Two years later… How time flies. I honestly thought I'd finished this so yeah. Anyways. Actual long-ish chapter. First ever chapter break. Yay?

I sat on the sagging sofa facing the window of our apartment. John (Mr Winchester?) hadn't given me an ETA so I'd spent the last two hours picking apart a threadbare cushion. The waiting was killing me. It was like when you were sat in the dentist's waiting room pretending to flick through an outdated magazine while just wishing that they would call your name already. My mind was too busy spinning in circles to start the essay due in tomorrow and I couldn't leave because he was on his way.

Oh my god. John Fucking Winchester was on his way. I bit my lip and began the process of tracing a spiral into my leg. The man who had divided the brother. The man who was revered and hated. The man who I knew nothing about. I wonder how he knows where to come.

I wanted to talk to Sam. Not even because John was his dad. Because Sam was just my boyfriend- he was my best friend. And I could kinda justify not telling him about me and Dean being friends but his brother was hurt for god sake. And even if they weren't brothers; my friend was hurt and the person I would want to talk to about that was Sam.

Maybe I should call him. Maybe he wanted to see his dad. I knew he'd wanted to see his brother.

I flip open my cell and scroll down to Sam's name.

No. I promised Dean. It wasn't my place or my business. Their argument was between them. Not me.

I snap the cell shut.

Then open it.

Then shut it.

Then call Haley because I've told her most things although I've left out the weirder parts.

I hold my breath as it rings. And rings. And goes to voicemail.

"Hey. You know Sam's brother. Well, he got hurt. Really hurt and he refused to go to hospital and he isn't answering his questions phone and I'm scared he might be-" I close my eyes. Saying it would make it real. "Anyway." I clear my throat and try to swallow away the lump that formed. "Call me when you get this."

I blink away my tears. I can't just sit here. I need to do something.

My thumb hovers over Sam's name.

Then I hear a thunderous knock at the door.

—

I snap shut my cell and leap up. In the time it takes me to walk down the hall, my door has almost been broken down.

I grab the key from the little hook and I can't find the right key. I unlock this door every fucking day and I can't find the right key. I take a deep breath and compose my self. There it is. A glint of silver shines like a beacon amongst the brass and golden keys. I shove it in the lock and fling open the door. I hear a muffled "Bout time."

A man stands on the other side accompanied by a cloud of gunpowder and motor oil. He's tall but not Sam level tall. Worn jeans and tucked messily into boots splatted with mud. Sandpaper black stubble is flicked with gray and heavy brows scowl over angry eyes. "You Jess?" He barks gruffly. I manage to nod in the affirmative. "Let's go." He commands and turns and marches to a beat up truck that still has a running engine. I hastily lock the door hurry after him.

To my surprise, he opens the passenger door and waits for me to whether although his foot is tapping with ill contained impatience. I mutter a thank you while scrambling in which he returns with a curt nod before slamming the door shut.

The interior of the truck is decorated with paper and fast food wrappers with more than a few empty whiskey bottles. The rumbling of the engine causes the whole vehicle to vibrate gently which makes my jittery.

John Winchester jumps into the driver's seat and puts his foot on the gas before strapping on his seatbelt. "Where to?" He demands and it isn't a request.

"Hostles Motel. Straten Road. Wanam." I recite. The address was branded into my memory. He nods. We sit in silence while I try to emblazon every detail of John Winchester into my brain.

"Did Dean give a report on what happened?" The sudden question makes me jump suddenly.

"No. I- we were- interrupted." Get it together.

"What by? Were you in any danger?" He asks with authority as his eyes bore a hole in the road. His voice is calm but underlined with urgency.

I feel like I'm being interrogated. "No. Sam was calling me."

At the mention of Sam's name, John stiffens but he nods in acknowledgment of my answer. "What injures did Dean receive?"

I wince at the recollection. "Three deep narrow wounds. He said he had had worse though."

John rolls his eyes. "Fucking idiot." He mutters fondly.

The silence resumes.

TBC…