Disclaimer: Winchesters and Bobby Singer are not mine.
A/N: Anna Sela, I said I would try to tone down the introspection. Sorry. The words came exploding out of my brain, and it didn't happen. Have a mental conciliatory cupcake instead. :l
There was pounding on the door. I dragged my eyelids open with extreme effort and a relatively lethal rage. I knew it wasn't the vampires at the door. Mika had said we would be fine, and I trusted her. The pounding came again. "Riley!" boomed a deep voice. I knew that voice. What I didn't know was why he—well, probably, they—were here.
"What?" I grumped back, feeling light headed and freezing cold.
"Open the door."
I looked down at the floor, realizing it was a long way to get from the bed to the door. "No," I called back, curling up and making myself a blanket cocoon. Somebody swore not so quietly, and there was scraping at the lock. Part of me wondered if this was all just a bizarre dream. I had almost convinced myself that it was and fallen back asleep when the door swung open, revealing Winchester Short with Winchester Tall hoovering behind his shoulder. "Are you hurt?" Dean called gruffly, concern thick in his voice.
I let out a giant yawn, unable to help myself. The clock said it was six-thirty, which meant I had gotten a little over two hours of sleep. Yay. That put my grand total up to nine or so hours. For this week.
Since they were apparently real, I stopped delaying the inevitable. "Come'n in," I mumbled, my voice rough with sleep. The Winchesters glanced speculatively at the random strands of razor wire criss-crossing the entry way and also the far side of the room near the window. It looked just as good as any high-tech laser grid found in most spy or heist movies out there. What could I say? Being terrified highly motivates a girl to up her quality of work.
"Why'rya here?" I asked, still trying to wrap my brain around that particular conundrum.
"Mika called," Sam said simply. Gosh darn it. That little turd. I had things handled. Or I would, once my brain started functioning again and kicked out the last remnants of my most recent plan.
"Don't needjer help," I slurred darkly, feeling strangely malevolent towards them.
"Yeah," Dean said with a snort as he started to pick his way through the wire maze. "We can see that."
"Butthole," I wanted to snap at him, but I think it only came out as a sleepy murmur.
Dean stilled from where he was taking down a strand of wire. "Riley, are you okay?" He said it all slow-like, and green spotlights pinned me in place.
"Oh yeah," I said, smothering the urge to let out a hysterical little giggle. "Everthing's shiny, Cap'n." But everything was not shiny, I could tell that right now. I just didn't know why.
But, I did not need their help. With that resolution firmly in mind, I pushed myself upright, ignoring the faint, heated throbbing in my left arm. Frigging bitey vampires.
"I don't need your help," I repeated, my voice stronger this time. Any vestiges of sleep slipped away in light of my annoyance.
"Never said you did," Dean snarked. But the fact that they were pushing into my room and taking down all the razor wire said they thought otherwise. It was infuriating.
I scrambled out of bed, feeling slightly dizzy until my head finally caught up to my body. "Get out," I said flatly. Sam and Dean paused, looking confused, as if it was simply boggling that I might not want their help.
Behind me, Mika stirred. "What's going on?" she murmured sleepily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She yelped when she saw Sam and Dean, automatically pulling the covers up to her chest in a flimsy shield. "Riley?" God, the terror—mixed with absolute trust—in her voice just killed me.
"It's nothing," I reassured her. Then, still annoyed at her betrayal, I added, "The Winchesters. You called them. They came." Mika probably cringed at that. I would have liked to have seen it, but I was keeping my eyes and focus on the brothers who were frozen in the act of dismantling my vampire-repelling system. "Go back to sleep, Mika. They were just leaving." I infused as much steel into my voice as I could when I said it. My statement sounded non-negotiable, and I hoped I looked feisty enough to back it up.
It wasn't that hard. One of my arms sported a wide bandage wrap and the other a coat of bruises. I had a bruise across one cheekbone, which—if anything—just made me look mean. My jeans were stained with rust-colored blood, a testament to how little I cared anymore about my wardrobe. My shirt was mostly clean, but even then, it was black and slimming.
I looked like a bad-ass. I knew I did, because this was how I'd gone to meet Head Honcho, and I'd wanted to make an impression last night. Right now, the look might have been slightly ruined by my bed-head and bags under the eyes, but a girl can only do so much.
I think Sam and Dean realized there was no winning with me, because they backed out of the room, leaving the razor wire piled neatly along the wall. I put my gun on the nightstand for Mika, grabbing a jacket off the back of the chair and slinging it over my shoulders, still kind of cold. Then I followed the Winchesters out, locking the door behind me. I had the urge to yawn, but fought it down, knowing that acting as exhausted as I looked would only hurt my case that I had everything under control.
"Thanks for coming, but I think you should go. I've got this handled," I said as soon as we got into the hallway, forcing the words out with as much raw civility as I could muster. Sam looked like he wanted to say something, but his brother beat him to the punch.
Dean stuck his neck out a little and blinked, like he couldn't believe I'd just said that. His next words confirmed it. "Excuse me? Sam and I drove eight hours just to get here." He waved a finger between himself and Sam, as if that would somehow help make his point.
My barely eked civility went flying out the window. "I never asked you to come," I snapped, staring at him and not backing down. "I'm doing fine."
Dean looked slightly disgusted. "You told Sam you were covered in blood, and then you laughed, Riley. You laughed. That is not 'fine.' Then the kid calls and says she thinks you're going to die."
I froze, hearing Mika's revelation for the first time. She thought I was going to die? I felt sick, not knowing if this was her future thingy at work or just the—albeit semi-well founded—fears of a fourteen-year-old girl. Another yawn reared its head, but I quashed it ruthlessly. "Well, I'm not dead," I hissed, covering up my fear with annoyance.
Sam shifted in place, moving from one foot to the other and holding out his hands in a placating gesture. "Look, Riley, we just want to know what's going on. Bobby hasn't found any reports of vampires in this state. Why are they after you? How many are there?" He was seriously laying it thick with the brotherly concern thing. Maybe this was the Winchester version of good cop-bad cop.
My brain felt sluggish as I sought an appropriate response. Hell, I would settle for any response right now. But the lack of sleep was dragging me down slowly but surely, and I was finding it harder and harder to come up with stuff. I rubbed my temples with both hands, electing to take a more reasonable tone.
"Sam, Dean," I said sweetly, looking from one to the other. "You once told me that Hunting is a lifestyle. That I wasn't good enough because I didn't embrace it. Well, this is me—embracing it. So kindly mind your own fucking business." With that, I spun on a heel and unlocked the door to the room. Then I went inside and slammed it in their faces.
My tough girl act lasted mere seconds after I was out of their sight, and I slumped against the door with a sigh. Mika watched me from the bed, and I levered myself upright long enough to stagger over and collapse beside her. Then I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.
"You hungry?" I asked a couple minutes later.
"Not yet," Mika said, subdued.
"Good," I said. "I'm going back to sleep. Keep watch." I bundled the blankets around me, still cold despite the jacket I wore. Then I closed my eyes and settled into the pathetic excuse of sleeping. It was basically me falling asleep for short intervals before waking myself up with a pounding heart and a dry mouth. Entirely unproductive in restoring my mental faculties and energy level.
It didn't take very many sessions of pseudo-sleep before my brain's logic center starting somewhat functioning again. What I'd said to Sam and Dean had been completely stupid—ridiculous, even. Freezing them out like that had been monumentally stupid. I was an idiot. While I might not like it, their help would be good. It wasn't just my life on the line. It was Mika's too. And putting my wounded pride ahead of that had been selfish.
About an hour later, I had the presence of mind to think about calling Sam. Maybe they would forgive me and come back. I was willing to apologize if necessary. Actually, if I made it through this, I would totally apologize. I had been out of line, saying what I had. They had come to help, and I had acted like a brat.
I rooted around the nightstand for my phone, but in the end, it turned out to be unnecessary.
There was a knock at the door.
I glanced around, finding Mika in front of the TV. She turned it off and stood. "Now I'm hungry," she announced.
Not one second later, Dean's voice followed another knock. "Riley? Open the door. We brought food. Bacon."
I threw off the blanket, feeling too hot now anyway, and practically ran to the door. Checking the peephole, I saw that it was indeed Dean standing there, and true to his word, he had bacon. I opened the door, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. "Come in," I said meekly, hoping he knew I was sorry for earlier.
I led the way into the room, peeling off my jacket and tossing it away with a yawn before sitting at the table. Sam and Dean trooped in behind me, carrying white plastic bags full of amazing smelling food. Mika sat down at my side, and we both watched with big eyes as glorious things appeared in white styrofoam containers.
Sam and Dean pulled up chairs, and started unloading the cartons. I sat, drinking it all in until I couldn't take it anymore. "I take back all the horrible things I said," I declared as Dean set a container of bacon and pancakes in front of me. "I was just...exhausted and—"
"It's okay," Sam said, ever the peacemaker. "We understand. You've had a tough week. Mika explained." Oh my god. That girl.
I swiveled my head over to glare at Mika. "What?" she protested innocently, a forkful of pancake halfway to her mouth already. "They were going to bring food." I shook my head, feeling like I should be angry, but not even caring in that moment. Instead, I just picked up a piece of bacon and munched on it, closing my eyes and savoring the sheer amazingness.
When it was done, I ate another piece, and then another. After that, I started to feel sick, so I left the rest of my breakfast plate for Mika to consume. She did so happily, and I wondered how in the world she wasn't fat when she ate like that. Of course, Finn ate staggering quantities too, and he never seemed to gain any weight either. Turds, the both of them.
A shiver rocked me, and I looked around for my jacket, realizing I was freezing yet again. It was on the bed, too far away to grab without getting up. I pursed my lips, facing forward again and spotting Sam's jacket slung over the back of his chair. He was in the hall, taking a call, so it was totally up for grabs.
I inched my hand over surreptitiously and pulled the big jacket off the chair before wrapping it around me. It was like a comfort blanket on steroids. Super big, super warm, super comforting. Another shiver rippled through me followed by a yawn, and then Sam's jacket started warming me up. I sat there, almost but not quite, in a bacon coma. I was warm-ish, full, and sleepy.
Mika finished up my plate, and I grinned, watching her devour the food like a madwoman. Then my gaze meandered lazily about the room before drifting over to Dean, only to find that he was watching me. I looked down quickly and picked at the tabletop as I fought off a yawn, all the while feeling his heavy stare. "I stole a car," I announced finally, just to break overwhelmingly tangible pressure of silence.
My eyelids drifted downward, and I lost the battle with the yawn. But I pried my eyes back open, not wanting to miss even a second of Dean's startled look. Then the corner of his mouth twitched up into the start of a tiny smile. "Atta girl," he said.
Sam walked back in and drew up short, taking in Dean's almost-smile and his tan jacket draped around me. I stared at him with heavy lids and my most stubborn look, daring him to try and take it away. It must have worked, because he let me be.
Settling sideways in the chair and tucking my legs up, I rested my cheek against the back and tucked my hands under my chin. Sam's sleeves covered my hands, and I breathed in his scent. Safe. It was an actual scent. If I could make a candle of it, there would be the scent of gunpowder and man soap and a tinge of sweaty guy smell. It smelled safe, and I loved it.
"I killed seven vampires," I reported sleepily, saying the first random thing that popped into my mind.
Mika dropped her fork. Dean's tiny smile went brittle, and Sam seemed to choke on a piece of pancake but turned it into a cough. "Oh?" Dean asked. His tone was all funny, which made me feel like I should stop talking, but more words came waltzing out of my mouth regardless.
"Yeah," I confirmed, my eyes slipping closed. I battled them back open. "But first, I broke into a morgue and stole blood from a corpse. His name was Jonathan. Nice guy, really. He was bald, though. Hard to trust a bald guy. After that, I burned up all the furniture in the vampires' house with an exploding can of air freshener. Tahitian Sunset, I think. Nice picture, terrible smell."
All three had gone very still, becoming a rapt audience, and I took that as encouragement to keep going. I gave a sleepy huff, closing my eyes as more of my crime spree came to mind. "Then I bought an illegal silencer from a friend of Bobby's. Used it to ventilate one vampire's skull. Ventilate. That's a funny word when you think about it. Ven-til-ate. Probably a latin-based word. Anyways, then we rolled this other one in a rug to make a taco after we cut off his head with razor wire. It was a hideous rug, so I don't feel that bad about burying it in the woods with the bodies. But that was after the first vampire I buried. Mika didn't really know about that one. Then after that, I broke into a dance studio and did all this mirror stuff. We played a Miley Cyrus song, and I killed two more vampires. That's why my arm is so bruised."
I paused, feeling cozy and warm.
"Riley?" Dean queried almost too quietly to hear.
I opened my eyes, realizing my head had lolled forward. I lifted it upright and blinked. What had I been saying? Oh, right. Telling them about my week. "And…and then we went to a warehouse—I know, right, why is it always warehouses? What is this Hollywood?" I snorted at the thought, then went back to my story. "Anyways, that was where I killed another one. He was pretty easy, which was funny. Funny strange, not funny haha. Although, I guess after this week, maybe it was kind of funny. Funny haha and funny strange. Multiple funnies."
I rubbed my eyes, confounded to find sleeves over my hands. Right, I was wearing Sam's jacket. Then something occurred to me. "Oh! We had bacon, too! I ate a lot. I threw it up later, though, before I killed the last vampire. Mika didn't know about that, either. The throwing up part, not the last vampire part. Well, he wasn't the last. Number Six was actually the seventh vampire I killed which sounds crazy—" I was cut off by another yawn, and I covered my mouth with Sam's sleeve until it was done. My vision got all blurry around that point, so I squinted at the three of them. "—but it totally makes sense if you think about it," I said finally with a wave of the sleeve. I yawned yet again, wondering if I'd ever be able to stop. "Anyways, there are two more left to kill. So really, he wasn't the last. Mh-hmm. Not the last. Still got two more."
My eyelids were heavy, and I blinked at Sam and Dean owlishly. "So what did you do this week? Kill anything interesting?"
Sam got up, and I tilted my head far, far back until I could see his face under my drooping lids. He eased me up to my feet and started herding me over to the bed. I stumbled over the chair leg when it didn't get out of my way. "Son of a biscuit," I murmured, pulling out my machete to show the stupid chair who was boss. Sam took my machete away, and I scowled at him, thwarted. Then I pulled out the knife in my boot, but he took that too.
"Hands off, turd," I said, scowling and shambling away from him.
"Anything else?" Sam demanded, hands on his hips.
"Bite me," I scoffed, crawling slowly up onto the bed.
Something niggled at the back of my mind, something I had to tell him. It was important yet annoyingly elusive. I fell into a Riley-sized lump on the comforter, thoughts ticking through my brain agonizingly slow. Finally, it dawned on me.
"Finn's awake," I murmured, settling my cheek against the pillow. A half smile grew on Sam's face. Then I remembered the second thing. "Gotta kill the last two vampires tomorrow. Or I guess it's tonight, now," I added sleepily.
His smile faded. "Go to sleep, Riley," he said.
I tucked my hands under my chin, and closed my eyes. "'Kay, 'night, love you," I mumbled, and then I was lost to the world.
I slept for hours. Upon hours. Upon hours.
Mika woke me up with a cautious shake bordering on worried. Apparently, I hadn't wanted to wake up for the last minute of her prompting. I erupted out of the blankets, brandishing my gun, thinking we were about to die. Mika scrambled across my lap, pinning my gun arm to the bed and starting a painful burn in my other. My brain kicked in after that, and I let the gun go. Mika got off me, taking the gun with her. She passed it to Dean, and I scowled, shoving my hair out of my face.
Sam looked mystified, having confiscated my weapons before I'd gone to sleep. Yeah, even exhaustion-drunk me wasn't about to let him appropriate my gun. I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling better than I had in a long while yet still a little off.
I eased my feet over the edge of the bed, feeling like my skin was on fire. Shoot. The alternating hot/cold transitions made sense now. Fever, yuck. I wondered if maybe I should have cleaned out the bite wound on my arm a little better. I had taken a shower and splashed it with soapy water in lieu of actual disinfectant. Then, unable to handle looking at the seeping blood, broken skin, and generally unsightly torn muscle, I'd wrapped the wound and called it good. That had been a day ago? Two days ago? I didn't know. But fever meant it was probably infected.
Dean came over, putting a hand on my forehead. I batted it away, but the damage was already done. He'd felt the heat and made the connection easily enough, catching my arm and yanking the bandage back from the wound.
It was nasty. My head spun as I looked at the puss and redness. Dean said some choice words. Then he said something to Sam. I sat on the edge of the bed, and Sam brought out a bottle of brown liquid. Dean unscrewed the lid and poured some on my arm. It burned like crazy, but I didn't even move. Pain was relative at this point. Antibiotics followed, complete with a stern look, and I downed them without argument.
Dean went out to the car reappearing with some general first-aid stuff. He cleaned the bite on my arm, and I just sat there, completely unconcerned. Gosh dang, I felt so good. Mika was safe. She was fed. Rested. I was safe, fed, rested. Rested-ish. Life was good again.
It took me a long moment to realize that Dean was actually talking to me. Apparently, I had been zoning out. I blinked and tuned back in just in time to hear him ask, "How did you get roped into this anyway?"
I glanced over my shoulder at Mika who was conveniently staring holes in the Harry Potter book I'd given her yesterday. No way was she actually reading, not with the book being upside down and all. Then I looked back at Dean. "Finn's sister," I said with a shrug, as if that explained everything. And I guess, in a way, it did. Dean understood what Finn meant to me, and he also understood what family meant. That alone was enough.
Dean went still, crouched thoughtfully in front of me. His fingers were cold against my skin, but I knew that was probably just the fever. "Seven vampires, huh?" he said, almost sounding impressed. I nodded.
"Seven," I said softly, staring at the half-healed blisters on my palms. Digging graves, that's how I'd gotten them. The worst part was that it didn't even faze me now. Didn't seem too "out there" or unrealistic. It was just something that I'd done.
Dean followed my eyes and then inspected my hands with gentle fingers. I remained silent, letting him, even though they were just blisters. Dean let go of my hands and stood. Then he sighed and leaned against the wall, still positioned in front of me.
"I was wrong," he said finally. "What I said before...I was wrong." Sam looked up sharply from where he was working on his laptop, which let me know that was probably not something he heard Dean say too often. I knew what Dean was talking about without needing clarification. He'd said that Finn and I were just kids. That I'd been acting like Hunting was just a hobby, of sorts.
I shrugged again, my mouth folding into a frown as I shook my head slightly. He hadn't been wrong. Wrong to say it, maybe, but not wrong. I had treated Hunting as some sort of extra curricular. But not anymore. The past week had been a wake up call. Now I was in it for good.
"Seven," I said, louder than before. "Seven, soon to be nine."