August 8th, 2013
For the past three months, Sam and I had been on the road searching for Dean. We had scavenged nearly every nook and cranny we could think of, only to find nothing. I could tell that Sam was losing hope the longer we continued on.
We were on our way to meet Garth, passing through Texas. Sam had him looking into a possible lead on Dean, and we were going to join him to check it out.
"We should probably look for a place to stay for the night soon," Sam said.
I shook my head. "No. We should keep going."
"Well, we still have almost fourteen hours to go," Sam said.
"Exactly. So, we should keep going," I said.
Sam sighed. "Maddi, we're already running on fumes. Stopping for the night will help us be fresh for when we get to Garth's. Then we'll actually be able to help."
I nodded. "Okay. There's a rest stop in two miles. Pullover, and we can sleep for a few hours, then hit the road again."
Sam shook his head. "No, I think—"
Something ran into the road. Sam slammed the breaks, but it was too late. We had hit whatever ran in front of us.
Sam and I hurriedly unbuckled and got out of the car to check on whatever it was. We turned to the front of the car and spotted a dog lying in the middle of the road, whimpering.
We both ran up to check and see if it was okay.
"Sam. It's bleeding," I said.
"I see that," he snapped.
"Well, we need to help it. Quickly," I said urgently.
Sam turned. "Okay, hold on a second." He ran to the trunk of the Impala and came back with a large, white sheet. "Wrap it in this. We can take it to an animal hospital."
He placed the sheet on the ground, and we carefully scooped the dog up into it. Then he picked it up and carried it to the Impala, putting it in the back seat.
I hopped into the passenger seat and began searching on my phone for an animal hospital nearby. "I found one. Right in town. About four minutes away."
We rushed through the doors of the hospital, Sam carrying the dog in the blanket.
"Help. We need help. The dog needs help!" he shouted.
A nurse looked up and pointed towards a door. "That way!" She led us into an empty exam room.
"He just— He just came out of nowhere, right in front of our car." Sam laid the dog down on the table. "We need a doctor. Are you a doctor?"
The nurse looked up at Sam. "The doctor's coming, sir. But I'm not sure—"
"You're not sure what?!" Sam shouted. "This is an animal hospital. You save animals!"
The nurse looked at Sam, flabbergasted. "Sir."
"Save this animal!" Sam yelled.
Another woman walked into the room. "Roberta, can you escort these people out, please?"
Roberta nodded. "Yes."
Sam looked at the vet. "I did this."
Roberta began to leave the room. "Come on."
Sam and I followed after her, out of the room and into the waiting area.
We sat in the waiting room for nearly two hours. Sam was looking down at his hands and shaking his feet anxiously.
Then the vet finally walked out, and Sam stood up. "He's sustained some serious internal bleeding," she said, "There's at least two leg fractures that I can see right now. But with some TLC, he should pull through for you."
Sam sighed in relief. "Thanks, Doctor." He turned and gestured for us to leave.
"You're gonna take the dog?" the vet asked.
Sam stopped. "Look, I— I would. He's… not ours."
"He's not anybody's," she replied.
"We— We spend a lot of the time on the road," Sam said.
"Don't you think you're responsible?" she asked.
"Well, that's why we brought him here," I said, a bit annoyed by her attitude.
She turned to Roberta. "Roberta, could you hand these two their trophy on their way out, please?" She turned back to us. "Well, maybe if you were such upstanding citizens, you wouldn't have hit him in the first place?"
Sam hesitated. "Fine. We'll take him."
"There's my hero," she said before turning away and leaving.
We waited a few more hours in the hospital for the vet to get the dog good enough to leave.
"Well, I guess we don't have a choice but to get a hotel for now," Sam said as we clambered into the Impala with the dog.
"I don't want to sound like a douche, but how long are we gonna wait for this dog to get better before we get back out and look for Dean?" I asked.
"Well, we at least owe it to him to stay long enough to heal up. Then we can bring him to a shelter and get back on the road." Sam shrugged. "Maybe a week or two."
I sighed. "Sam."
Sam nodded. "I know. We have to keep looking for Dean. We've been searching for this long… a few more weeks isn't gonna hurt."
I turned to look out of the passenger window. "Whatever."
"We should probably call Garth in the morning," he said as we pulled out of the parking lot.
September 6th, 2013
"Hey, I just paid Everett for another week," Sam said.
"Cool," I said.
He nodded. "Yeah. He actually offered me a job as the maintenance guy for the motel."
"And you told him no… 'cause we are going to be leaving soon?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Um. Not exactly."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I took it." He shrugged. "I think it'll help us pay for the motel for however long we're here."
"I don't really see the point. The dog should be good to go in another week or two, and we've been doing just fine without getting jobs," I said.
Sam nodded. "I know, but we haven't been moving around like we usually do. So getting jobs will help us blend in a little."
"So you're done? Just like that?" I asked.
He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
"I understand staying until the dog's healthy enough to bring him to a shelter, but getting jobs is basically the first step towards giving up our search for Dean," I said.
"I never said that we were giving up searching for Dean," Sam said.
"If that was the case, then we would've been at Garth's three weeks ago," I said.
"Garth said that it was a dead end," Sam said.
"Yeah, well, that's not the point. We've been on pause for three weeks." I shrugged. "Who knows what we could've found if we weren't cooped up in this motel room all day."
"Things changed when we hit the dog. I'm not saying that we're done looking for him. We just have to wait until he's healthy enough to move on," Sam said.
"Fine. If you say this again in another two weeks, I'm leaving. With or without you," I said.
"Maddison. Don't say that," Sam said.
I shrugged. "Would you rather me lie to you?"
"All right, fine. For the time being, how 'bout you try to find a job, and we get out of this place as quick as we can," Sam said.
"Whatever you say," I said.
September 16th, 2013
Within a few days, I was able to get a job as a line cook at Ma & Pa's Diner right in town. I was hired on the spot. I didn't really like it much, but at least it kept my mind occupied while we stayed in town. The first week was a bit rough because they had me working the early breakfast shift. I couldn't go through my usual meditation and exercise routine until after I got out.
I walked into the motel room after another long shift at the diner and collapsed onto the couch.
"Another rough one today?" Sam asked.
"The orders just never stop coming." I groaned.
"I've noticed you haven't been doing your meditation," Sam said.
"Yeah. Just haven't had the energy," I said.
"Well, maybe you should try and work that back into your routine. I know it helps you focus and get through the day," Sam said.
I shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow. Not really feeling it today. I can't even peel myself off the couch to take a shower."
"Well, I just don't want us falling back into old habits," Sam said.
I perked up on the couch. "What are you trying to say?"
"Just how we were both consumed with trying to find Dean that we went like three days without stopping for anything more than a nap," Sam said.
"What are you actually trying to say, though?" I asked.
Sam sighed. "Maddi…"
"Look, I get that you're worried about me. I get that I messed up really bad. The last real full conversation that Dean and I had was about him hating everything I did. I will literally never consider doing it again because if we never get him back… I don't want to disappoint him even more than I already have," I said.
Sam nodded. "All right. Well, Everett just called me to check on an air conditioner in room 209. So, I'll be gone for a bit."
"I'll be here," I said.
September 22nd, 2013
I walked into the motel office. Everett was behind the counter as usual.
"Hey, Everett. Have you seen Sam?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yeah. I sent him to room 118 to fix the sink."
"Okay. Cool. Thanks," I replied.
I walked out and approached the room where Everett said that Sam was, and the door was slightly open. I placed my hand on the door to open it a bit more and walked in. Sam was kneeling next to the kitchen sink, tinkering with the pipes.
"Hey," I said.
He jumped a bit, not expecting me to be there. "Uh, hey." He stood up.
"Just wanted to let you know that I'm off to the diner for my shift," I said.
"Will you be back for dinner tonight?" Sam asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. I have a short shift. I'll bring something home."
"Okay, cool. What time do you think?" he asked.
"Maybe like nine or so, depends on how cleaning goes," I said.
"I thought you said it was a short shift? That's like seven hours," he said.
"Shorter than ten," I said and then turned to walk out the door.
The door to the room opened, and the vet that made us keep the dog came walking in, holding grocery bags.
"What the hell? What are you doing here? I knew there was something off about you two." She gestured to Sam. "You with your creepy Army-Navy and your sideburns—"
Sam shook his head. "Stop, stop. Um, I'm fixing your sink."
"What?" she asked.
"He's fixing your sink," I said.
The vet continued into the room and placed the grocery bags on the counter. "So, that's what you do? You stalk helpless women, and you break into their motel room, and you fix their plumbing? Why are you fixing my sink?"
Sam grabbed a bucket from underneath the sink. "Well, because somebody jammed about 800 limes down the drain and blew out the disposal." He showed her the bucket full of limes.
"Oh. Right," the vet said.
Sam then reached into the grocery bag and pulled out a small bag of limes.
She shooed him away. "Don't touch the produce."
I looked at Sam. "All right then. I'm gonna go to work." I turned to the vet. "It was so nice seeing you again, guilt trip." I smiled at her as I walked out of the motel room.
"Is she kidding?" I heard the vet ask Sam after I left.
"Uh. She jokes," Sam replied.
September 26th, 2013
Two weeks had come and gone since I warned Sam that I would leave. I had come to the conclusion that he wasn't planning on continuing to look for Dean. So, I sat down and made a budget for myself to buy a car and leave. I quickly realized that it would take months to save enough with my normal schedule and help Sam pay for the motel room. So, I made myself available at the diner to cover shifts if necessary.
Pauline asked if I could cover a shift for one of the waiters who called in and, even though I had just finished my regular shift, I really needed to get out and look for Dean.
I cleaned myself up and headed toward my first table. An older couple, in their mid-fifties, was waiting for me at the table. "Hi. My name is Maddison. What can I get for you today?"
"I would like to try the Death by Chocolate milkshake. Is that okay?" the woman asked me excitedly.
I nodded and smiled. "Of course it's—"
"Now, honey." The husband reached across the table and laid his hand on his wife's arm. "Are you sure you don't just want water?"
The wife hung her head. "Yeah. That actually works better."
The husband turned to me. "And I will have the… hmm, I will have the cookies and cream milkshake. And add an extra bit of whip cream on top." He smiled and turned back toward his wife, who at this point just looked sad.
I wrote down their order and folded up the notepad. "Great. I will be back with your drinks in just a minute."
I walked to the counter and looked at Yvonne. "I need an ice water and a Death by Chocolate milkshake with extra whip cream."
"Is Philip being a douche to his wife again?" Yvonne asked.
I looked back at the table that Philip and his wife were sitting at. "Yeah. When is he not? I figure I'll just mistakenly teach him a little lesson." I smirked.
"Works for me." Yvonne handed me the milkshake and water with a smile. "Here ya go."
I walked back to the table. Philip was in the middle of lecturing his wife on something not important. "Here we are, one Death by Chocolate milkshake with an extra bit of whip cream for you," I said as I placed the milkshake in front of his wife and turned toward him. "And water for you."
Philip smiled. "You must be mistaken." He looked at my nametag. "Maddison. I ordered the milkshake for myself, and the water was for my wife."
"Oh. I'm so sorry. It was a total mistake," I said, pretending to be embarrassed.
"It's okay," the wife said as she started to push the milkshake toward Philip and grabbed for the water.
"No," Philip said while pushing his hand out and looking up at me. "I ordered a cookies and cream milkshake. This is too much chocolate for me. Could you just take this one back and bring me what I ordered?"
"Well, I can. But I'll have to throw this one away. I can pay for this one and get you the one you ordered," I said apologetically.
"No, it's okay, sweetheart. I'll just pay for both of them," Philip said.
I smiled. "Okay! I'll be right back then." I turned away to head back and saw the wife happily sipping on her milkshake.
I brought Philip his milkshake and took their food order. Once I put it in to the kitchen, I waited on some other tables. I checked on Philip and his wife a few times throughout their meal to make sure everything was to their liking. Then I returned to the table one last time to pick up their bill.
Philip handed me his credit card. I brought it to the register, and Yvonne rang it through. I grabbed the receipt and brought it back to the table. His wife seemed to have left, and it was just Philip there. He took his card, and then I turned to leave.
He grabbed my arm. "Don't forget this. It's special, just for you." I felt his hand reach across my stomach and into my apron. He dropped something into one of the pockets. As he pulled his hand out, he made sure to brush it against my stomach, nearly lifting my shirt. "You're my favorite waitress for a reason," he said with a wink.
I turned to walk away, and as I took a few steps, my stomach flipped, and my throat tightened. What the hell just happened? I went into the back and checked the pocket where Philip put his hand. I pulled out a fifty-dollar bill with a small note attached to it. You earned this, was scribbled across a small piece of paper.
October 1st, 2013
The dog had been getting better, and we were closer to leaving and continuing looking for Dean. We had started taking him on walks so that he could get his strength back.
It was a bit of a cooler day as Sam and I walked through the park with the dog.
I looked at Sam. "The leaves are starting to change."
Sam nodded, looking around. "Yeah, it's kinda nice to get a chance just to enjoy it."
A memory came back to me as I looked at the colorful leaves while we passed. "Remember when Dad was working that case in the Adirondacks and—"
"We went to the harvest festival," we said in unison.
Sam chuckled. "Yeah. I remember you were the first one to make it out of the corn maze."
"You guys were just too slow." I smirked.
"You can't really blame us," Sam said, "We had just finished loading up on fresh apple fritters."
"Those were definitely the best apple fritters I've ever had," I said.
"I can't say that I've had better, honestly. Remember, after that, Dean cleared out the prizes from the BB Gun game?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, he ate the entire jumbo size bag of caramel corn he won and threw up all over the bathroom that night." I laughed. "Dad was so mad."
We laughed together, and then our memories faded to sadness while we continued our walk through the park.
Once we returned from our walk with the dog, Sam started taking the leash off of him. The dog immediately sprinted toward me, but my blocking stance didn't seem to do anything as he barreled through me and into the parking lot before I could grab ahold of him.
I started to turn back to the motel room but was greeted by Sam, bolting out after the dog.
He shoved me against the door as he ran out into the parking lot. "Sorry!"
I rolled my eyes and followed Sam and the dog.
"No, no, no." Sam chased after him.
"Why didn't you let me get the door closed first?!" I yelled.
"I thought you closed it!" Sam shouted as he ran after the dog.
The dog barked and ran toward one of the other motel rooms.
Sam groaned. "No, no, no. Dog, dog, dog! Oh…"
I chased Sam, weaving between parked cars after the dog, and watched him run into room 118.
Sam sighed. "No, dog… don't bother the angry lady."
Sam and I walked up to the door and knocked. He peeked his head around the slightly open door. "Uh, hey, sorry."
The vet sat on her couch, with the dog resting himself on her lap. "'Dog'? That's what you're calling him?"
Sam shrugged. "Uh…"
The vet nodded. "Well, it's accurate. Is Dog taking his antibiotics?"
Sam nodded. "Uh, yes, he is. He's doing much better. Thank you. You know, um…" We stepped into the room. "I have to say… um… I've seen a lot of stitches in my time, and you've got really good hands."
I gave Sam a weird look for that awkward comment. "'Cause that doesn't sound creepy at all."
The vet nodded, almost holding back a chuckle. "Glad I'm not the only one."
Sam hesitated. "So, you think I'm creepy?"
The vet chuckled. "I think it's creepy you buy all your clothing at army surplus. White supremacists do that."
Sam shook his head, smirking. "Yeah, but I'm not."
"Drifting serial killers do that," the vet said.
Sam nodded. "Fair enough."
"You come from nowhere, you appear to be going nowhere, and you've, quote, 'seen a lot of stitches.'" The vet nodded. "It's all pretty solid creepy."
I grabbed the leash from Sam and put it on the dog. "This is how you properly secure the dog. I'm gonna take him back to the room and make sure the door is closed before I let him off it like you're supposed to."
He smirked and shook his head, and then the dog and I left the room.
October 6th, 2013
I tried to ignore the constant stinging on the inside of my forearm, but it was nearly impossible.
"We can take a break if you'd like," Big Art said as he looked up.
I shook my head. "Nah, I'm good."
Big Art furrowed his brow. "You sure this is your first? Most people ask for a break… how about I go make myself some coffee. Did you want anything? Water or something?"
"No. That's okay. Thank you, though," I replied.
Big Art walked off and left me in the chair. I looked down at my forearm and admired the half-finished tattoo. I thought of Dean, and as a tear came to my eye, Big Art walked back into the room.
"I know you said that you didn't want anything, but I grabbed you water and a bag of M&M's just in case." He set everything down and sat in his chair. "So, I didn't really ask before, what made you get this specific tattoo?"
I swallowed hard. "Well, it's in honor of my late brother. He always protected me and my other brother. He always put his life on the line to make sure we were safe."
Big Art took a sip of his coffee. "Sounds like quite the guy."
I chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, he was."
"I'm sorry to hear of his passing. I hope you and your brother the best. I know what it's like to lose family, and it ain't easy." Big Art put his glasses on and started gathering his ink and needle.
About an hour went by, and Big Art lifted the needle from my skin. He grabbed a cloth and wiped any excess ink and blood from my arm. "All right. Looks like you're all done. Why don't you have a look at it yourself."
I got up out of the chair and walked to a well-lit mirror. Tears came to my eyes when I saw the completed piece of art on my forearm. It was the perfect homage to Dean, a wolf, right by my side, watching over me at all times.
I turned to Big Art, tears in my eyes. "I can't thank you enough."
Big Art smiled at my appreciation. "You're welcome."
I looked down at the tattoo again and back at Big Art. "Can I give you a hug?"
Big Art smiled. "Of course." He put his arms out. "Bring it in."
October 10th, 2013
"Is it legal to dunk someone's hand into the deep fryer?" I asked Yvonne as I tossed the tray I was carrying into a pile.
Yvonne snickered. "No, but I can cover for you if you need me to."
I took a deep breath. "No. It's fine. I can handle them. They're just obnoxious. As usual." I turned to look back at the table.
The group of football players laughed as an older man went to put salt on his meal, but the entire top fell off, and the saltshaker completely emptied into the man's plate.
"Why are they the worst kind of people?" Yvonne asked.
"Beats me," I said.
"I'll go help the old man," Yvonne said as she left the kitchen.
I grabbed a pitcher of water and headed towards Kyle's table.
"Having fun over here?" I asked as I began refilling their empty water glasses.
"We are now, but we can have more fun later. My parents are out of town, and we're having a party. Plenty of privacy in the guest house," Kyle said with a smile.
I tried to not vomit as I looked him in the eyes. "Ew. No, thanks."
"Oh, come on. It usually doesn't take this long for the girl to say yes. I mean a day or two, but not weeks. When are you just gonna admit that you like me and stop playing hard to get?" Kyle asked.
"When are you gonna accept that I don't want to date you?" I asked.
"You'll come around. They always do. Seems like you just need a bit more convincing," he said.
I rolled my eyes and ignored his badgering. "What do you want?"
He looked to all of his buddies before returning his gaze to me. "For starters, you. But we should probably go somewhere a bit more private."
His friends were all smirking and exchanging eye contact in the booth beside him.
I sighed. "What do you want from the menu, creep?"
He smiled. "I'll just have the grilled chicken sandwich, hold the bread."
Another guy at the booth says. "What are you, twelve?"
"Nah, man. I gotta keep this body in peak physical shape," Kyle said as he lifted his shirt to reveal abs.
I shook my head and looked at the rest of the group. "Okay, great. What do the rest of you misogynists want?"
"Message-a-what?" One of the guys furrowed his brow. "What's that mean?"
Another one of them smacked him in the back of the head. "It means that we don't like women, idiot."
Kyle chuckled. "That couldn't be further from the truth. Order up, boys. She has other people that need waiting on."
They placed their orders, and then I walked into the back to help set up some trays to get food flowing faster since the rush hour was just around the corner. I grabbed our sliced tomatoes container but realized there were only two slices left, and no one bothered to fill it or let anyone know we were low. I sighed and grabbed some tomatoes, and started slicing.
"So, what did those football creeps have to say today?" Yvonne asked as she threw some dishes into the dish rack and slammed the dishwasher shut.
I looked up at her as I sliced. "Well, Kyle asked me out again."
Yvonne chuckled. "What is that, like the fifth time this week?"
"Yeah, I don't get how you can't get a clue after weeks of—" I gasped as I sliced through my finger. I looked down and realized I was bleeding pretty heavily.
"Girl, come on, what is this… your first day?" Yvonne chuckled and threw some paper towels down on the cutting board. "Go get cleaned up. I'll take care of this."
I smiled. "Thanks." Then I quickly walked to the sink in the back. I washed all the blood off and then realized there wasn't a cut anywhere on my hand.
I was so confused. For months after I stopped drinking demon blood, I couldn't heal myself, even when it was just a little paper cut. Clearly, something had changed because my hand was dripping blood ten seconds before, and now I was perfectly fine. I opened the first aid kit attached to the wall next to me and put a band-aid on my finger, so Yvonne wouldn't question anything. Then I walked back over to her.
"You good?" she asked.
I nodded. "Yeah, all good."