"Everybody decent?" he shouted, covering his eyes as he stepped through the door. "I doubt a blind hunter would have a very long life span." Sam and I – totally not decent – scrounged for the nearest items of clothing.
"Hey, Dean. How did the hunt go?" I called, coming out into the living room and giving Sam more time to find his pants.
"Oh, you know. Cheating wife kills her husband. He's not too happy about it, comes back to take revenge. Same story, same ending – blood, salt, and fire," he shrugged, not interested in his own story. By the time I reached the kitchen, Dean had already started looking in the fridge for any leftovers. "You wouldn't happen to have anything…" he began, head still stuck in the fridge, hoping I'd offer my culinary prowess.
I smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "What can I make you, Dean?" I asked and his eyes lit up. Sam came in just then and Dean held up his hands in defense.
"Don't blame me, Sammy. Nothin' happened." Sam raised an eyebrow. "The ladies just tend to gravitate towards my natural sex appeal," he waggled his eyebrows and Sam rolled his eyes. "Law of nature, little brother," he finished, plopping himself down in one of the kitchen chairs.
I hadn't been to the grocery store – or much of anywhere – in a few days, so pickins were slim, but I managed to whip up some French toast. While he was stuffing his face, Sam and I sat side by side across from him, resting our hands on each other's thighs under the table.
After his last bite, he dropped the fork on the plate with a clang, which rang through the silence as we contemplated where to go from there. I wanted more than anything to have more time with Sam, but I knew what I'd gotten myself into and didn't want to make him feel guilty about it.
"Guess you and Dean should be hittin' the road," I said too casually.
Sam's eyes shot up in surprise. "Do you want me to go?"
No. "It's not like you'd be happy staying here forever," I sighed. "You've got a bit of a hero complex," I teased, failing to lighten the mood. "Besides, Dean would get into way too much trouble without you there to keep him in line." Dean snorted, but didn't deny the claim.
Sam stared at me and pursed his lips. After a moment he said, "Come with us."
"What?" Dean and I both exclaimed at the same time.
"What?" Sam asked innocently. To Dean he said, "She's a good hunter. You should have seen her with that vamp the other night." Then to me, "And I think if you're being honest with yourself, you're not happy here either." I bit my lip and he continued, "Lana, ever since the Trials…" he trailed off; Dean narrowed his eyes, probably wondering just how much we'd shared while he was gone. "You're the only thing that's made me glad I actually survived." Dean looked away, clenching and unclenching his jaw; the hurt that shadowed his face went unnoticed by Sam.
The idea had its merits – Sam and I could be together. I would be hunting again – a road I thought I'd never go down again – but I wouldn't be alone this time. But we'd only spent a few days together, and what if this didn't work out? I'd have no job, no home; nothing to fall back on. He was asking me to risk everything.
Dean was the first to speak. "As long as she promises to keep cooking, I don't see anything wrong with an extra set of hands." The joke came off more serious than he had intended. He was staring at Sam, saw the pleading in his puppy dog eyes, and I knew the only reason Dean had agreed was because he couldn't deny his brother anything he wanted this badly.
So then both sets of eyes came to rest on me. I looked down and played with the hem of my shirt. "I still have two months left on my lease," I mumbled, to no response. "If you still want me to come with you then…" I trailed off, afraid that he would think better of it after a few weeks.
Sam lifted my chin up. When my eyes found his he smiled and leaned in to kiss me. "I'll see you in two months," he promised, following his brother out the door.
The apartment seemed so much emptier than it had just days earlier. I tidied up and tried to return to my normal life, to push away any expectations that had begun to surface.
The weeks passed painstakingly slowly. Food stopped tasting good and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there all day. I felt like an overdramatic schoolgirl, but my body did seem to physically reflect my mental state.
Sam called when he could – told me about the war going on in heaven, their angel friend Castiel, or just to say hi and that he missed me. I checked my phone all the time and I chastised myself for how needy I was being, but every time he went more than a couple days without calling I would convince myself that he had realized his mistake and decided to cut ties. But then he would call again and tell me he couldn't wait to see me and start the whole process over again.
"Last chance to back out," I warned him on moving day. I was kind of joking, kind of not.
He laughed, "We'll be there in a few hours." My heart soared, though I wondered what it would be like to see him again – if the time apart had weakened the connection we felt toward each other. I shouldn't have worried.
As soon as he walked through my door it was like he never left. I squealed and leapt into his arms, wrapping my arms and legs around him. I kissed him heartily on the mouth and he walked us over to the couch, taking a seat with me still clinging to his torso. "I missed you too," he mumbled into my hair, rubbing a hand up and down my back.
Dean came barreling through to door shortly after. He looked at the two suitcases stacked next to the door. "This is it?" he asked, incredulous.
I shrugged. "The apartment came fully furnished. And if life as a hunter taught me anything, it was how to travel light," I smiled. He muttered something unintelligible as he hauled my two very heavy bags to the car.
I turned in my key and hugged the bar manager goodbye. She wished me well and gave Dean a once-over. I dragged him behind me, not wanting to delay our departure any more.
The Impala may look awesome, but it's an old car and Dean drove like a madman. I tried to close my eyes and breathe deeply, but the constant jostling in the back seat was making me nauseous. Plus, they might throw my ass back to Georgia if they thought I couldn't even conquer carsickness.
I held on as long as I could – a monumental and most uncomfortable few hours – but eventually biology won out. "Could you pull the car over, Dean?" I asked as politely as I could manage.
"What? Why? We're in the middle of nowhere," he said, not slowing down. I still had my eyes closed, but I could feel Sam's gaze on me.
"Unless you would like me to vomit in your car, I suggest you pull over," I insisted through clenched teeth.
"Oh hell no, not in my baby," Dean muttered, swerving and braking violently, which did not help my current state.
Before the car even came to a complete stop, I swung the door open and stumbled out, gagging and coughing and leaning against the car for support. Sam was by my side in an instant, holding back my long hair and rubbing soothing circles on my back.
I heaved once again and he waited until I was vertical before speaking. "Hey, are you alright?" I nodded, not wanting to unleash my vomit breath on him. He wiped the sweat from my brown and held me against his chest. "Why don't you take the front seat?" he suggested. I nodded again and he helped me through the open door.
"What the hell was that all about?" Dean asked as Sam pulled the back door closed. He revved the engine and I grimaced.
"You do kind of drive like a maniac," Sam teased, squeezing my shoulder sympathetically. I placed my hand over his and returned the gesture.
Sitting up front was better, but I still didn't want to fill up on anything when we stopped at a generic crappy diner for dinner. I pushed the mystery meat smothered in mystery sauce back and forth across the plate with my fork. Both brothers eyed me carefully.
"Stop staring, I'm fine," I said, embarrassed.
"Alright, then let's just keep going. Drive through the night and we'll get to the bunker by sunrise," Dean suggested. My stomach roiled and I swallowed back the bile that had begun to rise.
"Maybe we should just get a room. I saw a motel just a few miles from here," Sam countered.
"Uh uh, no way," Dean began to protest. "I am not sharing a room, or even a motel with you two," he waved his fork between Sam and I. I blushed, but I doubted I would be up for that particular sport tonight.
"We'll just sleep," Sam promised; his brother was beyond skeptical. "I swear!" he continued, raising up his hands in surrender. Dean grumbled something that almost sounded like agreement.
He decided to get separate rooms anyway, citing his own piece of mind as the reason. Sam unlocked our room and I fell onto the mattress. It was probably disgusting, but it was soft (ish) and warm and I sighed in pleasure.
"Whoa, wait for me," Sam teased at the sounds I made. But he could see that I was exhausted, so when he climbed into bed, he simply pulled me up against his chest and kissed the top of my head. He was much warmer – and actually more comfortable – than the bed was. As soon as my head rested against his chest, I was lulled to sleep by the strong, steady thump of his heart.