Chapter Two

The duo led me off towards their car. A gorgeous, pitch black 1967' Chevrolet Impala Coupe'. In awe I froze. Only glancing instantaneously at the license plate. CNK 80Q3. How did they ever find one?! I asked myself, shocked. Oh, I was so jealous. I might as well have been drooling right then and there. Page appeared to pick up onto my thoughts as I began to look up. "Not a good idea…" He warned quietly. 'He doesn't like people touching his car...' he mouthed. I nodded, and chuckled slightly. "What?" Bonham asked, confused as he began to reach for the car door. The paint gleamed, gently reflecting the moon and sky. He then turned his attention towards me. "Please enter the vehicle." He commanded firmly. 'Don't have to ask me twice!' I thought quietly. I slowly, and very, very cautiously reached for the handle of the car and opened the door. I stepped inside. The interior was just as beautiful as the latter. It was a three seater bench seat with leather upholstery. Absolutely beautiful. I slid over towards the middle, and began to make myself comfortable.

"You know we're putting her at risk…"

"Yeah I know…"

"And you know we're gonna have to tell her about what we do sometime…Common courtesy, remember?"

"Yeah Sam, I know…"

"Okay Dean, just making sure…."

After what seemed to be two minutes, Page and Bonham each entered the car. "So," I began, shifting on the seat. "What would you like to ask me about?" I said, less shakily than I had been earlier. What did they want with me anyway? Bonham sighed as he stuck the keys into the car and its engine turned over. "More like tell...You're on a demon's 'To-kill' list. They burned your house down, hoping to kill you in the process. But whoever the guy inside your house was...well he got torched. Did you know him?" He asked rather bluntly. I shook my head 'no'. "Alright. I'll explain all of it later, Okay?" Bonham exhaled, taking the shifter and putting it into 'drive'. My whole body was shuddering. Demon? Not again...Not my parents. Page stretched over to face me. "I know it's alot to take in. But don't be afraid, you'll be safe with us." He comforted. I gave him a look of gratitude that said 'Thank you'.

"So," I started again. There had to be more these guys than just small talk and government titles, right? "You two got any first names?" I asked. Surprisingly, Paige piped up. "Yes, actually. My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my older brother, Dean." After Sam said 'older', I couldn't help but chuckle and reply with, "Funny, Dean. From what I've noticed and observed, older brothers are supposed to be the taller ones." Sam smiled, and I heard Dean scoff.

"Oh Ha Ha Ha...So funny…" He growled. I exchanged glances with Sam. I decided to stick my head in between the gap of the two front seats. "Where are we going?" I asked curiously. "Well, we're probably gonna cruise for about another hour. And since we're here on the southern side of Atlanta, it'll be awhile 'till we hit Illinois. So our best bet would be to hit a motor inn on the way. And from there we'll figure out the rest." Sam suggested. I shrugged, and nodded. "Okie Dokie. Do you agree with that, Mr. I-Should-Really-Have-A-Beer?" I teased, air-poking Dean.

I heard Sam snicker. "Do note, that Dean also likes pie. Pie and beer." He added. Dean made a wide right turn in the dark gloom of the night. He then flicked his eyes over to meet mine. "And why, might I ask, should I have a beer...And pie?" Wondered Dean. I made a puppy dog face. "Because you really, really look like you need one." I watched his eyes. Even in the dark, it was obvious to notice that his eyes changed from a dark green to a lighter shade. "I guess you're right." Dean admitted as he drove into the carpool of a motel. The outside floodlights lit up the parking lot. In my opinion, they were a bit too bright. "I like you." said Sam. "We should have her around more often. It's fun to watch her squeeze confessions out of you, Dean." He teased.

I blushed slightly, my cheeks taking on a shade of pink. I then adjusted my jacket, and tugged on the collar of my shirt. "So...Am I getting my own room, or staying in the car, or…" I paused, unsure whether or not to continue. I went with the green light. "Or am I staying with you two?" I asked, shifting in my seat. "Sammy and I are going to share a room together. You, on the other hand, are going to be staying in your own room. Down the hall. Privacy, right?" I nodded, and shrugged. Fair enough.

I opened the door to my room. 'Least it's clean...' I thought quietly. As I shut the loosely grained wood door behind me, I strided over towards the television set. An aging Magnavox with a nick in the corner. I pressed the power button and quickly tuned into the Classic Rock Channel. A ballad began to play, and I took a seat on the foot of my bed, a grey comforter. The walls were white and everything was white. With the exception of the darkly stained dresser and lampstead. "Why me? Of all people, why me? Why now? Why again?" I whispered, and huffed. And thought a little more.

Dean Winchester sighed as he nabbed a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge in the motel room. "Laurel a few doors down?" Asked Sam, who was noisily clicking away on his laptop, laying on a twin bed as Dean walked into the bathroom to change. Sam had already taken the liberty to do so, so it was Dean's turn. The suits always got hot and heavy. "Yeah, she's safe. And if she needs us, all she has to do is scream!" He called jokingly from the bathroom. Sam rolled his eyes, hair rippling against the white pillow he had been leaning on. Dean was in the middle of putting on a pair of dark blue jeans, happy to finally be out of the suit. He slipped on a black t-shirt and one of his forest green over-shirts. Dean stepped out of the bathroom, balling up his dirty clothes and tossing them into a corner.

"Hey," Said Sam gently as Dean stepped towards the mini-fridge again. "You okay, man?" Dean gazed at his brother for a moment. "Yeah, never been better." He assured, flashing Sam a goofy signature half smile. Dean took two more beers from the refrigerator. "I'm gonna run over and take this to Laurel. I think she could use one." He said, opening the door of the motel room. Sam narrowed his eyes, skeptical. "You aren't...You know…" Sam paused, wondering if he should continue. "Crushing on her? No I'm just being nice. I can be nice right? Though I will admit, she is kinda cute...Sorta reminds me of Van Morrison's 'Brown eyed girl'." Sam chuckled as he watched Dean exit. Then he broke out into a hysterical laughter.

I sat up from bed when I heard the knocks on my door. "Weird…" I mumbled quietly as I went over to go and open it. I was surprised to see Dean standing outside. A clean shirt and jeans to match. There were two prominent bottles of Corona Sol in his hands. He followed my gaze. "Thought you might wanna share…" He said gently, holding the bottles to eye level now. I leaned up against the door frame, eyeing him carefully. Then motioned for him to come inside. Journey's "Touchin', Squeezin', Lovin' " began to play, and I sat back down on the foot of the bed. Dean handed me one of the bottles, and I took it. "I'm sorry," he began, opening his bottle. He then took mine from me, and opened that one, too.

"About your house. I know how rough it is to lose something like that…" he finished, taking a sip of the cool lager. I waved it off. "It's fine. I'm fine." I said. I noticed that my voice was faltering, so I took a sip from the bottle. The glass was cold against my lips, and the taste was bitter. "First one?" asked Dean, peering over at me with those green eyes. I nodded, cupping my mouth to keep from spitting the liquid back into the bottle. I watched carefully as Dean walked over to me. He sat down on my left and began to rub the small of my back. I looked at him curiously, He smiled, then chuckled, as if he thought I was nervous or uncomfortable. "I did this to Sam, for his first drink. It helped him swallow...made him relaxed." I coughed in response.

"Huh, you're doing good. Drink a little more. That's it…" He held the bottle up to my lips, and I swallowed. We repeated this process until I had finished the entire bottle. Dean smiled at me, and pushed a strand of my copper hair behind my ear. He also continued rubbing my back. It was an affectionate, and yet formal and generic gesture. And I welcomed it.

"How old were you, when you first drank? How old?" I asked, just curious. Dean laughed nervously. "Uh, about sixteen, maybe seventeen." He sighed "Those were the days…" he thought aloud in reminiscence. "For you? I'm impressed. How old are you, twenty-four? Twenty-five? You handled it a lot better than Sammy did." I smiled lightly. I was beginning to feel much better. "Thank you, Dean." I turned to face him, his hand stopping short at my waist. My shirt was thin, so his hand was noticeably warm. "Eh, no problem. 'Least I could do." He finished, taking a drink from his bottle. He offered some to me, and I drank that, too. I blushed again. Then I began to feel a bit overwhelmed.

I was slowly beginning to cry. Softly. So many thoughts were pounding through my head like nails. I just lost my house. My only home. And now I was being hunted by a demon? Again? Maybe it was the alcohol making me emotional. I wasn't too sure. Then Dean did something, very unexpected. He pulled me close. I allowed my body to go limp at his touch. He placed my right arm around his neck and my left around his waist. He picked me up and placed me comfortably on his lap, holding me close to his chest. His body was warm and firm against my own.

Dean cupped my chin to make me face him. I searched his eyes so to give me a clue as to what he was doing, but found nothing. He then turned my face to kiss my cheek, his lips softly, temptingly carressing my skin. I rested my head on his shoulder, and began to drift from the sheer drowsiness and content. Dean slowly propped me up against him, and began to lie down backwards. I snuggled up against him as he cradled me, our legs resting next to eachother. He fondled with my hair awhile, before he himself began to fall asleep.