A/N: Okkkkaaayyy, so we weren't loving the last chapter….hopefully this one goes over better. I want to send out a huge thank you to CD96 and an anonymous reviewer. Actually, everyone who reads this chapter and enjoys should thank them because they are who gave me the motivation to get this out. Remember, while I will write for the pure entertainment of writing, I have much more incentive to get it out of the notebook and to you guys if I know people are enjoying it (or even hating it); otherwise, I would be content to write for myself. But, that is neither here nor there.

What is here is the next chapter, I hope you guys enjoy!

"So, where are we going anyways?" Sophie asked excitedly, craning her neck to look out the windshield. They had been on the road for a little more than an hour and it was a testament to their steady stream of conversation that she hadn't asked yet.

Rather than being unsatisfactory, Dean's answering shrug made her look forward to the next two weeks even more. Before her mom's accident, her life was meticulously planned out of necessity. Her mom worked full-time as a nurse and she was involved with soccer and AP classes. They weren't poor, but they were certainly going to need help paying for college; meaning she had to work her butt off to get scholarships. Thankfully for her mom, it wasn't her personality to baulk at that kind of structure―she just pushed through the long days so her mom would have less to worry about.

After she came to Bobby's, more rules were thrown on top of her. She figured it had something to do with Bobby never having kids or dealing with a teenage girl every day. She was expected to always let him know if she was going to be late or if she was going someplace unexpected―whereas her mom gave her free social reign. She also had to help Bobby with the salvage yard; despite Bobby and Dean's best efforts, she was still pretty awful under the hood of a car, but she could change the oil or work on the yard's books.

It could have been the increased control, but it was a little more difficult to follow Bobby's rules. The look on Bobby's face the first time she had fought the rules was incredibly easy to recall.

For once, Sophie caught the screen door before it slammed shut behind her. It was the first summer since she had moved into Bobby's and she had been hanging out with Alex at the Burger Bar in town talking about their plans. Taking a sip of her milkshake, she knew it was getting close to the curfew that Bobby had placed on her. If she called him, he was pretty lenient, but she didn't want to pause the conversation long enough to go outside and use the payphone. Besides, that payphone was disgusting. She had never broken curfew before, so she didn't think that it would be that big of a deal―that didn't stop her from making her entrance as quiet as possible.

…Which was completely pointless because Bobby was sitting in the living room waiting for her to come home.

"Where the hell have you been?" he growled, jumping out of the armchair.

"Uh," she answered lamely, "I was with Alex, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," he confirmed, nodding his head. "But that doesn't explain why you're two hours late and I didn't get any calls."

"We were just at the Burger Bar, we never left, I didn't think it would be that big of a deal," Sophie defended, her volume rising to match Bobby's.

Bobby took a few steps closer to her, not quite invading her space, but it was obvious that it was a fight for him not to. "If you're gonna be late, you call. I don't care where you are or who you're with. And since that didn't happen tonight, you're grounded for two weeks."

"You can't be serious," Sophie yelled, throwing her hands up. "You can't ground me, I have plans."

"Yeah? Well I had plans on getting a good night's sleep, but those were ruined when my inconsiderate niece decided to ignore my rules. So, I guess you'll just have to change your plans."

"Your rules?" Sophie sneered, her frustration getting the better of her. "I think I'm a little old for you to try to change me, Bobby."

"My house, my rules," Bobby stood firm, his arms crossing over his chest. "They're there for a reason and you do not get to make me worry like you did tonight. You're my responsibility and I'll be damned if you get hurt."

"Well guess what, you're not my dad! Hell, you're barely family!" Sophie shouted, the barb flying from her mouth without a very needed second thought.

It would be hard to decide who was more surprised by the outburst, her or Bobby. She swallowed hard, but couldn't make her mouth work to take back the heated words. How could she take them back? They were meant to hurt and judging by the look on Bobby's face, they succeeded.

Before she could get her mind to connect to her mouth, Bobby spun on his heels and stalked towards his room. "You're grounded for a month," he shot over his shoulder.

Spending a night, awake and staring at her ceiling, made her realize all that Bobby had done for her and made her realize where he was coming from. When she ran into Bobby in the kitchen the next morning, she didn't have the chance to apologize before he was dropping a plate of waffles in front of her.

"Lawn needs mowed," he told her, heading for the back door.

"Okay," she agreed, having decided the night before to take her punishment in silence. When he reached the door, she called out, "Bobby, I'm really sorry about last night."

He nodded his understanding and acceptance of her apology, "You're still grounded."

From then on, Sophie had been much more accepting of Bobby's hovering and his rules. Which was why she was surprised that he had agreed to the road trip without them having a plan.

"We're just going to drive until we stop?" Sophie asked him, the thought continuing to grow in appeal.

"Well, we're limited by the oceans, but basically, yeah…unless you have somewhere specific you wanna go," he said.

"Where are we now?" Sophie had been watching for a road sign, but either Dean knew where he was going, or he really was just driving.

Dean checked his watch before responding, "We're about an hour and a half outside of Stewartsville."

"Do you have a map inside that head of your's?" Sophie asked jokingly, leaning over to tap Dean's temple.

"Nah, but there's one in the glove compartment if you wanna grab it out," Dean told her, gesturing in front of her. He'd already moved the Glock that was normally stored in there to underneath his seat, so he wasn't worried about her finding anything she wasn't supposed to.

Unfolding the map, Sophie ran her hand over her stomach as it growled.

"Hungry?" Dean asked, hoping that the answer was yes.

"Someone showed up and kidnapped me before I had the chance to eat lunch," Sophie joked. "I'm ready to start eating the crumbs off the floorboard."

"There are not crumbs in my car," Dean protested vehemently―he knew that for a fact because the moment his dad handed over the keys, he spent hours cleaning her, inside and out. "Say that again and I won't feed you," he threatened.

"If you don't feed me, you won't get to eat either," Sophie pointed out. "And we both know that's not gonna happen, so chop chop, take us to the nearest food distributor."

Sophie clapped her hands towards Dean, laughing loudly when he smacked her hands away.

"You're lucky I'm hungry," Dean told her, pressing the accelerator down so they could reach Stewartsville quicker.

"You're always hungry; you're like a whale that has to constantly eat or die," Sophie teased.

"Are you calling me fat?" Dean's voice rose with mock indignation as he held a hand against his chest.

"Yep," Sophie confirmed brightly. "We're gonna be lucky to make it anywhere with the way you eat."

"I resent that."

"You resemble that," she countered.

His hunger being an issue, Dean didn't pass up on the next gas station with a diner attached to make a point. "Better eat up; this is the only time for the next two weeks you'll get food."

Heading into the old, but clean dinner, they sat themselves at the cracked and ancient vinyl booth and smiled at the portly waitress as she handed them their menus and rattled off the specials in one breath. "Specials today are the club sandwich and the bacon cheeseburger. I recommend the milkshakes. I'll be back in a minute to take your order."

Sophie immediately began to browse the one page menu that Dean didn't bother picking up. He had grown up on diner food; the fare was all the same.

"Let me guess," Sophie said when Dean began to play with the salt shaker, "You're getting the bacon cheeseburger."

Dean continued to bounce the salt shaker between his hands and grinned, "Best thing in a place like this. I would stop thinking about that salad you think would be good for you and join me on the dark side."

Sophie peered over the top of her menu, "How'd you know I was thinking about a salad?"

Shrugging, Dean replied, "Cause you're a girl and I've seen you and Sam eat way too many of them."

"They're healthy," she argued, "and I like them."

"No one likes them―that's just a lie they tell themselves so they can get through eating a plate full of weeds."

"No, I…"

"Have y'all decided?" The graying waitress was back.

"Two bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and a chocolate and a strawberry shake," Dean ordered with a grin that could charm a nun out of her habit.

Like a fly to sugar, the waitress beamed at him, "Sure thing, that'll be right out for ya."

"Thanks, sweetheart," Dean said warmly. Looking at Sophie, he held his hands up defensively, his smile turning triumphant. "What?"

"I think I'm old enough to order for myself," she said, snatching the salt shaker away from him. "And I think our waitress is old enough to be your grandma."

"You don't get to order for yourself until I can trust you to make good decisions. And the older ladies need a bit of fun too." Sophie frowned at the thought, causing Dean to laugh. But, she knew it was innocent; Dean would flirt with a lamp post if he thought it would be fun. "Besides, you should be happy—now you get to eat real food."

Sophie had to admit that the juicy cheeseburger that was placed in front of her definitely looked tastier than a salad. But she made sure to keep her appreciation for the food a secret until she bit into it and a moan escaped unbidden.

"Wanna say I was right now or later?" Dean asked through a full mouth.

"Shut up," Sophie ordered, her mouth already ripping another bite off.

The late start they got meant Dean was looking for a motel after less distance than he was used to going in a day. He had also noticed Sophie shifting on the seat every couple of minutes―not that she had complained; he just needed to keep in mind that most people weren't used to sitting in a car for hours on end.

He waited until they reached a promising looking town and began to scan the buildings for a suitable motel. Normally, if he was with dad and Sam, they would pull into the cheapest and easiest to get out of motel and call it a night―but for obvious reasons, Dean was looking for one that was a step up from the usual. Finally, just as they were about to reach the end of the main road, he found one that looked like they might have cleaned the sheets, but was still in his price range.

"We're stopping?" Sophie asked, having been staring out of her window watching the sun set.

"Yeah, it's getting dark and I could use a break," Dean told her, easing the Impala through the small, pothole ridden lot. "We can get an early start tomorrow."

"You could always let me drive," Sophie slyly proposed.

"I could eat salads, but we both know it's not gonna happen," Dean said, letting the engine fall silent with a flick of his hand. "You wanna wait here or come in?"

"I'll come in," her hand was already on the handle.

He led the way to the motel's office and immediately thought that maybe he should have drove a little further if the office was any indication of how the room was going to be. He caught Sophie's raised eyebrow before she hid it with passive interest. He shifted his shoulders a bit, discomfort radiating through him. If she thought this was bad, how would she react to the room? Or worse, if she found out how they normally lived? Knowing that he had no choice, Dean walked up to the greasy manager.

"Room?" he asked disinterestedly.

"Yeah, one night, two beds," Dean told him, pulling out his wallet.

"Two beds, huh?" The manager glanced around Dean to look at Sophie, who fidgeted under the scrutiny.

"Yeah, two beds," Dean confirmed, taking a pointed step to the left to block Sophie from his view.

"Hmph," he snorted in disdain, "room four, to the left, check-out is at 11."

"Thanks," Dean said insincerely, turning to usher Sophie out of the office. He ignored Sophie's protests as he grabbed both of their bags from the backseat and headed for their room. Holding his breath as he swung the door open, Dean let it out in a relieved whoosh of air―it could have been a lot worse. At least it looked like it had been cleaned before they got there.

"Looks….homey," she said. Her eyes struggled to take in the American flag themed room.

Dean knew what she meant, "It could be worse."

Sophie frowned, "You've seen worse than this?" She asked skeptically, her frown deepening when he nodded. Just what types of places was he used to staying in? Deciding that the first night on a two week long road trip was not the night to bring it up, Sophie let herself bounce down on the bed, surprised when it sagged under her weight. She probably should've guessed that the beds weren't the best.

"Nope, that one's mine,' Dean told her. He waved her off to the bed away from the door.

"I like this one," she replied. She really had no actual preference, but she did enjoy being difficult.

"Well too bad, I paid, I get to pick my bed," Dean argued, tossing the bags on the ground.

"It's my graduation gift."

"I can make you move," Dean warned.

"I'd like to see you try," Sophie invited, expecting, but still surprised when Dean leapt from his spot and softly tackled her, making sure that he didn't actually hit her with any of his weight as he knocked her back on the bed.

Heaven forbid a bad guy ever use the tickling tactic―she would be screwed. She wasn't able to catch her breath long enough to pull any of the moves that Dean had taught her.

"Give up?" Dean asked, his fingers digging mercilessly into her sides.

"Never!" Sophie gasped as she tried to roll away from him.

One minute later, he had her begging, "Fine, you can have the bed! Just stop!"

Then, with gasps in between, "Dean. Please. Stop!"

Dean waited to stop until a few seconds later, determined to make his point before he pulled back with a victorious smile. Sophie waited until he started to stand before placing her feet on his chest and pushing him away.

"Pff," Dean's breath left him as he took a steadying step back. "All right, that's it," Dean drawled, grabbing her legs and pulling her closer to him. "Let's go," he said, pushing up with his legs and tossing her over his shoulder at the same time.

"Not cool!" Sophie whined, finding herself upside down. "You're a monster," she complained, hitting him on his back as he walked her around the beds with ease.

"You should've listened the first time around," Dean reasoned unsympathetically. Without ceremony, Dean bent over and let her fall off of his shoulder and onto the bed.

"Are you always this picky about which bed you sleep on?" Sophie huffed. The bed she was laying on felt significantly less comfortable than the first purely because she had lost.

"Yes." No. The rules regarding beds were figured out before he turned five. At first, Sam and Dean shared a bed―the edges blocked off by extra pillows so Sammy wouldn't roll off. The pillows disappeared, but the situation remained the same throughout their youth until Sam started his kicking phase. He just couldn't sleep in the same position all night; his limbs would fly around, causing damage to anyone within reach. Dean finally declared that he was done when he woke up in the middle of the night with a bloody nose…for the third time. Then, they started trying to stay in places that had a couch. If they weren't lucky, Dean would either sleep on the floor, or rock paper scissors Sam for the bed―meaning he always slept on the floor.

The bed near the door was always their dad's; it went without saying when they arrived at a new place. But, once their dad started to leave them alone while he went on hunts, Dean eagerly started to sleep on there, accepting the responsibilities that went with it.

So, there was no way he was going to let Sophie have the bed―if something came through it, he wanted to be the first one to face it.

"Well, you should work on your issues," Sophie suggested, flopping back.

Dean shook his head at her petulant tone, knowing it would go away with his next question, "So plan for the night, do you wanna order in or go and grab something to eat?"

"Order in," Sophie said immediately, oddly tired even though she just sat in a car all day.

"Pizza okay?" He asked, continuing when she nodded, "Okay, I'll order the pizza, you find something to watch."

Dean had spent the majority of his life in motel rooms. They ranged from tacky, to disgusting, to downright scary. He'd heard babies crying, women yelling at their boyfriends, and things he didn't want to remember. His memories of life before them were hazy and centered mainly on his mom, not the house. There were obviously times when he wished he could go back to that and live a normal, apple pie life, give Sam that normalcy he wanted so badly. But, it wasn't all horrible. He got to see more of the country than most people ever dreamed about, his and Sam's close relationship was always commented on by teachers when they transferred into a new school, and he got to help his dad protect people―those were worth the nasty motel rooms.

But…motels weren't home. They were pit stops along the road. There was never anything personal in them besides three duffle bags that were always packed and ready to go at a moment's notice. However, something felt different with Sophie in the room. Maybe it was the fact that her bag was split open, clothes falling out or her shoes lying by the bathroom where she had kicked them off. They were the signs of someone who didn't expect to be abruptly woken up in the middle of the night and told that they had five minutes to be in the car, with no explanation. Or have to sneak out the bathroom window when CPS came knocking—bruises on Dean's neck from a hunt causing accusations of child abuse.

It was normal. The normal actions of a normal person living an apple pie life. Well, mostly apple pie.

When he slid out from underneath her head lying against his arm and lifted her slowly off of his bed and into hers, he thought that he could get used to it.

There was no pressure with her; there never had been and that honestly scared him. His whole life was a study in pressure―pressure to live up to his dad's expectations in hunting and to protect Sammy, pressure to live up to Sam's expectations of older brother…it was exhausting. Sophie made him worry because he didn't want her to get hurt, but she never asked anything of him. She accepted the fact that his table manners were appalling; that he said things that were rude, but rarely meant them; that he sucked at talking, but if he really had to, he would extend a rarely used hug; that he soaked up pop culture like a sponge; and he would always be over protective.

Her pure acceptance of him was one of the reasons he allowed her in, but Dean could only think that was going to get her hurt one day. The odds that she would get out of their friendship unscathed were slim to none―he was a screw up; sooner or later he would do something to hurt her. But, he knew that he was never going to be strong enough to make her leave.

Please review! And don't worry, there is conflict in Dean and Sophie's future!