By the time they reached the boys' motel room, Abby had managed to convince Sam that she could walk just fine, thank-you-very-much. She understood that they would want to make sure she was physically all right, and Sam assured her that they had some first-aid in the motel room.

Dean unlocked the door, but as they entered Dean let out an exclamation and flicked on the light.

"Hey!" After a beat, Dean let out a shocked "Dad?"

John Winchester turned and smiled softly, "Hey, boys." His eyes narrowed somewhat as he saw the girl behind his youngest son. "Abby? What are you doing here?"

Before she could respond, Dean stepped up to give his dad a long, emotional hug. Sam watched sadly, still hovering by Abby's side.

John looked over, "Hi, Sam."

"Hey, Dad."

Dean spoke up again, breaking the tense silence. "Dad, it was a trap. I didn't know, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I thought it might've been." Abby had almost forgotten how soothing the man's voice was. Just his presence was a comfort to her in its familiarity, and by the way Sam and Dean seemed to act their age as opposed to ten years older, it affected them the same way.

"Were you there?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?"

"Yes, sir," answered both the boys simultaneously. Abby was surprised at the formality of the response.

"Good. Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."

"The demon has?" Sam looked concerned.

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell—actually kill it."

"How?" asked Dean, and his father just smiled.

"I'm workin' on that. Now, how about you boys tell me why the hell Abby's here?"

Abby had been in the midst of trying to tiptoe towards the door, away from the impromptu and frankly awkward family reunion, when John spoke. She froze and winced, turning around slowly.

"The demon took her too. Said you'd come get her." Answered Dean, looking curious as to why that may be, but not asking outright.

Abby moved back over to the Winchesters. "Hey, John." Her voice was tentative, not sure how she fit into this picture of family dysfunction.

John opened his arms and Abby grinned, reassured that this was no different than any other time they had reunited. They hugged, and John ruffled her messy hair. Abby had a wide, dopey smile at the familiar gesture. The brothers looked startled.

"Glad you're okay, kid. I'm sorry you got caught up in this."

Abby shrugged, trying to sound calmer than she really felt, "Risk of the job, right?"

Dean interrupted before John could reply. "Hold on, does anyone want to explain to me what the hell is going on? Why haven't we heard of Abby before Dad? And how the hell do you know her?"

John looked at his son sharply. "This isn't the time, Dean." His tone allowed no room for argument.

John turned to his youngest son, facial expression softening, "Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir."

"It's good to see you again. It's been a long time."

"Too long." The men stood, looking at each other, until John moved in to give his son a tearful hug. A minute later they pulled apart, and the three men stood together tearfully. Abby felt both distinctly awkward about obviously intruding on their family moment, and appreciative that she could see this side of John. She should have known he'd be a good father.

Before she could decide what to say next, John was violently thrown back by a shadow demon, smacking into the kitchen. Sam and Dean were both struck down, and before she could even begin to run Abby was thrown up and slammed into the wall.

She felt claws tear at her chest and face, and heard herself screaming. Any other thoughts were forced from her mind. "Stop! God please stop!" she heard her own voice crying.

Before she could pass out from the agonizing pain she heard Sam call out, "Shut your eyes! These things are shadow demons, so let's light 'em up!"

The room filled with smoke and a blinding white light. With a cry, the shadow demons disappeared, and Abby slid to the floor, relieved tears streaming down her face as the pain stopped. She started to cough as the smoke filled her lungs, and felt arms wrap around her.

"Dad!" she heard Dean yell from somewhere in the room.

"Over here!" answered a voice right by her ear. John picked her up, and she felt him stifle a groan of pain.

All four of them stumbled out of the motel room, and Abby felt the déjà vu. Yet again John Winchester was carrying her away from death. Just like she did when she was six, Abby buried her face in his coat.

They exited the building and stumbled to the car in an alleyway. John set Abby down gingerly.

"All right, come on. We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back," said Sam, panic in his voice.

"Wait, wait. Sam, wait. Dad, you can't come with us," stated Dean, the slashes across his face marring his features.

Sam was confused, "What? What are you talkin' about? Dean, we should stick together. We'll go after those demons—"

"Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop, they're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's—he's stronger without us around."

Sam looked hurt and confused. "Dad, no," He put a hand on his father's shoulder while Dean watched sadly, "After everything, after all the time we spent lookin' for you—please. I gotta be a part of this fight." Abby knew there was much more to this interaction then met the eye.

"Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play," John looked at Abby, searching her face for something. Abby didn't know what he was looking for, but tried to meet his gaze steadily. John turned back to Sam. "For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay, you've gotta let me go."

Sam just looked at his father miserably, patted his shoulder once, and stepped back.

"Dean, can I have a word with you?" Dean looked at his father in puzzlement, but nodded. John led him to the other end of the car. Abby stood beside Sam, and they both watched the conversation that soon seemed to become an argument. They couldn't hear what was going on.

"I'm sorry I got you involved in this, Abby," Sam said quietly.

Abby turned and looked up at the man, seeing all the cuts and bruises covering his face. She supposed that she must look the same, but was too numb to assess any pain. "It's nowhere near being your fault, Sam."

"I'm the one who told Meg your name. I'm so sorry."

Abby stared at him for a beat, and then grabbed his hand. Sam looked down at her in surprise. "I forgive you, Sam. Its alright." Abby could tell that there was already more weight resting on this poor boy's shoulder, and there was no way she was going to let all this crap make it worse for him.

Sam smiled weakly, and Abby tried her best to return it.

Dean and John returned to where they stood, and Abby could see that Dean was pissed off as he climbed into the Impala and slammed the door. Sam looked at his father, at Abby, and then moved to the passenger seat to talk to his brother.

John regarded Abby seriously. "You need to go with them, kid."

"What now?" Abby looked up at the man sharply.

"You know what I said. The demons know who you are now. I need you safe. And although my boys go following trouble, they can at least keep you safe from it. You'd be a sitting duck here."

Abby was dazed. "But…my life here, my school…"

John just shook his head. "You'll go by your apartment and grab some things, and get out of town. I'm sorry Abby. I really, truly am. But you're my responsibility-" he held up a hand to Abby as she tried to interrupt, "you are, kid. Whether you acknowledge it or not. And Dean and Sam will keep you safe."

John reached down and grabbed her shoulders, planting a light kiss on the top of her head. He smiled down at her. "You take care of those boys too, you hear me?" John ran his hand down her hair. "Once we get this demon, this will all be a bad dream," he lied.

Abby numbly nodded, and then reached out to hug John. He pulled her close, and then opened up the door to the back seat of the Impala and lightly pushed her inside.

Abby watched John shut the door, striding back to his truck, and Dean wordlessly started the car.

The bloodied and beaten group had gone by Abby's apartment just long enough for her to throw some clothes, phone and computer into a bag. Abby scribbled a note to Jen, promising to call her later, and then they were off.

That night they drove for about four hours until Sam managed convinced Dean that they needed to find a motel before he passed out.

The ride had been mostly silent, each passenger lost in their own thoughts. Abby felt numb and confused. She didn't want to be here. She knew the brothers didn't want her to be there. She was no hunter; she was a 22-year-old computing student. The last time she was really physically active was in high school when she was on the track team. But she guessed she really didn't have a choice in the matter.

They pulled into a motel at around 4am. Abby grabbed her duffel bag and got out of the car, groaning as her bruised muscles protested against the movement. Dean looked at her and offered a small smile. Abby was surprised how much such a trivial gesture warmed her. At least he wasn't angry.

Dean went to get them a room, and Abby leaned against the Impala, exhausted. When Dean returned they all trudged into a small room, and Abby noted the little cot next to the two beds. She walked over and put her duffel onto it.

"Abby, those things are really uncomfortable," Sam objected, but Abby interrupted him.

"There's no way you or Dean would fit on this bed. I'll take it."

Sam nodded and smiled. "Alright, thanks. You get the shower first, then."

Abby closed the door to the bathroom and peeled off her bloody clothes. They were so torn up; she knew they would have to be thrown out. She looked into the mirror, and grimaced. A gash from forehead to cheek ran down the right side of her face, her left eye was already blackened, and the cut on her forehead from Meg had reopened.

She sighed and turned on the water, stepping into the heat. As she let the water loosen her muscles, Abby considered her situation. This was it. She was a part of this life now, and feeling sorry for her self wouldn't help. Alright, she wasn't a hunter. Hell, she'd never even fired a gun before. But that wasn't to say she was useless. She knew a thing or two about the supernatural, and was great at doing research. She had a good grasp of Latin, and she knew some first aid from being a lifeguard and volunteer student paramedic at U of C.

Abby straightened under the shower, and took a breath. She'd be a help to the Winchesters. She'd make John proud. She owed him at least that much.

With that thought, Abby turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself up in a towel.

She walked out into the room and saw Dean sitting on one of the beds. He had his shirt off and was struggling to wrap a cut on is arm. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

Dean looked up sharply at the bathroom door opening. He looked her over slowly, and Abby blushed, pointedly aware that she was just in a towel. She walked to her duffel and grabbed an old Rolling Stones t-shirt and her heart-patterned boxers. She ducked back into the bathroom to change, and returned, drying her hair.

"Can I help with that?" she asked quietly, gesturing to Dean's arm. He looked at her, and then shrugged, holding out the bandage wordlessly. They were too tired for conversation.

Abby sat next to him on the bed, and looked at the cut. It wasn't too deep and wouldn't require stitches, but it would need to be kept clean. "Have you cleaned it out?" she asked.

Dean tilted the bottle of whisky in his hand and smiled. "It heals most wounds." He took a deep swig.

Abby nodded, and finished wrapping his arm. Muttering thanks, Dean passed her the bottle. Although not usually a big drinker of hard liquor, she figured that surviving a demonic attack was a good enough reason for a drink. She took a large gulp.

The silence they shared was one of tentative camaraderie, passing the bottle back and forth.

"Where's Sam?" asked Abby, breaking the quiet.

Before Dean could respond, the man himself walked through the door carrying bags of take-out food.

"I assumed you'd be okay with a burger," said Sam, tossing her one. Abby smiled and nodded, tearing it open and eating with vigor. The trio shared a silent meal, each still recuperating from their night.

Soon afterwards they fell into their respective beds, exhausted sleep claiming them.

Abby's eyes cracked open at the sounds of a shower turning on. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"Good morning sunshine!" sang Dean, grinning a wide smile at the girl. He was almost unrecognizable from the weary warrior of the night before.

Abby yawned and rubbed at her messy hair. "What time is it?"

"Seven am, kiddo."

Abby nodded distractedly and stumbled over to the bathroom, desperately wanting to brush her teeth free of burger and whisky. She opened the door, and was made suddenly awake by a very nearly naked Sam.

"Abby! Shit!" the giant struggled to pull a towel over his (very, very nice) body and Abby ran out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

"Oh, God, sorry Sam! Fuck." She had her back against the door, and ran a hand over her face in awkwardness. What a great start, Abby. Dean was cackling as he tied his shoes.

"Ass-hat," Abby chided him, but she could help but laugh too, covering her mouth.

"Might as well make things interesting," he said, winking at her. "I'm going to go grab some breakfast."

After Sam came out of the washroom, blushing adorably, Abby went in to get dressed. She pulled on a pair of worn denim shorts and an oversized green sweatshirt, pulling her hair into a messy bun and putting on her glasses. Zipping up her duffle and tugging on her worn brown cowboy boots, Abby ran out to meet the boys in the car. Breakfast on the road.

The next 5 hours were spent in good humor, and Abby was pleasantly surprised to find that getting along with the Winchester boys was relatively easy. Abby and Dean bickered good-naturedly over music, until they found a common ground in their mutual love for Led Zeppelin. And they both enjoyed telling Sam to shut it when he complained about the music being too loud.

After they stopped for lunch and a stretch, they were back into the Impala, and onto Interstate 35 towards Texas.

"So what is it exactly we're looking into?" asked Abby, booting up her computer as she lay on the backseat, back against the door.

Sam turned to look at her. "The Hell House in Texas. Mordecai Murdoch. I read about it in a blog; it sounds like our sort of thing."

Abby nodded and tucked a wavy strand of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear, "Alright, I'll find everything I can on ghost attacks and this Mordecai fellow."

After about an hour, Abby got bored of her research (did none of these blog-writers use spell-check?) and managed to convince Sam to tell her about his time at Stanford. She empathized with his recounting of his girlfriend Jessica; about how they met, and how they fell in love. Abby noticed Dean paying close attention, wincing with his brother's pain while keeping his eyes on the road.

When Sam got to recounting Jess's death, he sounded pained and spoke through a fog of grief. Abby reached forward and grabbed his hand. It was an instinctive move to comfort, and she didn't realize until she had done so that it might have been too forward. But Sam made eye contact and smiled, squeezing her hand back. Abby absently wondered how often the boys were offered comfort beyond sex.

"So, Abby," Dean broke the shared moment between his brother and his new charge, "Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?" Although stated casually, Abby could tell this was a question Dean had been meaning to ask for a while. And she supposed she owed him at least that much.

"Alright," she smiled, "You want the life story then?" Sam turned around in his seat to look at her, and Dean's eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.

"If you wouldn't mind."

Abby nodded and settled back against the Impala's door. "Alright. Well, I was born on November 4th, 1984 in Jackson, Mississippi."

"A country girl? I never woulda guessed. Though it explains the boots," Dean added, grinning.

"Hey now, what wrong with my boots?" asked Abby playfully, wiggling the offending items.

"Right now? That they're on my upholstery."

Abby laughed, but kicked off her boots. If she learnt one thing about Dean so far, it was that you didn't mess with the car.

"Alright. Anyways, so I was born in Jackson. My dad worked in construction, and my mom was a nurse. I don't have any siblings. When I was six, we were attacked." The boys had gone silent, and Abby took a deep breath. She was so used to telling people that her parents died in a freak accident. It was a strange change of pace to tell the truth for once.

"It was a demon. I don't really think there was any motive behind it. One night I returned from soccer practice with my dad, and we found my mother. She was just lying on the kitchen floor, with this gash through her chest." She moved her hand over her own chest. Abby was no longer addressing the brothers, but was staring ahead, reliving the moment.

"My dad…he yelled out for my mom, and started towards her, but this… man stepped out from the hallway. He was tall. And his eyes…they were just black. I had never seen anything like it. The memory is fuzzy, but my dad started towards this guy, but flew backwards. He hit the wall and I heard this…cracking sound. I tried to go wake him up, but he wouldn't move… I remember crying… and this man, he just laughed…and then there was fire, flames and such heat… and the man just walked through it, like it was nothing."

Abby seemed to remember herself and snapped up, meeting Dean's gaze in the rearview mirror. It was unreadable. Sam was looking at her sympathetically.

"But then your dad showed up. He shot at the demon and it bolted. And then John picked me up and ran me out of the house. He settled me into an orphanage a state over. A nice place, no orphan-Annie sob story for me. And he stayed in contact. He brought me my first computer and encouraged me to go to school."

An indecipherable look crossed Sam's face, and he looked away before Abby could discern why he seemed upset.

"Anyway, yeah, so I went to school, met Jen, and tried to help John out. And now here I am."

"And now here you are," agreed Dean. She couldn't decide what to make of his tone, and wished the Winchester boys would stop being so damn enigmatic.

A/N: Hey! Melancholymuppet here. I just wanted to thank anyone who's been reading thus far; I hope you aren't hating it! This is definitely a work in progress, and I'll be editing and changing things as I go. Which means I'd love comments/criticisms/thoughts.
A solid shout-out to BrittWitt16 for her amazing words of encouragement!