Chapter 2
Young Blood: Part 2
Dean and I were tucked back into the bed, forcefully this time. Dean threw a fit, insisting he go with his father. I rolled my eyes and climbed into bed without protest. When Dean finally calmed down, his dad turned to him and said, "I'll come get you from Uncle Bobby's in three days." Uncle John disappeared through the doorway and it was dark and quiet, except for Dean's loud breathing.
"Can you not breathe so loud." I whined impatiently. Dean breathed louder, intent on pissing me off. I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillows in frustration.
"Stop moving, you're taking all the covers." Dean complained. I smirked, snatching all the covers. "Hey!" Dean exclaimed.
"Now we're even." I announced. Dean huffed, turning his back away from me and crossing his arms, coverless. I turned my back away from him and fell asleep.
"Alright now, up! Up! No breakfast until you get some work done." Mom's regular wake up call rang in my ears and I opened my eyes. Dean's arms and legs were splayed across the bed obnoxiously and the covers I had stolen were wrapped around Dean's sleeping form again. His eyes opened slightly.
"It's too early." Dean complained. I scoffed. It was barely early to me. Mom got me up this time every day to get work done.
"Alright sleeping beauty, get up." I smirked at Dean's discomfort at getting up so early.
I went into the dusty bathroom and turned on the rusty shower, slipping off my clothes. I walked into the bathroom and shivered at the cold water. We didn't have water heat at the Roadhouse. Mom and Dad used to joke that cold water builds character. I could barely see the pun to their joke considering I was shivering to my bones. Although it was spring, but Nebraska's winters were bitter and unforgiving (like my mother).
I laughed at my joke and pushed the numbness the water was causing from my mind, settling under the chilling spray of water. I reached for a random bottle of shampoo. I hadn't thrown out any of my old ones, so all my shower supplies were scattered in the shower.
The cold shower seemed to knock me from my morning haze and I remembered the night before. When Uncle John and my mom had been talking about- hellhounds? Had they been talking about hellhounds? I must have heard them wrong. Mom never mentioned anything like that before. I remembered the way Dean nodded at me like he finally understood. What he understood, I wasn't sure of. But if Uncle John and Mom had been talking about a hellhound then-
What even was a hellhound to begin with? I tried to remember groups of men that would come into the Roadhouse and mumble about things like that, but mom always told me they were kidding. Those things weren't real. What if they were? I trudged through my muddled mind, searching for a distinct memory, and there it was. A memory of Uncle John and mom, exchanging words while outside the Roadhouse. I remembered watching them leave the Roadhouse before going to the table Uncle John had laid out his things. I had been wondering all afternoon what they were quibbling over, and now here it was.
It was a book. Nothing special. A thick leather bound book, loose papers and sticky notes peeping through the sides of the notebook. I flipped to a random page, staring at it incredulously, but before I knew it, Uncle John and mom were walking back inside. I ripped the page out of Uncle John's book and shoved it into the waistband of my jeans that day. I had spent hours that night laying in my bed, trying to decipher the cursive and complex symbols that scattered the pages. I had fallen asleep with the page in my hands, but when I woke up in the morning, it was gone.
What if all the secrets mom were keeping from me was this world of creatures. I turned off the shower and reached blindly for my towel. The towel almost seemed to be handed to me. I wrapped myself in the warmth of the towel and drug back the shower curtain to find little Sam standing there, his eyes wide. "Sam!" I shouted. "What the-"
"Sorry, sorry." he mumbled with an embarrassed blush. He turned around. "I needed to brush my teeth."
"Here." I picked up the bag that Uncle John had put in the bathroom that held his son's toiletries. It wasn't much, just two toothbrushes and a small tube of toothpaste. "Go brush your teeth outside." Sam nodded and trudged out of the bathroom. I tried to block a lock of hair out of my face, but it stuck, wet, to my forehead. I rolled my eyes and gave up, shoving the hair behind my ear.
I finished getting dressed, in my usual black tank top and brown canvas jacket, sneakers that lit up (Ash had gotten them for me), and jeans. I brushed my teeth and as I reached for the doorknob, someone was turning it on the outside, The door flew open and Dean stood, fully intent on walking into the bathroom. He looked up, befuddled. "Geez, don't you Winchesters ever knock?" I shouted. Dean gave me a strange look as
I walked past him and into the main Roadhouse.
"Joanna Beth, how many times do I got to tell you, you can't just go outside with your hair sopping wet." my mom barked. I cringed at the name Joanna Beth. I prefered Jo, sweet and simple.
"Then why don't I just chop it all off." I replied, my hands on my hips. Sam, who had been standing quietly, giggled.
"What?" Mom asked, turning to Sam. "What's so funny?"
"She's sassy." Sam pointed at me and I felt a burst of confidence.
"Don't egg her on." my mom mumbled, but flashing me a slightly proud smile. I knew why. Because I reminded her of herself. Dean came through the doors, wearing his amulet and oversized jacket again. "Alright, now that you're all here." mom began. "Sam," she placed a big bucket of soapy water and a mop at his feet. "You get the floors. Jo," she handed me a rag, slightly wet. "You've got tables. And you Dean," he tone made it sound like she had something special for Dean, and she did. She handed him a cow prod. "You get to feed the dogs."
"What's this for?" Dean held up the cow prod suggestively.
"For making sure they don't bite you when you go in." mom smiled to herself. "And don't let your hand get in the way of their food. It's a nasty thing to fix a dog bite, son." she waved us all off dismissively. "Alright, disperse. Soon as you're finished, you get breakfast."
"But it's six o'clock and we haven't had anything to eat." Sam whined.
"We're lucky she let us sleep in." I replied for mom. My mom nodded and smiled at me before returning back to the back room.
"She's a real spit fire, huh?" Dean asked, pulling over a chair and kicking his feet up on the table.
"And you don't want to get on her bad side, so-" I pushed his feet off the table. "Get to work, pretty boy." Sam hadn't complained. He began mopping the dusty floors as soon as my mom left the room.
"Make me."
"Mom!" I shouted.
"No! I'm going!" Dean insisted, shooting me a hard glance before trudging outside. I smiled to myself and bent over the tables, beginning to scrub at the dust that seemed to accumulate overnight.
"So Sam," I began, focusing on the tables. "'What's this hellhound stuff your dad talks about?"
"I'm not supposed to tell you." he replied quickly.
"Huh," I paused. "Do you always listen to what your dad tells you?"
"No." he was silent for a moment, scrubbing at the floor. "But I listen to what Dean tells me."
"Oh." I nodded. "And what is it about your brother? Why is he so great?"
"He''s more of a dad than John." he clapped his hand over his mouth. "I didn't mean to say that."
"It's okay. Why do you call him John?"
"I don't want to talk about it." he cut me off again.
"Whacya doin?" I heard Dean's voice approaching.
"Writing." I replied.
"Writing what?" he sat down beside me, holding his well deserved sandwich in his hands.
"Nonsense and things." I placed the pencil back down and shutting the journal. I picked up my sandwich and took a bite, propping myself up on my elbows as I lay on my stomach. The porch was dirty, but I didn't care. It was the best place to lay and write, or think. Sometimes I would just go there on rainy days and watch the lightning crack across the sky.
"Like what." Dean reached out and took my book, knocking my sandwich out of my hands.
"Give it back." I said angrily, holding out my hand for the book. Dean opened it and began flipping through the pages.
"I wouldn't say you write much. You just ask a lot of questions." Dean lay on his back so I couldn't reach the book. "What's a hellhound? Why do the people in the Roadhouse have guns? What killed my dad-" Dean finally shut up and handed me the journal.
"Yeah, thanks." I stood up and brushed off my pants, getting ready to stomp off.
"I could help you." Dean stood up.
"With what?" I turned back around and placed my hands on my hips.
"I could help you answer some of these questions. I could give you the answers you're looking for."
I considered the option. "Really?" I asked. "Then what's the price?"
"Oh nothing big." Dean said passively with a sinister smile.
The second installment of Young Blood. There will only be three so the next one will be the last young blood (which is just memories when Jo was younger). Hope you like it. Revview please!