Just a short little chappie. Chapter 4 is ready and typed up so i'll probably post that after work tomorrow. Thanks again to all the fantastic people who are supporting this story!

Enjoy :)

"Okay, Hope and Sam you take that bed, Dean you take the other, I'll be on the couch." John said tiredly, dumping his duffel next to the couch in their new dingy motel room. Hope looked around uncomfortably at the peeling brown wallpaper and matching dusty brown shag pile carpet. They'd been driving all day to put some distance between themselves and Maine and all Hope wanted was some fresh air and somewhere to run around and stretch her legs. Clearly room 37 at the Garwood Lake motel was not the place to do that. She was tired and stiff, but at the same time there was only so much sitting still any eight year old can do before it to much and she started screaming. She couldn't say anything to John, who yawned as he tried to work a kink out of his own shoulder, wincing slightly as he hit a healing hunting wound. Dean didn't seem to be complaining either, he just flopped onto his bed and passed out, his boots and coat still on. Sam however took one look at her and set about rummaging in his bag. Hope drew closer out of curiosity and sighed in relief as he produced a box of colouring pencils and a pad of paper, waving them at her. She nodded and followed him into the little kitchenette, hoisting herself into the chair next to his at the rickety table.

"Sometimes dad forgets we're kids..." He told her quietly as he tore out a page from his pad and passed it to her, emptying the box of pencils onto the table.

"He means well, I promise, he just gets angry sometimes. It's been hard for him, looking after me and Dean since our mum died. He's a hero you know, he hunts monsters." He said proudly, puffing his chest out a little as he began to painstakingly draw the outline of a car. Hope didn't reply, just stared at the blank page in front of her. So much had happened in a day, she didn't feel like she could just draw some flowers, or a house... Sam continued to chunter away to her but his concentration remained on his artwork.

"Uncle Bobby bought me these pencils last time I went to stay with him. You'd like uncle Bobby, he's a hunter too, except he doesn't make us practice shooting all the time like dad. He's not our real uncle, but I wish he was. He always says family doesn't end with blood though..." He chattered away at her as she finally put pencil to paper and began to draw.

Dean woke drowsily in the middle of the night and glanced over to the bed beside his where Sam was fast asleep, snoring gently, his legs twitching slightly like a dreaming dog. Dean smiled to himself and closed his eyes again. It took him a moment to work out what was wrong with this image, and sat bolt upright, searching the room for Hope.

"Hope?!" He whispered desperately, not wanting to wake his dad, who was passed out on the couch, one hand gripping the gun under his pillow. When there was no response he gently placed his booted feet on the floor and as quietly as possible tip-toed around the room. After a couple of minutes of blindly stumbling through the dark motel room, he swore under his breath, rubbing his bruised shin. She wasn't there. He was just about to steel himself and wake up his dad when his eye caught an unusual shape underneath the kitchen table, and upon closer inspection, found it to be Hope, curled into a foetal position around a slightly crumpled sheet of paper. Dean pulled one of the chairs out of the way and dropped onto the floor, settling cross-legged beside her so he could ease the piece of paper out of her hands. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake.

The drawing was childish, and not particularly good even taking into account her age, but it was recognisably Sandy the checkout girl from that morning. Except, underneath the big blonde ponytail her eyes were pitch black scribbles and her fingernails claws. She really was a brave little girl, the first monster she meets is a demon trying to kill her and she says nothing, didn't complain about her injuries. She must have been terrified... It wasn't exactly an everyday event for your average eight year old. He reached out and softly wiped the beads of sweat that had gathered on her brow, partly from the remnants of the mild fever she was fighting but also from the nightmare that was making her mumble quietly in her sleep. Her eyes snapped open and she immediately tried to back away, smacking her head on the underside of the table. Dean put his fingers to his lips to stop her from crying out and beckoned her closer. There was a drowsiness to her hesitance as she slowly shuffled over to him and nestled her head into his lap, letting him rub the sore spot in her hair. He placed the sketch into her hands, smiling as she looked up at him, confused.

"Do you want to talk about this morning?" He whispered. She nodded but kept quiet.

"Okay, where to start... Well, we hunt monsters, not really Sammy, he's too young, and I mostly stay at home with him but sometimes dad takes me with him. That lady today was a demon, they're pretty nasty but holy water burns them and you can make them go away with an exorcism, which is like a spell, in Latin." He looked down to make sure she was keeping up and found two big blue eyes staring intensely back at him.

"Will she come looking for me?" She whispered, her mouth set in a grim line. Dean desperately wanted to say no, but the chances were, if the demon had her scent, all it had to do was smoke into a new meat suit nearby.

He was clearly taking too long with his reply because Hope jabbed him in the stomach a couple of times with her bony fingers.

"Well?" She demanded. Dean sighed, she may only be eight but she could take it, and she deserved to know.

"Maybe. But we won't leave you anywhere you won't be safe, I promise. The demon will probably loose interest in you anyway to be honest, but we will protect you."

She looked sceptical and sat up, pulling herself out from under the table so she could settle herself completely on his lap, her head tucked between his neck and shoulder.

"So I'm safest with here... I won't go. I'll stay with you." He felt her grip on his shirt tightened and smiled. Though he couldn't see her face he knew she would have that determined look he'd come to expect from her.

They sat there quietly together until he started to get cramp in his butt and patted her on the back, signalling for her to get off of him. He used to the table to pull himself up, groaning as his knees clicked.

"Come on kid, into bed with you." He put a hand on her shoulder and led her over to the bed Sam was sprawled across, gently rolling him onto his side so that Hope could climb in next to him. As if he sensed her presence, Sam curled himself around her, nuzzling his nose into her hair. Dean grinned and tucked the duvet tighter around the two of them and dropped onto the vacant bed beside him, kicking off his boots. He was just settling himself down under the covers, burying his head into the pillow when a little voice drew him back from the brink of sleep.

"I'm sorry I wandered off... and made your dad angry... Don't let him send me away." Hope whispered.

"Go to sleep Hope." Dean grumbled, pulling the duvet over his head.

"Okay..." Was her muffled reply. There was a smile on Dean's face as he finally drifted back to sleep.

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