"Does that hurt?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"How about that?"

"Yes! You're shoving a big needle into my arm, Sam," Kenna growled. "Of course, it freakin' hurts."

"I think you're just being a baby," Sam teased, impatiently tapping his foot against Bobby's front porch floor.

"All right, how about I ram it into your arm and see how you like it?" she countered.

Sam pressed the plunger down, shooting the liquid into her veins. Kenna inhaled sharply through her teeth, hissing her displeasure at the sting. This medication wasn't quite as thick as what she'd been hooked up to at the hospital, but it was still heavy and moved slowly through her system, spreading a dull ache through her entire body. This treatment wasn't as harsh on her as the one she'd been on earlier, but it did just enough to keep her going.

She only wished she knew for how long.

Sam removed the needle from under her skin and taped down a cotton ball on the slightly bleeding puncture mark. She winced and he leaned down to place a condescending kiss to the cotton ball.

"There. All better," Sam smiled, stood to his feet, and went inside to dispose of the used syringe.

"Butcher!" Kenna called over her shoulder.

Sam chuckled and shook his head at Dean as they passed each other in the doorway.

"Hey, lady," Dean teased. "Did the big, bad Sam hurt give you a big, bad shot? You want me to kiss it and make it all better?" He leaned forward, close to her face, far away from where Sam had administered her shot.

The man was flirting with her again.

Kenna looked up at him, and had to fight the urge to smack him when he leaned even closer and winked at her.

"Don't you dare get sweet with me, Dean Winchester," she warned, and leaned back, away from him. "I know exactly what you're up to."

Dean let out a heavy sigh. "What are you talking about?"

"I heard you and Sam talking to Bobby earlier," she answered. "You two are leaving to go on a hunt tonight…and you're going without me."

"Damn straight, we're going without you," Dean agreed and angrily stood to his feet. "I know you said this new medicine is making you feel a little better, but I don't care, Kenna. You're still sick and I won't be held responsible if something happened to you."

"You're being mean," she pouted.

"No, I'm being smart."

"Mean."

"Smart."

"Me—"

"I'm not fighting with you!" Dean finally shouted, effectively ending their argument. "I wouldn't be able to stand it if you came along and something happened to you."

He stepped closer and dug his finger into his chest for emphasis. "I can't lose you."

His gaze dropped to the floor and his mouth clamped up. Apparently, he hadn't meant to say all of that. Kenna couldn't help but smile.

Now it was her chance to suck up.

"You know, you wouldn't lose me if you just let me come along for the ride," she began.

"Kenna," Dean warned and he held up a finger, but she would not be silenced.

"I could hang out at the hotel," she continued. "Keep watch at base camp, do research for you and Sam…" she had run out things to do quicker than she planned.

"I could take naps!" she added, quickly, just to get on Dean's good side.

"You could do all that from here," he offered. "And you'll only be a phone call away."

Kenna stomped her foot and whined like a child. "I don't wanna stay here! I wanna go with you and Sam. I'm not dead yet, Dean, so stop treating me like I'm already buried!"

For a moment, it looked like she almost had him. Dean dropped his head forward and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was his classic I'm Thinking stance. But then he ran the same hand up, over his head, through his hair and slammed it on the porch railing.

"No," he said, pointing an unwavering finger in her face as he marched back inside. "You're not coming and that's final."

~~~~~*****~~~~~

But it wasn't final. Far from it, actually.

An hour later, when Sam and Dean were carrying their duffel bags to the Impala, they noticed someone sitting in the backseat, holding a fully packed bag in her lap. Dean opened his fist and let his duffel fall to the porch floor. He rushed down the stairs and yanked the car door open. He leaned down and glared at the woman inside.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone calm and cool. A sure sign that he had to really force his inner anger to stay down. But his compulsory kindness wasn't fooling her, and she was already on the defensive.

"I'm coming with you, Dean," McKenna stated, gritting her teeth.

"No, you're not," Dean argued, his soft, quiet tone remaining that way. "Get out of the car, please."

Sam picked up Dean's discarded duffel and placed it in the trunk with his own. He then went around to the passenger side and placed, what he hoped was a calming hand on his brother's back.

"Dean, please don't—"

Stay out of this, Sammy," Dean barked over his shoulder, his calm officially broken. Sam instantly removed his hand and Dean stuck his head back into the Impala. "Kenna, get out of the car!"

"No."

"Now."

"The only way I'm getting out of this car is if you drag me, kicking and screaming!"

"Fine!" Dean shrieked and began to reach into the backseat. He grabbed her knees and pulled her across the leather, trying to jerk her out of the car with ever ounce of strength he had.

"No, Dean, let me go!" Kenna screamed and clawed her fingers into the seat, pulling herself back into the car, fighting against each tug that Dean made against her other end.

It was a game of McKenna Tug-o-War, and so far, no one was winning.

"Sam!" she screeched, begging the other brother for help. "Sam!"

"Dean!" Sam shouted and rushed around to the other side of the car, figuring that it made more sense to go to Kenna's side and aid her, instead of trying to stop his brother from ripping her legs off.

Then again, maybe he should have thought better of that.

"Dean, stop it! That's enough!" he screamed and yanked open Kenna's door, planning to pull her out, himself. "Kenna, come here. Dean, stop! Stop it!"

McKenna hadn't been kidding about the kicking and screaming, and one of her feet finally collided with Dean's shoulder, sending him flying back onto the porch steps. The humiliating scene didn't change his argument.

"You're not coming," he growled, pushing himself up from the steps. "You're staying here! You're staying here, and you're staying safe!"

"I will be safe, Dean," Kenna agreed, still seated in the backseat. She began pulling items from her duffel bag and laid them out on the leather. "Look, I have all my treatment kits and my IV equipment. I have all my vitamins and everything else the doctor gave me."

She shifted in the middle of the seat, making sure that Sam could see it too. "See, Sam, I have everything I need. And you'll be there, too. You can help me make sure that I take my meds when I'm supposed to."

Kenna's gaze shifted back and forth, from one side of the car to the other, passing her heartrending facial expression from one brother to the other.

"Please, you guys?" she begged, piteously. "I lost my last demon, guys, but I still want to help people. I need to help people. And I can't imagine a better way to spend the time I have left."

She looked to Sam, first. "Sam. Please?"

The younger Winchester brother didn't answer. He simply slammed the door shut, paced around to the passenger's side of the Impala, and climbed in. Words weren't needed. Sam had clearly voiced his opinion without them: McKenna was coming.

"Dean?" Kenna pleaded, softly.

He didn't answer either. Instead he turned his back on her and walked back into the house. McKenna climbed out of the car and took off after him.

"Dean, wait," she called. He ignored her and made his way into the kitchen. His hand shot out, opened the refrigerator door, and pulled out a beer. McKenna reached up and pulled it away before the bottle even touched his lips.

"No," she whispered, gently. "If you drink, I'll have to drive."

"You're not coming," he grunted and tried to swipe his beer back. Kenna blocked his move with her hand. She ignored his growl, calmly walked to the sink and poured the liquid down the sink.

"Hey, that's perfectly good beer you wasting!" Dean shouted.

"There's more in the fridge," she offered. "There's always more, even though you drink too much."

"I don't drink too much," he argued.

Kenna glared at him.

"Okay, so I tend to want a beer when I'm upset," he shrugged.

Kenna glared again.

"Or four," he conceded, softly. "Sometimes five."

"So you worry about me and it drives you to drink?" she teased. "Well, I'm offering you a solution, here, Dean. If I'm with you, you won't worry as much."

Dean took a deep breath and collapsed into a chair by the kitchen table. His head fell forward and he stared at the floor, unable to look up at Kenna.

"I'm not gonna win this one, am I?" he asked. She smiled and crouched down on the floor in front of him. She hooked a finger under Dean's chin and forced his gaze up.

"Why do you have to come?" he questioned, his eyes suddenly shiny. "Why?"

Kenna smiled and let out a heavy sigh. "Isn't this what you did, Dean? Before you went to Hell? You drove yourself crazy trying to save as many people as you possibly could."

"You're not going to Hell, Kenna."

"No, probably not," she agreed. "But I'm still on borrowed time. And I want to save as many people as I can before I…go."

Dean was ashamed of himself. He couldn't believe that he hadn't thought that McKenna was feeling the same way he had his last year before going to hell. Only Kenna didn't have a year. For all they knew, she might not even have a month. Even the doctor hadn't given them a straight answer as to how much time she might have left, so really, no one knew. It could be tomorrow.

It could be today.

Dean slowly fixed his gaze on her face, taking in every line, every angle, every little thing that told him that she was still here, still alive, still breathing. Kenna smiled softly, her lips turning up on either corner. Dean leaned his forehead forward, allowing it to rest against hers. Kenna closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Never in her entire life had she ever actually wanted a man to kiss her…and she didn't want to start now.

"Dean," she whispered and his hands moved up to linger on either side of her face. His thumbs slid along her cheeks and Kenna's eyes slowly closed.

"Dean," she breathed again. "Sam's waiting."

Dean opened his eyes and gazed into hers for a long, heated moment. She was…scared.

And why wouldn't she be? She'd been through hell as a child. If she never wanted him to come near her again, he really couldn't blame her.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, and finally released her. "We should get going."

"We?" she asked. "You mean, I can come?"

Dean stood to his feet, and gently pulled her up with him. "Research, remember?" he said. "You promised to do research. That's it."

Kenna pouted for a moment, but quickly turned her frown upside down. "Research," she promised, and held up her right hand. "I swear."

Dean smiled, leaned down, and gently kissed her forehead. "All right, then. Go say goodbye to Bobby and let's hit the road."