A/N 1 As chapters 8 and 9 were a little shorter than previous chapters, I have amalgamated them, so the story now has 10 chapters in total.

A/N 2 Thanks to everyone who has story alerted! You have broken my previous record! Not that I am feeling any pressure or anything...

"I'm an idiot."

No. You're not."

"You don't like him."

He looked at her and replied with his usual candour.

"He's trouble."

"Oh." Kelly was crestfallen. "There's nothing good about him?"

"I didn't say that. I can see he's a decent guy but look at the way he lives Kelly. He won't settle down – he can't."

Kelly was about to launch into a spirited reply about how she wasn't looking to marry the guy, but she stopped herself. Because of course, her plain-speaking Cousin was right. Kelly knew that, but it didn't stop her heart pounding every time she looked at Dean.

"Well thanks for the reality check Earl. I'll leave you to it."

Thoroughly deflated, she went back downstairs and sat with a plate of sandwiches in the chair next to Dean, stealing glances at him every so often. He looked nothing like Jim of course. He'd been slightly shorter but stockier, and his dark, nearly black hair had been longer than Dean's and slightly wavy.

Dean was lying on his front now with one arm dangling off the edge of the sofa and the blanket twisted around his legs. Kelly wondered whether she should try to straighten it out but decided against it. It wasn't cold there in front of the fire, not to mention he was fully dressed. In fact he still had his boots on. They would have to go before they did any more damage to the sofa. She moved to the far end of the sofa and sat on the edge next to his feet. She got the first boot off quite easily but struggled with the lace on the second one - it was all knotted up. She tugged at it and must have disturbed Dean, as he suddenly kicked out his foot, catching her in the thigh with the cleated boot. It hurt a lot and she let out a small yelp of pain before she could stop herself. That was enough to wake Dean up – he was a light sleeper, even with a cocktail of pills and whiskey inside him. He was groggy though. After rubbing his eyes with his fists he saw Kelly at the end of the sofa clutching her thigh. It took him a moment to realise what had happened.

"God Kelly, are you alright?"

"It's okay, it was an accident." Kelly's eyes were welling up a little as she rubbed the side of her thigh. She was going to have a hell of a bruise there. Dean managed to get himself upright, though it had been tricky, what with the wound and the blanket twisted around his legs.

"I can't believe I kicked you!" Dean was mortified with embarrassment. Kelly tried to laugh it off, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She attempted a smile but seeing Dean's worried face just set her off again. The next thing she knew, his arms were around her and she was being enveloped in a firm hug.

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Kelly's head was tucked in under Dean's chin, resting against his neck and chest. Heat was radiating off him and he smelt of sweat and traces of soap and aftershave and, well, unique Deanness she supposed. Whatever, she liked it. She could feel his heart thumping in his chest and her own was hammering away too. Well, she thought, Earl warned me he would hurt me – don't think this is quite what he meant.

Because she was silent, Dean pulled his head back to look at her.

"Kelly, are you okay? I haven't broken anything have I?"

"No, but for an injured guy, you sure have a hell of a kick Dean!"

She was rewarded with a hug so tight; she thought her ribs might crack.

"Ah, Dean, maybe not quite so tight…"

"God! Sorry!" Dean released her abruptly and she really didn't know whether to be happy or sad about it.

Looking at him, she could tell he was angry with himself.

"Come on, let's get this boot off – don't kick me this time okay?"

"It's not funny Kelly. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Dean, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

"Ya know, I don't generally go around kicking women… well, come to think of it, they usually kick my ass…" He trailed off, looking truly miserable.

Kelly got the boot off and dropped it next to the other one on the floor.

"Dean. Seriously, I'm fine! Look – see? No problem!" She got up from the sofa and retrieved the plate of sandwiches, taking them over to Dean. In fact her thigh was throbbing horribly, but she didn't want Dean to feel even worse than he already did.

"Here, have a sandwich – you must be starving."

Dean's eyes lit up at the sight of food. He had forgotten how hungry he was. He tucked in straight away and Kelly was pleased it seemed to have taken his mind off kicking her. He certainly had a hearty appetite. He was just finishing his second one, when they heard noise from upstairs. Earl called down that he would see to Sam.

"I should go up." Dean made to heave himself up from the sofa but Kelly suggested they wait and see if Earl called down for him. It was no good though; Dean was agitated and wanted to go up to his brother. Kelly had an idea.

"Would you like me to put up a camp bed so you can stay with him?"

Dean had the uncomfortable feeling she was reading his mind again. That was exactly what he would like. He raised grateful eyes to her.

"I hate to be putting you to all this trouble, but yeah, that would be great."

She wasted no time in grabbing the folding camp bed from under the stairs and taking it up to Sam's room. Earl was just on his way out.

"He was having a nightmare I think. Wasn't sure if I should wake him or not, but he seems to have settled again."

"You did the right thing. Any chance you could put this up while I get some bedding?"

"Sure." He took the bed from her and switched on the lamp, hoping it wouldn't wake Sam up. Sam stirred but didn't wake. His eyes were moving rapidly under his eyelids though and he was clearly still dreaming.

Dean arrived after a fairly slow ascent up the stairs. He leaned against the door frame, feeling a little light-headed. Kelly brushed past him with sheets and blankets and the room was suddenly rather crowded. Earl left them to it and returned to his own bedroom. Kelly quickly made up the bed, leaving the blanket turned down so all Dean had to do was get in.

"Do you need a hand getting undressed?"

Dean bit back the rather obvious reply that sprang to mind and came up with something more acceptable.

"Uh, no, I'll manage I think." He moved past Kelly and went to sit on the camp bed, but it was quite low down and he ended up more or less falling onto it, jarring his wound in the process. Hissing, he clutched his side. Kelly was instantly there next to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just need to lie down. "

"Okay, well I'll be downstairs for a while, so call down if you need anything." She left. Dean was too tired to undress, and, after switching off the lamp, just got in under the blankets as he was. He still felt bad about kicking Kelly but she had been very good about it. She was a pretty decent person all round really. He drifted off to sleep thinking about how confusing she was – attractive certainly, though not like his usual hook ups. But, even though she seemed to be around the same age as him, the way she looked after him and Sam, made him think about his mom. Definitely confusing.

***

Sometime later he was woken by Sam calling out his name. He sat up quickly, cursing the pain in his side.

"Sam, what's wrong?" He switched the lamp on and saw that Sam was actually asleep and having a nightmare. Getting up off the camp bed he shook Sam's arm, waking him. Sam opened his eyes and blinked, then put an arm across his face to block out some of the light.

"Dude, you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so."

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah."

"Was it about the demon?"

"I don't remember…" Dean knew a Sammy evasion when he heard one.

"Sam, I can totally tell you're lying. What was the dream about?"

"It was nothing. Stupid. It doesn't matter."

"Sam I swear, if you don't spill!"

Sam turned misery-filled eyes to his brother.

"Just before Dad died, while I was getting the coffee, did he tell you he was proud of you?"

Dean was instantly wary.

"Yeah, he did. How'd you know?"

Sam ignored him. "Did he tell you he loved you too?"

"I guess – where's all this going?"

"Did he say anything about me? Apart from telling you that you might have to kill me?" Tears started to well in Sam's eyes.

"Aw man, Sam…."

"Did he say it? Was he proud of me too?"

"Of course he was proud of you Sam, he was proud of us both."

"Dean, did he say it?"

"Well not in so many words but…"

Sam cut him off.

"So Jarveld was right!"

"Look! Whatever that bastard said to you, he was twisting it all around to mess with your head. You have to stop this. You'll drive yourself nuts and all for nothing! It was just bad timing that's all. Dad couldn't have known exactly when it was going to happen could he? I bet he was going to talk to you as soon as you came back with the coffee."

"Maybe." Sam wasn't convinced. Something else was puzzling him, however.

"But anyway, how did he know what Dad said? He couldn't have read my mind because I wasn't there, so how did he know Dean?"

"I don't know Sam, what does it matter?"

"Because he said he had been talking to Dad. Do you think it's possible he really was?"

"So what? He lied about pretty much everything else. He was lying about that too." There was a warning note of finality in Dean's voice, but as usual Sam chose to ignore it.

"I don't see how else he could have known what Dad said to you Dean. What if he really was talking to Dad – you know, in hell or something? Dean, don't you ever think about what might be happening to Dad?"

Which is exactly what Dean didn't want to have to think about. Why couldn't Sam just drop it?

"Look Sam, he didn't talk to Dad! He probably read it from my mind in the barn – you didn't think of that, did you?" There was a harder edge to Dean's tone now and Sam knew it was time to shut up about it or they were heading for a fight. It didn't mean he wouldn't bring it up again though.

"Okay, yeah, that's possible I guess." He twisted towards the nightstand and reached for the glass of water but Dean got a hand to it first and passed the glass to him.

"Thanks." He took a long, deep drink of the water and handed it back to Dean.

"No problem. You need anything else?"

"No, I'm fine." He paused, then "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean was getting a little exasperated. If he started up about their Dad again….

"What's the plan? How long are we staying here?"

Even though he didn't actually have a plan, Dean was relieved at the change of subject.

"Right well, there's a white-out right now and no way of knowing how long it'll last. But when it clears, I'll have to get you to a hospital to get your ankle fixed up properly. I think we're here for a couple of days at least. Why do you ask anyway? Bored already Sam?"

"No, just wondering. They seem like nice people don't they? Just one thing that worries me though."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Dean wondered what was coming. Maybe Sam was picking up on some bad vibes or something. He hated the idea of Kelly, in particular, not being who he thought she was.

"Is the rest of the house decorated like this room? 'Cos this amount of pink isn't normal you know." Sam's face was dead pan and Dean just about doubled up laughing. Despite the pain it was causing him, he just couldn't stop.

"I was wondering when you would notice! Dude, I thought I was dead when I woke up in here! Aagh! It hurts!" He curled up on the campbed, laughing loudly and holding his ribs.

Sam had joined in now and had a similar problem with the cuts on his face, but he couldn't stop either. It was a unique moment - the Winchester boys were both laughing, fit to burst, even though it was agony for them.

"Is everything okay you guys?" Kelly was at the door looking concerned. Having heard cries of pain from downstairs she had come up to see what was wrong. It took her a moment to work out that they were, in fact, laughing their heads off.

"Oh, hi Kelly. Sorry we disturbed you. We were, uh, just sharing a joke." Dean tried to stifle another bubble of laughter that was threatening to burst out of him and desperately avoided looking at Sam, who had subsided into silent giggling judging by the heaving of his shoulders.

Kelly looked from one to the other.

"You two are strange – you know that?" It was too much. They both dissolved. As they doubled up again, Sam was trying to hold his face together with both hands and Dean was half falling off the side of the campbed.

"Oh God, the pain! I can't breathe!" He panted, still holding his side.

"I know! Me too! I'm… I'm gonna be scarred for life if I don't stop!" Sam looked at the blood on his hands from the cuts on his face that had opened up again.

"Yeah well, it's not like it's gonna affect your love life is it Sam!" Dean fell about laughing.

"Hey!" But Sam rocked with laughter too.

Kelly slipped away. She was a little puzzled as to how two people in such dire shape, living the life they did, and knowing the things they did, could find anything to laugh about.

Eventually everyone slept and the house was quiet apart from the booming snores emanating from Earl's room. Downstairs, a clock ticked away the hours and the glow from the embers of the fire grew dimmer until it disappeared completely. Outside the snow storm raged unabated, banking more and more snow up against the front of the house. No one would have noticed a pair of eyes, glowing orange in the tree line behind the barn.

Jarveld moved toward the barn. He knew he was dying, and his progress was slow. But he was determined to make these people pay for what they had done to him. The wild weather hardly affected him as he was impervious to heat or cold, though the strong wind buffeted him a little. From the barn he could see that all the lights were out in the house. Good, it would make it easier and he wasn't sure how much time he had left. From the barn, he made his way to the back door of the house. Testing it, he wasn't surprised to find it locked. Despite his injuries, he was still very strong, and a determined shove broke the lock without making too much noise. Still he tensed, listening for signs of movement in the house. Hearing nothing, he entered the kitchen then made his way through the house to the stairs. He paused and listened again. All was quiet but for the loud snoring coming from upstairs. He climbed the stairs carefully and came to the landing. Confronted with 4 doors - three closed - he chose the nearest and opened it. He instantly recognised the one who had shot him – he was big, for a human anyway. He moved quietly to the side of the bed and smoothly ran a talon across the man's throat. There was a gargling noise and blood spurted from Earl's neck. Now for the female…