One in a Million Chapter Thirty-Six: Road Trip, a supernatural fanfic

Chapter Thirty-Six: Road Trip

~I will never stop trying

I will never stop watching as you leave

I will never stop losing my breath

Every time I see you staring back at me

I will never stop holding your hand

I will never stop opening your door

I will never stop choosing you babe

I will never get used to you~

The sound of a pencil scraping against a sheet of paper is a very therapeutic one. It was light and quiet, and easy to control. The best part of sketching for me has always been watching as a few basic lines slowly morph into an elaborate picture. At the moment, I was sketching a steam-punk-style dragonfly encrusted with jewels. The same picture had been on the cover of my favorite book when I was alive. I wasn't sure why I had chosen that particular subject matter; perhaps I was just missing home - not the bunker - my real home.

The home of my childhood that was so far from me now. My wonderful, almost hidden home, way off the road and deep in the shade of the trees on that little off shoot of land that made up our own secret corner of Jensen Beach. Our house had been so far from anything despite being so close to the business of the beach. But it was good because nobody knew about it and nobody came down that long dirt road to our house unless they were lost. It was like we were living in our own little corner of the world, surrounded by trees and sky, where the magic never ended, and nothing was impossible. Our own One-Hundred Acre Wood.

I could still picture the long, well-worn path of crunching, grey gravel that strayed from the back of that old house. It ran through the bracket woods and down to the shores of Jensen Beach at a place half of sand and half of rock where land met the sea. I could still taste the salty ocean air on my tongue, leftover from days spent basking much too long in the golden rays of sunlight. I could still feel the sharpness of the perilous black rocks on the calluses that still covered my feet, gifted to me by all the nights of rebelliousness that carried me over the crags of the boulders to the abandoned lighthouse that towered like an old loyal soldier over the ocean's infinite swells. That lighthouse had been a sanctuary throughout all the years of my childhood. I couldn't begin to count how many nights I had spent at the top, gazing out over the ocean and imagining that I could see mermaids way out on the horizon and maybe wishing that a boy and his fairy would take me to Neverland one day.

I guess my wish came true. Someone did take me to Neverland; his own twisted version of it, at least.

Why had my parents ever let that monster near me?

I guess I couldn't blame them, though. They never could have known what Felix had been plotting the day he'd shown up at our door, claiming he could give me my sight. I had been only seven years old at the time. Felix had requested a future favor in exchange for a miracle and my mom and dad had agreed. They hadn't known that Felix's favor would mean the loss of their lives and the lives of their other four children only seven years later.

If only I could turn back time and go back to all those nights I spent in that lighthouse. If only Isaac's discovery of his abilities hadn't been so public. Then Felix would never have heard of my family and he never would have come to pay his " price " for Isaac. It was Isaac that Felix had wanted. But Isaac had been unwilling and then Felix had found out about me. If only I hadn't been born the most powerful empath the world had ever seen. If only Felix had never found out about what I was in the first place. If he hadn't, then my family would still be alive and I would still be sitting in that lighthouse, watching the horizon for mermaids, where I belong.

If I could only go back to where I belong.

Because that place - it wasn't the Men-of-Letters bunker.

I didn't belong in that secret fortress with those hunters and I never would, I was an intruder and an imposter and I could never belong with them. The others, all save for Jack, had proved that in the week and a half after I had killed the vampires in that shed.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel all knew there was something wrong with me. That week and a half had been filled with hushed conversations, distrustful eyes, and a more than a copious multitude of Are-You-Okay 's. Maybe they thought I was a sociopath, or maybe they thought I was just crazy. Well, either way, they wouldn't exactly be wrong.

A knock on my door stilled my sketching hand. I dropped my pencil and stood, fixing a smirk on my face before opening the door wide. Dean stood on the other side, his phone pressed to his ear. He held up a finger for me to wait.

"Uh huh... Yeah, right, o'course... I'll be sure to tell him you said that... No, I won't tell him that ... Wha- because you can tell him yourself! Jeez! ... I am not whining! ... I'm not! ... You know what? I ain't doin' this today. Thanks for the help, Rowena. We appreciate it... Uh, yeah? She's right here, why? ... Do I have too? ... Ugh, fine. Whatever, here ya go..."

Dean sighed heavily and rolled his eyes like a diva, pressing a button on his phone and holding it out between us. I sent him a questing look to which he just rolled his eyes again and shook his head.

"There ya go, you're on speaker," He said, speaking a little louder than necessary, "Say hi, Marty."

"Uhhh... Hi?" I greeted, leaning a bit towards the phone.

"Why hellloooo, dear!" The fluid, high-pitched voice of an Irish woman cheered from the phone. My eyebrows shot up and I stared at Dean who gave me a thumbs up and a long-suffering expression. The woman on the phone continued.

"You must be Jackie-boy's little girlfriend! Martina, isn't it? Samuel has told me so much about you! And by 'so much' I mean absolutely nothing at all."

'Help me' I mouthed to Dean. He shook his head, drawing a finger across his face and grinning before doing the ' Blah, blah, blah ' gesture. I assume that meant smile and talk.

'I'm scared' I mouthed at him.

'Just do it' He mouthed back. I leaned towards the receiver.

"Uh, yeah, hi! I'm Marty. Jack and I aren't dating, though. We're just friends," I said, chuckling like some socially awkward nerd.

"Ooohhhh. Riggghhhht. I'd wink at you but you can't see me." She drawled.

"Haha, yeah... I'm serious, though. Just friends. No dates. Just platonic feelings all around..." Well, the way Jack had held me the other day wasn't very platonic but I'm sure he just wasn't aware of what he was doing. Heat rose into my cheeks as I remembered how Jack's fingers had dug into means the way he'd whispered in my ear.

I was in trouble.

A very loud and very high-pitch squeal came from the phone and I jumped back in fright.

" Oooh! Dean! She sounds like a mini you! " The woman trilled. Dean shot me a look that said ' I am so so sorry ' and I just nodded, well and truly frightened.

"Great job, Rowena," Dean announced sarcastically, "You have successfully scared the child."

"I do my best," Rowena chuckled, "Well, I have to go now, I have other things to do, you know. I hope you boys catch Felix, that bastard has been a thorn in my side since that pub in Dublin. As for you, Martina dear, I hope all those platonic feelings cure themselves soon. I know a couple tricks if the Nephilim ever needs a shove in the right direction!"

"Um... Thanks?" I tried, my cheeks flaring with heat.

"My pleasure, dear. Goodbye, you two! "

"Yeah, bye." Dean ended the call.

We just stared at each other awkwardly for a solid three minutes while my cheeks kept getting hotter and hotter.

"Sooo... You completely sure about those platonic feelings?" Dean finally asked, a smirk spreading across his face.

"Of course!" Why was my voice so flipping high-pitched?

"Uh huh, well, your cheeks say otherwise."

"Shut up, Dean." Stupid blush.

Dean raised his hands in defense. "Hey, I won't say anything if ya don't want me too. It's Sam you gotta watch out for!"

"Clearly," I muttered.

"Just make sure you use protection, okay?"

I kicked him in the shin. Hard.

Dean cursed and stumbled away, shaking his leg out like it would do something to help the pain. Hey, for that comment, he totally deserved it! I glared at him with all the energy of my soul.

"Was that enough, or should I aim a little higher next time?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. Dean was laughing now.

"Totally worth it! Should'a seen your face!" He shook his head.

"I should punch your face. Let's see how you like it, huh!"

"You sure you can reach that high?" Dean taunted.

"I'll jump," I concluded. Dean just chuckled again and I rolled my eyes. "Did you come here to tell me something or to make fun of my dearth in terms of height?"

"Yeah, I did, shrimpy." He grinned at me and continued. "So, the crazy woman on the phone was our witch friend, Rowena. We called her and told her to narrow her search down to Florida based off what that one vamp told us and, uh, she got a hit."

Dean's expression changed. His eyes narrowed and he studied me carefully as if waiting for me to snap.

"And?" I pressed, impatiently.

"Port Saint Lucie," He said, "That's where Felix is."

Of course, he was. Can somebody say Shakespeare wanna-be?

Brow's furrowed, Dean seemed to be waiting for something, gauging my reaction. I just rolled my eyes and let out a huff of a laugh.

"Typical. The guy's such a drama queen!" That didn't seem to be the response Dean had been expecting. "I mean, get an original idea already! If I was gonna draw somebody in for the ultimate revenge plot, I'd make it a fist fight in the back of an Arby's parking lot."

The elder Winchester nodded slowly and shrugged. "Okay, I'll give ya points for weird, but I gotta say, that sounds a bit more like your brother."

"Crap, you're right!" I said, "What about an AMC parking lot? You know, popcorn for the guests? Hey, where is Isaac, by the way? I mean, he's not making me wanna cut my ear off and that probably means he's punishing somebody else with his presence and that scares me."

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. I can't exactly see him, but if anything floats, I'll be sure to let ya know."

"Okay, cool. So, when do we leave to kill the monster that destroyed my life?" I asked, casually. Dean frowned.

"Okay, one: There ain't a ' we ' here. You are gonna stay here where you're safe and me, Sam, Cas, and Jack are gonna go kill the monsters. And two-"

"Yeah, no." I cut him off. "I'm coming with you."

"Uh, no. You're not."

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, I am! "

"No, you're not. End of story!"

"Yes, I am. I'll open the book back up!"

"Oh yeah? Well, I sure as Hell ain't drivin ya!" Dean exclaimed.

"I don't need you too," I said.

He scoffed. "How're ya gonna get there, then? Ya gonna walk?"

I rolled my eyes. "No."

"NoOoO !" The supposedly grown man mimicked. I crossed my arms over my chest, straightening up.

"Isaac can drive me."

Dean gave me a look. "Your brother, the ghost, is gonna drive you?"

"How do you think I got to Michigan in the first place, Dean?"

He rolled his eyes and scoffed but I kept a straight face. Dean blinked, "Wait, no kidding?"

"Yeah, that's how I learned to pick a lock and steal a car. So, that and a butt load of hitch-hiking when we felt like being honest... Or when we ran out of gas."

"And you never got pulled over?" He asked, doubtful.

"Oh, no, we did!" I said, laughing a bit at the memory, "Isaac knocked the cop out with his own radar gun. Good times."

Of course, there had been less than good times then as well. Among the memories of candy bars and doughnuts at gas stations were memories of burning skin, unbearable hunger pains, and mistakes I'd made when I couldn't resist the urges any longer. Those days of coming to terms with what I'd become were hard. I wouldn't have made it through without Isaac.

I had to struggle to keep a smile on my face as I thought back to those first few weeks. Despite my efforts, Dean seemed to notice my change in demeanor and sobered up a bit in response.

"Be that as it may, you're still not comin'," He declared.

"I can handle myself," I argued.

"Three vamps ain't the same thing as a nest, sweetheart."

"You can't keep me here, Dean!" I insisted, raising my voice.

"I CAN AND I WILL!" He shouted.

Instinct took over and I stumbled backward, flinching away and curling inward to make myself smaller. I grabbed the door and swung it in front of me to block the incoming punch.

The punch never came.

"Marty?" Dean called in a much softer tone. I peeked my head out from behind the door. He held his hands up as you would to a spooked horse. "Whoa, whoa, hey, I'm not gonna hurt ya. You're okay."

I knew that. But I guess you never really let go of those things, do you? Dean wasn't going to hurt me. At least, not yet.

"I know. I just-" I sighed, twirling the hem of my shirt around my finger, "-I just can't let go."

Dean's hands clenched into fists, then he relaxed, then he frowned and looked guilty. "I'm sorry, Marty. I didn't mean to scare you."

I nodded. "Do you get it now?"

"Get what?" He asked.

"Why I need to come," I said. He sighed. "I can't keep living like this, Dean. This has to end, and I need to be there when it does."

Dean sighed again, running a hand over his face.

"I'm gonna regret this," He muttered, "Fine! Sam's gettin' the gear ready, let's go tell Jack."

I wrapped my arms around Dean's torso. "Thank you."

He patted my hair awkwardly, "You're welcome, kid."

Pulling away, he moved to Jack's door and strolled right in. I followed.

"Hey, Jack. We got a lead on the whole, uh, Felix case so..." The older Winchester trailed off and I could see why. "What are you doing?"

There were board games scattered all about the room and among them I could see Monopoly, Chess, Pass the Pig, Battleship, Connect Four, and, most notably, three boxes worth of Jenga. All of the wooden blocks from the three boxes of Jenga had been used to form one really big Jenga tower in the center of the room. The structural security at the bottom of the tower was beginning to look extremely questionable. Jack was sitting on his bed, his focus trained on the tower and his hand outstretched. Isaac was sprawled out on the bed beside him, a whiteboard and marker floating above his head. I watched as a block removed itself from the bottom of the tower before coming to rest on the top. Jack grinned proudly and turned to the floating whiteboard.

"Your turn!" He said brightly. Then he faced us. "Hello! I am playing high-steaks Jenga with your brother."

"Oh, boy," I groaned, "What are the steaks?"

"Well, if I win, then Isaac has to do my turn on dish-washing duty for two weeks and if he wins then I have to eat a five-pound cinnamon bear!" Jack cheered. I gaped at him.

"You agreed to do what?"

"In one sitting!" He added. Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Have you ever had a cinnamon bear before, Jack?" Dean asked, though he probably already knew the answer.

"No," The Nephilim replied, "It'll an adventure!"

"Indeed, it will," I mumbled. Then I faced my older brother. "Isaac, you have no soul."

OH, I KNOW. ;)

I was surprised that he actually made the effort to join the conversation, and that he'd actually wanted to interact with Jack, even if it was only to torture the poor child.

YOUR TURN, BOY WONDER

Jack flicked his wrist and another block was pulled from the tower. The tower swayed dangerously. Then it toppled, crashing to the floor. Looks like Jack was in for a rude cinnamon awakening.

I WIN!

Jack grinned. "So, you did. Thank you for playing with me, Isaac."

NO PROBLEM-O, SWEET CHEEKS

"Go ahead and pack some stuff, Marty. I'll fill him in," Dean said. With a nod, I motioned for Isaac to follow me and walked back to my room.

"Okay, so maybe he's not that bad," Isaac said to me out loud. I rolled my eyes at him.

"You're only saying that because you get to watch him suffer through a five-pound cinnamon bear," I pointed out as I began packing.

"Yeah, pretty much." He shrugged. "So, where are we going?"

I sent my brother a smirk.

"We're gonna go cut off the head of the snake."

Even Jack would admit that ten hours is a long time to binge-watch something. Arrow was good but perhaps not for that long. (Jack's laptop had lasted all ten of those hours thanks to his angel powers.) He and Marty both sat slumped in the back seat, though she had her legs stretched out across the back. Cas wasn't with them. He had left the bunker to go do something or other but when Dean had called him, Cas had said he would meet the team in Port St. Lucie. The kids in the back seat had just finished the season one finale of Arrow when the Impala pulled in at a motel.

"Okay, you two, enough TV. Let's go!" Dean climbed from the Impala, his back protesting loud enough even for those among them without enhanced senses to hear.

"I dunno, man. If I move I think I might die," Marty said.

"Quit being a drama-queen and let's move," Dean sighed, opening the door for her.

"My bones say no, Dean. Heck, Isaac's bones say no, and his bones aren't even in this state!" She cried.

"Wait, wait. You never said your brother was coming," Dean said, accusingly. Marty shrugged.

"Wherever I go, he goes."

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam left the childish conversation to get the team a motel room.

"Just tell us next time, 'kay?"

"Sure."

"Where is he now?"

Marty pointed upward as she finally began to sit up. "He's been sitting on the roof screaming Fallout Boy songsat the top of his lungs on repeat for the last three hours," She deadpanned. There wasn't even the slightest bit of humor in her voice.

"Oh, you poor soul." Dean looked legitimately horrified.

"You have no idea." Marty pulled herself off of Jack with a loud groan and turned to him. "So, how did you like the season finale?"

Jack frowned as he stuffed the laptop into the bag at his feet. "I didn't."

"Aw come on! It was good and you know it."

"It was sad!" He argued. Jack's favorite character had died and it upset him deeply.

"Wait, kid, hold on." Dean searched the boy's face and a smirk began to grow on his own. "Are you crying?"

"No." Jack turned away, wiping at his wet cheeks.

"Oh, yes you are! You are totally crying!" Marty exclaimed, grinning.

"No, I'm not!" Jack insisted, "There's just... dust..."

Marty smirked. "Right." She climbed out of the car, pulling on her backpack. "Anyway, Dean, would you care to tell me where the frick we are?"

"Calvert City, Kentucky," Dean answered.

"Why Calvert City?" She asked.

"Cause it exists," He replied, shrugging, "And its right off the road."

Jack didn't understand why that mattered but it seemed important to Marty because she grinned and nodded.

"I like your logic," She said, leaning against the trunk of the Impala like Dean was while he waited for Sam to return with their room key. Jack joined them. "So, since we're in Kentucky, can we get KFC?"

"Why?"

"Dude,K-F-C. " She stressed her words like something should have been obvious. "Kentucky Fried Chicken in Kentucky! It's the principle!"

Jack wasn't sure why, but for some strange reason, he found Marty's logic to be infallible and extremely compelling. Kentucky Fried Chicken in Kentucky. The only real question was, why not?

Dean sucked in a breath, shaking his head. "Why can't I say no to that?" He asked with a smile.

"Because it's the best idea you've heard all day." Marty shrugged.

"What do you say, Jack?" Dean asked.

"I say yes," Jack said with a firm nod. Marty giggled, soft and sweet.

"Oh, I love it when I get my way."

In the dark Motel parking lot, under the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp, with the chill of mid-December creeping along his skin, Jack thought there was something almost sinister about Marty's words. But it must have just been his imagination.

Seconds later, Sam was back with two sets of keys and an apologetic look.

"They, uh, only had two rooms left," He reported, "One with two twins and one with a - uh, a queen. N-no couch, no pull out, no nothing. Trust me, I asked."

Dean sighed. "Well, 'could be worse."

"Yeah. Sorry," Sam apologized.

"Not your fault, Sammy," His brother reminded him. "Jack, looks like you're with the shrimp."

"Alright." Jack didn't mind sharing.

"Is that okay with you, M-Marty?" Sam asked. She shrugged.

"I literally have no concept of personal space, so I don't frickin' care." She rounded on Jack. "Just FYI, I kick in my sleep. You have been warned."

"Oh. Should I be concerned?" Jack asked, his brows pulling together.

"Only if you like your legs," She replied, smirking as she led the way to the Motel.

Though Jack had stayed in far worse accommodations, the room was by no means nice. The floor was so dirty Jack could hardly see the colors, not that he would want to as the pattern was absolutely appalling. The tiny table and plastic chairs that accompanied it looked ready to fall apart at any second and the florescent lighting overhead flickered in such a way that inspired no confidence. But at least it was warm and nearly everything, excluding the floor, looked almost sanitary. Also, the entire place didn't reek of illegal substances, so that was a plus.

"Well... Better than jail!" Was Marty's only comment before she skipped inside. Jack was about to follow her when Dean grabbed him by the collar.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," The hunter muttered. Jack wasn't entirely sure what that entailed but he nodded anyway and stepped forward. Dean yanked him back again. "Also, don't do anything I would do," He added.

Jack frowned. "Then what should I do?"

"See there's this little grey area there. That- that's where you operate." Dean then proceeded to slap the Nephilim on the back with enough force to send him tumbling into the motel room. The door slammed shut behind him.

While that had been happening, Marty had discovered the TV remote and sat perched on the end of the bed.

"Home Alone," She said, gesturing to the TV. Jack sent her a puzzled look. "What?"

"We watched ten hours' worth of Arrow on the way here," He pointed out. She nodded.

"That we did. And I was deprived the joys of TV for the better part of five years." Marty glanced at him, smirking. "I'm entitled."

She turned back to the old TV set, her teasing smirk fading into that same expression Jack had seen on her face when she talked to him about her family or the stars. The expression was a very specific one and it told Jack that Marty was finally letting her guard down again. It was revealed when she let that hard mask she wore around Sam, Dean, and Cas fall away. It was formed by the slight upward curve of her parted lips which gave a peek at teeth that weren't quite straight. (That small lapse in the image of herself that Jack knew she had carefully constructed told him Marty was comfortable with letting him see her small imperfections.) It could be seen in the way she held her brows; not in a challenging smirk or a teasing glare, but in a reminiscent smile, a little zoned-out, with one dark eyebrow quirking just a little higher than the other. (That tiny action told Jack that maybe she wasn't paying close attention to the world around her, that she trusted him enough to zone out while they were alone.) But more than anything, Marty's temperament was displayed in her large grey eyes.

Her eyes were so interesting, they held so many emotions. It fascinated Jack that so many different feelings could coexist inside her yet still be seen plainly on her face. Things like grief, sorrow, shame, fear, pain, anger, joy, love, contentment, nostalgia, longing, and heartache. They all somehow showed themselves through her eyes. If Jack had to describe Marty's eyes in a single word, he would call them haunting. Almost like a ghost, unbelievable yet unforgettable.

Her eyes reminded him of rolling fog. Jack had seen a lot of fog in his relatively short life. Whenever he went on hunts, there was always fog seeming to follow him. It crept along the ground just after the last rays of the sunset had disappeared below the horizon, bringing with it the damp cold of the night. It weaved between the trees and clung to his clothes and his skin. Usually, the fog unsettled him, made him jumpy. It hid things, it kept secrets, it lied. But Marty's eyes weren't like that sort of fog. Her eyes were like the morning fog; truly unforgettable. Like when the sun starts to peek over the landscape and those first rays of sunshine cut through the tendrils of those low hanging clouds and somehow with that first light, Jack always knew he was going to be okay. Marty's eyes were like that. Like hope, like reassurance, like peace.

Marty was truly unforgettable.

More than anything, Jack loved the wonder that gleamed in the depths of her haunting, grey eyes. After everything she had been through, her eyes still held the same wonder Jack himself clung to in his heart. It was a wonder for the world, for life itself, for the rarity and the beauty of it. It was a wonder and a will to continue existing. Sam had lost it. Castiel searched for it. Dean hid from it. And Jack clung to that wonder with all his might, dreading what might happen if he let go.

Marty laughed at something on the TV screen, and it sounded like wind chimes and her laughter left a residual smile on her lips. Jack didn't think he would ever get bored of watching her; he didn't ever want to stop. But Marty glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, blushing almost unnoticeably before shoving his shoulder playfully.

"Uh, the show is thataway, ya moron," She said, pointing towards the TV.

"I know," Jack replied with a smile, "I just like to look at you."

Marty tilted her head, frowning with confusion. "Me? W-why?"

"Because you're pretty when you smile," He said.

"Oh." Marty lowered her head, hiding her face from him. "Well, um, thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome." Jack didn't look away. She nodded and flashed him a tight smile.

"Okay. Now, look that way." Marty put a hand on his cheek and Jack felt those strange sparks again as she pushed his face to look at the TV.

"Why?" He asked. Was he making her uncomfortable? Dean had told him that it was creepy to stare but Jack just couldn't help it.

"I'm just not used to people looking at me, is all," She said quietly. Jack nodded and said nothing more, instead of turning his attention to the movie. It was funny.

Before long, Sam stopped off to deliver the food they'd picked up. KFC like Marty had suggested. Sam didn't see the logic in the choice like they did but went along with it anyway. The two kids thanked him and went back to their movie but before he left, Sam turned back at the door.

"You guy's good in here?" He asked. Jack nodded and kept his eyes on the screen.

"I am now. Thanks, Gigantor!" Marty said, giving him a thumbs up.

"Okay, uh, good." Sam did that twitch of a smile he always does when he's nervous. "Just, uh, make sure you both get some sleep alright?"

"Okay," Marty said back.

"Jack, I'm talking to you too."

"Hm?" Jack looked up, a piece of chicken halfway into his mouth. Sam rolled his eyes.

"When's the last time you slept, Jack?" He asked. Jack's face scrunched up in thought.

"Uh, fwee' 'mays 'awow I 'fink," He answered, his mouth full of chicken. Sam chuckled and shook his head, turning to Marty.

"Marty, when's the last time you slept?" He repeated his question.

"Yess'erday," She said, her mouth just slightly less full.

"When's the last time you got more than a few hours?" Sam pressed. Marty swallowed and shrugged.

"I dunno. Last week, maybe?"

Her answer made Sam frown.

"After you're done eating, I want you to get some sleep. Both of you," He said.

"Okay, Dad!" Marty mocked. "Can we at least finish the movie, though? Jack's never seen it!"

"What are you guys watching?" Sam asked, leaning towards the TV to try to see.

"Home Alone," Marty answered. Sam smiled fondly.

"Alright, I guess that's okay," He relented, opening the door. "Goodnight, guys. If you need anything, we're right down the hall."

"G'night, Sam!" The two chorused. Then, Sam left and they finished their movie, and their chicken, in peace.

Marty was in the horizontal position long before the movie actually ended. Her eyes kept slipping shut but she snapped to attention every time Jack poked her leg to see if she was sleeping. Although, the slurring and length of her responses increased each time. Her tendency to make sense, however, decreased.

"Marty?" He poked her leg again. Marty stirred awake.

"Say the what now?"

"The movie is over," He reported, "Are you willing to admit you're falling asleep now?"

The less-than-half-conscious girl snorted.

"Nah, man. I could go fer' hours! Ya should'a seen me onna family vacation- uh, vacations's back in da day. Iss' like dat... Sorta... Mostly ... 'Cept it was hotel rooms instead of motel rooms, so, like, more class, I guess and it was three people in a bed instead of two... Cuz' we were broke... n'stuff... Yeah..."

Jack laughed at her tired state and laid back against the pillow. He didn't feel very tired yet. Marty's eyes snapped open and she glared at him with eyes half glazed over.

"Whatt'er you laughin' at, moron?"

"You," He replied.

"Oh, okay." She closed her eyes again but her face scrunched up a moment later. "Wait a second..." Marty frowned at him in a pouty sort of way. Jack laughed again. "You're mean."

"And you are very tired," Jack argued, moving to shut off the fluorescent lights.

The darkness didn't hinder him as he walked to a closet in search of an extra pillow. When he found one, he returned to the bed and placed the pillow like a grocery divider between himself and Marty. He had seen someone do that in a movie to make things less awkward and supposed it could work here too.

Jack heard Marty chuckle from the other side of the pillow.

"Ah yes, the pillow between us," She said, dramatically. It made him smile.

"That sounds like the title of a really bad romantic comedy."

"Yeah, we should call Hallmark and ask for royalties for that one," She agreed. Jack bit his lip, hesitating. He wanted to make sure things weren't awkward but asking about it might make things awkward. It was a catch twenty-two.

"Does this- Am I making you uncomfortable?" He blurted out, immediately regretting it.

"Nah, not really," Marty answered.

"You're lying." She had to be. Jack made everyone uncomfortable, and he knew that; it was just part of being what he was. "Its fine! I can sleep on the floor."

He started to move but Marty caught his arm to get his attention and she held on with an iron grip.

"No," She said, firmly. Marty was completely awake now. "Don't you dare sacrifice a single thing for me. You've given enough."

Her tone left no room for debate, so Jack just laid back down.

"I'll give you everything, you're my family." He wanted to make sure she knew that, and that she understood it.

"I don't deserve that," Marty whispered.

"I think you do," He said.

"Well, you're about the only one."

It was frustrating that she didn't understand. Broken or not she was still amazing. The way she thought of things was different from anyone the Nephilim had ever met. She treated him like a person like he mattered. So why couldn't she see herself that way?

Jack took it upon himself to convince her. He sat up, looking over the pillow at her. Focusing on her soul was difficult as hers was so strange, but he found it and the sight made him smile.

"Marty?"

"Yeah?"

"Your soul is beautiful," He said.

Marty rolled over, eyeing him questioningly. "Sorry, what?"

"Your soul," He repeated, "It's dazzling."

"What? Can you, like, see it? Is that an angel thing?" She asked.

"I can, yes. A-and, yeah, it is," Jack said. Marty chuckled a bit.

"So, when you look in a mirror, can you see your own?"

"Um, no. That's, uh, not how it works."

"Well, I'll bet your soul is ten times whatever mine might be," She said, closing her eyes again. Marty was very good at turning things around like that.

"No, I don't think so. Cas told me, he said mine's actually dimmer than most," He informed her, trying to get back on track. She hummed and eyed him with a smirk.

"A light isn't less beautiful just because it's not very bright. I mean, the sun is just about the brightest thing there is but it's not exactly pleasant to look at." She said, folding her arms behind her head. "The Moon is a whole lot dimmer but it's so much more beautiful. Then you look at the stars and- well, you know how I feel about those..." Her voice trailed off but it gave Jack an idea.

"Your soul looks like a star," He said.

"Really?"

"Yeah." He smiled, thinking of how to describe what he saw. "It's white and- and its bright, but not in an extreme way. It's not dim at all either, it lights up the whole room but the light doesn't come from you exactly. When you walk in a room, it's like - It's like you make everything so happy, so everything starts glowing jus- just for you. And when you go, the room still sort of glows for a while; like it's trying to remember how you made it feel. And when you smile, the light around you twinkles!" Jack grinned when he finished but his delight quickly faded when he saw the expression on Marty's face. She looked very upset, curling herself into a ball and ducking away.

"That's- that's, uh... Wow. Thanks, I don't... Thank you." She spoke very softly.

"Anytime." Jack didn't really know what to say so he said nothing more.

"Why do you do this?" Marty demanded, abruptly.

"Do what?"

"Complement me," She clarified.

"Because I like seeing the way your soul sparkles when you smile. You should do it more often." He paused. "And also, I want you to know that you're worth a lot. I want you to see you the way you see everything else, the same way you saw that rose I gave you."

"And how is that?" She pressed. Jack's brows pushed together as he tried to remember the way Marty had put it.

"A crooked kind of perfect. O-or I-I think that's how you said it." He chuckled to himself, slightly nervous. "You're worth the same as everybody else."

"Yeah. Right. Totally." When Marty spoke, her voice sounded sour and tight.

"I'm serious."

"Sure you are." She nodded and turned away.

"You- you don't believe me?" He asked, slightly hurt. Did she think he would lie?

"No, Jack. I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

The girl sighed.

"Because we're going to be facing a mass murdering vampire crime-lord within the next few days. And if I die- " Marty stopped, taking a deep breath. " -When I die... nobody's going to miss me."

"No, that's not true!" Jack insisted, shaking his head. "I would miss you!"

"For how long?" Marty asked in a whisper, a pained smile stretching across her face. She eyed him with a weariness that should have belonged to an old soldier, not to a girl like her.

Jack opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. She continued.

"How long, Jack? A month? A year? How long until you forget about me like everybody else?"

"Never." Jack hadn't even thought about it. The word just slipped out. "I would never stop missing you. I'll never forget you."

Marty shook her head and Jack knew she didn't believe him but, for now, it was enough that she didn't argue.

"Yeah, okay. Now shut up and go to sleep, moron."

"Oh, no, I'm not tired. I was just going to watch you... Pipsqueak," He replied. Marty paused.

"Yeah, no. That's not happening... Nope." She shook her head.

"Well, if you're asleep then-"

"Nope!" Marty shook her head faster, "Uh, uh. No, no, and double no!"

"Well, you can't exactly stop me..." He teased. She chuckled, nervously.

"Guess who's not sleeping tonight!"

"Alright." He nodded, trying to keep the smile off his face. "But either way, I still end up watching you all night long."

"Yeah, well... I'm still staying up."

Jack grinned at their banter.

"Search your feelings; you know it to be true."

"Hey!" Marty snapped. "You don't get to Darth Vader me!"

Jack just gave her an innocent smile, shrugging a little. Marty frowned.

"I hate it when you're right," She grumbled.

"Goodnight!"

"Yeah, yeah. At least turn the other way!" She was smiling. He shrugged, again and turned away from her.

"If it makes you comfortable."

"Thanks...ish."

"You still can't stop me though..." He whispered.

"Well, I can give you a bloody nose!" She insisted.

"Not if you don't know!"

Marty huffed. "I'm not winning this am I?"

"Nope!" He cheered.

"Stupid Nephilim..." She grumbled.

"Sweet dreams," He said.

"Yeah, whatever. Have a nice night."

"I will," Jack replied soberly, "I have something beautiful to look at."

Marty just let go of an impressively long sigh, saying nothing more. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out a few minutes later. Jack couldn't help but stare.

Driven completely by impulse, Jack kissed Marty's forehead. Then he laid back and closed his eyes, drifting off into a dream world. That night, neither of them had a nightmare.

~ I will never stop trying