Secrets
As soon as they got back to the motel, Kerry was the first to shower. She noticed how many scratches covered her body but other than that, she was fine. Well, that and a bit achy.
They were taking it in turns using the shower. She was going first and then once she was clean, Sam would take care of her wounds while Dean showered. Then it would be Sammy's turn to shower while she looked after Dean.
She had wanted Dean to go first so his wound would be the first to get looked at but he wasn't having any of it. It seems that the elder Winchester was still a gentleman even when injured.
So she showered as quickly as she could, trying to avoid the angry scratch marks which stung whenever she accidentally brushed against them. Mud and parts of the forest fell from her hair as she washed it, turning the water a browny color as it swirled down the drain.
As soon as she was sure that the dirt and grime was gone, she turned the water off and climbed out. Once she dried herself, she put on a clean pair of shorts and a tank top. She didn't feel comfortable wearing such revealing clothing but she knew it would be better to wear that instead of having to remove her pants and shirt in front of Sam so he could reach her cuts and scraps.
She would have done it herself ideally but Sam insisted since a lot of them were on her back due to landing in the thorn bush, and since didn't want to risk infection, she reluctantly and gratefully agreed.
Once she was dressed, she let her hair hang loosely around her shoulders so it could dry before she stepped out of the bathroom.
"Alright, I'm done," she told them, walking over to the motel bed which Dean had let her have the past two nights. She sat on it and crossed her legs. Sam was standing next to the table, preparing the first aid kit while Dean laid on the couch, absently touching his wound. She tried to ignore his naked torso and turned her gaze away. "You ready for me, Doc?" she spoke cheerfully, trying to ignore the feelings of dread welling up in her.
You see, her feelings were very up and down when it came to things like sex, or being touched. One moment she felt like she could do it easily without a second thought but other times, the idea repulsed her enough to want to avoid men all together.
Right now, she was going through the second one.
Sam gave her a half-smile as he headed towards her with the first aid box. Dean groaned behind them as he climbed off the couch, muttering about how he would be right back.
"If you need any help, just shout." Sam told him, concern in his voice. He knew Dean would never admit he needed help which is exactly why Sam was worried. He didn't want his brother falling in the shower due to blood-loss because he was being too damn stubborn.
Dean quirked an eyebrow at him before he entered the bathroom. "Dude, that's just wrong." He shook his head, looking a bit disgusted before closing the door behind him.
Kerry let out a chuckle. Their banter made her wish she'd had another sibling growing up. Maybe that way she wouldn't feel so damn alone all the time.
Sam rolled his eyes, knowing that Dean was using humor because he hated hearing anything that might suggest Sam cared about him or even worried about him. Turning to the girl sitting on the bed, he told her, "Lay on your front."
She did as she was told and folded her arms in front of her before resting her head on them and staring at the stained motel walls. It looked like coffee stained them, making her wonder if a couple had got into a disagreement and one of them lost their frustrations with the coffee pot.
Sam pulled her top up, revealing her injuries. "S'gonna sting," he muttered under his breath before he started gently rubbing the cream onto her wounds. Usually they just used alcohol but Kerry had the real deal in her bag so they used that instead. It was silent for the next few moments and Sam couldn't help the way his eyes kept glancing at the scar which lined her middle back. "Where'd you get it?" he questioned, knowing that she'd know what he meant.
Biting her lip hard for a moment, she thought up a quick lie before answering, "A hunt. Scratched by a Wendigo"
Sam raised his eyebrows disbelievingly although she didn't see it. "Really?" he questioned, his voice casual. "'Cause it looks like a knife wound to me," eyeing the back of her head like he could read her expression, he continued, "Then again, what would I know? I've only been a hunter my whole life."
Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she sagged in defeat, knowing he wouldn't believe her if she tried to continue her lie and feeling like an idiot for even trying. He was a hunter – of course he'd know the damn difference. "'Bout a year ago," she spoke quietly, her fingers twisting in the sheets. "At some stupid bar fight." It wasn't exactly a lie. In fact, it was probably the most honest she'd been about herself since they had met.
Sam nodded but didn't push for details. "Sorry." He told her simply, placing her shirt back over her body. "You're all done."
Getting to her knees, she twisted her body round and sat back down on the bed. "Thanks."
Kerry had to admit, she thought Dean would be a wiggler. She could imagine him complaining as she cleaned up his wound, shifting in his seat and pulling away from her helping hands. Turns out he was the opposite and barely even blinked as she applied the cream, or poked around his cuts, trying to decide if they needed stitches or not.
In the end, she asked Sam's advice and he told her that they should be fine; he'd had worse that hadn't been stitched up. The cuts with thin and the skin was touching instead of separated but it was the deepness which concerned her the most. She made a mental note to keep an eye on it, or to remind Sam to once they'd parted ways.
Once Sammy was cleaned up, they headed down to the local bar, ready for a well-deserved celebratory drink.
"Cheers!" they called out happily, their glasses clinking together causing small droplets of liquid to spill over.
Kerry took small sips of her beer while the boys gulped theirs greedily. As much as she would love to get shit-faced drunk, she knew it wasn't a good idea. She was a rather open drunk and she couldn't risk letting out any of her secrets.
"I have to say," Sam started with a small smile as he leaned back in his chair, looking as if the alcohol was starting to take effect already. "It's been really great working with you. Usually other hunters cause us problems." He admitted with a laugh.
Dean hummed in agreement. "S'why we usually work alone. Easier that way. No hiccups."
She could feel a light blush forming on her cheeks. "Well…I'm flattered, really." She told them with a nervous giggle as she brought her drink up to her lips.
"Should do it again sometime." Sam added in, throwing his brother a glance.
Dean nodded. "I wouldn't say no to that." He said over the top of his beer, giving her a small wink. Leaning his arms on the table, he told her, "Tell me something."
"Mm?" she raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment.
"Where's your Dad now?" he questioned curiously. He remembered her telling him about her father but he couldn't remember her mentioning what he was up to now, and why he wasn't hunting with her.
Her throat constricted and it took her a moment to speak. "He died," she was glad her voice didn't crack. "'Bout a year ago now."
"I'm sorry," Sam frowned, putting two and two together. "Is that anythin' to do with your scar?" she'd also said that it happened around a year ago.
"Scar?" Dean said questioningly, glancing between the two of them.
Kerry responded quickly, "It's nothing." She couldn't be angry with Sam, as much as she wanted to be. It wasn't his fault; he didn't know that the subject wasn't something she liked being brought up. Plus, from the look on his face, he regretted it as soon as the words came out and gave her an apologetic glance. She nodded at him reassuringly, letting him know it was okay. Well, it wasn't okay but she would let him believe that. Downing the rest of her drink, she changed the subject. "Another?"
Dean nodded and didn't miss the way she avoided Sam's question but let it go anyway. They were meant to be celebrating tonight, not opening up.
The next morning, she woke up on the floor, next to Dean who was snoring with his full lips parted slightly. They were fully clothed – thank god – and even had their shoes on. For a moment, she was confused, until a memory came flashing back to her.
"Nu-uh!" she told him loudly, shaking her head stubbornly. Her body was pleasantly numb from the amount of alcohol she'd told herself not to drink. "If you sleep on the couch, I can't sleep with you." She wasn't sure why it felt like such a good idea. Alcohol always made her do things which didn't make sense.
He chuckled, finding her amusing as he laid back against the couch, where his make-shift bed laid. Sammy was already passed out on his bed, face down and drooling on the pillow. He'd told her take the bed again but she wasn't having none of it because they both wouldn't fit on it – her words, not his. "So what'd you want to do, sweetheart?"
God, she had no idea. She was just letting the alcohol do the talking. Floor. The floor would support both of them. In the bed they wouldn't be able to spread out, and she would probably end up falling onto the floor anyway. That would hurt - bad idea. "We'll sleep on the floor," she told him with a nod. "We-we can't fall off the floor. If we could that would be weird and I'd question science." She held in burp, briefly wondering if she'd got it wrong by saying 'science'. Maybe it was physics? Oh well. Who gave a crap?
Snorting to himself, he stood up and chucked his covers and pillows onto the floor before wiggling his eyebrows at her. "You joining me, m'lady?"
Giggling way-over-the-top, she nodded and grabbed her own pillows and blanket before placing them next to his. Together, they laid down before laughing at themselves. God, they were ridiculous. "What's Sam gonna say when he wakes up?" she questioned with another giggle.
Dean did his famous chuckle. "He probably won't even bat an eyelash. He's dealt with me his whole life remember?" he grinned, nudging her with his shoulder. "There's nothing he doesn't expect anymore."
Grinning back, she leaned up and pressed her lips against his for a moment. She then laid her head on his shoulder before letting her eyes fall shut. "Good night, Dean."
"Goodnight, Darcy," he replied, looking down at her face, his heart beating wildly. He pondered on moving his arm so he could hold her and eventually he gave into the thought. He heard her make a happy noise through her nose as he shifted, his arm going around her back and his hand resting on her hip. Laying his head against hers, they both fell into a deep sleep.
Damn, she did weird things when she was drunk. Her head was no longer resting on his shoulder; instead it was on his arm which she was thankful. It would have been awkward if they'd woken up in a full-blown snuggle fest.
Licking her dry lips, she sat up and squinted as she peered around the room. Sam's bed was empty, and the bathroom door was open so she assumed he must have left to get breakfast. Atleast she hoped he did because she really didn't feel up to going out.
Suddenly, a key slid into the lock and it clicked open, allowing Sam to push his way into the motel room. He looked awfully chirpy and she wondered how the hell he managed to dodge a hangover.
"Morning, sunshine." He greeted her with a knowing smile as he kicked the door closed behind him. "Have a good sleep?"
"Bite me." Rolling her eyes, she laid back down and covered her head with her pillow, accidentally jerking Dean awake in the process.
"I would but I think Dean'd get jealous." Sam teased, placing the food and drinks down on the table before taking out his coffee.
"Damn right I would." Dean mumbled, sounding just as rough as she felt.
Hearing that he was awake, she removed the pillow and turned her head towards him. "Sam's being an ass." She informed him with a small pout.
Dean chuckled and sat up with a wince. "You get used to it."
It was funny how quickly things could change.
One moment Dean was laughing with Sammy and Darcy, who was quickly becoming his new favorite girl, and the next moment it felt like his world had been turned upside down.
Kerry Anne O'conner
Was written on her driving licence. Usually it wouldn't be a biggie. Hunters had different I.D's for practically everything but it was the name that made him pause.
He'd heard it before from somewhere, he was sure of that, and it didn't give him a good vibe.
He'd accidentally found her licence while she was in the shower. He had gone to move her bag and it had fallen out. For a moment it was all fun and games – he wanted to see her picture 'cause lets face it, everyone's driving licence had a bad one.
He was no longer smiling though as Bobby's voice told him the truth behind her name.
"Kerry Anne O'conner is a bad egg, I'm tellin' ya," Bobby said, his voice muffled slightly. Dean could imagine him sitting at his desk, phone resting against his shoulder while he multi-tasked. "She's wanted, and not by the feds."
"Get to the point, Bobby," Dean sighed tiredly, running a hand down his face. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what he was about to be told but he knew he needed to hear it. Glancing up, he looked towards the motel from where he sat on the Impala's hood, needing the privacy.
"Don't you speak to me like that, boy," Bobby warned him. "I'm doin' you a favour here. No need to get snarky."
"Sorry."
"Anyway," Bobby rolled his eyes. "A year ago this girl was on a hunt with 'bout five guys. One of 'em bein' her old man." He explained. "They killed the thing and went back to the motel for a drink, a pat on the back, you know? That night, they lost three men."
Dean briefly thought about how she'd mentioned that her Dad had died a year ago. "What happened?"
"She killed 'em, son. Two hunters and her own Dad."
His eyes widened in shock and he immediately started shaking his head. "Could she have been possessed?"
"No, she had a protection tattoo." He replied before continuing slowly, "Dean…if you know where she is…"
Dean was silent for a moment. "And if I did?"
"You need to call Jacob. Him an Pete survived the attack, and they're both lookin' for her."
Dean nodded numbly. "W-what they gonna do with her?"
"Ain't sure…but my guess? It ain't gonna be pretty."
"Thanks, Bobby." He said before snapping his phone shut and slumping against the Impala, his eyes locked onto the motel door.
