Sam's hands were gripped tight on the steering wheel, knuckles clenched until they were white and pale as another muffled moan sounded through the backseat. My eyes wavered, continually switching focus between Sam and Dean. The chilling groans of pain had started not long ago, along with a dark blue glow and a wavering drone of spine-chilling shrieking. The hairs on the back of my neck raised with each sound that came from the winged man, from Dean.

A quick glance at the phone showed that it would only be another ten minutes until we reached Singer's Salvage. Thankfully though, Dean's wounds had stopped bleeding short time ago, and I no longer needed to crawl around the back to keep the necessary pressure on them.

Surprisingly, I had learned earlier that Sam and Dean's closest family friend lived in Sioux Falls, which wasn't too far away from my home, not even an hour's drive. Although I initially had doubts of accompanying Sam and Dean, the knowledge that I would be back home before my curfew eased your mind.

Earlier on the drive, the three of us had spoken, well, more like Sam and Dean talked, more about what being a hunter was like and the basics of how they lived. It sounded very rough and probably was.

My hands fidgeted over a small gray device, occasionally flipping it open and checking the time, even though your watch was secure on your wrist. I had debated calling my parents, but choose not to. They thought I was at that stupid party anyway. I wanted to help the brothers, but you didn't want to get grounded because of it. Even if you weren't home in time, I could tell my parents that I was staying at a friend's house overnight since it was a weekend.

They never paid any attention to who I hung out with anyway.

The quiet hum of the van's engine droned low, barely heard as I realized that I hadn't heard any loud sounds from Dean in a few minutes. I turned around in my seat, looking into the back of the vehicle. Dean's wings were unbound, having come out of the loosely tied bindings. The blond-haired man was laying on his stomach, wings tucked around him, the blankets and towels configured into a nest of sorts, and his head pillowed on your backpack. His mouth was open, left cheek pressed against the canvas of your bag. Soft snoring was able to be heard if you listened carefully.

Snickering at the sight of the man who was surely at least ten years older than me sleeping in such an odd way, I remembered my Nokia phone also had a camera. Flipping it open, I snapped a quick picture to show Sam once we got to "Bobby's" house.

I gazed around as Sam steered the van into a smaller dirt road, passing wrecked cars, scrap heaps and a rusted sign with the words "Singer Auto Salvage" spelled out in dusty letters. Dirt and rocks crunched under the tires as the van continued forward.

The vehicle coasted to a stop, and although the sun still blocked out by the clouds, I could still see the old cobalt house the van halted in front of. Although the paint was peeling higher up, and rusted cars surrounded it, the small amount of vegetation around the house was trimmed, and the small porch free of dust and grime, with the white framed windows that were decently clean. Although dried leaves still lay on the dirt road from last fall, it was fairly well kept. For a junkyard that is.

I turned to Sam, forehead wrinkling and a frown pulling the corners of my mouth once we pulled to a stop, as I reached out to tap his shoulder.

"Alright. Which one of us is going to get Dean up?" With a small flinch, Sam looked at me, attempting to cover up his reaction as his mouth twitched in a half smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"I'll do it. We don't know how he's going to react waking up like this. Can you go and knock on the door? We'll need Bobby's help to get Dean inside." Confused with his reaction to my touch, but refusing to show it, I nodded.

"Got it." The door slammed behind my back as I jumped out of the van, my slight 5'4 frame approaching the front door of the building, two stories of faded blue paneling and chimney towering over me. I jumped up the three steps, and rapped my knuckles on the wood three times, turning once I did so to see Sam pulling the side door of the van open, only to have my face drenched in cool water when I spun back towards the door.

Blinking furiously to clear my eyes, hand swiping down my cheeks in an attempt to rid my face of the liquid covering it, I peered incredulously through blurry eyes to see a bearded man in rough flannel and a ball cap standing in front of me.

"What the hell was that?!" I glared at him, my gaze accusing. "I've already gotten soaked once today, I didn't need a freaking bath before coming inside if that's what you were thinking!" His expression cleared as he stared at me, before grabbing my hand and jerking a knife against it, slicing a small cut onto my arm, not far from old scars from when I was younger.

A yelp escaped my mouth as the man restrained my other arm when I tried to hit him in retaliation. With an expression like that of a kicked dog, I twisted my arm away once his grasp loosened, retreating to Sam once I was free, and hid behind his massive frame. Hissing in pain, I punched Sam.

"What was that?! Your friend cut me!" I cringed, salty water still dripping from my face as I peered out from in between Sam's side and the white side of the van. The taller Winchester bent down to where I was unzipping my backpack, his calloused hands gentle as he pulled my arm towards his body to check the cut. He turned his head towards the man that you now glared at, his expression an odd mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"Couldn't that have waited for until we got inside Bobby? Did you actually think we would have brought someone dangerous with us?" Sam shook his head as he pulled the already depleted first aid kit over, cleaning the cut and sticking a bandage over it, all the while not looking at my questioning and angry face.

"You know I can't take that chance boy." Bobby replied "Not with how the world is going to hell right now. You didn't really mention having checked her already when you called."

Sam sighed, his expression apologetic when green-hazel eyes met mine. His mouth pursed into a tight line as he glanced in between me and Bobby.

"Rani, this is Bobby, he's the friend"- I held up a hand, my visage hurt but focused, to interrupt his apology as I saw Dean's bleary gaze watching us both, the pupils of his eyes engulfed in a golden light. "Whatever, let's just get Dean inside. He's awake."

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading this far! Please keep in mind that this story is being continually edited, so it doesn't hurt to go back and re-read. Please let me know if there's anything that I need to fix.

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Thank you again!

-WD617