A/N: I own nothing Supernatural. I own Hope. I'm loving how different she is from her brothers! Thanks for taking the time to read and follow.
Chapter 6:
"Hey – Hope, we're here," Sam said, shaking my shoulder.
My neck was on fire and I was face first into my poofy pillow. (I hated being woke up – one of the main reasons I hated going on the road with them. Not the danger of evil… it was having them wake me up, over and over again. Because God forbid you leave me a note…. They loved aggravating me! And the smell of the food… so early – so greasy. I mean, that stuff lingered like a cloud for hours after they left. No kidding. I brought special spray this time called "Odor Neutralizer", plus my Yankee Candle sampler aroma therapy pack. Yay! I came prepared this time.)
"I can't sleep like this – it's just not working for me," I flopped to my side, wincing.
"Careful – kid, you can't start throwing yourself around like bacon frying in a pan! You're gonna 'cause yourself more pain," Dean chided me.
"You guys don't get it – sleeping with my face in a pillow is very bad for my skin. Very bad," I repeated darkly. "Did you know sometimes people's faces, like, freeze when they sleep like that? Their noses get all smushed down and they can't EVER get it back to its original shape? (I knew about this because I read it on the internet. There were pictures and everything!)
They looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. Dean's head was resting on the steering wheel with his shoulders shaking and Sam's head was turned toward the window with his hands covering his face.
"Hey – hey, Sammy – She READ it on the internet! Did ya hear that?"
Sam snorted and waved his hands in front of his face, fanning himself. "Don't make fun of her, Dean – after all – there were PICTURES!" They collapsed against each other in hysterics.
"Go ahead, laugh – I won't take that chance! Look at me – my eyelashes are stuck together! I have like, six eyelashes! This is not funny!" I huffed.
"Okay, okay," Dean said, still trying to get himself under control. "Let's get checked into this swank money-waster."
I blinked to unstick my eyelashes and check out where we were. Dean went in and Sam explained. He was still chuckling.
"Oh, Hopie, I love you," he said, "The things you get in your head… Anyhow, this is our home for at least the next three to four weeks."
"A month?" I gasped. I began to immediately worry about the effects of the hotel hard-water on my hair. "Oh, Sam…" I began.
"Oh, Sam, nothing, Little…We got this place for two reasons. We wanted you to be happy, and we thought we - all of us - deserved a little upgrade from our usual. We have a kitchen, dining room and living room area, two bedrooms, two tv's and wifi. Indoor Pool, Jacuzzi, Fitness Area and Sauna. We have the Kentucky Appalachians right outside our windows," he finished.
I had to admit, it was beautiful. "You're right, Sammy – it's beautiful here."
"Not half as beautiful as my little Bub, even with her eyelashes stuck together," he said with total, unabashed sincerity. (Maybe this time it would be fun, and they wouldn't have to be gone long, and we could have movie night every night!)
"My neck just hurts; I know I'm being a crank. It just does," I said, embarrassed.
"Hey, don't ever hide from us, Little. We'll take care of you once we get settled in. We paid extra to have food stocked so we don't even have to go out to the store tonight," he said.
"Sammy?" I asked.
"Yep"
"Is this one a super scary one? Will you have to be away from me a long time because you know… I get scared."
He opened his mouth to answer me, but Dean opened the car door and jumped in the Imp. "Three card keys: Our room awaits!" he announced, pulling forward and down toward our temporary home away from home.
SPNSPNSPN
"Boy, I'm glad we aren't on the first floor," I said, checking out our digs. "It's statistically, significantly more dangerous than being on a higher floor. And I'm not even talking about the scary stuff you guys hunt! I'm just talking about normal people!" I lowered my voice conspiratorially, "You know, creepers and stuff like that."
"If anyone dared creep on you, it'd be the last thing they ever did, Hope. They'd never find the body," Dean said, drinking his beer and reclining in the living room area.
"Well, I'm going to unpack all my stuff – you should see all the space I have in my bathroom! I should have packed more!"
"Oh, honey, you packed more than enough," he said dryly, yelling to Sam for another beer.
"Hey!" Sammy called me over, "let me see your neck."
"After I unpack," I said, excited to get myself arranged and in order. I brought my Egyptian sheets!
"Noooo…NOW," he said, standing in the kitchen by the luxurious full size fridge that matched his height. "The lotion needs to stay in the fridge so it stays cool for your skin, Bubs, so come here – let me see."
"Should she put the lotion in the basket, Sammy?" Dean yelled over. Sam turned and flipped him off.
Sammy was definitely not one to screw around when it came to healthy-like things. If I didn't comply, he would set me up on a regimen just to pay me back for not listening to him! He was brilliant that way. Brilliantly annoying.
I dragged my feet across the floor, heaving a huge sigh, shuffling until he put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around in front of him, muttering something about "dramatics," "only sister," and "trying my patience." I smiled in satisfaction. My job was already done – I had my attention!
I felt his hand sweep my hair up over my neck gently, moving me here and there to see in the best light. I reached back again to try to feel and he smacked my hand lightly. "I thought I told you not to do that, Dude! Seriously – it's still very sensitive and germs can get into it and THAT would be a problem, understand?" Sam sure loved a good infection fight. Both literally and figuratively.
"Jeesh, I guess if people in prison can manage, I can," I said with my hand on my hip. Just then he rubbed his gloved finger over it, emitting a yelp and jerk away from him from me.
"Yeah, that's what I thought, Miss Smart-Ass," he said. "Back over here," he said firmly.
"Deaaannnnn – Sammy's being mean to me and hurting my new tattoo and shaved head on purpose!" I whined to my oldest brother.
"Little, you know by now you better just let him get it over with so you can go do your thing. And what would you know about prison tattoos?" he asked without looking back at me.
"Oh, I know about A LOT of things you guys think I don't know about! You think I don't watch "Lockdown" when you're gone? Well, guys – it's confession time: I, Hope S. Winchester, have watched EVERY season of "Lockdown" on NatGeo AND MSNBC – See? I know things. I can be mysterious, too. HA!" I finished with flair.
Oh, God help me. I heard Sam's voice in my ear, a low even treble. "Go sit at the table and I'll get the gauze and lotion. It has to stay covered and you can't get it wet until it scabs over and peels, got it?"
"Now it's scabbing? I'm gonna be scabbed AND peel? Is there no end to the torment you two put me through?" I pressed.
"Well, if you don't hush your mouth about this I can arrange the cancellation of Sushi Tuesday, mani fill-ins, AND a sore behind for you," Sammy threatened with a glint of humor in his eyes. (Neither one of them had ever spanked me. They had THREATENED it many times, but I never worried about that. They were wrapped around my little fingers so tight it cut off my circulation.)
"Okay, okay Dr. Winchester, just get it over with. I'll comply," I sighed. "Can I at least get my mirror so I can see it?" I asked.
Of course he was three steps ahead of me, placing the mirror and an assortment of sterile stuff on the table. "Sorry, Bubba, gotta keep this clean and moist."
"That's what she said," I griped back at him – he hesitated for a second and turned and looked into my eyes.
"What?" I feigned innocence. "I heard that on Lockdown."
SPNSPNSPN
A half an hour later, I finally got to unpack and watch MY tv. I had taken some ibuprofen and was feeling pretty good. I lined all my MAC Palettes on my dresser, hung each outfit according to color and possible opportunity… and lined the inside of my closet with my shoes, boots, and purses. My bathroom was full of my aromatherapy products, except Dean said I couldn't use anything perfume-y near my tattoo. I was still working on how to wash my hair, because they know I'm not going without that. I am not a primitive.
Dean came in, telling me it was dinner and a movie time. I got to pick the movie because, well… I'm the girl and the youngest, and it's always been that way. I think it's repayment for the idea that every time they leave me may be the last time they see me. I'd rather have a normal life and let them pick all the movies, but this is the life I have. I hate it but I love them, and I try to think of them when picking movies... tonight we were doing all the Bridget Jones movies! A marathon. Dean just brought the whole case of beer out of the fridge and set it on the coffee table in front of us. I was laying between them, and I didn't care – for tonight there were no monsters, no icky sheets to sleep on, and plenty of hot water. Most important, I had Sammy as my cushion and my feet on Dean. It was a good night. I'd worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. And sleep with the light on, as usual.