I'm so sorry its so late, honestly. Also, I apologize for how short this chapter is, I felt it was better to break it up here instead of try and split the next chapter.
"Alright, we'll track him down and head out tonight," Dean started. He brought the laptop down from the second floor and was booting it up as he spoke. He sat at the kitchen desk, Bobby hovering around him and myself finishing the preparation for dinner.
"No," I stated, my voice firm and commanding.
"What d'ya mean, no?"
"No, as in you are not leaving tonight to go look for Sam."
"And why not?" Dean demanded, glaring at me.
"Dean," I warned. "You just crawled out of a hole in the ground! You are going to get a night of rest with warm food and a slightly lumpy mattress, you hear me?" I waited, but his mouth gaped like a fish out of water, so I pushed on. "Four months you've been dead Dean, four months. You need some food in your belly, and I ain't takin' no for an answer!"
"Who're you, Sandra Bullock? I don't need your mothering!" Dean spat, glaring at me. He had his arms folded across his chest like some child, pouting about eating his vegetables.
I whipped the wooden spoon I was using to stir the cooking beans out of the pot and pointed it at him. I opened my mouth for a longer, more motherly lecture when Bobby spoke. "She's right Dean, you need a little R&R." I smirked triumphantly at Dean as he pouted, and when Bobby turned his back I stuck my tongue out as well. Dean shot me a dirty look but mumbled his agreement.
"You can look up his phone's location, but if you even think about sneaking out to look on your own, I will drag you back by your ear," I threatened, waving the spoon at him. When I thought he understood, I turned back to the meal. "Oh, and Bobby? Could you go flip the meat?"
"Here ya are, nice and clean sheets for your full night of rest." I smoothed out the wrinkles on the mattress then turned to look at Dean. He was still unhappy I forced him to stay home for the night, and I was only gloating a little.
"Whatever, momma bear," he grumbled.
I grinned at him and left the room, shutting the door behind me. I walked a little ways down the hallway, entering my own room and flicking on the lights. My room was basically unchanged from when I was younger, but that's really not anything interesting. It wasn't a startling shade of pink, it wasn't an alarmingly bright and cheery place, it was just kinda there. Books were stacked and scattered everywhere, overwhelming every surface and shelf with a myriad of folktales and other lore related texts. I had added quite a few of my own from my college days, but nothing that held new information.
Currently I was sorting through every book in the house, which was a huge task, and compiling a book I hoped would turn out to be as useful as I thought it would. I was going to create the world's first, and probably last, Supernatural Guide: Kill or Be Killed. I wasn't so sure on the title yet, but I was going to make a book filled with the basic recognizing features and killing blows of every major supernatural creature on the planet. In my mind, once the blasted thing is finished, it would be something we could give out to everyone. Just as people called Bobby from all over the country, and sometimes the world, for advice and tips, the book could help them. Bobby called me foolish, but I think he liked the idea too. I knew it would take a lot of time and effort, but really, what else was I going to be doing? I had my degree, I saw the outside world, I can hunt whatever, but in the meantime, I could compile a database of everything supernatural and then print it out for the masses.
When I told Dean he called it a pipedream, well I'd show him.
I wanted to work on it but I knew I'd need a full night's sleep to hunt down the missing Winchester. It was only a matter of driving to where he was, possibly bailing him out of trouble, and convincing him to come back. With Dean on our side he should be more willing to come back, otherwise we'd have to time him up and drag him back. What worried me was that if Sam was in the middle of a hunt, I don't want to muck things up for him, or get him into trouble. It was probably my needless worrying, but I anticipated tomorrow with a hefty portion of trepidation.
I sighed and tossed an old, leather bound book out of my way. I didn't want to go to sleep yet, but I also knew I should at least brush up. I went to the bathroom connected to my room and flicked on the lights, lazily showering and brushing my teeth. I dragged a comb through my wet hair and stared at myself in the mirror. My hair was darker while damp and looked almost black, but when the light hit it just right the red tint could be seen. I tugged a little on the end of a chunk of my hair and noticed it was getting awfully long and decided that once there was a lull in activity around here I would go into town and get it cut.
In college it was nice to have long hair, to let it just flow with the wind or to just have it around for something to play with during dull lectures, but it was impractical for this lifestyle. Long hair could be grabbed or caught and it could be the difference between a clean getaway and death. I didn't want to cut it, I liked it long and I felt it framed my face nicely, but practicality outweighed vanity and I knew it had to be done. I knew that waiting for a "lull" that would probably never come was just my way of putting it off, but I didn't really care at the moment.
By the time I broke from my random hair-related thoughts my hair had begun to dry and curled at the ends, a slight wave becoming visible. I stole one last lingering look into the mirror and left the room, flicking the lights off behind me. I dropped my towel on the floor and pulled a large, old and dingy t-shirt over my head, slipping on underwear and flopping onto my bed face-first. I crawled under my blankets and curled myself into a ball, yawning and allowing my eyes to grow heavy. I drifted between awake and asleep for just a few minutes before I finally fell into darkness.
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