Chapter 7
"Erica! What time did the boys say they'd come get us?" Heather called from behind the bathroom door.
The other woman answered, "Not 'til eight. We have a half-hour."
As if on cue, there was a knock on their motel room door. Erica went and answered it as Heather emerged from the bathroom. Sam and Dean came traipsing in, bidding their good mornings. They were dressed semi-well in preparation for the con of the day.
"Sorry we're early," the elder stated, "Gigantor over here woke me up when coming in from his run and that was like an hour ago and –"
"And so Dean got bored and wanted to come pester y'all." Sam finished, rolling his eyes.
Erica shrugged. "Just don't mess with that stack of paper, please." She warned as Dean reached for her own pile of research.
A suppressed laugh to Dean's left caught his attention, and he looked to see Heather brushing her teeth at the sink in the corner. He made his way over to her, a bounce in his step. "How're ya feeling this morning, Heat? Cause I feel good!" He hummed the catchy rhythm of the famous James Brown song, moving around and continuing to sing. "I knew that I would now, I feel good!"
Heather grinned at his antics. "Good song choice, and yes I'm feeling just fine."
Dean nodded proudly and then turned to join Sam on the couch. Heather watched his gait for the briefest few seconds before turning back to the mirror.
She and Dean had kept up this sort of banter for a few days now. Call it flirtatious, call it playful, it didn't really matter. They were both outgoing and good-natured, and so clicked quite well. It was all very casual, much to Heather's relief. Just like back at grad school, she wasn't looking for any sort of commitment. She preferred to have a fling every now and then, but mostly focus on her education.
And how entertaining this was! She made him smirk, he made her laugh, it was all pretty fun. And it made the whole prospect of the long trip a bit more bearable.
"So, Heather." Sam's voice snapped her from her thoughts.
"What's up?" She asked as she belted her jeans.
He seemed almost nervous. "As far as today goes, what with obtaining the crystal from the, you know, mine with at least moderate security…we're not really sure if –"
"If I should accompany you." she cut him off, sensing where he was going. She'd been expecting this. "I understand. I'm not used to holding up a badge from – which is it today, a government-run lab? – and faking my way into a place."
"Told you she'd understand, Sammy! So let's get the three of us on the road." Dean pulled on his blazer.
"Now hang on a minute." Erica's voice was stern. "Is it safe to leave her here alone?"
Heather protested her friend's caution. "E, we're in Cottonwood, Idaho. There's barely anybody around."
"Exactly. And there's woods everywhere. Hate to break this to ya, but Idaho's rife with wolves. Legends for a couple hundred years about 'em, and an attack every now and then. And there's no way I'm leaving you with that possibility. Plus, you're still a target for the Rous and who knows if there's any out here."
Heather resigned her other arguments and allowed for it to be decided that Erica would stay with her in the motel while Sam and Dean went to retrieve the bismuth.
"Alright, now stay safe and try not to get too bored." Sam offered with a smile as they headed for the door. He looked at Erica for a reaction but received none.
Heather figured Erica had relapsed into her untrusting ways, but wasn't gonna bother her about it. She'd talk if she wanted to. Instead, Heather collapsed onto the bed in an attempt to steal some more sleep.
The afternoon sun found the girls leaving the motel for the nearest grocer. The little mom-and-pop place had the food and toiletries they were looking for, and so they were back shortly.
As soon as the door was shut, Heather started unbagging the groceries and laughed as Erica immediately peeled off her shirt. "You still do that after all those years?"
"Of course. It's still blasted hot cause these northerners apparently don't believe in proper air conditioning. But don't worry, I'm trying to find a cooler shirt to put back on."
Heather had noticed some ink when her friend had been shirtless, but she let a few minutes pass before she said, "So…you got a few more tats, I see."
"Oh, yeah." Erica turned away from her duffel and lifted the tee she now had on. She gestured to a very decorated pentagram on her hip. "You knew about this one, right?"
Heather nodded.
"Well it actually has to do with my hunting." Erica paused as Heather's eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it's anti-possession. Protects me against whatever demons and ghosts and witches and other stuff I come across from inhabiting me."
Heather gave a half-smile, her voice a bit saddened. "And you got that when we were seventeen. Even then?"
"Yeah. Born and raised this way, remember?" She cleared her throat and continued, pointing to an interesting split arrow figure on her ribcage. "When facing setbacks, be able to move forward."
She turned and showed one on her spine, what looked to be a Native American glyph. "This one is 'wisdom', god knows I need it. And then this represents all the people I've saved, or couldn't save, as it is." She referred to the lines of a heart monitor on her lower back.
"Wow." Heather nodded. "I'm impressed, and I do like them all."
Erica smiled. "And I guess the future lawyer has shied away from any tattoos?"
"Oh yes indeed, and I'm not so much of a fan of needles anyway."
Her next words were interrupted by a rough knock on the door. Heather opened it this time, and found Dean's beaming face meeting hers.
"Oh good, you ladies managed to stay alive." He maneuvered himself inside the room, his brother following in behind him.
"Yes, mission accomplished." Sam said before Erica could ask, holding up a small glass case. "One bismuth crystal."
He returned it to his jacket pocket as Dean rifled through the food Heather was still unloading. "So, didja keep busy?" The older hunter inquired. "No wait, lemme guess…pillow fights, chocolate, and The Notebook."
"Well as you can see," Heather retorted as she snatched away a granola bar, "we were actually quite productive. Food was running low and we were gonna need batteries and detergent soon, so we stocked up."
Erica grinned as she grabbed the plastic bucket from her bedside table. "You're welcome, boys. Now I'm gonna go grab some ice from the machine, cause there's no way that ridiculous fridge will cool the beers."
"So drinking isn't a terribly new thing to either of you?" Sam pondered once she was down the hall.
Heather laughed. "Sam, she and I are twenty-six, and we grew up in New Orleans, alcohol is as common as water there. My first Bourbon street party was at seventeen. Granted, I've tried not to do that too much, but yes of course we're accustomed to our alcohol."
"Anything else you're accustomed to?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "The term 'party' can have a lot of connotations…"
"Drugs aren't my thing and Erica's the one with the tattoos, if that's what you're asking."
"Erica has tattoos?" Both boys' faces lit up.
Erica herself had walked back through the door and heard that last question, and she shot Heather a glare. "Really, Heat?"
The blonde gave a sheepish smile. "I wasn't thinking, sorry."
"You've been outed, gotta show us now." Dean batted his eyes.
She sighed, then quickly played show-and-tell like she had earlier with Heather. Dean nodded when she explained the heart monitor tattoo, as a fellow hunter he could identify.
The same could be said for Sam, except that he seemed too caught up with Erica herself, hanging on her every word. Heather could tell he was probably interested in her, but then decided to not mention it because the dreamy expression was gone as quickly as it had arrived.
"They're quite meaningful." He stated, locking eyes with Erica.
She offered a smirk. "Well I don't have a half-sleeve, if that's what you were looking for."
"Yeah, when Heat said tattoos," Dean cut in, "I thought you were some sort of closeted rockabilly chick. These are good though, I like 'em."
"Thanks." She quickly tugged her shirt down. "Alright, move along, I'm not a museum exhibit."
The boys stood, gathering their things. Dean turned to Heather with an endearing head tilt. "Now if you ever want one of our little anti-possession ones, lemme know. We'll get you to the right place."
"You know I'm not a hunter, Dean," she shook her head, "and a tattoo won't really be the best thing for my profession. You know, with corporate big wigs soon to be my day-to-day clientele."
He shrugged. "It was worth a shot." Then, throwing his blazer over his shoulder, he gave a grandiose bow, earning an eye-roll from the rest of them. "Sam and I will retire to our room now to relax."
"And he'll probably watch Oprah." Sam muttered.
