Imogen woke late the next morning. The sun was shining into her room, falling across her face. Slowly she stretched and sat up. Her head was pounding and she felt a bit nauseous, she was hungover. She's had way too much to drink last night, and she knew that at the time, but she had been nervous and the booze had helped.

So Imogen got to her feet and made her way across the hall to the bathroom. She peed and then went to wash her hands. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her face was smeared with dirt and her hair was oily with leaves sticking out of it.

She sighed and slipped out of the dress she had worn on her date last night. She had fallen asleep in it. She stepped over the edge of the bathtub, closed the shower curtain, and turned the water on. It was ice cold at first so she stood at the edge of the tub trying to avoid it, but in a few minutes it was warm and she stood underneath it. Slowly she ran shampoo through her tangled hair and cleaned off her body. She was sore everywhere, like she had been the one to get her ass beat the night before instead of Nick.

The girl took her sweet time in the shower. She was hopeful that everyone in the house would be awake and waiting for her and she wanted to keep every last one of them waiting as long as she could. They had ruined her night, all of them, Bobby was just as guilty for letting them. And she was going to make them wait as long as she could.

A good forty-five minutes later she stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around her, and headed back across the hall to get dressed. She shut and locked her bedroom door before digging around in her dresser for something to wear. Imogen remembered when Bobby gave her this dresser. He had actually built it for her one weekend soon after Sam and Dean had ditched her here. He had walked into her room and saw all her clothes laying on the floor.

"How do you know what's clean and what's dirty?" he had asked.

Imogen just shrugged, "Smell, mostly."

The very next day he had gone to the hardware store and bought the supplies he had needed for the project. It took him three days to get it built, painted, and upstairs, but he had done it without complaint. The thing wasn't perfect, it looked really nice but the drawers sometimes didn't want to come out or didn't want to go back in. But it was hers and it was the only thing she'd ever had to keep her clothes in besides a bag since Sam and Dean took her in.

Imogen pulled a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt out of her dresser and pulled them on. She wasn't going to look presentable for these asshats, not after what they had done last night. She walked out of her room barefoot and quietly creeped down the stairs. She wanted to hear them before they heard her.

She stopped at the foot of the stairs and listened hard. All she could hear was the sound of the TV. So she got off the stairs and walked through the living room. Dean was snoozing on the couch, sitting upright with the remote in his hand, Sam and Bobby were nowhere in sight. She creeped in front of Dean on her way to the kitchen, hoping he wouldn't wake up and see her. Once in the kitchen she slowly slid the doors shut and walked across to make a pot of coffee.

When she turned back around Dean was standing in the now open doors, looking like he has just woken up- which he had. Imogen nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Jesus Christ," she barked, "Lucky I don't have a gun on me or I woulda shot you."

Dean raised an eyebrow and took a few steps into the kitchen, "Why don't you have a gun on you?" he asked, opening the fridge and looking in it, obviously not finding anything he was willing to eat and shutting it back.

Imogen just rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Because Big Brother, I knew if anyone bad or hell anyone that I love got near me you'd take care of them."

Dean frowned and folded his arms over his chest, "Imogen, that guy was way too old for you. And you're way too young to be having sex."

The small girl bit back her anger as best she could, "And how old were you when you started having sex?"

"We aren't talking about me," he sighed, "You're not ready."

"How the hell would you know?" she growled, "You don't even know me! Haven't even sent me a courtesy postcard since you ditched me here months ago."

"Okay, that's fair," he nodded slowly, "What do you even know about this kid?"

"I know that his name is Nicolas Lee Packwood. He moved here from Albuquerque, New Mexico. He came here for college to get away from his shitty father after his mother died and he graduated high school. His birthday is on Christmas and he was born premature and addicted to methamphetamine. He originally came here to study filmmaking but school wasn't his forte and he flunked out. Now he's a disc jockey at the local radio station three times a week and he works as a substitute teacher at the elementary school when he can to make rent," she paused to take a breath, "I've known him five months, what else do you need to know?"

Dean let out a long and low sigh, "Fine, what does he honestly know about you?" he retorted, "I mean, what does he really know? What have you told him that isn't a lie you used to cover up who you really are?"

Imogen paused and bit her lip, she was at a loss for words. The truth was he didn't know much about her. He hadn't known her real age, what her brothers really did for a living, what she thought actually happened to her mother. Nothing.

"That's not fair, Dean."

"Sure it's fair. You know everything about him and he knows nothing about you. What does that say about your relationship?"

"What the hell!" she shouted, "You've conditioned me since the beginning of time to keep this damn secret. Not to tell anyone that we don't have to and who doesn't already know. You and Sam kept me away from people, from all people, how the hell am I supposed to know what to do and not to do in a relationship!" she turned away from her brother to pour herself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee and sipped on it.

"You're coming back on the road with me and Sam," Dean stated.

A chill went up her spine. For months those were the words she wanted to hear come out of her brother's mouth. That's all she wanted was to be back on the road with her brothers, hunting. But then she met Nick and that wasn't what she wanted anymore. That life was lonely. She hadn't realized it before, she'd never had a friend. Now she didn't want to leave Nick. She knew if she left now that it would be over.

"The hell I am," she scoffed, turning back around and taking another drink of her coffee.

"You are," Dean stated, "We talked it over last night."

"Who?" Imogen asked, "Who talked it over?"

"Me and Sam," he looked at her, "You can't stay here. Who knows what kind of trouble you'll get yourself into?"

"I'm not going," she looked at him, "You can't make me."

"You wanna bet?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, you try and take me I'll just run off."

"Sam and I will watch you. We'll take turns staying all night and making sure you stay put."

"Really?" Imogen asked, "That's what you wanna do? Sounds like a lot of work to me."

"I like work," he smirked, "Keeps my mind busy."

"I'm not going," she stated again, "I'm staying here with Bobby."

"Bobby doesn't want you here," Dean smiled, shaking his head, "Don't you understand? You've caused him nothing but grief. To him you are just a pain in the ass that costs him money. The only reason he let you stay here is because Sam and I asked him too."

The mug of coffee Imogen was holding slipped from her fingers and crashed to the ground, shattering and burning her toes, but she didn't so much as flinch. Her hand was still held like she was holding an invisible mug and was shaking.

"Did… Did he say that to you?" Imogen asked, her voice failing her.

Dean nodded, "Not those exact words, but yeah."

Imogen took a deep breath and headed back through the living room and to the stairs. Dean followed close behind her.

"So you see what I mean. If you're gonna be anyone's problem you're gonna be mine and Sam's. Got it? We are the ones who agreed to take you in the first place, and now we are taking you back."

Imogen got to her bedroom door and slammed and locked it before Dean was able to come in. She could hear his voice saying something on the other side but she wasn't listening. Quickly she pulled on her jeans and a better fitting shirt. Dean was still talking on the other side of the door so Imogen opened up her window, climbed out onto the roof, and scaled down a tree near the front porch.

She slowly made her way over to her motor bike that Bobby had given her the day before and straddled it. She looked up and saw Bobby heading her way, helmet in hand.

"You forgot something," he said, plopping the pink thing down on her head, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Look, Bobby. I'm sorry. I know I've been nothing but a burden to you since I got here."

"What the hell you talking about?"

Imogen cut him off, "You don't have to pretend like I'm not a pain in the ass. Look, I won't be gone too long. I have to see Nick. I've gotta explain myself to him. I messed up, and I messed up big. Just please do me a favor and don't tell Sam or Dean where I went. Please, Bobby."

Bobby frowned, but nodded and turned away to walk back towards the house.

Imogen turned on her bike and tore out of the driveway, gravel flying every which way. She sped down the road as fast as she could manage and in ten minutes she was at Nick's. She parked the bike, pulled off her helmet, and pounded up the steps to his apartment and banged on the door. He was here, he had to be here, but she got no answer.

She groaned, she didn't want to have to pick the lock but he wasn't really giving her a choice. She pulled out her multi-tool, flipped out the best option for the job, and in less than a minute that door popped open. She shut it behind her and immediately made her way into Nick's room without bothering to knock.

He was laying on his bed in the same clothes he had been in the night before. His face was swollen and covered in dry blood. His eyes were closed, but Imogen was sure that he was awake. She slowly walked over to the bed and lay down in front of him. Almost instantly his arms were winding around her and pulling her close.

Her heart raced. She thought he was going to reject her, tell her to get out of go away that this was the end, and now he was pulling her to him. The two lay there for quite some time, Imogen knew he was crying, though he was doing his best to hide that.

"Nick," she whispered, "Let me clean you up, okay?"

All Nick could do was nod. So Imogen got to her feet and walked into the bathroom where she filled up a small bucked with warm water and grabbed a couple of wash cloths before she walked back into Nick's room. He was sitting upright so Imogen slowly worked his shirt off of him.

"I'm going to take care of you," she whispered, the girl grabbed a wash rag and dipped it in the water before gently wiping the blood from his face, "Nick," she breathed, trying to get the hardened blood off, "I'm so sorry. I didn't know my brothers were coming back. I swear to you."

Nick winced a little, he was very sore, "It's okay," his voice crackled with every word, "It's not your fault."

"Yes it is," she insisted, dipping the rag into the water to get some of the blood off before going back to his face, "I shouldn't have lied to you."

"No," he agreed, "You shouldn't have."

"I was just so afraid if you found out how old I was that you wouldn't want anything to do with me."

The older man let out little whine when she tried clearing the blood from his obviously broken nose, "You're probably right. If I had known from the start that you were only fifteen I wouldn't have dated you. I don't want to go to jail."

Imogen was silent as she got as much of the blood off as she could before she took the bucket back to the bathroom and dumped it out.

The girl walked back into the bedroom and sat next to him, taking his hand.

"I love you, Imogen."

"I love you too, Nick."

"How do I know that though?" he asked, slowly turning to look her in the eye, "How do I know what's the truth and what's a lie anymore?" he frowned, "I mean, is there anything else you're lying about?"

She frowned. How could she tell him that her brothers weren't really exterminators in the traditional sense? He would think she was crazy.

"Bobby's not really my uncle," she told him, "I mean, not by blood or anything."

Nick sighed, "Are Sam and Dean really your brothers?"

Imogen nodded, "Yeah, unfortunately. I mean, half-brothers, but you knew that."

Slowly Nick nodded, "Imogen, I'm sorry we just… We can't-" he was going to continue but Imogen cut him off.

"No, Nick. You can't do this. You can't end this. I didn't mean for last night to happen. I swear to you. Nick, I love you so much."

He sighed, "I love you too, but your brothers wanted to kill me last night when they caught us together."

"I know Nick, but screw them. I love YOU Nick. You are the most important person, I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. We can run away together, it'll just be two years we have to stay in hiding. Two years and I'll be eighteen and no one can say anything ever again."

Slowly Nick shook his head, "And what if they find us, huh? What if Sam or Dean or Bobby tell the police and they track us down? Sure, you'll just get to go home back to your brothers, but I will go to jail. I'll be a pedophile."

"Nick," she begged, "Nick don't do this."

"I don't want to," he told her, "But I have to. I have to protect myself. I've worked too hard for too long to not become a criminal. I don't want to be my father."

"You aren't!" she pleaded, "You won't be. Nick, please," she was trying not to cry and gripping his hand with all of her might, like once she let go this would all be over, "Nick, I love you," and then she was kissing him and he was kissing her and the next thing either of them knew they were laying unclothed, side-by-side, and both breathing heavy.

"That was a mistake," Nick told her as he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at her, "I'm sorry."

She thought he had changed his mind. She thought things were okay now. Had he just gotten carried away and couldn't help himself? She knew she couldn't, but she also didn't want this to end.

Imogen swallowed hard, "What?"

"You need to leave," he said softly, "Imogen we can't. You're sixteen."

"Age is just a number," she said, desperately trying to hold onto him.

"Tell that to a court of law," he took a deep breath as he sat up and started to put his clothes back on, "Did I ever tell you what I was doing that day I met you at the doctor?"

Imogen sat up, keeping the sheet up against her so she would be covered, "Yeah, you were taking a piss."

Nick shook his head, "No, I was there because I had been really irresponsible."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I was running around every night I could at bars. Hooking up with women in bathrooms, in the car, hell even occasionally on a pool table if I could manage it. Women whose names I never even bothered to ask."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He sighed, "Because you deserve to know. Now be quiet and let me talk," he said gently, "I went to the doctor to make sure I didn't get any sexually transmitted diseases or infections, since I've never been that good at using condoms."

"Oh god," she frowned, "You're not about to tell me you have AIDS are you?"

Nick gave her a stern look, "No, I don't. I was clean. The day I met you I had just gotten the results that I was clean and I was going to go out and celebrate that night by doing what I had been doing all over again. Then I met you when you walked into the bathroom. All of a sudden it was like I had a whole new lease on life. I saw you and it was like we had this instant connection," he looked at her, "All of a sudden I didn't want to just fuck women and leave," he paused very briefly, "Imogen, I've never taken a woman to a carnival or a fair or anything like that. I've never gone five months without sex by my own choice. I was willing to wait for you. I wanted to make you happy. That's all that I wanted."

"You have, baby," she crawled over to him, wrapping her naked body around him, "You have made me so happy."

"Imogen, you lied to me."

"I know, and I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to think I was too young or too stupid."

"Just the fact that you lied to me about how old young were tells me that you're too immature to be in an adult relationship. I don't think you realize how much legal trouble I could get in for what we did last night, and for what we did just a few minutes ago."

"Nick, please," she begged, "Please don't do this."

"I have to," he said, slowly getting her off and standing up, "Please get dressed. Do you need a ride home?"

Imogen obeyed and pulled her clothes back on, "No, I have my bike."

Nick waited for her to get dressed and the two walked out to her bike together.

"So this is it? All this time together and you're going to kick me out of your life?" she said, sternly.

"Imogen, please. This is hard for me too."

"So what am I supposed to like lose your number? Forget everything that happened between us and pretend like I never met you."

He sighed and looked down at his feet.

"Just stop Nick. You don't get to be upset. You're the one breaking up with me."

"And you're the one who lied to me."

She scoffed, "Like you've never lied."

"Not to you," he shook his head, "I'll see you around, okay? If you need anything let me know."

Imogen shook her head, "You won't see me."

"What?" he asked, "Why would you say that? It's a small town we're bound to run into each other."

"Because Bobby's kicking me out."

"That doesn't sound like Bobby. That guy loves you."

"Yeah, well guess love isn't all it's cracked up to be," she pulled on her helmet, climbed onto her bike, and started it up.

Nick put a hand on the handle bars to keep her from leaving, "Where will you go?"

Imogen rolled her eyes, "Like you give a damn," she snarled as she backed the bike up and flew out of the parking lot.