A/N: Vivi here! Welcome back to Family Practice. I've been hard at work building up the plot for this story, but you wouldn't know because the scenes I've been working on are so far into the story already! I really think you're gonna like 'em. Anyway, here's this week's installment, titled Loopholes and Tight Jeans.

Four hours later, my arms gave out under me and my face contacted the cement floor. I was nearly in tears; my arms and abs ached, my feet were killing me in my old shoes, and I was pretty sure I lost at least a gallon of sweat already.

"Come on, Princess. Is that all you got?" Dean goaded from a few feet away as he powered through the remainder of his pushups with ease. After a few seconds, he got up and stood over me, grinning like a fool. I looked up at him and scowled. "Don't look at me like that. You asked for this."

"I did, and I'll finish as soon as I can move my arms again." I growled, willing my arms to take their position under my body once more.

"Oh, but the black dog already tore the muscle from your leg. You're dead meat now." Dean said, coughing lightly.

"Shut up, dude. This is my first time. You do this every freaking day. And there're no black dogs in America."

"Sure there are. There's one in Connecticut and a bunch in Latin America." He said as he paced around me. I'd managed to resume the pushups, but they were slow going and much more difficult than I'd imagined. My arms burned with the effort of pushing up my own weight.

"Then why hasn't anyone taken them out?" I panted.

"They're mostly just death omens. And usually people don't mark the location where they bury their pets, if those black dogs even had owners. Those suckers are hard to kill." Dean said.

I finished my reps and sat back on my heels, my arms feeling like noodles. "Is it done? Are we done yet?"

Dean smiled and offered a hand to help me up. I felt unsteady on my feet and leaned against the wall of the range/exercise room as he spoke. "Yeah, it is your first day after all. I'll go easy on you, just for now."

"This was easy?" I balked.

"Yeah. Just wait until tomorrow." He winked at me before turning and leaving. I closed my eyes and wondered why I ever thought this was a good idea.

It was difficult to get back to the library. There were a few steps in my way, which I walked over like a drunken giraffe. Sam laughed when he saw me enter. He still hadn't stopped laughing when I fell into the chair opposite him.

"What's so funny?" I glared at him, feeling my abs and arms throb with every beat of my heart.

He caught his breath and tried to stop the flood of laughter. "First day, huh? I take it Dean's onboard?"

"Yeah, but I have to pass his tests." I shrugged. "Better than outright refusal."

"Oh man." He finally managed to get the giggles under control. "So, are you gonna shower before we go or what?"

"Oh, right, we were gonna go do stuff. Let me sit a while. I can't really feel my legs at the moment." I folded my arms on the table and let my head rest on them. Slowly, the feeling, or aching, rather, returned to my legs. They still felt like noodles, but at least now I could probably make it to the shower room and back without falling.

"We don't have to go if you aren't up for it." Sam said after I heaved a long sigh.

"No, we need groceries. And the sooner I get this tattoo fixed, the better." I said, standing.

"Want to use my crutches?" Sam asked with a grin.

"No." I grumbled. On unsteady feet, I stumbled to my bedroom, gathered my things, and then proceeded to stumble to the shower room. Washing all the sweat away and cooling off felt great. If only the water could make my muscles feel better. "I asked for it. I want to help." I chanted as my arms refused to move as fast as I wanted them to as I dragged my fingers through my blond hair.

Back in the library after finishing up, I clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Let's go. I want to get there before it closes."

He looked up at me from the book he'd been reading. "Still up for it? We don't have to go."

"Get in the damn car, Sam." I growled, not waiting for his reaction. Heading to the kitchen, I found Cas' sketch and the angel himself, using Sam's laptop to watch a television show online.

"Is this the final draft?" I asked, picking up the paper.

"Yes." He said shortly, never tearing his attention from the program.

The design he'd drawn consisted of a lot of words I didn't know and one very interesting symbol in the middle. It was like three hearts joined at the base, with a triangle as the fourth appendage, and a plus sign under that. There was what looked like an asterisk hovering above the middle heart. The words encircled the symbol, written in Cas' neatest handwriting. I knew he didn't like writing by hand, so I was impressed that the words, even though I didn't know what they meant, were legible. "Hey, Cas? What do all these words mean? And the symbol?"

Cas finally paused his show and glanced around the room so see if we were alone. I was glad he did that; I'd completely forgotten and I wouldn't have blamed him if a Winchester overheard us. Seeing that he coast was clear, he pulled my hands down so he could read what he'd written. "Like most phrases in Enochian, this one doesn't translate particularly well. In its most basic interpretation, it reads 'protect the harbor within from evil and ruin; speak to the angel Castiel upon the strange'. It sounds better in Enochian, but English has always been a rather inefficient language regardless."

"I'd agree with that. So this is a protection thing, right? For the baby. Protect the baby and tell you… What does 'the strange' refer to?" I asked, my skin crawling a little at the awkward wording.

"Any ill occurrences. Birth defects, hypoxia, excessive stress, any kind of damage." Cas said.

"So it'll tell me if anything is wrong?"

"No. It will tell me." Cas said flatly.

"How will it tell you?" I asked. "It's just ink."

"The symbol carries out that duty. It's a powerful protection sigil. You'll feel a tug when it's working. I'll receive a sort of… remote view of what is happening. Depending on the severity of the situation, I may go to you or hold off until a better time. See if the issue resolves itself. You will, however, need to tell me your location. Your warding makes it impossible for me to find you."

"I see. So if I feel it tug, I need to pray you my location asap." I said softly, pausing a moment before continuing. "This might be a stupid question, but… Can you check right now?"

Cas' eyes narrowed. "Why would I need to check the child at this moment?"

"I just want to make sure my new exercise routine isn't hurting anything." I sent him a sheepish grin and hoped he'd give in. After an extended episode of uncomfortable eye contact, he closed his eyes and pressed one palm gently against my flat, and sore, stomach. The action felt strange, but not uncomfortable.

"I can't find anything wrong." Cas said. "Are you satisfied?"

"Yeah, thanks Cas. I really appreciate you helping out like this. I never expected…" I trailed off, unable to find the right words to adequately thank my friend.

"A guardian angel?" Cas guessed, his eyes wandering to the floor.

"I guess so." I said softly.

"I used to find great purpose in healing children. Before I was assigned to the garrison. Before we were assigned to rescue Dean." He said. With eyes focused far away, a tiny smile lit his face. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. His eyes came back into focus. "Please try to keep out of immediate danger, Allison. If the child were to perish before I arrive, there would be little I could do. I'm not welcome in Heaven at the moment and my ties there have become strained."

"I… I understand. I'll be careful." I said, the weight of his words sinking deep into my heart. One wrong move in a hand to hand fight and I could lose the baby. Cas wouldn't be able to get their soul back.

"Can you pick up peanut butter?" Cas said as he started his show up again. "We're out."

I was somewhat taken aback by his request. "Can you even taste it anymore? I thought you were an angel again." I said as I snapped back to reality.

"When I am as excessively weak as I am now, I can barely taste it through the molecules." Cas said. "The silver lining, as Dean would say."

I smiled and rolled my eyes. "I'll add it to my list."

My legs ached as I walked out to the little red convertible that was significantly older than me. Sam was already in the passenger seat. "What took you so long?" He asked.

"I was getting the tattoo sketch from Cas." I said, handing him the paper as I carefully sat down in the driver's seat. I knew he couldn't read it, so I had no problem with him seeing it.

"What's it say? Did you ask?"

Well, time to lie again. Think fast, Ali. "Yeah. It's a protection from illness sigil." Not technically a lie, I guess…

"Oh. Alright." Sam said as we pulled out of the driveway and began our hour long trip to Concordia. I was surprised by how easy it was to quell his curiosity.

"So, radio?" I asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Uh, if you want." He said.

I glanced over at him. He looked uncomfortable. "You okay, Sam?" I asked. "Why so tense? Does your leg hurt?"

"No, and I'm not, I'm just… I haven't been out in public on my crutches yet." He said, avoiding eye contact. I couldn't press that issue, seeing as I was driving.

"Why does that make you tense? You've been on crutches before, right?" I asked. He was hiding something. I just knew it.

"Yeah, but… I don't know. I'm probably just working myself up over nothing." He continued to stare out the window.

"You can tell me anything, Sam. You know that, right? I'm pretty good about keeping secrets." I said as we finally got to the highway.

"I know." He looked down at his hands folded in his lap and was quiet for a few minutes. The silence was driving me crazy and I was about to reach for the radio when he spoke up again. "What did you and Dean do today?"

"He had me do lots of basic exercises and explained why I needed to do them. I wouldn't have guessed that you guys have to jump out of graves and climb stuff so much for these jobs of yours. We didn't even run today. It was just muscle building stuff." I said. "He did it all with me, of course, but he made me do as much as he did. It was awful."

"And you were able to do as many as he does?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I mean it took me a lot longer, but I managed." I shrugged. "Why?"

"I just didn't expect that."

I glanced at him. He was staring out the window. "Why not? I've kept up with you two for the past few weeks, haven't I?"

"You have, it's just that I hadn't anticipated you being able to do as much as you apparently can."

"Do you have a problem with that?" I asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. His statements seemed to be a mix of surprise and concern.

"No. No problem. I wanted to help you train but until Cas is recharged, I can't do anything physical with you." Sam said, frustrated. "This whole leg thing has me at a disadvantage."

"Well, it's not like you need to be running anytime soon." I said. "I hope."

Sam grinned. "Nothing weird has been happening in our neck of the woods. I wouldn't worry about it. And I could still outrun you on my crutches, I bet."

"Doubt it." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"You had to hold the wall to get up the stairs, Ali."

I'd forgotten just how sore my legs were at the moment. "Details, details."

He smiled knowing that he'd won our little tiff. "I could help you train in other ways. Dean could take the physical aspects of it and I could help you sharpen your marksmanship."

"Sounds like a plan." I said. "But I don't have a gun."

"We have plenty." Sam said.

"What if I said I wanted my own?" I stated innocently, glancing at Sam to gauge his reaction. In the past, they'd taken very good care to not leave dangerous things around the bunker. When I was possessed the first time, every sharp thing seemed to call out to me and on occasion, I answered. The guys removed said objects after the third time Sam had to stitch my arm closed. I wasn't exactly sure where they kept them now. Even after they'd trapped the demon in that box, they hadn't replaced the confiscated items.

Sam looked at me. "We don't really have our own guns, Ali. Well, I mean, Dean has his .45, but that's been his since Dad gave it to him for his thirteenth birthday. Usually we just share the arsenal. You need it, you take it, you put it back when you're done."

"I was thinking a little pink handgun would prove itself useful." I said, trying to make my voice sound even more feminine. "Something I could stash away in my clothes for a special occasion."

"You really want a pink gun?" Sam chuckled. "That's so impractical. They'd see it coming a mile away."

"And a silver gun with a pearl handle is more camouflaged?"

"Okay, fine. I get it. Why don't we see if you pass Dean's tests before we finish this conversation? If you can't pass, what's the use in getting a gun at all?" Sam said.

I glared at him. "I'll need one regardless. Whether or not I pass, I'm coming with you guys on cases."

"Didn't you and Dean agree-"

"We agreed that if I didn't pass, I couldn't come along. He didn't say anything about me following you to the location. I just can't come along with you. I'll work the case alone if I have to."

"Ali, seriously? You're gonna loophole Dean?"

"Seriously Sam. If I fail those tests, it'll be my only choice. I can't let you go risk your lives alone when I know I can help. How could I live with myself if I knew you two were killed when I could have done something about it?"

Sam sighed. "You're getting to be more and more like a Winchester all the time, you know that?"

"I had a feeling." I winked at him to try and lighten the mood. I could have sworn he blushed, but his head turned to look out the window before I could really tell.

We went to the tattoo parlor first. It was a little storefront in downtown Concordia with lots of neon in the window. It was a beautiful day; light wind, warm and dry, curled its way through the streets and alleys, mixing the smells of many restaurants and businesses and taking them far into the city. The smell inside the parlor was different than the street. No more hints of Chinese food in the air. Now I could smell metallic tones and a hint of something that seemed like peaches.

"How's it goin'?" A smiling woman asked from behind a tall desk in the lobby.

"Good. I have a design I'd like to see about getting." I said. Sam stood behind me, leaning heavily on his crutches but looking no worse for wear. His presence was reassuring; new places wigged me out a little.

"Did you have an appointment?" The woman asked.

"No."

"Okay. Let me see if I have anybody free at the moment." The woman said. "Is there anybody you'd like to see specifically?"

"As long as they can replicate my drawing, I'm fine with anyone."

"Cool beans. Gimme one minute, hun." The woman jumped down from the stool she'd been sitting on and walked back into the store. It was an open room; two other people were being worked on just beyond the desk.

A few minutes later, the woman returned with a taller, red headed woman behind her. "This is Tish. She'd be happy to work with you."

"Awesome. I'm Ali." I said, shaking the woman's hand.

"Good to meet ya. Come on back. Bring your handsome friend." Tish winked at Sam. A little flare of something unfamiliar rose in my gut, but before I could identify it, the feeling was gone. I followed Tish to her station, decorated heavily with old looking photos and concept drawings. "Lexi mentioned you had a design already?"

"Yeah." I produced Cas' drawing and handed it to her. She appraised it for a few seconds before nodding.

"I can do this. No problem. Where we puttin' it?"

"Right thigh?" I suggested. Cas hadn't said where the best place would be. My left flank was filled with two other tattoos, my right flank had the still healing binding mark carved in it, and I needed this tattoo to be somewhere that wasn't going to stretch too much as my belly grew. My right thigh, not the left since the scar from a bullet graze claimed that one, seemed as good a place as any. And the artist probably wouldn't see any suspicious injuries or scars while working there.

"Sounds good to me."

"Oh, and I have another tattoo that got a chunk taken out. I just need it filled in."

"Can do."

Tish got right to work. The three of us talked about nothing in particular for about an hour as she made my leg into a piece of art. I asked her to try and keep Cas' handwriting intact. I knew the font didn't matter much for the sigil, I'd read as much in many books, but the thought of keeping his handwriting with me was somewhat comforting. He was one of my best friends, after all.

"Well, hey there little hunter." A voice boomed out from behind me as the clock rounded the hour. I whipped my head around to see who was talking, and who they were talking to. Behind me stood a heavily tattooed man who was smiling looking down at me like he knew me.

"Hi." I said carefully. Why had he called me a hunter? Did he know about us? About hunting? Maybe he knew Sam and just figured I was in the business too. But then why would he announce it out loud in public? Anything could be out there, listening.

"See you got a different beau already. Quite the prowler, eh?" The man clapped a hand down on Sam's shoulder and laughed. "And I thought the first one was tall."

My eyes narrowed as I struggled to place any ounce of recognition with the man before me. Then it hit me. "Tim? From Missouri?"

"She remembers me." He chuckled. "What brings you out west, Ali-cat?"

"Ali-cat?" Sam asked, glancing from me to Tim.

"He gave me the script tattoo on my side." I told Sam, careful not to give away what it actually was. "Remember when Cas and I met you in Centerville?"

Sam thought for a moment before realization shone in his eyes. "Right. I remember that. Cas took you to get that one before we met up with Dean." In a mine. Filled with Wendigoes. In the freezing cold.

"Yeah. Uh, we live out here now, Tim." I said as Tish continued her work, unfazed. Surprisingly, the buzzing of the needle didn't bother me much. Sure, it stung occasionally, but I didn't need to hold Sam's hand like I'd needed to hold Cas' for the first tattoo. The Winchester pain tolerance was wearing off on me.

"So do I. Funny we meet up in another state. How'd those two ink spots treat ya, anyway?" Tim asked.

"They're still just as beautiful as the day you put them on." I said. "Except I fell and took a chunk out of one of them. I was hoping to get it fixed before I leave today."

"Tish is good with quick fixes. Mind if I check it out while she's workin'? See if it's even fixable?" Tim asked.

"Uh, sure." I carefully lifted the left side of my shirt to show him the possession tattoo with the sliver missing. He wedged himself between Sam and me to look down at it. He thumbed the section that was gone like he was appraising the damage. Then, his voice little more than a whisper, he asked me a question.

"Are you being trafficked? Do these men hurt you?" Tim asked directly into my ear.

"No." I replied. "You asked that last time, too. No one hurts me, or earns money off of me, or makes me do things I don't want to do. Really, Sam is my friend." My voice was as quiet as his.

He stood and smiled. "Looks good. Tish should be able to fix it up no problem, right Tish?"

The woman nodded without looking up. "You know I'm good at what I do, Tim. That's why you hired me."

"Is this your shop?" I asked.

"New and improved." Tim smiled. "The old one didn't get a lot of business. Wife and me moved here seeking greener pastures. And to be closer to her mum. Happy wife, happy life, right?"

"Sounds about right." I smiled back at Tim.

"Well, I hope to see you back sometime soon, Ali and Sam. You're always welcome here." Tim sauntered into the back room and out of sight.

Tish finished the sigil and repaired my other tattoo in the following half hour. I regretted wearing tight pants today, but the pain wasn't too bad. It certainly wasn't the worst I'd ever felt.

"Tim, huh?" Sam asked as we headed out to the car after paying.

"What about him?"

"Seems awful friendly."

"He thinks I'm being trafficked." I said, matter of factly. "Cas gave him the creeps when he brought me in to get my first tattoo. I think that's why he remembered me."

"He thinks we're selling you?" Sam asked as we got in the car and pulled away, headed for the grocery store.

"I told him you weren't. He must see a lot of shady activity as a tattoo shop owner. I'm glad he's vigilant."

There were several minutes of easy silence in the car as we made our way across town to the market. "You don't feel… taken advantage of, do you?" Sam asked, looking at me. I couldn't meet his gaze; it was nearly rush hour and the road was packed full of cars. My attention was on the tons of metal careening down the highway.

"No. You guys give me housing. You buy me food. You buy me clothes. I feel taken care of." I said simply. They really had been very good to me. Never had they asked me to get a job, even though I could probably support us with a full time job. Never had they expected me to do anything besides take care of myself. "Why would I feel taken advantage of?"

"Dean and I aren't exactly around all the time." Sam said. "And you keep the bunker running smoothly even though we don't ask you to."

"You don't have to ask me to help you guys out." I said.

"I know. Thank you for everything you do, Ali." Sam said. "These last few weeks have been rough, but hopefully we can smooth things out and get back into a rotation of chores like we had going before. Maybe I won't feel so guilty when I can help out again."

"You had chores before?" I asked.

"Well, yeah. Dean and me would take turns doing stuff around the bunker. Granted, I took more turns than he did, but we worked it out. If you're going to start working with us, we'll all need to pitch in around the bunker so we can get the important stuff done."

"I like the sound of that." I said, smiling.

"Wait until you walk in on Dean cleaning the toilets. It's hilarious."

Tight jeans and a new thigh tattoo: bad idea. It was aching by the time we finished shopping and arrived back at the bunker. Cas helped me put the groceries away, but even with help I was exceedingly grumpy when we finished.

It was already late by that time, so I retreated to my room and changed into sweatpants and an old T shirt that one of the guys had grown out of. Sweet relief.

"Li? You in there?" Dean knocked at my door. I rolled my eyes and went to greet him.

"Yes." I opened the door to see Dean, his eyes bloodshot, his nose red. "Is your cold getting worse again?"

"No. I just have a friggin' tap for a nose at the moment. You good to train tomorrow, or are you gonna call it off?" He asked.

I crossed my arms and let the bitchface settle in its rightful place. "I'm good to go, first thing tomorrow."

He seemed mildly surprised. "You know it'll be harder tomorrow. A full day of training instead of just a few hours."

"I get it, Dean. I'll see you at five tomorrow." I said, shutting the door.

"You can quit anytime." He yelled through the thick wood.

"So you've said. Good night, Dean."

"No shame in giving up." He yelled. I didn't even grace that statement with a response. No shame in giving up? He just didn't want me to charge into danger like they did. I wished he'd stop treating me like a little girl. "Nice tattoo by the way."

I'd forgotten to put on sleep shorts. My face glowed red. At least this shirt covered everything important. I sincerely hoped he wasn't going to bring this incident up ever again. That would be just my luck.

A/N: Don't forget to review! I love hearing your thoughts and believe it or not, your comments sometimes help me make critical plot choices. You never know how much your review could influence the story! Until next week, my friends!