Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.
"What do we do?" I whisper frantically.
"Try to avoid facing them," Sam says worriedly. "They have our daughter. That's their advantage."
"They're not going to just give her back," I say quietly. "So what do we do?"
"First, we need to see if they're still demons," he says. "They could have left a long time ago. Try using Christo."
"Then what?" He glances down at his belt, to where I know he has the demon blade hidden. I look back up at him. "You can't kill them! Those are my parents!"
"Well, then we'll have to figure out a way to exorcise them."
"God," I whisper sadly. "This is a nightmare."
"Hey!" he whispers fiercely. "It's okay. We'll get them back. All three of them."
I smile weakly. "Right." I walk back over, trying to keep my back straight and not give anything away.
"What was that about, sweetie?" my mom asks innocently.
"Oh, nothing. They have a new suspect in the case."
"What's his name?" my father asks lightheartedly. "We might know him."
"Um, it's Christopher Payne," I say loudly, emphasizing the Christo.
Immediately my mother's eyes flicker black, then back to their usual blue. I glance at Sam, who doesn't meet my eyes but nods ever so slightly.
I know what we have to do. We have to get her to come outside, so we can trap her and exorcise the demon from her. It's not going to be easy.
"So, mom," I say cheerfully, "what's been happening around here?"
"Save it, bitch!" she hisses.
My father turns to her. "Now, honey-" he starts, but doesn't get far before she turns to him and punches him square in the face. He falls back on the couch cushions, out cold.
"Mom?" I whisper.
"Leah?" she mimics disdainfully. "Why did you lie about being married?" She puts Jo aside gently and stands up. Then she fixes her sights on Sam and starts walking towards him.
"Now, Mrs. Wittmer," Sam says, slowly backing away. "Think this through. You know who I am and what I've done."
She laughs. "Yes, I do. Sam Winchester, the boy king." I look at Sam, confused by what she means. "I've heard that your brother's worse."
Sam shrugs. "Maybe."
"Don't you want to know who I am?" she ask, slowly creeping towards him.
He shakes his head. "Not really. You're probably just some wannabe lower demon who thinks they can actually kill me." He grins sloppily. "News flash: no one's been able to yet. Not for long, anyways."
She growls and lunges at him. He quickly backpedals down the hall and towards the front door, her chasing after him. I run to follow them, but try to stay out of the demon's line of sight.
She must really be an amateur, because she follows him right out the front door and into the devil's trap hidden on the bottom of the mat. When she hits the invisible wall, she starts screaming.
"Go!" Sam calls to me. She whips around and bears her teeth at me.
I close my eyes so I don't have to see it. "Exorcizamus te," I begin, "omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare. Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine. Quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!"
I open my eyes a few seconds later, just in time to see the black smoke spiral out of her mouth and disappear. Miraculously, she stays standing.
She turns to me slowly. "Leah, you…" she says faintly. I smile and step forward. "You brought that demon into our house!" My smiles falters. Behind her, Sam flinches. As if she can sense him, she turns back around to him. "And you're Sam…" she sounds shocked. "You're Jo's father."
He purses his lips.
She turns back to me. "Take her and leave."
"What?" I say, stunned.
"Take Jo and leave," she says, pushing past me into the living room. "You're not welcome here anymore."
"Why not?"
"A demon, Leah!" she says shrilly. "A demon! Now take your wedlock… thing… and your boy-toy and leave!"
"He's not my boy-toy," I say indignantly. "And she's not a thing!"
She returns from the living room and shoves Jo into my arms roughly, then pushes me out of the house. And she slams the door behind her without another word.
I stand rooted in my place, lost for words, with Jo resting uncomfortably in my arms. She begins to cry.
Sam scoops her up quickly. "I'll get her in the car," he says softly. "Take you time, okay?"
I nod.
I get back to the car just as Sam closes the back door after buckling Jo into her carseat.
He puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me into a hug. "You okay?"
I sigh. "Yeah."
"It's going to be fine."
"I know," I say. "Now let's get away from this place. Please."
He walks around to the driver's side of the car and gets in. I get in on my side, and as soon as I buckle my seatbelt, he pulls out of the driveway and takes off down the road.
"Would driving make you feel better?" he asks.
"I'm fine," I insist. "And no, it wouldn't." I sigh. "How long is it going to be back to Lebanon?"
"About fifteen hours."
"And if you don't drive the speed limit?"
He thinks for a second. "About eleven."
"We'll have to stop, like we did on the way here. I guess we'll go halfway again." In Springfield, Illinois, we stopped after driving for seven and a half hours at one of those crappy motels that Sam and Dean frequent and slept there.
"That's fine," Sam says. "We don't have a case anymore, so we don't have to rush."
At dusk four hours later, Sam pulls over to get gas. As he's filling the tank, I get out of the front and move into the back. When he gets back, he looks around for me. "Leah?" he asks.
"Back here," I say. "I'm tired. Wake me up when we get to the motel."
He nods and starts driving again.
But I can't sleep, so I just sit there with my eyes partially closed. When Jo start scrying, I begin to sing "Carry On Wayward Son" to her slowly, hoping it will make her fall asleep. Pretty soon she's out, but though I'm really tired, I can't bring myself to sleep.
Maybe it's because I know I'll have nightmares.
After he checks into the motel, Sam parks the car and wakes me up from my halfway-sleep. "The crib," I say wearily.
"I got it," he says, popping open the trunk.
I unbuckle Jo from her seat and hoist her into my arms, also grabbing the baby bag with all her stuff in it.
Sam takes the plastic foldable crib and our bags from the trunk, then closes it and locks the car before unlocking the hotel room. It's a regular room, with two beds, a desk, an armchair, and a bathroom.
"I'll take this bed," I say tiredly, setting Jo's bag down on the bed closest to the bathroom.
"Go take a shower and relax," Sam says, setting our bags down and taking Jo from me. "I got everything else." I smile at him as best I can before grabbing my bag and heading into the bathroom.
I shower quickly, because there's no hot water, and I don't like taking cold showers. I dress in my sweatpants and a t-shirt, then walk into the other part of the room and almost collapse on my bed. Through my tired eyelids, I can see that Sam's set up the crib and has put Jo to sleep in it. Now he's sitting on his bed, already changed out of his suit.
"You're wearing my shirt," he notes.
"Is that okay?" I ask sleepily. "I'm too tired to change."
"Of course."
"Ok, well, I'm going to pass out now."
"Goodnight," he says quietly.
"Goodnight," I say, then promptly fall asleep.
I'm in the middle of a nightmare when Sam wakes me up.
"Hey," he says calmly, when I bolt up after he shakes me. "You were whimpering."
"The no-touch rule," I say groggily. The no-touch rule is something I invented a while ago. Whenever I have a nightmare, Sam wakes me up, but he doesn't touch me unless absolutely necessary (like shaking me awake).
"I didn't touch you," he says, sitting back down on his bed.
"I know," I say, taking a hairband off my wrist and tying up my hair so it isn't in my face. "Thanks."
"Okay, then," he says, climbing back under his blankets. "I'm going back to sleep."
"Come here," I say, laying back down. He holds out his hand. "No," I say. "I need to be hugged."
"By me?" He sounds surprised.
"No, by the ghost that's standing right there next to you," I say sarcastically. "Yes, by you."
He looks sort of taken aback, but I scoot over and he slips in beside me without a word. He seems kind of unsure what to do with his hands. "Now you hug me," I say.
He laughs a little. "Right." He wraps his arms around me. "Goodnight," he whispers, his breath hot in my ear.
"Night," I say, closing my eyes.
I don't have anymore nightmares for the rest of the night.
The next morning, as we hit the road again, Sam doesn't mention it. He probably thinks that I think it was a moment of weakness on my part.
But I don't. I only mentally curse myself for not letting him do that since the day I met him, because that was the best sleep I've gotten in almost ten years.