A/N: Howdy!

Ok, I was determined to post this chapter tonight (even though technically it's twenty to one in the morning here right now lol)

I told you this was going to be short :) I think it's going to be about five chapters, give or take, and I've got the third one written too. I don't think it'll be too much longer until it's finished. I just needed to satisfy my little muse and plot bunnies before they threatened to spew all over everything else in my brain haha

Right, I'm about to go to the land of nod. It would lovely to wake up to some reviews, good or bad...Hint hint lol Please, do let me know what you think though! The feedback is always hugely appreciated x

Peace,

xoloveJBox

Chapter Two

The sun had risen by the time Sam fell asleep. Light flooded in through the cheap curtains, and I stifled a yawn. After a few hours, Sam's tears had died down to angry, exhausted hiccups. His grip had loosened, his desperation to stay grounded had faded, and I'd been able to let go of him a little. Now he was asleep with his head on my lap, his hand still in mine, and I carded my fingers lightly through his hair. Dean was sat on the opposite bed. Neither of us had slept, each vowing to stay awake with Sam, and a little while after Sammy had succumbed to his fatigue, Dean had switched on the TV. I'd growled at him, not wanting to risk even a chance of waking Sam up, and he'd quickly flicked it off again before I could bare my teeth.

"Well," Dean finally sighed, breaking the suffocating silence that had fallen over us "We should get out of here pretty soon."

"We'll wait until Sam wakes up, see what he wants us to do." I replied coolly, continuing to ghost my hand over Sam's head as he snored almost inaudibly.

"His girlfriend just died; he won't know what he wants." Dean retorted. We both held our breaths as Sam shifted, pulling away from me and turning over. I thought that he might have stirred, so I waited until I was sure he was still asleep before I got up and gratefully stretched out sore, tensed-up muscles. I could feel Dean's eyes ion me as I quietly walked across to my bag, grabbed my hairbrush and pulled it through my hair.

"I'm going to get Sam some clothes. I'll grab breakfast on the way back." I told him firmly, ignoring the comment. Dean, however, didn't seem ready to let it go.

"Elena," he grumbled at me in a warning tone.

"He's not four Dean," I sighed, refraining, just about, from rolling my eyes "Look, just see what he says, and if you don't think he's in the right headspace, we'll do whatever you think."

Dean scrutinised me for a long minute, apparently looking for a lie in my face, and nodded. I rubbed my eyes tiredly.

"She was on the ceiling Dean." I whispered. The fact had been playing over in my mind for hours, and I couldn't ignore it any longer.

"I know." Dean answered quietly, his brow creasing in a frown.

"You think it was a demon?" I asked gingerly. Dean simply shrugged. "You think it was the demon?" I asked the question, but I wasn't completely sure I wanted to know the answer. Dean seemed to know what I was thinking, so he didn't give me one, and I was grateful.

"You should grab some Z's for a while before Sam wakes up." Dean suggested, and I could tell from the dark circles under his eyes that that was what he planned to do. I considered it for a second and shook my head.

"They'll be plenty of time to sleep when Sam has some clothes." I answered with a small, weary smile. I grabbed my jacket and went to leave, but Dean's voice made me turn again. When I did, Dean tossed me the keys to the impala, and I grinned gratefully. I would have walked, but driving would make things so much easier and quicker. As soon as I got in Dean's car, I rolled down both the front windows and as I drove out the parking lot and along the main road, the sharp, cold breeze cleared my head and woke me up. It was needed and appreciated, especially since the roads were pretty clear from the early hour.

I started to spot stores along the street, and I began to put myself in Sam's way of thinking.

If I was Sam, where would I shop?

I wanted to get Sam clothes that were at least similar to the ones he would have bought for himself in the years since he'd left for college. I saw a few potential places, but they were either too high-end or low cost. Sam would have wanted to blend in as much as possible-it was what he had always wanted, more than anything, to be normal- and clothes which were too expensive or cheap would have made him stick out like a sore thumb. I had to drive around for a little longer, but it was worth it because I found the perfect place. I parked just as a short, stout woman was reaching up to unlock the door. She grinned warmly at me, but I wasn't exactly in the smiley mood, and she must have seen it in my face because she quickly lowered her gaze and scurried away as I walked in.

I hated shopping for myself, so shopping for someone else- my brother, no less- was horrific. However, if I knew Sam as well as I thought I did, regardless of whether or not we'd spent the last four years apart, this was probably the exact place Sam bought his clothes, because everything in there screamed Winchester. I could have chosen any item in the store and pictured it perfectly on either one of my brothers or my Dad. It made my job a lot easier; it meant that I only had to search out the right sizes to know that Sam at least wouldn't hate them. I liked to think that my fashion sense had been improved from Taylor's influence, but I suspected that it wouldn't take me long to lapse into the simplicity that my best friend had all but beaten out of me when it came to choosing clothes. She had obviously never tried hunting a Wendigo or a vampire in a skirt. Well, neither had I, but I imagined that it would prove quite difficult.

I could feel the sales assistants eyeing me curiously as I pulled item after item from the racks, and after another minute or two, one of them sidled up to me, an overly sweet beam on her face.

"Can I help you sweetheart?" she cooed, and I scowled. I hated pet names. The only people who could get away with it were Sam and Dean, and there wasn't much that they couldn't get away with. I plastered on a stupid grin and chimed a reply.

"No, thank you."

She seemed a little surprised when I simply carried on piling clothes over my arm. After a while, she scurried away and they continued to watch me shop.

As much as I hated it, the store was a haven in the situation. I got everything I needed; t-shirts, sweatpants, jeans, hoodies, underwear and a decent pair of boots. By the time I was done, I could barely see over the pile in my arms, and the employees almost looked relieved when I put everything on the counter. As the same overly perky woman started tallying up the cost of my items, I spotted a display of duffel bags, and I gratefully grabbed a good sized one of those too, adding it to my already bountiful purchase. I barely flinched when she told me the total cost, and pulled out one of the credit cards I had for emergencies and paid.

I really thought that I was going to have to make two trips to get everything in the car, but I just about made it, and the backseat was barely visible underneath all the bags. There was a warm sense of satisfaction knowing that a large portion of what I needed to do was done. I was even polite to the guy behind the counter in the diner when I got there a few minutes later. I didn't know what Sam would feel like eating, if he wanted to at all, so I got a bit of everything. When I kept adding things to my order, the pimply teen who served me looked like I'd just suggested we sail to France on a surfboard, but he bagged it all up and took my money anyway. I even accepted his offer to help me take it all to the car. The place was dismally empty, and he was too adorable to say no to.

"Nice car." He whistled as I reached out to take the tray of coffees from him.

Growing up around hunters, who mostly had seen too much crap for niceties, had left me with an appreciation for strangers who appeared to have a capacity to be pleasant, even if it was only a compliment on a car. Since the impala was a particular source of pride, even though it wasn't even my car, I would have usually at least attempted to make small talk with him, but I was too tired, and there were too many things going on. I thanked him and got into the car, trying to ignore the kicked puppy look on his face as I drove away.

I planned to go straight back to the motel after that. I really did, and it was simply a chance that I ended up taking the route that I did. It took a few seconds to register, but when it clicked in my head it seemed like the obvious thing to do.