Stephanie wouldn't have thought that being outside and just seeing… trees… and… cars… and… and… other people would fill her with so much joy. Maybe she had been cooped up for a tad longer than healthy for the human mind, because excitement over such trivial details was utterly not normal.

Lebanon, Kansas, the geographic center of the 48 contiguous U.S. states, being a backwater town with a population of 218, her options for shopping were pretty limited if she didn't want to go too far. The nearest Walmart was more than an hour's drive away. So the tiny local supermarket had to be enough then. Except, it was Sunday and the place was closed.

Of course. Because why would anything go smoothly for her? Smith Center it was then. Thankfully only an 18-minute drive away. 15 if she decided not to give a shit about traffic regulations.

Another good habit of hers – just now realizing how lucky it really was as she was getting ready to get out of the car to go inside the store – was that she always had cash in her glove compartment, since she totally forgot her wallet in the midst of her Great Dean Avoidance Operation. About a hundred dollars in this case, she noted, scraping all the notes and coins together, shoving them into the large front pocket of her hoodie, along with her gun. Maybe going into public in tight yoga pants was not her brightest idea fashion wise, but at least her sweatshirt reached well below her butt, nicely concealing it from sight.

Realizing that this trip couldn't be about big stock replenishing with her limited resources, she just haphazardly gathered the ingredients that she would need for several batches of soup, some extra chicken breast and thighs, sauces, rice and potatoes for more substantial meals if the boys were feeling up to it in the coming days, leaving the rest of the cash for medicine and related supplies. She would just have to make a second run in a few days. Or have the boys do it if they were well enough by then, but she wasn't counting on it too much.

As she milled around in the cold/flu aisle of the pharmacy section, trying to decide which ones to get, she noticed from the corner of her eye that a thirty something looking guy with dark hair kept stealing glances at her.

At one such instance she managed to look up at just the right second to catch him looking, prompting him to avert his gaze instantly. The guy just creeped her out. There was absolutely nothing flattering about her at this moment. She wasn't wearing any make-up, her hair was a total mess, her clothing made her look like a plump potato with carrots sticking out at the bottom. Why the hell was he staring? Unless… Crap. Maybe he wasn't trying to flirt at all. What if he was a demon, and he knew exactly who she was? Crap. Crap. Crap.

Steph quickly threw some NyQuil, DayQuil, decongestants, cough syrup and fever medication into her cart, no longer wanting to consider brands and stuff, and rushed away into the other direction. She could have gone his way to mutter Christo under her breath as she passed by, but on the off chance that he wasn't a demon, or didn't know of her connection to the Winchesters or of her knowledge on the supernatural, she saw it best to just leave it well alone.

It was cowardly, she knew. Maybe lives were at stake. But she had never been on a hunt even with the boys before, not to mention alone. Her inexperience would just get her killed, theory was much different than an actual life or death situation. And where would that leave the boys then? The guilt would eat them alive. She couldn't have that. No. She had a good description of the man. The boys can handle it once they were better, and she just had to hope that no one else would have to pay the price in the meanwhile for her decision.

On second thought she even went back to the beauty care section, and got purple hair dye to apply by herself at home, because this little run in got her anxiety high enough that she wasn't going to leave the Bunker for weeks again. Even if she could do nothing about the length, she could get the roots taken care of.

She must have looked like a total freak – or someone about to rob the place – at check out with the way she kept fidgeting, her eyes darting around every few seconds to see if the guy had followed her. She almost didn't even wait for her change before darting out of the store, very happy that this was a place that bagged your purchases for you, and thus she didn't have to idle around with that stuff like a sitting duck by the car later.

Steph was either really shitty at observing her surroundings with her panic frazzled mind or creepy stalker guy literally materialized out of thin air, because she totally jumped like two feet back when he was suddenly just there.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Do you need help with those?" the dark haired man offered, seemingly politely, to transfer her shopping bags into the trunk of her car.

Polite was not in Steph's vocabulary at the moment.

"Look, I don't know who you are. Frankly, I don't care. But if you don't back away and leave me the fuck alone, right this second, I'm going to get my gun out and shoot you in the fucking kneecap for stalking me. Do we understand each other?" she snarled in a low tone so no one else heard them.

"Geez, I just wanted your number," the dude stepped back with a horrified expression on his face, hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. "Psycho bitch," he muttered with a shake of his head for good measure before practically running away.

Steph's knees almost buckled under her from relief as the adrenalin rush she was on suddenly crashed. She had to catch herself on the side of the Beetle to keep herself from falling. After two big calming breaths she quickly tossed everything into her trunk and decided that fuck the coin in the cart and not return it to the cart corral. Maybe this way she will make the day of some homeless guy.

As she was backing out she almost didn't notice the approaching car, having to pump the brakes in the midst of angry car horns blaring. Luckily they managed not to collide. Waiting for cops or filling out insurance information when she just wanted to be away from the place would have been a real doozie. She rolled the window down and signaled the poor bloke that it was her bad, but was met with a big fat middle finger. Well, that wasn't very nice. Steph decided not to get upset about it though and just leaned her forehead against the steering wheel for five seconds to collect herself. Damned frayed nerves.

Paying very close attention this time she pulled out and headed home. Taking multiple and elaborate detours until she was a 1000% sure that no one was following her. Leading some random demon to the Bunker would have been just the motherfucking icing on the cake for this clusterfuck of a day.

Meanwhile in the Bunker Dean was just about ready to bang his head against the wall. He probably would have if it weren't for his massive sinus headache that would surely be aggravated to migraine status by those actions. Why did he have to be such a jerk to Stephanie? Of course he trusted her. She had done nothing to warrant his distrust. Like ever. There wasn't a more caring, considerate person he had ever met. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to accomplish by going to Sammy's room. He had a feeling she would be there. Maybe he wanted to apologize, yet he managed to screw it up even further.

All that fuss and he ended up just going back to his – her – room, and lying down for a second because his head was getting so dizzy. Fuck this stupid flu bug with the fucking fever and the fucking weakness. He hated it. Yet he couldn't come to hate Steph for infecting them with it. He wouldn't change a damned thing about taking care of her. His heart was about ready to burst on that first night when she clung to him in her feverish daze like a freaking adorable baby sloth. Yes, definitely not wanting to change that.

Rationally speaking it was probably them who gave her the virus in the first place, she hadn't left the Bunker in ages, her immune system was presumably shot from the lack of exposure to people and thus she came down with it much faster than he and Sam did. Yes, that was most likely what happened. Dean was happy with this assessment, albeit now feeling a bit guilty for making her sick. At least Cas had come when he asked and set everything right.

With those thoughts he drifted to sleep.

Only to be rudely awakened seemingly seconds later by Sam at his door.

"Have you seen Steph?" his Sasquatch sized brother asked with a croak, bundled in a blanket yet still shaking like a leaf, leaning against the doorframe for support. Damn, he was a mess, long hair tussled, nose bright red from rubbing it too much, doubtlessly against the fabric of his blanket like he was doing now, the harsh material of which was definitely not forgiving to his sensitive skin. Where the hell were his tissues? And why wasn't he wearing anything on his feet? Did he want to catch his death or something?

"No..." Dean trailed off groggily, trying to get his mind to work. "Last I saw her, she was leaving your room. Put some damned socks on at least, I'm getting the chills from just looking at you."

Sam glanced down at his feet confusedly, totally ignoring his brother's short-tempered tone, as if just now putting together the source of his discomfort. Fever muddled mess it was then. Man, could Dean relate.

"She said she was going to the kitchen to make soup but she's not there," the younger Winchester mumbled forlornly, the intermitting train of thought regarding footwear totally forgotten in half a second.

"Alright just…" Dean began, getting cut off by Sammy's sudden sneeze.

"HUHretsheeewww…"

"Just go back…" he tried to continue but got interrupted again.

"Haerrshshshsh…"

"Dammit Sam, just stop…" the older brother pleaded, noticing how unsteady Sam got with each one.

"h'rchshshsh…"

"Stop freaking sneezing and go back…" Dean finally had enough and got out of bed, getting his slippers and house robe on to escort him back before he keeled over.

"hehrAESHSHshsh!" the last one shook Sammy to the core and he would have totally lost his balance if Dean hadn't gotten there in time to steady him.

"Alright, tiger, that's enough. You are going back to your room, and you are going to get some damned socks on, while I find out where Stephanie is," the older Winchester said finally, almost amazed that he could get through a full sentence without interruptions, although not quite feeling the energy in himself to actually go through a full search of the Bunker to find out which corner he managed to banish Steph into with his full-scale douchery, undoubtedly causing her to cry her heart out.

Somehow they had made it to Sam's room without toppling over, although both of them were utterly out of breath by the end of this little excursion, which genuinely led to Dean almost coughing a lung up, having to actually sit down on the floor to collect himself. The armchair was too far away, alright? And Sam's freakishly long limbs were everywhere on the bed.

"When was Steph here?" Dean asked finally when he regained control over his breathing, although he still felt like he couldn't pull enough oxygen into his lungs.

"I don't know. Maybe an hour ago," Sam mumbled, his right arm thrown over his eyes, as if trying to block out all the light. Headache then for him too. The explosive sneezes were probably not helping much with that either. And that time frame also meant that meds were out of the question still.

"Alright… just… just stay here," the older Winchester pushed himself off the floor, patting his brother's legs comfortingly, before staggering out to the hallway.

Just as Sam had said, Steph was not in the kitchen, though there were signs that she was about to make something, a few stuff littered across the counters. Where was she then? He fumbled with the pockets of his robe, happy to find he had his phone in there, quickly dialing her number.

She wasn't picking up but from the corridor he could hear the echo of the ringing, so he followed the sound. Which led him to her room. Where she most definitely wasn't.

Okay, plan B. He slowly started going through every room, opening every damned door he encountered, checking the library, the med bay, even the shooting range and archives too. Still no sign of Steph. Meanwhile he was getting progressively alarmed, the adrenalin somewhat helping him to push through the fatigue and general lousiness that came with fevers.

Where could she have gone? Did she leave the Bunker? By his estimation she has been gone for an hour and a half by now. Just to make sure, he went to the garage, and sure enough her VW was missing. Fuck!

Okay, think, dammit, why would she leave? He wanted so desperately to believe that it had nothing to do with the way he had acted towards her, that he hadn't made her abandon them, but his fevered mind was just not supplying him with any other alternatives.

They had to find her. She could be in danger. He made his back to Sam's room as fast as he could, cursing his breathlessness to hell and back.

"Sam, get your shit together, Steph is gone," Dean heaved hoarsely, not even waiting for his response before pushing himself off the wall and stumbling back towards his – now actually his own – room to go get dressed.

Sam was very good at operating through being miserably sick, the Trials had assured him of that, he was alert and getting dressed within seconds once the meaning and urgency of Dean's words had hit him and raced to meet his brother on the way to the Impala.

The boys were just stomping up the steps to the garage when the large double doors opened, Steph's car appearing in the driveway.

Exactly 83 minutes had passed since she left the Bunker and she felt like her return couldn't have come a moment too soon. When she noticed the boys coming up the stairs, fully dressed in plaid and utility jackets, presumably to find her since she was stupid enough leave without even leaving a note stating where she had gone, the weight of the guilt for that fact and the fright she had at the store slammed into her all at once, and she cut the engine right there in the middle of the garage hall.

Steph jumped out of the car, running at full speed towards Dean, tears streaming down her face.

"Hey, where did you… ugh," he began in an admonishingly gruff tone, when the wind was knocked out of him as the girl slammed into his chest, only Sam's helpful hand on his shoulder kept him from landing on his ass, and pulling Steph right along with him. It was a miracle he didn't start coughing right then and there, but something about the situation made his illness back the hell off for a few seconds for which he was immensely grateful.

She was sobbing uncontrollably, holding onto him by the waist as if her life depended on it. Dean shared a look with his brother, worry etched in both of their features, his earlier vexation totally forgotten in favor of comforting his favorite girl.

"Talk to me, baby girl, what happened?" the older Winchester stroked her back soothingly, wondering for a second if that was a gun in her front pocket or if she was just that happy to see him. Then shuddered slightly at the implication. Stupid feverish mind coming up stupid homoerotic jokes. He blamed Ace Ventura.

"I… I went to the store…" Steph recounted, her breathing hitchy and all over the place from the crying. "We were… out of everything… I couldn't even… make a damned soup…"

Alright, at least that answered one question, eased Dean's anxiety on another, but flared up another round of irritation as to why hadn't she let them know, asked one of them to come along… Right, they were not speaking because he had been an ass, and Sam was sleeping as far she knew. Not to mention too sick to go anywhere in her books. Maybe she was counting on the fact that both of them would sleep through the whole thing too. Still… that was awfully reckless. Who knew what was lurking, waiting for the right moment to snatch her. They had no way of knowing for sure if they had managed to keep her involvement with them under wraps.

"And… then… there was this guy…" she continued, effectively pulling Dean back from his admonitory thoughts. "And I thought he… he might be a demon…"

Dean sucked in a large breath at hearing this, unfortunately unable to control his coughing anymore. Sam made a very alarmed face at the news too, meanwhile patting his brother on the back to help him regain composure. Steph glanced up, panicking from their distress.

"No, no, no… He wasn't. Fuck. You guys need to get back to your rooms and lie down," the girl managed to snap herself out of the downward spiral of sobs as she saw the state her boys were in. How could she be so selfish? They were both sick and needed her, this wasn't the time to have a freaking meltdown.

"Not going anywhere until we get the full story," Dean declared once he could talk again, but slunk down onto the floor to sit down, deeming it more comfortable than standing around, pulling Steph into his lap with the same motion.

Sam joined them too, being a sympathetic and calming presence on her left, and she just wanted desperately to protest, say that sitting on the cold concrete floor while sick with fevers was like the dumbest idea ever, but Dean effectively shushed her worries by hugging her closely to his chest.

"So, the guy?" he prompted, feeling a strong urge to gut the bastard even if he wasn't a demon, just for the sheer fact that he made Stephanie so terrified from a simple trip to the freaking supermarket. They were paranoid about her safety of course, which seemed to have rubbed off on her too. Not the worst thing, if it kept her safe, but no one should have to be afraid from doing normal every day stuff. That made him question his choice of bringing her into their lives once again.

Of course Sammy would have to choose right that moment to sneeze.

"huh'reshoo" it was even relatively controlled and mild where his sneezes were considered, but Steph went into a tizzy with fussing over him, especially when she noticed that he was wiping his nose on his sleeve, reminding her of one of the many reasons she had to go to the store.

"I bought more tissues. They are in the car," she struggled to get up from Dean's hold to go get them, but he held her down firmly.

"He is a big boy, he can get them himself. Now story time," the older hunter's tone left no room for negotiation, and Steph only hesitated for a second as she watched Sam get up and go for the trunk of her car.

"He was just hitting on me… back in the store…" Steph admitted, casting her eyes down in embarrassment. "And then I went apeshit crazy on him, threatening to shoot him if he didn't leave me alone when he just up and appeared by my car as I was leaving. Apparently he just wanted my number… I still drove like an extra ten miles with detours to make sure I wasn't followed."

"That's my girl," Dean grinned approvingly, first of all because no one got to flirt with his girl and get away with it, secondly because Steph did all the defending all by herself, which made him immensely proud of her. Even if her reactions were over exaggerated, she did the smart things. Sam just now got back to them with a fresh box of Kleenex, snorting slightly at Dean tone. "Still doesn't answer why you thought he was a demon though."

"Uhm… he kept staring at me at the pharmacy isle… and it was just creepy… and I mean look at me, there's nothing to look at. Which made me think there was another reason for his attention, that he could be a demon, possibly knowing my connection to you, and then I just panicked and left as fast as I could…" she rambled on so fast, Dean was starting to have trouble understanding what she was saying.

"Okay, okay, you got spooked, happens with the best of us. But what did you mean by that there's nothing to look at on you?" the older Winchester stopped her, getting back to that one alarmingly self-deprecating bit, which was speaking tons about her self-esteem issues he didn't even know she had.

Steph just gestured to herself, sitting there in her unflattering clothes, with her messed up hair, knowing that having bawled her eyes out just plummeted that picture to an even lower low. No one looked good with red rimmed eyes, tears and snot mixing on their face.

"Stephanie Annabel Holbrook, you listen to me," Dean started with an eerily measured tone, taking her face between his hands to make sure she was paying close attention to his every word. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect just the way you are, and any man would be lucky to have you. Including me."

He wasn't sure where the sudden honesty in that last part came from. He supposed he just couldn't hide it any longer, what with their earlier falling out when he tried to guess at her feelings from weird context clues that didn't even apply to themselves, not to mention that now strangers were trying to make a pass at her, making him feel extremely jealous. Dean just knew it was practically now or never.

Steph's eyes went comically wide, and from the corner of her eye she saw that Sam was already shifting uncomfortably, as if knowing exactly where this was going. She felt an odd sense of relief at the admission, and the corner of her mouth tugged to a tiny smile as she shifted her gaze slightly to Dean's lips, lingering for just a second before looking back into his eyes.

Fortunately Dean knew exactly what that meant. There was no amount of fever and cotton in his brain that would make him forget the universal sign of a girl wanting to get kissed. So he went for it.