Disclaimer: I don't own, I'm not making money, but I fantasize lol.
AN: Okay, this story has mention of rape, but nothing explicit. If there is in later chapters I will warn you before then. If it's not your thing or it will upset you, please don't read. With all that said, I hope you enjoy. On ward.
Dean cringed as Dorian let out another coughing fit. He looked at her through the rear view mirror. She was sitting in the corner with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her face was pale except for her puffy nose and red eyes. A box of Kleenex was to her right. Dean had refused to have used tissues all over his car, so she was using a grocery bag as a trash can.
Dorian wiped her nose and took a long swallow of the Robitussin they had picked up for her. Dean felt bad for her. Even worse that they hadn't slept in a real bed since before she was sick. He noticed Sam checking on her a couple of times. They both knew she wasn't going to get better if she didn't get any real rest. "What do you guys say we grab a real motel tonight. I don't know about you two, but I'm pretty sick of sleeping in this car."
"Sounds good to me," Sam said. He knew where Dean was going with this. He wanted Dorian to be able to relax. Sam couldn't blame him. Dorian looked like hell. Besides in all honesty, he was looking forward to sleeping in a real bed as well.
"Sure," Dorian said, through a stuffy nose. She knew they were both coddling her, but she just didn't have the strength to argue with them. Her chest was congested, her head was pounding, and all she wanted to do was sleep for a week. A motel didn't sound bad at all.
"All right," Dean said, glancing at her. "We'll grab the next place we find." She nodded and Dean put his eyes back on the road. They were in the middle of no where on the highway, so he knew it would be a while before they got to a motel. Cringing internally, he pulled out an old tape his dad had left in the car. It was a mix of slow country songs. As much as he hated to listen to it, he hoped it would lull Dorian to sleep.
He popped the tape in the deck. Sam raised an eyebrow at him when the music started to play. Dean just glared back. In any other circumstance he would never be caught dead listening to this crap, but Dorian needed rest. He just didn't think hard rock was going to do it.
Dorian let out another coughing fit and laid her head back. The soft melody floating from the radio relaxed her. She was so tired. All she wanted was a hot shower and a warm comfortable bed. She figured dreaming about it was better than nothing.
An hour later Dean pulled up to a motel. Sam went inside and grabbed a room, while Dean parked the car. Dean glanced behind into the back seat. At some point Dorian had laid down and her head was propped on her arm. She was still sleeping. Dean reached into the backseat and felt her forehead. She was running a fever.
Sam came back a moment later with the room key. He made sure to get a room on the ground floor so that Dorian wouldn't have to walk up a flight of stairs while she was sick. "Room 3. Should we wake her?"
Dean shook his head and got out of the car. "No, we'll let her rest." He opened the back door. "Just do me a favor and get the door would you?" Sam nodded and walked towards the room. Dean slid Dorian out of the backseat and into his arms. He swung around and used his hip to close the door.
Dorian murmured something and groggily opened her eyes. She coughed and looked up at Dean. "What's going on?"
He smiled at her. "It's okay. Just go back to sleep." Dorian yawned, and snuggled her head against his chest. Dean took her into the room, laid her in the bed, and took of her shoes.
"She's got a fever," He told Sam while he covered Dorian with the blankets. "We definitely need to stay here for a couple of days until she gets better."
Sam nodded, watching how is brother coddled over Dorian. He knew that feeling. Dean was still the same way with Sam. Dean always worried about him, took care of him, and always did what was necessary to make sure Sam was safe. Now he was doing the same for Dorian, which let Sam know how much Dean really cared for her.
Sam cared deeply for Dorian as well. She was like the little sister he'd never had. They always had great conversations. In the six months Dorian had been with them, Sam had even begun to confide to her about Jess. The only other person he'd been able to do that with was Dean, and not even completely.
He was just surprised Dean had grown so close to Dorian. Dean had been the one to tell him that in their line of work they couldn't get close to people, yet here he was, constantly doing what was in the best interest for Dorian. Sam knew he cared for Dorian, more than Dean would ever admit.
"I agree," Sam said. "She's in pretty rough shape. I saw a restaurant a few miles back. We should probably grab her some soup. Besides I'm a little hungry myself."
"Good idea. I'll go grab us some food. What do you want?" Dean took his brothers order and headed back towards the restaurant. He trusted Sam more with Dorian than with his car. He didn't trust anyone with his car.
Sam was sitting in his bed, reading a book on demonology. He figured that he should update his knowledge on supernatural beings. If he happened to come across what had killed his mother and Jess in the process, well that would be a definite perk.
Dorian woke up in a coughing fit. Sam put his book down and walked into the bathroom. He grabbed a paper cup and filled it with water and walked back to Dorian. He sat on the edge of her bed and rubbed her back until the coughing subsided. "Here, drink this." He handed her the cup.
Dorian sipped it and took a deep breath. The water felt good against the rawness of her mutilated throat. She smiled. "Thanks."
"No problem," Sam said, taking the cup from her. "Feeling any better?"
She shrugged. "I'll live, Sam. Don't worry about me so much." Dorian would never admit it, but she liked it how Dean and Sam worried about her. Her father had never cared about her that much to actually dote on her when she was sick or hurt. It was a nice switch to know that Sam and Dean cared that much about her. "Where's Dean?"
"He went to go get us something to eat," Sam told her. "He should be back soon. Why don't you try and get some rest until then." He stood up so she could lay back down.
"I've got a better idea." She pushed the covers off her and swung her legs off the bed. "I'm sweaty and disgusting. I'm going to go take a shower." She stood up and stretched her achy muscles.
"You might want to wait until Dean gets back," Sam said. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. "Unless of course you feel like wearing a towel until he gets back."
She shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time you guys have seen in me in a towel." She remembered back to when she had first met them. Her father had beat the hell out of her and then he'd been murdered. She was spending the night at Dean and Sam's motel. She had taken a shower and come out wearing only a towel. She had seen the look of horror on their faces from the welts and bruises that had covered her body.
Back then she had been self conscious. To everyone else, she still was because of the scars that covered her back and part of her arms, but with Sam and Dean it was different. She could show them her soul, naked and vulnerable and she'd know they wouldn't hurt her or think any different of her.
"This is true," Sam replied. "But you're sick and the last thing you need to be doing is walking around in a towel with a wet head."
She rolled her eyes and mock saluted him. "Yes sir, Sam sir!" Sam smiled. "Look, a shower would make me feel a whole lot better. Besides if..." She started coughing. Sam went to hand her the water again, but she waved him off. When she finished she said, "Besides if Dean gets back before I'm done, just toss my bag in the bathroom." She winked at him. "I trust you not to peak."
She took a step towards the bathroom, not realizing her foot was still wrapped in part of the sheet that was on the floor. The linen jerked on her leg causing her to fly forward. Her face landed against Sam's belly and he was holding her up from underneath her arms. She looked up at him and smiled. "Hey I'm sick."
Sam laughed and helped Dorian untangle her foot. "You're a walking disaster."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Be nice or I won't cook for you anymore"
Sam laughed. "Yeah right. You know you cook for yourself as much as me and Dean."
"Keep telling yourself that tiger," She walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
Sam shook his head and went back to his book. He got about two sentences down before Dean walked in the door. He was carrying two bags of food and Sam jumped up to help him.
"Where's Dorian?" Dean asked, handing one of the bags to Sam. He shut the door with his now free hand.
Sam set his bag on the table. "She's in the shower."
"Aren't her clothes in the car?" Dean set his bag next to Sam's.
Sam smirked and relayed the conversation he had just had with Dorian. Dean laughed when Sam finished.
"Yeah, she's feeling better."
"It's amazing what a real bed can do you for you," Sam replied, taking out the food. "Oh hey, toss me your keys so I can grab her bag." Dean reached into his pocket and handed Sam his keys. He sat down and opened the Styrofoam box that contained his burger and took a gigantic bite out of it.
"Hungry?" Dorian asked, from the bathroom doorway. Dean almost choked on his food. Dorian sighed and walked over to him in her towel. She slapped his back with one hand and used the other to keep her towel up. "You okay?" She asked when he finished coughing. He nodded and Dorian sat in the chair next to him. "That's what you get for eating like pig." She smiled.
"I just didn't hear you turn off the shower," Dean stated defensively.
"Yeah, you probably couldn't hear over the sound of your own chewing." She snatched a French fry from his box.
"Hey," He said, swiping it back. "You're sick. No junk food for you." He grabbed another Styrofoam container and placed it in front of her. "It's soup for you."
Dorian coughed, took the lid off the container, and cringed at the smell. "What's it supposed to be?"
"Chicken noodle," Dean said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"If you say so," Dorian said, pushing it away. Six months on the road and she still hadn't gotten used to the nasty food Dean and Sam consumed on a daily basis.
Sam walked in and handed Dorian her bag. "Here you go."
"Thanks." She reached over and snatched another of Dean's fries.
"Hey!" Dean yelled. He reached to grab it back, but Dorian had already was already half way to the bathroom. When she got to the door she stuck her tongue out at Dean and popped the French fry into her mouth. "Got to be quicker than that, Dean." She laughed through a cough and shut the door.
Dean woke again to the sound of Dorian's coughing. He groggily rolled over to look at her. She was was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over and coughing into a tissue. He rubbed the sleep out of his eye and propped himself up on his elbow. "You okay?"
Dorian nodded and waved him off. "Go back...cough ...to...cough...sleep." She took a deep breath after the coughing subsided. Her throat was completely raw now. She got up and grabbed the bottle of robitussin from the table. She plopped into a chair took a large swallow, cringing from the taste. It wasn't the doctor recommended way to take it, but it worked.
Dean rolled out of bed and went over to her. He wasn't going to let her sit up miserable, all by herself. He ran a hair through his messed up hair and sat down across from her.
Dorian glared at him. "I told you to go back to bed Dean." She coughed. "I don't need a babysitter."
"No," Sam said, through a yawn. He walked over and took the seat on the other side of Dean. "But misery loves company."
Dorian rolled her eyes. "I'll be all right, guys. Seriously, go back to bed." .
"You guys want to play cards?" Dean asked, ignoring her statement. He knew Dorian had never had anyone to take care of her when she was sick before. She was trying to be tough, which in their line of work, tough was good, but Dean also knew that when you were sick all you wanted was for someone to be there for you and make you feel better.
Those were some of the times he missed his mom the most. When he had been little and sick and she hadn't been there to take care of him. His dad had taken care of him well enough, but he also made sure that Dean knew he had to be strong and do what needed to be done, no matter how bad he felt.
"Sounds good to me," Sam said. He got up and walked over to his bag. He grabbed a deck of cards and returned to the table. "What's the name of the game?"
Dorian coughed and then smirked. "Need you ask?"
Dean groaned inwardly. He had taught Dorian how to play Texas Hold'em a while ago and every time they sat down to play a card came that was her game of choice. Seeing as how she was sick he wouldn't say no, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it.
Sam rolled his eyes and began shuffling the deck. "Texas Hold'em it is." Dorian gave a nasally laugh and Sam started dealing the cards. Dean's cell phone rang.
Dean looked over at the clock. It was almost four in the morning. He knitted his brows together, knowing something must be wrong if someone was calling him at this hour. He got up and grabbed his phone. "Hello?"
"Dean?"
"Yeah, who's this?"
"It's Ray Huxley." The nervous voice on the other end said. "Dean, I tried calling your dad and I got this number on his voice mail. I wouldn't call if it weren't important, you know that."
"What's going on?" Dean asked, sitting on the bed. He didn't like the sound in Ray's voice. He was scared, scared like he had been the first time Dean had met him.
"It's my girlfriend, Marissa," Ray said, with an edge of panic to his voice. "She was attacked by her ex boyfriend earlier tonight. He tried to rape her."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Ray, I'm sorry to hear that, but that's not my kind of thing."
"You don't understand, Dean," Ray cut him off. "Her ex has been dead for six months. He died in a car accident."
Dean looked up at Sam and Dorian. He had told Sam he wanted to stay here for a couple of days, but it seemed they weren't going to have that luxury. "All right, Ray. You still in Florida?"
"Yeah, the same old house."
"It'll probably take us about twelve hours to get there, but we'll be there," Dean told him. He hung up the phone and walked back over to the table. "I think we're going to have to take a rain check on the cards you guys."
"What's going on?" Sam asked, looking up at his brother.
Dean waited for Dorian to stop coughing and said, "That was Raymond Huxley. Dad and I helped him out with a poltergeist that was in his house a few years ago. Now it seems he and his girlfriend, Marissa are being terrorized by something else." He went on to tell them about Marissa being attacked by her ex boyfriend.
"Wow, that's harsh," Dorian said, leaning back in her chair. "And the guy's definitely dead?"
Dean shrugged. "According to Ray he died six months ago in a car crash, so I'm going to assume so."
Dorian sighed. "Well since we're all up, we might as well head down there now." She wasn't looking forward to riding in the car for twelve hours, but the sooner they got there, the sooner they'd get another motel and she could get back into bed.
They packed up their stuff and ten minutes later the three of them were in the car and on their way to Florida.
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