Author's Note: Thank you everyone who reviewed for my last chapter. I really do appreciate the nice words it helps me to keep writing. So sorry for the long delay in updating. Had a bit of writers block and wrote about three different versions for the beginning of this chappie. I'm still not sure how it came out but oh well, I think I know where I'm going in the next one, so hopefully you wont have to wait long. As always review, review, review and Enjoy!

Chapter 3:

The outside world passed the impala in a blur. Not that we were missing much. The last two hours had revealed nothing but road signs and baking tarmac, so when Dean went over the speed limit and the images became indiscernible to my eyes I didn't much care. Stale vomit took up residence on my taste buds and the bumps and bruises from the car accident weren't fairing out any better. A deep bruise stretched across my lower abdomen in a dangerous purple shade and while the cut just below my hairline had stopped bleeding, my head continued to pulsate with every intake of breath.

Since getting back into the car after my vomiting incident the speakers had remained silent. Dean didn't play rock music that much. Not nearly as much as the show would let on. Sam was resting in the passenger seat, head tilted awkwardly against the window. I winced every time we hit a dip in the road and his forehead made contact with the glass. Sam never woke from it and Dean didn't seem bothered enough to care. Was a car ride with the Winchesters always so dull?

Leaning back in the rough upholstery I quickly replayed the day's events over in my head. The car crash-which still only came as a few snap shots of breaking glass and crunching metal-, the rescue, the Winchesters, getting sick on the highway and the whole little bit about reality disappearing and finding myself in some type of nightmare. Were it not so realistic I might have said dream. It wouldn't be the first Jensen Ackles dream but this one, the pain was real and the worry was real and the taste of vomit definitely wasn't dreamlike, that alone made it a nightmare. Digested spaghetti, mmm, nothing better than having that sit on your tongue for a few hours, so it must be a nightmare. Besides, usually in dreams things never got as boring as they were then. Or as awkward.

"You wouldn't happen to have any water up there, would you?"

They were the first few words I'd spoken since getting back into the Chevy. There'd been that brief moment after I got sick where the words wouldn't stop pouring out. Through the onslaught of lies I vaguely recalled making some quip about shoes and worrying about my own, but since then it had only been awkward, tense and silent. The three most hated things ever, especially when it came to Dean and Sam Winchester. It didn't matter how arrogant, or cocky, that Dean was, he was sexy. I couldn't lie to myself, I was too old for that, so I just accepted it and tried to fake off the awkward hours.

"I didn't have any a few hours ago, why would I have some now?"

He was irritated. I got that. From the tension in his shoulders it was easy enough to pick up. The silence had to be disrupted though; if I didn't break it soon enough I'd go crazy.

"Well I never asked you a few hours ago, did I?"

If you don't want to make nice then neither will I. I looked to where Sam was still asleep and sighed, looking once again out the window. How long did he have to sleep for? Didn't he know a strange, chubby woman was sitting behind him, possibly a big liar, who only got into a car accident because she wanted ice cream at midnight? It was obvious Dean was catching on, but this kid had gone to Stanford, that must account for something.

"So, what did you say you were doing out driving again?"

"I didn't."

"Yeah, that's why I was asking you." He paused and looked down at Sam. Was he hoping his brother would break the awkward silence too? "I saw some ice cream on the floor by your dash. Doing groceries or something?"

"Weren't you listening to my story? I hunt. I drive. I don't live anywhere, why would I need groceries? To put in the stowaway fridge in my trunk?"

"So, what? You just picked up a tub of ice cream and were going to eat it all before it melted?"

"That was the plan."

Dean's eyes lowered and the sarcasm disappeared as his voice came back with a bitter tone. "No wonder you careened off the road."

"Excuse me?"

The shy, self-conscious girl was gone and the defensive woman with over twenty years of experience in dealing with men was there, ready to take Mr. Winchester down a few pegs. He may be good looking but it didn't give him the right to bully me around.

"You heard me."

"I know I heard you. Boy, don't you have any manners? I just got into a car wreck and here you are pushing me around, telling me if I hadn't been too absorbed in some ice cream I may not be in this situation."

"Well, seeing as how, I'm still in a working vehicle and your not, I guess I have the right to."

I let out a very unflattering snort and turned my attention towards the window. I wanted to pout. It felt foolish as hell but silence was all I could come up with after Dean's latest remark. I mean how are you supposed to respond to a man stuck with the reasoning of a five year old? The answer is you're not! I just sat back, trying desperately to fade away into the upholstery, hoping that I'd wake up soon. I was reaching my boiling point and I couldn't just let out all the frustration on him in case he did decide to toss me to the curb. Then where would I be?

"Dean?"

Sam stirred in the passenger seat. A translucent bib hung below his lower lip. He brushed it away with a tired swipe of his hand and leaned out of his seat for something. There was movement below the glove compartment. Papers shuffled and something thudded on the impala floor before Sam was sitting straight and proper in the seat once more. He shot me a reassuring smile and I nodded, not all that pleased with his older brother. Either it was those great Ms. Cleo skills Sam possessed or just the fact that he had the ability to care, whichever one it was, he picked up on my new bitter persona. His face wrinkled as he turned back around and glanced quickly towards Dean.

"Dean?"

"Not now Sam."

"Dean, I think we're all in need of a quick break. Can you pull the car over soon?"

"Awe Sammy, were making great time. Beating the traffic. You want to be stuck in traffic?"

What traffic? The highway was nearly deserted. I had to keep from kicking at the back of his seat.

"Dean, what traffic do you see? It's eight in the morning; we still have plenty of time. Besides, I'm sure Leah wouldn't mine washing up a bit."

Dean glanced at my reflection in the rearview mirror and gave an inaudible remark only dogs and Sam seemed to understand. The impala picked up speed in response. A dilapidated diner rose over the nearing hill. A few transports occupied the parking lot, while a green SUV continued to run. Our own vehicle soon took up residence next to the SUV.

I got out of the Chevy before Dean could say anything. I was already starting to pick up on his dry humour and insults, although most of them came out in the form of grunts and snorts, I was starting to wonder if Dean Winchester was less of a strikingly handsome man and more of a roll-in-the-mud-and-eat-garbage swine.

I caught his gaze as he opened the driver's side door with a determined jerking motion and nearly slammed it close. I say nearly, because God forbid if the cars feelings were accidentally hurt. He stopped, mid stride, facing the direction of the truck stop's doors and turned to face me. I stared him down, although the fidgeting of my hands on a loose string of sweater fabric I think gave away my over zealous confidence.

"What?"

Sam was holding the door open, standing a bit impatiently for Dean and me. I wracked my brain for a response to give the skilled hunter but nothing came to mind. Instead, I ignored the frown directed at me and shoved past him and into the awaiting restaurant.

The smell of stale coffee and cigarettes assaulted me. An older man, nearing his mid fifties, leered at me from the bar where he was polishing off his scrambled eggs. I scanned the dingy restaurant that promised its patrons 'Good ole country food. Just the way mum used to make' but from the looks of the unwashed counter tops and the mold in the corners of the ceiling; the only thing this place seemed to promise was food poisoning.

"Do we get a free stomach pump with every desert?"

Sam stifled a laugh.

"Look, you kids were the ones who wanted to stop for a while. Now this place isn't good enough?"

I looked back over my shoulder and caught Dean once again acting as the father in this little crusade of nonsense. I felt like I was nine years old again, listening to my dad rag on me for pinching my baby sister.

"It's fine. How bout you go find us a seat. I'll just be in the little girl's room."

Sam nodded and pulled his brother through the arrangement of teal plastic tables and booths. I on the other hand nearly rushed towards the bathroom, fearing what I would find staring back at me in the mirror. The door eased open. I stood uncertainly in the doorway, knowing it was childish but still no matter how much I tried to encourage myself, my legs wouldn't move.

A sound caught my attention. Voices, a dialogue, was going on on the other side of the door. Realization hit me that I was being a complete idiot about this and I walked in, head held high and proud. I felt like saying, I am Leah Carlson, hear me roar! Of course this thought soon faded and my confident stride faltered when I connected the voices to the people. I'm not sure who I was expecting to be in the ladies room, women of course, but not the mother and eight year old daughter. They were sharing a sink. The mother was applying a thin layer of lip chap, while the little girl had turned all the way around to stare at me. I felt like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Her eyes, although young and innocent, cut through me. The older woman, a pretty blonde in her mid thirties, noticed the silence and glanced behind her. She only watched her child for half a second before turning the attention back on me. I tried to force a grin but it barely stayed up.

"Good lord" she muttered and at that moment I wanted nothing more than to crawl into a dark corner and just die. It was a dramatic thought, but it seemed like the only logical one.

The mother snatched her daughters arm with such protectiveness and force that I wasn't all that surprised when the little girl winced. I realized what she must be thinking and made a move to step away from the doorway. I backed out, still facing the pair of blondes and then took a hesitant step forward. The moment my foot hit the dirty linoleum, the mother gasped and jerked her daughter to the side furthest from myself. She immediately followed the move, by placing herself directly in front of her. Her eyes were wide and her hands shook around the little girl's wrist. I half expected her to pull out a cross and slam it upside my temple screaming something like "the power of Christ compels you" and then dousing me in holy water or something along those lines. This never happened of course.

"You should be ashamed" her voice shook, startling me from the long drawn out silence that I'd grown accustom to. I sort of cocked my head to the side in response. I still wasn't sure what she thought was so wrong about me. Apart from the knotted hair, torn clothes and dry blood I was your average Canadian girl. Did she not like canucks?

"You people. You set bad examples for young girl and make the rest of us look bad. Some of us work hard for our money, while the rest of you just throw your body away and do absolutely nothing for yours. Nothing that in the eyes of God, would seem fitting. You should get a real job, instead of selling your self respect every night at truck stops."

The woman's speech ended there and with one last shudder which was either out of disgust or fear, she shoved her daughter along and exited into the hall. I cringed at what she'd said, although it wasn't true, I suddenly felt disgusted with myself.

"I guess that's one way to clear out a room" I mumbled trying my best to brush off the comment although it did absolutely nothing.

I stumbled forward, overcome with a sudden spell of dizziness. I grabbed hold the ceramic counter top and stared into the face of confusion and pain. My face. Whatever mascara I'd had on the night of the accident was crusted and smeared just below my bottom eyes. A deep purple bruise covered my right temple from where the ice cream had made contact with my head. I touched it lightly and gasped in spite of the agony I'd just caused. White hot pain coursed through my head and I stood, panting over the sink, feeling the pain through the rest of my body awake from its long sleep. My abdomen wasn't fairing any better than it had an hour before but it almost seemed worse now. I would ignore all the pain and discomfort for the time being. There was nothing that could be done. The trip ahead would be long and I knew the only possibility of getting patched up would be in a cheap hotel room hours from now.

I turned on the faucet and let the warm water run through my hands. I worked fast to scrub the blood off my body and to rinse out the lingering taste of vomit from my mouth. I combed my fingers through the frizzed mess on my head and managed to find an elastic in my pants. I formed a messy bun that only highlighted the bruise on my face but at least I didn't have the beginning of a very noticeable bad hair day on my hands.

Both Winchester brothers were caressing cups of coffee when I stepped out of the bathroom. I took a seat next to Sam, directly across from Dean. The shaggy hared man pushed a cup of orange juice in front of me and smiled.

"I figured you'd want something besides water and their juice seemed least likely to upset your stomach."

I took the glass and drank thankfully. It wasn't so bad and it did the trick of dispelling the vomit taste.

"That bruise looks pretty bad" Sam continued.

"I'm fine. It only hurts a little now" I lied, quickly sipping the juice once again.

Dean smirked from his little corner of the booth, obvious to my lie. He shook his head and leaned over the table.

"Looks like it hurts a bit more than that."

"Well it doesn't."

Without a word he reached forward and touched the purple skin just below my hairline. I hissed and pulled back in surprise, dropping the glass of juice on the table and watching as the rest of the orange liquid pooled over the edge and onto the floor.

"Dean!"

I ignored the scolding coming from Sam and got to my feet. I stepped over the spilled juice and made my way towards the exit.

"Leah!"

"I'm sorry Sam."

I quickened my pace and brushed roughly past an older waitress who appeared to be on her last legs. She stumbled but caught her balance on a nearby chair. I felt bad for being so rude, but I could care less really. This whole situation was getting ridiculous. I was a wreck. I really was. I felt like I was barely keeping it together.

I stepped into the fresh air and came close to collapsing as I made it to the curb. I sat down and felt my heart racing beneath my chest.

What's happening to me? I never asked for this. All I wanted was Vancouver and my shitty apartment and lousy job. I didn't want to be stuck in Texas forever. This wasn't me.

The parking lot was blurring before my eyes. The gravel was tilting towards the sky. I wrapped my arms around my waist and stared out towards the highway. My heart beat faster.

I thought of my cat, waiting at home for me. I thought of my mother and sister and my sick aunt that I never visited when I had the chance. I missed my boring life. My unpaid bills and even my greasy landlord.

I felt a cold sweat break out on my back. I could feel my body trembling slightly, although the weather outside wasn't all that cold. Not cold enough to make me shake. My brain vaguely processed this information, while the rest of my worrying thoughts continued to pool in.

What if I never see home again? How am I supposed to live with these two men forever? Dean obviously hated me. Sam was only humouring me, it would be soon enough that they just dumped my sorry ass somewhere. And what about demons? I can't fight. I don't want to die. Why am I here? Why did this happen to me?

I felt a tightening in my chest. A sharp pain shot through my body and spots started to block my blurring vision.

Am I waking up?

My heart beat faster and the sweat pooled down my face. Things were spinning out of control but all that didn't matter anymore. Soon the pain would end and I'd wake up in my own bed.

"Leah?"

A familiar voice filtered through the thoughts.

"Leah, look. I'm sorry if I hurt you in there."

Dean? Why was he here?

"I know I haven't been the nicest guy, that's usually Sam's job though." He laughed and I winced as the tightening increased. "So, I was thinking. How about a truce? Leah?"

I didn't answer. I was hearing him, but it sounded so far away. The images of the parking lot were cutting out like a bad television reception. Pain had spread everywhere and I was now noticing that I couldn't breathe. I was suffocating. Someone was suffocating me.

"Come on, Sammy will kill me if he comes out and your still fuming."

"Dean…"

I gasped the name in desperation and threw my head into my hands. There was the shuffling of feet and strong hands were tugging at my arms. I didn't have the strength to resist. I let him lift my head. Tears slithered down my pained face. I was gasping uncontrollably, body shaking in his grasp.

"Leah, calm down. Leah!"

I shook my head no.

"I…can't… breathe…"

I felt things going black and wanted so badly to succumb to the darkness. My eyes fluttered. A pain rattled me from thoughts. Dean's hand was hovering in the air and I noticed the new pain on the left side of my face.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" It was Sam. I heard him running yelling something about only asking him to apologize to me and not hit me.

"Sammy, shut it." Dean tightened his grip on my right arm. "Leah, listen to me. Calm yourself down now. You hear me?"

"I can't…"

"Yes you can. You're hyperventilating. You're doing this to yourself. Just breathe."

"Dean…" Sam's voice ventured but that was as much as Dean would allow.

"Leah, breathe. You have to get your heart under control. Come on now."

I tried to listen to what he was telling me. I held my breath, focusing on how quickly I should take it in. I shuddered and struggled the first few times, gasping and coughing once again.

"That's it, relax. Just breathe."

I felt the pain in my chest loosen and soon my body was almost still once again. I sucked in a few more uneasy breaths of air and looked uncertainly into Dean's eyes. For once they looked back into my own with concern and a look that I'd seen him give his younger brother in the car earlier that morning. I forced a smile and touched my throbbing cheek. I looked at him questioningly. He looked awkward under my scrutiny and since he'd just saved me from passing out I didn't bother to hold the look for too long. Dean was a good person after all. Who would have thought?

"Thanks" I croaked through the dying pain.

"No biggie. Can I buy you another orange juice?"

I scrunched my face and shook my head. "Don't bother. It wasn't good the first time around."

"Something tells me this isn't the first time Dean's heard that" Sam laughed.

Dean grunted with disapproval and pulled me to my feet.

"Kid's just jealous." He told me. I just smirked, letting myself follow quietly behind both Winchesters as we made our way towards the impala.