Author's Note: Okay, so here's the next chappie. Glad everyone is enjoying this so far, I know I'm having a blast writing it. Hope this just as good as the first chappie. It's a bit short, a bit more humour, i think? lol. But it will be getting more action packed, still trying to develope Leah as a character and get the brothers to trust her. Anywho, enjoy and as always review, review, review.

Big warm thanks goes out to everyone who has reviewed. You guys are the best and it was your reviews that helped get me to update so fast. So thank you and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own supernatural. Obviously

Crash Course

By: Babyhilts

Chapter 2:

The bed was shaking. Odd as that would seem, I didn't pay much heed to it. I was more concerned about going back to sleep. The bed could shake for days if it wanted to, as long as I was allowed to fall back into my beloved dream. It was a favourite of mine. Once in a while, usually when things weren't really going my way at work, or just weren't going at all, I'd fall asleep, drained of all my resources and imagine myself with Jensen Ackles. Sometimes Jared would show up, you know, to make one of those random appearances and then float in the backdrop. Usually Jensen and I just talked for a while, going on about useless stuff that everyone else couldn't be bothered with. But in Leah Land, with Jensen at my side, I did bother with it. Hell, I'd have let that gorgeous hunk of man meat shave my head in Leah Land if only to stall consciousness for a few minutes more.

The dream I was waking up from now hadn't been quite as pleasurable let's say, as the other ones had and I'll leave it at that. Still, going back into any dream with Jensen was better than facing the reality of a lonely apartment and dirty dishes crusting over in the sink.

Another quake rocked the bed and I moaned out loud as a dull pain found its way back into my head. Something wasn't right. There was something that had happened, something I couldn't quite remember.

I squinted through the early morning sun and rolled onto my side. There wasn't any bed I realized when I hit the floor. Sand shot upwards in an explosive, stinging cloud. I coughed harshly on the dirt and propped myself off the ground.

Everything was moving. I looked up and once again, noticed that I still hadn't found myself safe in my double bed. I was sprawled awkwardly on the floor of a moving vehicle. Panic coursed through my veins. I nearly wet myself as thoughts of kidnapping and rape raced through my head. Pictures of newspaper clippings laid out in a neat pile on my mum's kitchen table came to mind. I could see the headlines now. "Local girl, missing in Vancouver" "Jogger finds skeletal remains in woods that may belong to young woman" "Landlord says she was a good tenant who didn't deserve what happened."

Why would my mother keep the clippings?

"Dean, would you slow down?"

Dean? Oh. My. God. I had blacked out on the highway in the arms of Sam Winchester. Dean had been only a few feet behind, telling me to go to a hospital. Was that where we were going?

Outside the window were only empty fields of burnt grass and wheat. No signs of civilization anywhere. Guess were not in Vancouver anymore Dorothy. Which only meant that this was really happening. I hadn't dreamt the crash or the rescue. What did that mean then? That this reality was actually all existing? That somewhere, here, wherever I was, was real? Did that mean wherever I came from wasn't real? Were Jensen and Jared real, or was it Sam and Dean?

"I feel sick."

The contents of my stomach swirled around violently beneath my stained grey sweater. A low garbled sound broke through the impala and a dark haired man turned around to stare at me from the passenger seat.

"Hey, how are you doing?"

I shook my head. I was going to vomit. Painful convulsions erupted in the depths of my chest as undigested food struggled to the top. I braced myself for the inevitable. The little voice in my head said to tell them, tell them you're going to blow chunks all over their nice upholstery. Though the words never came out, the sound of me gasping every time another tremor hit was enough to draw attention.

"What's going on? What is she doing?"

Sam paused to study the teary eyed expression I wore across my face.

"Pull over!"

"Sam?"

"She's gonna puke. Pull the car over now Dean!"

The car swerved off the asphalt and onto the uneven gravel. I already had one hand on the right side door, with the other covering my mouth. Handle in my grasp, I paid not attention to the harshness with which I used to open the door and hit the ground with a hard thud. Rocks shot out around me as my knees dug fist size holes into the gravel. Another set of car doors followed. Something, thick and heavy crawled up the walls of my throat. A rumbling sounded from my stomach. Caught by surprise, I opened my mouth and felt everything pour out of me in one last tremor. Hands still suspended inches below my bottom lip caught the majority of it and what didn't hit my sweaty palms, sunk through the cracks of my fingers and onto the highway's rock carpeting. Tears crawled along my fleshy cheeks and mingled with the remaining vomit that trailed down the length of my chin. In one minute I had regressed from a level headed twenty seven year old woman, to a helpless six year old girl. I wanted nothing more than to bury my head in the sand but I couldn't even lower my hands to dump out the pile of acidic sludge. It just sat there, while I stared ahead, letting my body shiver in the cool morning air.

The crunch of gravel caught my attention. I didn't look to see what had caused the noise but knew that whatever it was would make itself known soon enough. And it did. A reassuring hand took hold of my trembling shoulders. Almost immediately the tension in my back left. I sunk further into myself and dropped the thick mess from my hands.

"Awe, that's just nasty."

"Please" I choked, spitting up a bit.

A hand, holding out a Dairy Queen napkin appeared in front of my face. I took it gratefully and wiped off my chin and hands. I wished there was something more. The acidic taste still lingered heavily on my tongue and my hands stunk of puke. I looked down at the ground and sighed at the pink, chunky shit spread in front my folded legs. I don't remember eating that. What was that? Macaroni? With a hint of basil?

"Feel better?"

"I'm getting there."

I rose to my feet and steadied myself hurriedly against the Chevy's sleek back. Dean visibly winced and shook his head.

"Hands" he said motioning with his own.

"What about them?"

"They have partially digested food smell all over em. It's getting onto the car."

I pulled away as if I'd been burnt by the ebony coating. Sam made a sound behind me and cuffed Dean in the back of his head. How cute it would be, were I watching it from my living room!

"He doesn't mean that."

"Yeah, I do. No offense. You're just not the most aromatic person at the moment."

"Are you going to hose me off then?" I replied haughtily. Jensen Ackles I could like, Dean Winchester, was a bit more rough around the edges I quickly began to realize.

"Hose you off?" he smirked.

"Yeah, because when I get back inside" I pointed to the vehicle "I'm still going to smell just as good as I do now. Unless you have a supply of water and a hose in that trunk next to your machete and cross bow?"

Both brothers turned on me. Dean didn't seem quite so sarcastic and Sam was looking less like the gentle younger brother. They wore emotionless glares, that dug through my soul and rattled my bones. I could feel the heat of intimidation burn my flesh as they loomed over me, their shadows trapping me in a bar-less prison.

"You're not going anywhere near my car until you tell me who you are and how the hell you know as much as you do."

Dean's voice unnerved me completely. It was dull and rough and held so much anger that I needed to cry or be hugged or something. Why couldn't I end up somewhere with sweet ol' Brad Pitt?

"I…I'm…" I thought about pretending to faint. That could buy me another couple of hours, but then they may just leave me on the side of the road for some wandering hitchhiker.

"Leah, you better tell us the truth." Sam's voice matched Deans. They both waited with that glazed look in their eyes.

The truth? Ha, that would be a real riot. Telling the truth would mean signing my lifetime membership for the funny farm. Didn't they understand that where I came from they didn't exist? Well, of course they didn't understand that, but damn it, I wish they could. Lies, that's all I had left and they called out to me, each one begging to be used. Some weren't the best. Like maybe I could say I knew John, but then there'd be so many questions. I could lie, say that I'm psychic and that I'd dreamt about the events and left to find them and warn them of some impending danger. But what then, if they asked for me to demonstrate these Miss Cleo skills. Or, there was always the truth. I crashed my Jetta back in Vancouver, woke up in west Texas in an alternate universe where fictional characters live.

Yeah, definitely lie.

"I'm a hunter" I replied reluctantly. I couldn't look Sam in the eyes and lie to the boy. Even up close he kept you drawn with those glassy puppy eyes and it hurt, right in the centre of my gut to have to lie to him. But it was for their own good, not just mine. What if telling them the truth disrupted the balance of the world or some kind of Stephen Hawking shit like that.

"Hunter of what?"

Dean's tone was bitter and cautious and completely untrusting. Figured it would be.

"Whatever I come across. Poltergeists, Jersey devils, demons, the works." God was I really saying this? Did I sound like a professional Ghostbuster? Maybe a badge would prove my loyalty for the supernatural.

"That still doesn't explain how you knew those things. About Kansas and our dad. Care to share?"

Now that the lies were spun, why not? I had to hold myself from saying 'Well, I get these nightmares and sometimes they come true' but I really don't think they would have found it very funny anyway and probably make me come across even more untrustworthy.

"I've been tracking this demon for three years now. I don't know much on it; it's quite old and a dark, evil son of a bitch. I figure he's the one who took my mother when I was only six months old…" I spat out the lie like I'd been practicing for years. "I was passed around to aunts and uncles, anyone who could take me until I was put into a girl's home at two. Since then, I've been on my own. Seven years ago I came across a man in Blue Earth, Minnesota."

"Pastor Jim" Sam stated. I nodded my head and felt relief slowly come over me when I realized they were just eating it up.

"Jim Murphy explained things to me. Told me what was out there and put me on the right path. That's when I realized what happened, all those years ago it wasn't some electrical fire, it had been a demon."

"And about us?" Dean pushed once more.

"Jim told me. Said there were other people like me, who shared the same passion, who I could turn to if I ever needed help. I never expected to run into the famous Winchester brothers."

"It wasn't us you ran into hon, it was the side rails."

I smiled. Dean's lightheartedness was back.

"Hey, how'd you know about the weapons though?"

I laughed and turned to Sam.

"Where does everybody hide an arsenal of rock salt and holy water? Their trunk!"

He nodded and I waited for Dean to finish sizing me up. This time he watched with a different look in his eyes. Not one of those, 'Hey, hey look at me. I'm checking you out babe. I'm taking in your assets so that maybe I can find some reason to start a conversation, babe" looks. It was a very condescending, strictly business look that made me feel like he had something better to do than stare at my small rolls of blubber and hunched shoulders.

Unconsciously I brushed back my hair. It felt dry and frizzed, which was to be expected. The only time I ever come close to two guys like these and I have Don King and Chia Pet hair.

Dean's eyes paused and lit up with mirth as he stared momentarily at the ground. I followed his gaze and had to stop myself from running down the highway. He was checking out my sandals. They weren't just any sandals of course, they couldn't be! They were the thick, tom boyish ones that I never wore, but were now glued to my feet. Thick black straps laced across the top, stuck in place with the wonder of Velcro. I knew just by catching the smirk on Dean's lips he would love nothing more than to pull back the straps, just to hear the embarrassing sound of the Velcro teeth releasing their hold.

"You're a hunter huh?"

What was he getting at now? "Yeah, that's what I said."

"And you're hunting out in Velcro sandals and baggy jeans?"

Smartass! This wasn't some fashion show in Milan; this was the middle of nowhere. If I listened closely I could hear the tumbleweeds complaining. Why did he have to be so cocky? On TV it came across as sexy, in person it was as annoying as hell. Well he wasn't getting off easy. As they say it takes two to tango and this time Leah Carson wasn't holding anything back.

"Oh sweetheart, I don't do shoes."