing her face.
"Lily- how is your leg?" Dean asked, looking at the large gash across her knee that was crusted over with dried blood. Stretching her leg experimentally she winced at the first movement. Without asking, Dean turned and slid both arms under her easily, lifting her as delicately from the car as he could. Her body language was stiff and guarded.
Sam followed Dean through the door, into the kitchen and down the left hallway to the little bathroom that the brothers used to treat injuries. The counter was lined with sterile fluid, gauze and bandages as well as an assortment of gleaming clean instruments. Again, Lily squirmed tensely in his arms when she saw the room that must look threatening.
"We just want to patch you up," he murmured softly, trying to reassure her. She looked intently at his face, as if trying to see a picture when there was nothing but blank space. Even she caught the hard edge that set to his jaw as he bit back the hurt.
Bending to sit her carefully on the edge of the large bathtub, he squatted down and pulled at the laces on her boots, reddish mud cracking and drifting onto clean tile. Once free of the boots and socks, he attempted to roll up the hem of her pants. When she sucked in a sharp breath, he stopped. Pausing a moment, he then reached into his back pocket and flipped out a short blade. She gripped the edge of the tub, maybe she didn't even realize that she had. Choosing to ignore it, he quickly ran the blade up the side of her pants to the middle of her thigh and pulled the crusted fabric away from her swollen knee.
"This is a pretty wide gash. It'll heal better if I put a few stitches through it," Dean leveled a soft stare up at her. Already pale, she blinked a few times, Taking a deep breath she shut her eyes and nodded. Not wanting her to second guess him, he quickly gathered what he needed and set about cleaning and patching up her wound. A small sigh of relief escaped him when she didn't react to the holy water.
In that time, Sam joined them in the bathroom with a set of clean clothes that looked much too small for him.
"I grabbed you some clothes, Lil. Do you need help getting cleaned up?" it was a casual question they had asked a thousand times when they knew the other had been banged up pretty hard. But Lily didn't know that and it showed on her face. He quickly backpedaled and set the garments down before making a hasty exit.
"He didn't mean anything by it," Dean muttered without looking up from his task. "You're like a sister to him; have been for years," when Sam and Dean has explained who they were and what they did, they left out the details of their relationships. Hearing that you're a demon-killing, monster hunter was probably enough for the moment.
She seemed to think for a moment before speaking.
"So- we're not related?" she ventured. Despite himself, Dean smirked and shook his head.
"No- we're not," he replied, tugging the last thread through her knee. She couldn't remember her own name but that hadn't changed the fact that she had one of the highest thresholds for pain that Dean had ever known. Little droplets of blood were creeping down her sterile leg from where he had just sewn seven stitches into her skin and she had barely flinched or tensed.
"Well, all patched up. I'll leave so you can clean up," as he stood he noticed that Sammy had grabbed his Zepplin t-shirt that Lily always slept in and he smiled. He was at the door when she spoke.
"Dean?" Turning he looked softly at her. She had shrugged off the dirty flannel and it laid in a heap on the ground. She had the holster and pistols in her hand; placing them uneasily on the floor faraway from her.
"Thank you… for patching me up… and, you know, saving my life," she smiled for the first time since they had found her in that nest. A real smile that made the freckles on her cheeks crinkles and her soft brown eyes glitter with light spots of yellow glinting like stars. He knew he flushed at the sight of it so he nodded, returning the smile and softly shutting the door.
"How is she?" Sam asked, handing him a beer as he walked into the kitchen. Twisting the top off he took a long drink.
"Not bad. Few stiches. I didn't see any burns or marks but I didn't - check," he finished lamely.
"We should call Cas," Sam said. Dean nodded and closed his eyes. Within a few seconds, there was a soft whooshing sound. Standing in their large clean kitchen was a slim, dark framed man in a clean suit and trenchcoat. He had a simple, innocent look on his face as he took in the road worn and heart sick look of the brothers.
"What happened?" he said in a thick gravelly voice.
