AUTHOR'S NOTE: for those of you who don't read my other fics: I've recently been diagnosed with a rare condition called Gastroparesis. It's where the stomach muscles don't work as well and food does not get digested properly. I have to change my diet and the way I eat and am only supposed to eat foods that are easily digestable from now on. I'm still figuring out what I can and can't eat, and dealing with nausea, stomach pain, and GERD on a daily basis. I've lived with several chronic illnesses for over a decade, so I'm used to dealing with this type of thing, and I'll admit that I am disabled and proud. But this is very frustrating and more than a little daunting and GP can have serious health repercussions like malnutrition or anemia.
So that's one reason of many that I haven't been writing, or publishing, as much. I've spent a lot of time driving back and forth to specialists and getting tests done, and when you live with chronic pain and chronic illnesses, going to an appointment, even if it's to see a doctor, can be exhausting. Writing and reading fanfic is one of my respites from all my health stuff, but I haven't had much energy lately beyond caring for myself and my family. I'm hoping that once I get my diet figured out and am dealing with food better I'll have more energy and time to devote to writing again.
One last thing. I feel uncomfortable bringing this up, because I dislike when authors say things like "Read and Review!" or ask for reviews. Fanfic writers are writing and publishing their stories, in their spare time, for free. Writers want and need feedback, it keeps the muse happy and the creative fires lit. There are a few people who always comment on all of my fics and I really appreciate every one of you. And I know that my fics get a lot of views every day and that there are more and more people favoriting them, which makes me happy. Don't just read, leave a review! Show a fanfic writer (me) some love and leave a comment.
Just like you get excited when you see a new chapter is up, I get excited when I see there are reviews and comments. And like I said, it really does help the creative process. So please think about leaving reviews, not just for my fics, but for everything that you read. Always Keep Fighting! XXXOOO
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I woke up feeling someone next to me, and I reached over and put my arm around them, and then opened my eyes.
And immediately yanked my arm back and sat up, as it was Sam next to me in bed!
"Oh God, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, feeling my face get hot as I blushed.
Sam blushed as well, ducking his head. "Uh, s'okay. Dean, um, he asked me to sit next to you, because you were kinda moaning in your sleep."
I looked around. The sun was low on the horizon, shining through the front windows. "When did he leave?"
"About an hour ago." Sam closed the book in his lap and stood up.
"Why didn't he wake me?"
"He said to let you sleep 'cause you were real restless during the night." He crossed the room and set his book down on the coffee table. "There's some beef jerky if you're hungry, and Dean found a couple cans of soda in the back of the car."
I swung my feet over the edge of the bed. "Yeah, I am hungry." I walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. The soda was an off-brand cola, and I opened one and then took out a couple pieces of beef jerky. It was hard to chew, but it filled my stomach. After I ate, I got some clothes out of my duffle.
"Um, are there...are there any more towels?" I asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, there's a cabinet in the bathroom, they're in there," Sam told me, "and I left the shampoo and soap in there too. You can use it."
"Thanks," I said gratefully.
I took a quick shower and washed my hair, realizing that I was going to have to buy my own toiletries. The shampoo was a cheap generic kind and there was no conditioner. I was used to using shampoo, conditioner, and scented liquid soap. I also used special soap to wash my face, and lotion. I guessed that Sam and Dean didn't have anything like that.
After I dried off, I got dressed. My jeans were uncomfortably tight, and I could barely button them. I looked at my stomach—it didn't seem any larger, but it must be. I pulled the jeans off and put Sam's sweatpants back on, and then left the bathroom.
I carried my duffle over to the bed and pulled everything out so that I could fold it up. I had a couple pairs of leggings, so I took one of them into the bathroom. They were tight as well, but it wasn't that uncomfortable because the fabric was stretchy.
When I came out of the bathroom, Sam was laying on the sofa reading. I went over and he sat up so that I could sit next to him.
"Want to play something to pass the time?" he asked.
"Sure," I replied.
He taught me to play backgammon. It took me a few turns to understand, and I lost the first game. By the time we started the second game, I had gotten the hang of it.
"So, do you hunt with your Dad too?" I asked.
"Not yet. Dad's still training me, wants me to get better at fighting and stuff," he made a face, "He let Dean start hunting when he was my age, but both of them treat me kinda like I'm a baby still."
"Well, maybe he just wants to keep you as innocent as possible for as long as he can."
Sam made another face. "Not really...once you learn about all this stuff, it's gone."
"When did you- I mean, did you always know?"
He shook his head. "Dad hid it from me, he told me he was a traveling salesman. I kinda knew something was off, though, and eventually I started looking around, and I found and read his journal when I was 8."
"Wait, he hid it from you- does that mean that Dean knew?"
"Yeah, Dean found out earlier than me. Not sure when, he's never told me. At first I was mad, I thought he'd always known, and that he and Dad had been hiding everything all my life, but- something happened, when Dean was a kid, and he found out."
"And he never told you what it was?"
He shook his head.
"Was it scary for you? To find out, I mean?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, I was a kid so I was scared of stuff like that there was a monster in the closet, y'know? And to find out that some of that stuff is real, it kinda messes with your head."
"Why does your Dad do this? I mean, hunt supernatural stuff and—kill it?"
Sam looked up at me. "Our mom—she died when I was a baby, and it was something—supernatural. There was a fire, but there was something else there, that my Dad saw. So he's trying to find out what it was that killed her, so that he can...get revenge, you know?"
I realized that that meant that Sam had basically grown up without a mother. "I'm so sorry, Sam, that must have been hard."
He shrugged. "I never knew my mother, so you can't miss what you don't know. And I don't remember anything that happened, because I was just a baby. So it didn't really affect me, you know?"
"Yeah, it's still sad." I reached over and put my hand on his arm and squeezed. "You and Dean must be really strong."
He looked down and blushed slightly. "We get by," he muttered.
In the distance, I heard a rumbling. I recognized the sound- it was the Impala's engine. I looked at Sam, and he looked back at me.
"Is that him?" I asked, and he nodded.
We put the game away, and then stood up to wait for Dean to come in. I walked over to the door, watching as Dean got out of the car and opened the back door. He pulled out a cardboard box and carried it up the stairs.
Sam unlocked the door and opened it, stepping back to let him in.
"Hi honey, I'm home!" Dean grinned at me as he walked over to the table. He set the box down and turned to me as I walked over. I started to look into the box at the food he'd bought.
"Don't I get a kiss hello?" he demanded.
"I'm hungry," I said as I stepped up to him.
He pulled me into his arms, chuckling, and kissed me. "Nice to see you too," he commented dryly.
"Hey, I'm eating for two, remember?" I elbowed him.
"Okay...I did stop and grab some breakfast chow, lemme go back out and get it." Dean left and walked back out to the car, returning with a paper bag from a fast-food restaurant and a couple of plastic shopping bags.
He set the paper bag on the table and began to remove things from it. "Sandwiches, hash browns, and they had these little fruit cups. I got one for each of you."
"Thanks, Dean," I smiled at him as I sat down.
"Dad texted me, they've tracked the vamps and found the nest, and they're going to take care of it in the next day or so," Dean pulled a chair out and sat down.
"So does that mean we can go outside now?" I asked. "We could go for a walk in the woods, it's so pretty here."
Dean got an uncomfortable look on his face. "Uh, no, probably not."
"But if they're getting rid of the—the vampires- then there's no danger, right?" It felt weird saying 'vampires' like it was normal. It was going to take a while to get used to this new reality.
Dean shifted in his chair. "No, well, uh, my dad said to stay inside, so we have to stay in."
I folded my arms. "How's he going to know?"
Dean looked at Sam and then me. "If he said it's not safe, then it's not. And you don't disobey an order from John Winchester."
Sam made a noise in the back of his throat.
"What, Sam? I'm in charge here, and I'm saying we're gonna follow Dad's orders." Dean said defensively.
Sam shook his head and crumpled his food wrappers. "So we're stuck here until he comes back."
"I got some books too, the store had a couple racks of paperbacks." Dean stood up and walked over to where he had dropped the other bags. He picked one up and brought it over. "I didn't know what kind you liked, so I got a bunch of different kinds."
I looked through the books. There were a couple of mysteries, a couple of "classic" books by authors like Jane Austen, a trashy romance novel, and some true crime books.
After we finished eating, we each took a book to read. I grabbed one of the mysteries and walked over to the bed to lay down and read. Sam sat on the sofa and Dean laid down on the other end with his feet on the coffee table.
We stopped to eat lunch in the afternoon- Dean had gotten some lunch meat and rolls, and potato chips. Then we laid around and kept reading.
After we ate dinner- Dean had bought hot dogs and baked beans, and we mixed them together- they taught me how to play Blackjack, and we played that until it started to get dark.
Dean got into bed with me again, and lifted his arm to put it around me. I snuggled into his side, and he leaned down to kiss me. We turned to face each other, and he put his leg over me and pulled me close. He brushed his fingertips down my cheek, the side of my neck, across my collar bone, and down across the front of my pajama top. I shivered and slid my hands up inside his shirt, running my palms across his back. He moved suddenly, rolling us over so that I was on my back and he was on top of me, between my legs.
"Want you," he murmured as he kissed my neck.
"We can't- we can't do anything, your brother's here," I whispered.
"I can still want you," he rolled his hips against mine, and I shivered again. Suddenly I felt confused- I didn't know if I wanted him that way any more. What was I even doing here, with him? I should be at home with my family.
I turned my head to the side as tears filled my eyes.
Dean stopped kissing my neck and raised his head. "What's wrong, baby?" his green eyes were concerned.
"I—I'm sorry," I bit my lip to stop myself from crying, "I just—" I sighed, "Nights are hard for me. I'm sorry I'm crying so much, it's the hormones." I chuckled. "The doctor said that the cliché about pregnant women crying so much is true. I didn't think it would happen this soon, though."
"Well, you've been through a lot recently," he brushed my hair off of my forehead.
I looked up at him, feeling nervous. "I don't—I'm not really in the mood to- you know, any more. Would you- just hold me?"
"Uh, sure," He shifted position, and I turned over and laid on my other side, scooting back into him. He put his arm around me and I took his hand. I started to sniffle as tears filled my eyes again.
"Shh, it's okay," Dean murmured in my ear, "I gotcha, it's okay."
I fell asleep feeling him running his hand over my hair.
I awoke suddenly the next morning, hearing boots on the wooden porch outside.
"Shit!" Dean hissed as he sat up next to me. He sprang out of bed as the door opened and two men came in- Mr. Winchester, and the man from before with the baseball cap.
Mr. Winchester looked over the boys both walked towards him. I saw his eyes flick across the bed, and he raised his eyebrows as he spoke to Dean.
"Everything good here?"
"Yeah, it's been fine, yessir," Dean stuttered as he rubbed his eyes. "I got some supplies yesterday, re-stocked the pantry with canned goods."
"Good, let's get packed up then. I've found a place for us to go," Mr. Winchester said.
"Did you clear out the nest?" Sam asked.
"All taken care of."
"Where are we gonna go, Dad?" Dean looked over at me.
"There's a place about an hour away from Bobby's, it's a safe house for hunters to use. Near a small town, right on the interstate." Mr. Winchester said.
"Why can't we just stay with Uncle Bobby?" Sam asked.
"Because it's not Bobby's job to put us up whenever we need it," Mr. Winchester said, "We need a place of our own, and this one is already warded. Get your things together."
We packed our belongings, and put away the games. Sam gathered up the books, and we carried everything out to the Impala.
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My back was sore and I was tired of sitting in the car. We had been driving all day, only stopping to gas up the car and then get drive-through meals. Mr. Winchester had called someone to let him know that we were close.
Sam leaned forward and put his hand on the back of the front seat. "How much longer, Dad?"
Mr. Winchester glanced back. "About another 45 minutes, Sammy."
We were on a long stretch of highway that seemed to go on forever. At first there were neighborhoods, and then just small groups of houses, and then every so often there would be an individual house.
"This is the main highway, connects to the interstate, and goes into Madison also. There's a couple of schools there too."
We came up on a small white trailer, that was set back from the road. There were a couple of trees nearby, and the area in front of the trailer was dirt. There was an old shed behind it, and the shell of a battered truck nearby.
There was a large truck parked in front of the house with its engine running.
"Stay here," Mr. Winchester got out of the car and walked around to the driver's side of the truck. He stood there for several minutes, talking.
Finally the truck drove away, and he walked over and got in. He pulled the car closer to the front, and we all got out.
"Well, this is it, home sweet home for a while," Mr. Winchester had a ring of keys dangling from his fingers. We followed him up the rickety wooden steps and into the trailer.
The main area was open, a living room and kitchen that was separated by a low island. There was a small formica table with metal legs, and four chairs, in the kitchen. There was a small bedroom off of the living room, and a hallway next to the kitchen. There was a bathroom and a small alcove with a washer and dryer next to it. At the end of the hallway was a larger bedroom, with a bunk bed. The lower bunk was a double bed, and there was a folded up cot next to the dresser.
"You boys can take this room, and Jane can take the other bedroom," Mr. Winchester said.
"Where are you gonna sleep, Dad?" Dean looked at his father.
"There's a pull-out in the living room, I'll sleep on that."
"Oh—I can sleep there, you should—you should have a bedroom," I said, feeling embarrassed.
"No, you need your own room," Mr. Winchester said to me. "I'll be fine, I've slept in worse places. And if I really want to sleep in a bed, I can always kick the boys out and take the bottom bunk," he grinned and cuffed the back of Dean's head gently.
We brought our duffles in and went to our respective rooms. The bedroom I was in was tiny- there was a double bed, a low wooden dresser, and a padded rocking chair. There was a window on the front wall and on the side.
Mr. Winchester came to the door. "Here's some sheets," he held up a stack of folded fabric.
"Thank you," I walked over and took them from him. "And thanks for, you know, taking me with you."
He gave me a small smile. "You're welcome. I'll let you get unpacked."
I made the bed and then took my clothes out of the duffle and put them in the dresser. When I was finished, I went into the living room.
Dean and his dad were in the kitchen area, looking through the cabinets.
"There's a toaster and a coffee maker, but no microwave," Dean said.
"I can pick up a small one this week," Mr. Winchester turned to me. "We should all sit down and talk about how things are going to be."