Fighting to Forget:

Chapter Two;

Not in Kansas…

Caution: This story contains Adult Themes. Some of these themes include: Angst, Depression, Self harm, Alcohol use, Explicit drug use, Adult language, Gore and (some) Forced sexual situations.

Disclaimer: All situations and characters interpreted here are a work of complete fiction. Some characters are based on the wildly popular cult CW series; Supernatural© owned by Eric Kripke. I do not claim to own these characters in any way, shape or form. Any other similarities between real or actual events or persons (Aside from previously mentioned) is purely coincidental and they are in no way intended to offend or appropriate the subjects that I have adapted to these particular circumstances taking place within my story. Thank you.

If you do not feel comfortable with any of these themes or situations, then this story may not be for you.

Reader discretion is advised. Rated M 18+ Mature audiences only.

Again, to reiterate for clarity; I do not own Supernatural© or any of the characters belonging to Eric Kripke. Enjoy!

My God was I in pain. I stretched my legs across the cool sheets, gripped my head and groaned. 'Please just stop hurting!' I mentally yelled at myself. My head throbbed like I had cracked it open. Bits and pieces of the night before slowly came back to me. The speed, the fifth of whiskey, Xanax and percocets. 'That's what I needed. A percocet; and a bloody mary.' I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, letting them slowly adjust to the low lighting and slowly recover from the blurry mess of whatever it was I was seeing. Speaking of which... Where the hell was I?

I remembered that long ass drive from Texas to Missouri and having a couple cocktails along the way. I stopped in Arkansas and stocked up on Gatorade, bottled water and jerky. 'What a healthy diet.' I giggled at myself. I could eat whatever I wanted and still stayed the same hundred and ten pounds. I was one of the lucky ones I guess.

I closed my eyes again, my vision still extremely blurry. I massaged my temples and tried to recollect exactly how I got to where I was. I remembered stopping at the local park and finishing my bottle of whiskey. I popped a couple Xanax to help me relax. The speed from earlier had me all jittery and anxious and I needed something to help bring me down.

I silently reminded myself not to mix the two again. The next thing I remembered was seeing the Milton Hotel and the remodeling banner. By then I had to have been completely trashed. I was Impressed with myself that I was coherent enough to actually pay for a room. I snorted lightly through my nose as I remembered the skeevy looking dude at the front desk. 'Pervert.'

Then there was the awkward stumble to the elevator…

'That guy! He picked me up off the floor…"

I shot up from the bed and frantically looked around. I cursed as the blood rushed to my head, causing the pounding pressure in my head to worsen. I panted heavily, suddenly aware that I could be in danger. I searched for any sign of the strange guy. The room was empty as far as I could see. Although the bathroom was out of view. In the room across from me, separated by elegant sliding white doors with gold trim, was a very soft looking white and gold couch adjacent to a black leather love seat in front of a large mounted flat screen TV.

'What the fuck is going on? This some sort of honeymoon suite? I know for damn sure I didn't pay for this room.'

I threw back the divan and lept out of the bed, feeling strangely chilled, and quickly looked around for my duffle bag. It lay on a high backed chair just to the left of the bed, seemingly untouched. I let out a small sigh of relief as I quietly padded over to it. I furrowed my brows when I felt a slight breeze against my legs. Glancing down I noticed that I was in a very large red and blue plaid shirt. No pants. No boots. I felt my chest. No bra. Panties still intact though. Thank goodness.

'What the fuck happened last night?! Did I fuck him? I don't remember having sex.' This was so fucked. So fucking fucked up! I didn't even know what the dude even looked like, let alone how I even got into that bed or in his clothes!

I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that only one side of the bed was disturbed, the other half was untouched; still neatly tucked in and pristine.

'So no sex then. Okay, but this is still not right. I don't even know where I am. I'm literally only in my panties and some strange guy's shirt that hangs off me like a dress'

I didn't know what this man's plans were or what he wanted with me and I had this sinking feeling in my gut that I just couldn't ignore. 'Get your gun, girl!' my subconscious screamed.

I carefully unzipped my duffle and pushed aside my undergarments, other bits of clothing and personal hygiene products, searching for my Glock. Just as soon as my fingers hit the cool metal of my gun the door clicked open behind me.

I snatched my gun, cocked it and whirled around pointing it at a very tall man in the doorway. His eyes widened and he held up one hand in submission, the other firmly holding onto a drink carrier with three cups of coffee and a brown paper bag from the diner down the street. The door closed behind him silently.

"Hey, hey, don't shoot! It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." His voice was oddly calm given the fact that I had my gun pointed at his heart.

Adrenaline was surging through my body as I stared him down. I took in slow ragged breaths, gun still firmly aimed at his chest.

"Who are you?!" I yelled at him, my feet firmly planted to the ground. "Where the hell am I?"

"My name is Sam." He said quietly, almost as if he didn't want anyone else to hear him. A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. He wet his lips and took a tentative step to his right. I followed him with my gun. 'Was this the man from last night? He was certainly tall enough to be.' I took a second to study him, still not fully understanding his intentions. Someone had to have undressed me while I was blacked out and that made me very, very uncomfortable.

He was surprisingly taller than I expected and it threw me for a second. I mean, I was used to being shorter than most everyone given the fact that I was barely 5'1", but he had to be well over six foot at least. He sat the drink carrier and greasy paper bag down on the end table next to the door and raised both hands back up in submission. I watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed.

His light brown hair laid in soft waves just below his ears, his eyes darkened by the low lit room. They might have been green… or maybe brown? Either way he was incredibly attractive.

I took a deep breath through my nose and blew it out of my mouth forcefully, lowering my gun slowly, but not all the way.

"Alright. So where am I? And who the hell undressed me?" I reiterated, gun still halfway lowered, just in case.

"Well," he drawled, his eyes fixated on me. "You passed out in my arms last night and I couldn't find the room number on your card, so I brought you here."

His hands were still up but he was slowly and cautiously lowering them. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"So who undressed me?" I demanded.

A slow, soft blush crept across his cheeks and he glanced down, his left hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. The gesture reminded me of a teenaged boy.

He cleared his throat and flicked his eyes to me, startling me with the sudden eye contact. His eyes looked so… kind.

"I mean," he paused and let out a small groan. "You had… um, puke all over your clothes and I couldn't just let you sleep like that."

'Oh good god! I fucking threw up on myself?' I stared at him, wide eyed, while my face and ears burned with embarrassment. I threw up on myself and a strange good looking man cleaned me up and put me to bed. I couldn't recall ever being so embarrassed in my life.

He coughed nervously and gave me a sheepish smile. "I did my best not to look at you or anything, I swear." He seemed genuinely sincere, and I decided that he wasn't a threat. He had a chance to do anything he wanted with me, and instead he cleaned me up put me in clean clothes and tucked me into bed. Brownie points for Sam.

I averted my gaze from him to the floor and lowered my glock to my side. I had gotten lucky. Any other man that had found me like that would have surely raped me, or killed me, or maybe both. The pervy desk clerk included. I shuddered at that thought.

This was just as surprising as it was confusing. I glanced back up at him and noted that he still hadn't moved from his spot in front of the door.

"So… Sam, huh?" I sighed. "Thank you very much. That was kind of you to take care of me." I grimaced inwardly and suddenly felt guilty for aiming my gun at him. "Sorry about the gun, by the way. Name's Whitney." I let out a small, nervous laugh and was relieved when he relaxed his shoulders and grabbed one of the coffee cups from the table and took a step in my direction. I idly wondered why there were three cups if it was just him and myself.

I watched him tentatively and in return he gave me an award winning, pearly white smile. My legs threatened to buckle beneath me. This man was undeniably beautiful.

"I thought you might like some coffee." he said, gesturing to the cup in his hand with his chin. "For your hangover." He glanced behind him and then back at me, still smiling. "There's burgers in the bag as well, if you're hungry."

I gave him a half-hearted smile, and let my gun fall to my side. My head was still pounding and coffee sounded absolutelydivine right about now. The burgers on the other hand… didn't sound so great.

Sam stayed firmly in place by the door, so I took the initiative to step forward and carefully lift the paper cup from his hand. I couldn't help myself but I wanted to get a better look at him while I was close. I had to refrain myself from letting my mouth hang open. He let out a small chuckle as he let go of the hot cup of salvation. "That's what I thought," He laughed.

I couldn't help but to return his smile as I stood in front of him, holding the coffee, my head tilted upwards to meet his gaze. I guess he was alright in my book. For now, at least. I was impressed with him. He had a chance to do whatever he wanted with me, but instead chose to be kind and look after me while I was blacked out.

A door opened from the opposite side of the room and a deep voice rang out. "Hey, Sammy!" I nearly dropped the cup in my hand, startled by the sudden interruption.

"What?!" Sam replied, glancing in the direction of the bathroom.

'Well who the hell is that?'

I took a careful sip of my coffee, still suspicious of the strange voice, but I quickly forgot about it as I reveled in the taste of the coffee. It was delicious. This was exactly what I needed. Well, what I actually needed was my morning pain pills, Adderall and a joint, but seeing as I was currently indisposed, I guessed I'd have to wait. So instead I closed my eyes and took another drink. 'Thank God for coffee.' I praised silently.

"I need a towel man, I forgot to grab one!" The strange voice was deep and extremely masculine.

'Who else was in here with us?'

"Alright." Sam replied, sounding somewhat defeated. He gave me another small smile before taking a step in the direction of the bathroom. "I think it's safe to put your gun down. We won't hurt you, I promise. It's just me and my brother Dean here."

I swallowed an anxious knot in my throat and nodded. I glanced back at my bag as Sam made his way to the other side of the room, closing the double doors behind him. Once the doors were closed I carefully placed my gun down on the bed, for easy access, and dug around in my duffle for the pill bottle I kept my Adderall and Percocet in. I popped two of each in my mouth and washed them down with the hot heavenly liquid. I closed my eyes and sighed. I needed to get dressed. Smiling to myself, I glanced down at the shirt I was wearing. Sam's shirt, I guessed. It made for a good dress, but plaid really wasn't my style.