(Hey-o! So, original adventure coming up! And this is the start of the big build up to the apocalypse and oh it makes me so happy! Yay insomnia! I'm not sure if anyone's done this idea before, but I just came up with it late one night and I'm kind of shocked at the brilliance of it! Enjoy!)
Sam drives us back to the motel, parking the impala neatly in the parking space. We all climb out, our aching bodies complaining loudly. We must've looked like quite a sight to the lady at the desk, caked in dirt and blood, decorated with bruises and bug-bites. We smiled apologetically at her before we disappeared down the hallway to our room.
"I call dibs on first shower!" I say as we step into our room, our stuff untouched from the last time we were here. Sam and Dean don't protest. I think it's because they're too tired. The two of them collapse on the bed, and loose bits of dirt fall from them onto the sheets. I sigh. A little dirt we could explain, but if they got blood on the sheets, we'd have to burn them and exchange them for the fresh sheets in the closet before we left. That's always a pain.
I look at myself in the mirror of the bathroom, and groan. Like I said, usually I'm not vain, but I can't believe that people saw me looking like this! I have a bruise forming on my right cheek from Lord knows when, dirt in my hair, on my face, little bloody scrapes… and a big bug bite under my left eye. Looking at me, if I'd told you I grew up in the woods as a feral child, you might believe me. I look as if the concept of a shower has never quite been explained to me.
And my clothes! Dear god… the purple shirt was caked in dirt and grass stains that I don't think any number of washes is going to get out, and it has minimal blood. I'm not too sad about that, it was a five-dollar flannel, I can easily replace it. What I'm not so happy about is my jeans. They were already torn to shreds to begin with, but at least they were clean! Clean, and could still be worn acceptably! But now, they're covered in dirt and dried blood, torn in a whole new way so that the calf of my right leg is basically only attached by a thread. They reveal the myriad of bruises that're forming on my legs. I'll have to throw these out. Damn!
Sighing, I kick off my boots, which escaped relatively unharmed, and unbutton my shirt, hanging it off the doorknob. I almost tear my jeans again as I take them off, and, irritated, I throw them on the ground in the corner. When I'm fully naked, I turn the water on and step in. I watch as the water goes from pink to brown to black, back to brown, before finally becoming clear. I suds up, wincing as the soap and the abrasive loofa come into contact with my many new scrapes. Rinsing off, I took a deep breath as I ran my fingers through my hair. This wouldn't be easy.
Overall, it took three rounds of shampoo before all the crap was out of my hair. My hair isn't even that long! How did this much dirt manage to get in there? Finally, though, I'm satisfied that all the dirt has been washed off of my skin, and I turn off the water. I step out and wrap myself in a towel, bending over to pick up my clothes before emerging into the room proper.
"Finally!" Sam cheered. "Couldn't have taken any longer, could you?"
I roll my eyes. "You saw how dirty I was. It takes time to wash all that," I gesture to his filthy self, "off. Go see for yourself!" Sam rushes into the bathroom, and groans loudly. I chuckle. He could be even more vain than Dean sometimes.
I lay in my towel on the bed that Sam and Dean didn't get dirty, suddenly feeling very drained.
"Gwen…" Dean says, sounding as tired as I feel. "Please don't make us have the talk, okay?"
I sighed melodramatically at Dean. By 'the talk', he of course meant, 'girls and boys are different, and now that you've hit puberty it makes us uncomfortable when you just lay there in a towel.'
"Dean!" I whine. "Why can't I be comfortable? You lay around in a towel for hours after your shower!"
Sam's shower starts. Dean looks increasingly uncomfortable. "'S different for you."
"Why, 'cause I'm a girl?"
"No, just that… You're a very pretty young lady, and…" Dean looks like he's struggling to get the words out, so I take pity on him.
"Dean, don't worry. I get it. Delicate flower and all that bull crap." I say, motioning for him to turn around while I pull on an overly large t-shirt and sweatpants.
"Exactly." Dean said gruffly.
"Safe!" I call, flopping back onto the bed again.
"Thank you." Dean says.
I grab my teddy, a book, and snuggle under the blankets. Sam comes out of the shower a few minutes later, looking significantly cleaner. "Let's get out of here tomorrow." Sam suggests before Dean leaves to take his own shower.
Dean and I don't exactly protest, and Sam sets about cleaning the bedsheets on Sam and Dean's bed while I keep reading. By the time Dean comes out of the shadow, Sam and I have already turned down the lights and hit the hay. I'm dozing, just about to fall asleep, when Dean climbs into bed with me. Though his disturbance wakes me up a little, my body and brain are so tired that I'm asleep within minutes.
I wasn't dreaming, but this was the good kind of sleep where even though you're not dreaming, you're just relaxing in an ocean of darkness, and when you wake up you feel perfectly relaxed and happy afterwards.
Assuming you're allowed to wake up naturally.
I'm shaken awake at five in the morning, with Sam looking over me. "Wakey wakey!" he says. I pout at him, and try to pull the covers over my head. "You can sleep in the car." Sam says, dragging me out of bed. I nod sleepily, pulling a hoodie over my shirt to hide that I'm not wearing a bra, and hugging my teddy tightly to me. Like a zombie, I trudge out of the motel with Sam and climb into the backseat of the Impala, where Dean has already laid out a travel pillow and blanket. I descend back into sleep as the Impala roars to life again, but it's not as good as it was last time.
I finally wake up for good when the sun streams through the windows onto my face. I scrunch up my face and squint my eyes, sitting up and leaning back in the seat.
"Morning," I croak, rubbing my eyes.
"Finally decided to wake up, huh?" Dean says. "This one just fell asleep." I look at Sam and find him sleeping uncomfortably in the front seat.
"Poor thing. He doesn't get enough sleep." I say. "Where are we?"
"Just hit a town called Rifle." Says Dean. "We've been on the road about two and a half hours."
"Where are we headed?" I ask, swallowing to try and rid the dryness from my mouth.
"The Windy City!" says Dean. He reaches into the glove compartment, awkwardly trying not to wake Sammy, and tosses me back a travel size safe-to-swallow mouthwash. "There you go. We'll stop to get something to eat in a few hours, and you can really freshen up then."
I wondered briefly as I knocked back the mouthwash and swished, why we were going to Chicago. We usually liked to keep to smaller towns when we weren't on a case, and it's rare that we go so quickly from one case to another. My money is on Dean visiting an old fling.
Now that the mouthwash has rid my mouth of the bad taste, I settle down and amuse myself. It's gonna be a long trip to Chicago. I stick my earbuds in and listen to music, amusing myself with counting games and occasionally playing word puzzles with Dean. He's not really one to play word games, and mostly I do them with him just to see how long he makes it before he becomes grumpy because he can't figure them out. Even so, time crawls. It doesn't help that I'm checking the clock every thirty seconds. Even though it's only been three hours by the time we stop at a diner on the side of the road, it feels like it's been way longer.
"Are we even close?" I complain as I grab my toiletries from the trunk and shove them into the pocket of my hoodie. Out of everything about the job, I hate the driving the worst. Driving across the country can be fun, and there's lots of stuff to see, but it can be so boring sometimes.
Sam chuckles. "We still have at least another twelve hours, Gwen."
"More like fifteen!" Dean adds as he leads us into the diner. We take a booth close to the exit, and I quickly excuse myself to the bathroom. I splash some water on my face, brush my teeth, and spritz on some perfume and deodorant before walking back out to the boys. I take my seat opposite them in the booth.
"So why Chicago?" I ask as I take a menu out of the little rack by the window. I'm thinking of getting French toast and an orange juice.
Dean shrugs. "We just picked the name out of a hat."
I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically. "I'll buy that when hell freezes over." I tell him. "Is it a girl?"
Dean rolls his eyes. "Your lack of faith in my ability to think with the head on my shoulders is truly saddening." He says with theatricality.
"By your own fault!" I point out. "How many times have you dragged my ass across the country just so you can get some?"
Sam gives Dean a look. "Seriously dude?"
Dean tries to look regal and above it all. "It's a tough job, and I need some love and comfort!"
"More than the comfort of your own family?" I ask as the waitress comes up. I order hash browns instead of French toast, and a glass of orange juice. Dean basically orders a pile of bacon, and Sam gets a salad.
"Really though," I ask as the waitress, a short and plump old woman, waddles away with our orders, "why Chicago?"
Dean and Sam share a look, that look they used to give me when I was a kid when I asked them something that I wasn't supposed to know.
"Out with it!" I tell them, giving them the mom look, or as close as I could get to it.
Dean gives me a sly grin. "Well, we noticed yesterday that you're running low on wearable clothes."
"So we thought we'd take you shopping at one of the biggest malls in America." Sam says casually, as if he hadn't just made me one of the most excited people on Earth.
Like I said, I'm not usually vain when it comes to my appearance. We have to travel light if everything is going to fit in the car, and most of our clothes have to be dedicated to hunting. It's very hard to be vain and think I'm all that when the bags under my eyes scream how tired I am and I'm wearing a mishmash of my brother's old shirts and an old pair of jeans. I mean, I do have some clothes that are meant to be worn by girls, but at this point, they're either too small, or have blood or something on them.
Growing up, Dad never really bought me clothes of my own, outside of bras and stuff that couldn't be handed down from Sam or Dean. It cost time that we didn't have and money that we couldn't scam at a rate fast enough to buy me new clothes every time I hit a growth spurt. Not that I minded. I hated Dora. Give me an AC/DC shirt over a pink Dora the Explorer shirt any day!
But I always jump at any chance to go clothes shopping. Not only because it's nice to have things to wear that fit and aren't torn, bloody, or otherwise stained, but because it makes me feel normal. Makes me feel like I could just be shopping with friends, trying on everything I can just because, and gushing over how good they make me look.
Besides, I am in desperate need of new clothes.
"Really?" I ask, excitement creeping into my tone.
Sam and Dean nod, and I have to bite my wrist to keep from squealing, loudly, in public.
"You think she's excited?" Sam asks Dean, and I reach across the table to smack him.
"We're going to one of the biggest malls in the US for a shopping trip?" I ask.
Sam nods again. "For more than just clothes too! This place has a little of everything, so we can get music, a new laptop, or anything else we might conceivably need."
"Awesome!" I say. The waitress comes back with our food, and we all dig into our meals. Dean's shoveling bacon into his mouth, I'm spooning massive spoonful's of hashed potatoes into my mouth, and Sam is looking down at the two of us as he calmly eats his rabbit food.
"You'd swear you two've never eaten a decent meal in your lives!" Sam says, shaking his head.
"What do you know about decent meals?" I ask around my hash browns. "You eat like a rabbit!"
"I eat healthy," Sam corrects me.
"Yeah, but it's not filling!" Dean points out.
Sam just sighs. "Go ahead and keep eating your way closer to a heart attack."
Dean and I happily comply. Odds are, given the average lifespan of a hunter, I'll be dead before I'm thirty-five, so it's not like I'll be cutting my life short by that much if I have a heart attack at thirty.
We stick around for desert, even though I'm itching to get going. I plow through my ice cream, and stare at my older brothers, trying to ignore my brain freeze. Sam takes a particularly long time with his ice cream, so much so that I'm threatening to drag him out of the diner by his hair before he finishes. Sam and Dean laugh at me as we walk back out to the Impala.
"Gwen, you kill monsters for a living. How can you be so excited about going shopping?" Sam asks.
"Same reason you wanted to go to Stanford." I say with a shrug as I dig out a book and my music from the trunk. "It's normal."
"Yes, but it's so…" Sam struggles to find the word. "Un-you!"
Now I laugh, as I climb into the backseat. "Un-you? Is that a word they taught you in college?"
"Shut up." Sam says. "I just didn't figure in the three or so years I've been gone that you'd change so much…"
I give him a look as we start the drive again. "You expected me at fifteen to be the same as me at twelve? That I wouldn't have matured or changed at all in the three years between?"
"No, it's not that." Sam says. "It's just, you're so different, it's kind of shocking."
I grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"Oh, he meant it as a compliment, alright." Dean mutters. "He never had to deal with the in between years!" To Sam, he says, "You're lucky, you left right before all the gory puberty shit happened!"
"I wasn't that bad, Dean!" I protest, laughing a little. Dean's favorite thing to say to remind me of how much I owed him for taking care of me, was how he didn't kick me out after the mess of hormones and body changes that was puberty turned me into a screaming harpy seemingly at random. I always reminded him that he couldn't have kicked me out if he wanted Dad to let him live.
"'Wasn't that bad'?" Dean quotes, giving me a look in the rearview. "Oh, Sammy, it was miserable! She'd cry for no reason! She was so sensitive, and she suddenly obsessed over how she looked every time she left the motel!"
"That's all normal!" I point out, but Dean continues as if I haven't spoken.
"And don't even get me started on her periods!" This is all in jest, but Sam looks a little weirded out.
"Dean, I'd really rather not have to hear about my younger sister's periods…" he says. I laugh, as Dean continues dramatically,
"And I didn't want to have to deal with it! But every month like bleeping clockwork, she'd crawl into bed looking all teary, and I'd have to get her a hot water bottle and chocolate and tell her she's pretty every five minutes!"
Dean made it sound like I was getting my period just to inconvenience him. It really wasn't that bad. It was just hard going through the awkward years without another woman to help me through it. Dad sure as hell didn't care, since he was rarely there, and Dean just did what the internet told him to.
Sam puts a hand consolingly on Dean's shoulder. "You poor saint. What a terrible cross you must bear."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Well, now I must pass that cross onto you. You're gonna have to make up for lost time, buddy."
Sam doesn't look nearly as devastated as Dean thinks he ought. "Living with Jess has taught me a few things about dealing with periods." He says with a shrug.
I laugh at Dean's expression. "You make it sound like I'm still making your life miserable once a month!" I say. "I'm not nearly as bad now as I was when they first started!"
"Maybe not to you…" Dean mutters. Sam and I both roll our eyes, and the car settles into amicable silence. I open my book and begin to read.
Several hours later, we're in the home stretch. Chicago is only an hour or two away when we pull into a gas station around eleven at night. We all hop out to stretch our legs before we each start our usual tasks at a gas station. One of us fills the tank and watches the car, the other two going into the mini-mart to grab some snacks and go to the restroom. Dean and I hurry into the mini-mart first this time round, leaving Sam to fill the tank. Dean grabs us snacks, while I go to the restroom. This one's surprisingly clean, and I'm out to replace Sam in a few minutes.
I wait in the chilly night for my brothers. A luxury vehicle pulls in, and I have to do a double take. It looks odd, a luxurious car like that pulling into this dingy gas and mini-mart. I avert my eyes, looking straight ahead into the mini-mart, waiting ever so patiently for my brothers. A young man just a few years older than me steps out of the car, his pristine and lavish clothing also sticking out like a sore thumb in this place. I can see him smile at me in the corner of my eye.
"Well," he drawls, "ain't you a pretty sight in a place like this?"
I can't help but laugh out loud at this. Boy, was this guy going out of his way to be as out of place as possible.
"Have I said something funny?" he asks, looking bemused by my laughter. Several things run through my head all at once. He's probably drunk, and drunk people are very stupid. I'm all alone with this guy, and even though I'm armed and know damn well what to do with my knives, I'm hesitant to take on a man of his size. He might be around Dean's height!
"Trying to pick me up at a gas station mini mart?" I say, "Yeah, that's kind of funny. And insulting."
"Aw, how can being told your pretty be an insult?" he asks, beginning to pump gas into his tank.
"Because you're trying to pick me up at a mini-mart." I say as if it should be obvious (which it should be). "'Least do it somewhere a bit classier so you don't look like some drunk guy trying to pick up a hooker."
It occurs to me that insulting the man might not have been the smartest thing to do, but it's too late now.
To my surprise, the man laughs. "Somewhere classier as in… Chicago?" He jerks his head to the road. "If you're travelling that route, the only place you could go is Chicago. How bout I compliment you there?"
"Maybe we're travelling the opposite way." I point out. He shrugs.
"You could be leaving the Windy City, sure, but you don't sound like you're from there, and if you were just visiting and were now leaving, then leaving at ten at night seems an odd time to leave a big city." He says, and I raise my eyebrows. Alright, point one goes to the snazzy guy in an overpriced car.
"Alright, so maybe we're headed to Chicago." I say. "But that's a big city. Odds are we won't see each other ever again."
The young man puts the gas pump back in its place, and smirks. "Maybe we won't. But if we do, I'll just have to try and pick you up then!"
I laugh again, just as Sam and Dean emerge from the mini-mart. "Alright. If I see you again."
"Who was that?" Dean asks as we drive away.
I shrug. "Some random guy."
Something felt off about him though, and as we cruise towards the city, I try to pass it off as just the weirdness of the encounter, and remind myself that the odds of me running into him again are very, very slim. Funny how that wasn't much comfort.
