Howdy folks! So here goes the next bit. Btw, in case you think the custody of "Jack Tripper" sounds a little too far fetched, it is actually based on a true life story.

About ten years ago, a random drug dealer was caught in Southern Mexico just like mentioned here—pure accident. He was driving in plain daylight (who knows where) and stupidly ran a red light. A patrol officer happened to be there, forcibly pulled him over, and asked for his driver's license. When the guy refused and tried to run away, the police officer forcibly detained him and brought him into custody, where after taking his finger prints, he was soon identified. Crazy I know...but hey, it happens! :)

Anywho, you'll need a song for this..."I'm with you" by Avril Lavigne.


Dean sighed as he took a sip from his beer. In the last three hours he had had a hell of a time. After successfully wrapping up the girl with the hospital bed sheets and managing to carry her over to his car without being seen, he had driven for over two hours before daring to stop to look for a motel. Better be safe than sorry…the farther away we are the better…for both of us.

It was around six a.m. and Dean couldn't remember ever being this tired in his life. With a sigh, he turned on the TV at a low volume and began randomly switching channels, not really looking for anything in particular. Suddenly, something caught his attention on the CNN news. He moved his chair closer to the screen and listened attentively. He whistled in surprise as the news reporter began a detailed account of the recent custody of –of all people—Jack Tripper. It seemed that he had been pulled over by the police over an hour ago by the merest luck—in his hurry, he had sloppily crossed a red light, only to be pulled over forcefully. The police officer had identified him, and immediately taken him into custody. The news flash went on to say that although he was currently in the county jail, immediate arrangements were being made for his transfer to a maximum security prison.

Well how do you like that…he was just a normal psycho…nothing supernatural about him. Dean chuckled to himself as he remembered his shock when the man hadn't disintegrated when the salt bullet hit him. I thought it wasn't our kind of job…guess I was right… He smirked to himself, as he imagined the fun he would have rubbing it in with his father, then suddenly turned serious as he remembered the girl on the bed. I don't think she got any kick out of this. He felt a shudder pass through his spine, as a flashback of the two tied up and bleeding women came back to him.

He gazed across the room to one the twin beds where he had laid the girl. Hasn't stirred an inch. He lifted his arm and grimaced as he took a sniff of his armpit. Man I really need a shower! Seeing she looked comfortable enough, he decided to take the chance to shower. He stood up slowly and gathered a change of clothes, careful not to make any sudden movements that would wake her up. Opening the door of the bathroom, he turned to give her one last glance and grinned despite himself. She looks so peaceful like…

Half an hour later, Dean reluctantly turned off the shower. The water had felt wonderfully refreshing, and it had felt good to wash of all the mud and blood from his fingernails. Stepping out the shower, he grabbed a towel and dried himself off leisurely, stopping to flex his muscles at the mirror while he grinned from ear to ear like a kid. Looking good Winchester. He combed his hair, shaved, and put on his clothes. With a sigh of self content, Dean figured all he needed was breakfast, and his happiness would be complete. Picking up his dirty clothes from the floor, he opened the door and stepped out into the room, only to freeze in place as he felt the barrel of a gun poked against his lower back.

Dean turned slightly, only to see the Mexican girl behind him, coolly brandishing HIS gun against him.

"Please tell me you speak English."

"Don't move," she said evenly.

"Ok…so far so good…uh…You mind telling me what the problem is here, though?"

"Not at all…once you tell me who you are, and what I'm doing here in this Godforsaken motel with a complete stranger."

"Excuse me? I find you tied up in some psycho's place, rescue you, and this is the thanks I get? Man, my feelings are hurt."

"Funny."

"Only on days that end in 'y', babe."

For a response, she poked the gun harder against his back.

"Uh, ya know…I really wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because that just makes it a hell of a lot easier to do this—" he said as he turned around with lightning speed and whipped the gun out her hands. She shrieked and lost her balance as she struggled to get take it back, only to send it flying across the room, where it fell against a corner well beyond their reach.

Not to be outdone, she turned suddenly and before Dean could register her next move, she had grabbed his empty beer by the neck of the bottle and slammed it against the table, sending chips of glass flying around the room. Without even blinking, she brandished her self made weapon and advanced two steps threateningly towards him shoving the jagged and uneven broken side towards Dean.

"I'm not in the mood for games! I want to know, and I want to know now…who the hell are you!?!" she shrieked hysterically at him, as she panted with exhaustion.

Dean looked with surprise and even slight admiration at the girl. Kid's got spunk.

"Well?" she prodded. She had started shaking and the hospital nightgown that she was still wearing had slid slightly down her left shoulder. Dean couldn't help but notice that despite her bravado, she looked scared shitless. Her shaky legs looked like about to collapse any minute, and her lower lip quivered.

"Look, you're not yourself. You really need to lie down before you make yourself sick—"

"Don't give me that," she snapped. "Just answer the damn question."

"Don't you remember anything? That psycho had you tied up and I got you outta there…they cleaned you up at the hospital and I brought you here. Figured you could rest up while I tried to figure out where was the best place to take you."

"How conscientious of you…your parents must be very proud," she sniggered. Before Dean could respond to that, she moved suddenly to the other side of the room and pointed to a green duffle bag lying on the floor. "You thought I hadn't seen that?"

Realizing she was referring to his bag of equipment (aka…guns, knives and what not), Dean mentally kicked himself for having been careless enough to bring that in with him to the motel room. Great…she's probably thinking I use that stuff to torture my victims or something. Shit! Deciding the only thing course of action left was to calm her down before she hurt either one of themselves, he tried to borrow some time talking, while he slowly inched his way towards her.

"Look, I know you're scared right now…but seriously? I can explain…really."

"The hell you can!"

"You really wanna hear the truth about why I lug around that stuff?"

"Yes," flatly.

"You're not gonna believe it," he warned.

"Try me."

"Ok, see, so my dad and me? We're hunters, but not as in the 'Bugs Bunny season' kind, but as in the paranormal kind. Trust me, there's things out there you can't explain, but they do exist. So my dad and me? We get rid of demons, spirits, and as many evil sons of bitches as we possibly can."

Without batting an eyelid, she spit out, "You're insane."

"It's been said," he acknowledged with a shrug.

"I don't have to believe you," she said, but more to herself than to him. Dean held his breath as he realized she was trying to process what he had just said. She closed her eyes and put one of her hands to her head at the same time lowering her other hand with the bottle to her side.

"So…you're like ghost busters?"

"Well...yeah, kinda."

"I don't even know if I believe in ghosts or not." She shivered, and suddenly looked down at the hospital gown, fingering the material as if she had just noticed what she was wearing. "So you really got me out of there?"

"Yeah."

"I don't remember…much…how long have I been here with you?" she asked. She dropped the bottle and started crying. Putting her hands to her head, she started looking around her, as if trying to recognize her surroundings.

"Hey, it's ok…we just got here a couple of hours ago…" He walked to where she was and tentatively put his hands on her shoulders. "Look, you're sick, you really need some rest—"

He stopped, realizing she wasn't listening as she started to flip out and let out a sob. "I'm fine, I'm fine..." she pleaded, as she tried to step away from him.

Dean held her firmly yet gently, however, and said soothingly, "Hey, it's ok, I'm not gonna hurt you." He bent his head and felt something tear inside him as he looked into her tear brimmed eyes and quivering frame. Instinctively, he put an arm lightly over her protectively and pulled her to him. "It's ok kid…I gotcha."

A little short I know...oh well... You like? If so, tell, me and I'll keep adding to it…