Chapter 2
A slight jostling of your surroundings pulled you from your comfortable darkness. Light, but concerned conversation was happening around you but everything was still so fuzzy, and your head hurt so much. Finally fluttering your eyes open confusion bloomed in the pit of your stomach; all too soon it was replaced by fear. Where the hell am I? Your breathing was becoming erratic, and you struggled to keep yourself under control.
"Well Dean we couldn't just leave her" someone whispered from the front seat of a car you had just realized you were in.
"I know that Sammy but we coulda just dropped her at the next town" the driver strained back in a gravely voice causing you to wince.
"No Dean she's tiny and and one could have taken advantage of her!" the passenger hissed back straining his voice.
Your heart was racing at their conversation; they sounded so mad. Fear continued to blossom, but you bit your bottom lip desperately trying to keep yourself from crying out in terror. It was in vain though as their strained whispers stopped and the driver gave a yell ripping a yelp of fear from your throat.
"Shit" the driver whom you assumed was Dean said under his breath.
Swiveling around in his seat the tall man gazed into your eyes with concern. Okay not what you expect from a machete wielding murderer.
"Hi, how ya feelin?" Sam questioned brow knitted in question.
Lips tightening in a line you glared into the woolly blanket covering your knees there is no way you are making idle conversation with a murderer even if they saved your life.
"Hey shorty" Dean called from the driver's seat "we aren't gunna hurt you, you lost a lot of blood to that vamp and you gotta recuperate"
"W- why are you helping me?" you questioned shakily not taking your eyes off your blanket covered form.
"Well we aren't murderers if that's what you're wondering" Sam quipped with a small throaty chuckle.
"Almost but not really" chuckled Dean; eyes focused on the road ahead.
An hour later and you were still staring now in disbelief at your knees. It made a lot of sense the whole crazed stranger wanting to make "a snack" out of you, but at the same time it made no sense at all; only crazy people believed in this shit.
"Nope" you said plainly looking up to stare sternly into Sam's face.
"What?" they said in unisone. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the naughing fear still inside your stomach
"What do you mean what" you shouted angrily "no one has ever refused to believe your lunacy"
"U-um no not really" Sam replied with a surprised smirk. "Not often anyways"
"Listen kiddo that ain't no hickey on yer neck so get over it and move on" Dean grumbled from his glare trained on the road ahead.
Huffing in annoyance you continued "even if this is all real why doesn't everyone know about it?"
"Most people either aren't affected by it or dismiss it as haux" Sam reasoned.
"Fine it's real then, so what's the plan?" you asked still slightly annoyed.
"While you lost a lot of blood so we were thinking about getting you some food and taking you home" you tensed immediately at Sam mentioning your home.
You didn't want to go back there. Sure it was where your whole life was, but it wasn't much of a life. If you came back almost a day later with two strange men there was no telling how he might react. After all Emmett wasn't the forgiving type; he wasn't really any sort of giving type he only took. But what could your do? You couldn't leave you wouldn't make it on your own.
Glancing up the window of the backseat you sighed agreeing to the food, and ignored the questioning look Sam gave you at your nervous body language. The outside world whipping past as the car rumbled along some godforsaken road, these roads to nowhere were a dime a dozen around here.
"By the way, when we get to the next truck stop we'll have a friend look you over make sure you're okay inside and out" Dean mentioned.
"I don't want to be a bother I'm really fine" you answered meeting his green eyes in the rearview mirror.
"You lost a lot of blood to that bastard now don't argue and get some rest" he glowered roughly.
Turning in the bench seat you threw the wool blanket over your shoulders and snuggled into the leather of the backseat. He was right of course the attack had taken a tool on you; you were tired and aching all over from the struggle. Letting your eyes flutter closed you inhaled deeply letting the old cars sent hit your nose; it smelled of musky guy smell with a faint whiskey and burger grease hinted in the background. The smell was comforting and along with the rumbling engine lulled into a comfortable sleep.