A.N.: Hey, would you look at that, it's chapter 3! I hope all of you who are reading this tale enjoy this chapter. More snarky Kayla so YAY! Plus hot Winchester boys whoo hoo! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing, it makes my day, no forget that, my week! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

CHAPTER 3

"Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge, I'd be lying if I said it was fully stocked, I've been a bit preoccupied as of late." I stop rambling long enough to wave my hand toward the stairs. "Guest room is up the stairs and to the left, master bedroom is second door to the right if you guys want separate rooms, bathroom down the hall, sofa is comfy, just, um...make yourselves at home." I rush through the list of need to know information, hearing the siren call of my bed even from the doorway.

Sam and Dean look like they are in awe as they drop their stuff by the door.

"Guys I would stay and give you the grand tour, but I am dead on my feet and I need at least another four hours before I am any good to anyone."

I surprise myself by leaning in and giving them both an awkward hug.

"Thanks again for coming." I reply pulling back with an uneasy chuckle.

They both mumble "Yeah, no problem." before lifting their bags and strolling into the living room.

They are just standing in the middle of the room by the time I reach the top of the stairs. They cast their gazes around and look like they are ready to break out all their gear again.

"You guys better get some shut eye too." I say with a yawn.

I look down at them as they both kick off their shoes.

"Please don't leave." I utter said with sadness and deep rooted fear.

The smile Dean throws up at me is not unkind as he calls out. "Night Kayla, we'll see you in the morning."

The last thing I hear before I drift into oblivion is the slight creak of the floorboards. I smile into my pillow, happy that Sam and Dean will be making good use of the spare rooms.

I wake up just in time to see the sun peak over the horizon by a loud growling in my stomach. Hunger is something else that has just now caught up with me and my whole body is starting to act normal again. New day, new attitude, it's a mantra I have tried to live my whole life by and have given up on as of late. Time for second chances.

Eggs, bacon, toast, OJ. Forget pizza, this is the best thing I have ever had in my mouth. I don't even notice when Dean comes down the stairs, he does it so quietly. I gasp, sucking the eggs into my mouth and start to choke on the bits. "Jesus." I hiss as Dean looks up at me.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." It's mumbled and I know yet again how much of a morning person he isn't.

"Scare me?" I scoff. "Oh no, I'm totally used to having guys in my house that don't make any noise." I chortle a little bit as I say it and Dean laughs softly.

"Guess things have gotten topsy turvy for you recently."

I shrug with a nod. That's an understatement.

Dean looks at my plate of food and tries to feign disinterest.

"You hungry?" I ask as I get up to put my plate in the dishwasher.

He doesn't answer and I turn to watch him track my movement with his eyes, I can't tell if he is wary or appreciative of my figure. I gesture to the spread of food.

"We got eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice; I can fry up some sausage if you want."

"No, this is fine, this is," he's already snagged a plate and is loading it up. He faces me with a huge grin.

"Great." He eats so fast, I can't even be sure that he swallows and then he goes back for seconds. His body must be speaking up as well.

"Should I make some more for Sam?" I ask as I take his empty plate from in front of him.

"Sam will eat the eggs, but he's not much of a bacon person." He replies in between bites.

"Who the hell doesn't like bacon?" I inquire.

He laughs again and every time he does it, it sounds less forced.

"Yeah, he's a bit of a freak." he says it fondly and I wonder how often he shows this side to Sam.

"So, what does he like?"

"Fruit, um...he'll eat the toast and eggs, but the guy loves his watermelon."

"Bailey too." I say quietly as I pull the plastic tray brimming with the fruit from the refrigerator.

Dean looks like he doesn't know what to say. He is saved the trouble of having to figure it out when Sam comes loping down the steps.

"Morning sunshine! There's breakfast." Dean says aimed at Sam.

He turns towards Dean with a grin.

"Breakfast?" he asks, looking like a little kid as he looks at the spread on the kitchen pilot.

"Breakfast." Dean confirms, lifting his glass of OJ in a toast.

Sam doesn't consume nearly as much as his buddy, eating a few pieces of toast as he happily munches on the watermelon. He picks at his eggs and requests apple instead of orange juice. It's funny how out of place they both look here, in this home environment, surrounded by kindness.

"Who wants first shower?" I ask after the comfortable silence stretches into awkwardness.

Dean looks at Sam, Sam looks at Dean, and then they both look at me.

"Okay then, be right out."

The shower helps clear away the last fuzzy fragments of my mind. Between food, and sleep and now a hot shower I start to feel human again. More than I have in a long time. I take a quick one, as I always have, getting dressed in a rush and running over all the facts again in my head and Sam's' voice ringing in my head 'It'd have to be kept somewhere with quite a bit of space.' But something nags at the back of my mind; this is something I should know. But the more I try to grasp at it the farther away it feels.

When I come down to the living room again, Dean is sprawled out on the sofa as he idly flips through the channels and Sam is rummaging through my cabinets. I can read the exact second they know I am there, both of their bodies going on alert.

"So," I call. "I forgot to ask how you guys slept."

"Good." they answer in unison. Do they have to practice doing that? Or does it just come naturally?

"Better than we have in a good long while, actually." Dean says.

"What are you looking for?" Sam looks like a kid with his hand caught in a cookie jar.

"Uh...salt."

"Salt?"

"Yeah, it's like acid to supernatural beings."

"Salt?" Really, salt?

"We had to use ketchup once in a pitch, but it didn't do anything. It was just sticky." Deans voices from behind me, when the hell did he move into the kitchen?

I jump in response.

Sam chuckles.

"Well," I start, wringing the water from my hair. "Shower's open."

Dean follows my body with his gaze and I can't help but notice that Sam watches him. I can't read the brunettes expression. Worry? Jealousy? Unrequited love maybe? His eyes flicker through a myriad of feeling before his gaze shifts away. Dean is completely oblivious as he smacks a hand into Sam's' stomach. "Go ahead sasquatch. I'll grab the next one."

Sam's face pulls into a grimace at the nickname and then he nods once and goes up the stairs. Hell if I know what is going on between the two of them.

"Sasquatch," I say finally. "That's cute. Does he have a nickname for you?"

Deans' face fights between deflection and trust. After a few tense seconds he says. "Mostly he calls me jerk."

I nod at him, feeling like there is more to the story, but the look on Deans' face... I don't have the heart to ask.

When Sam comes back down the stairs, he has a book perched in his hands and looks deep in thought. Dean doesn't even look at him as he jogs up the steps.

"Find anything?" I question as he swings a chair around with one foot and seats himself on it.

"Nothing new, I just have a feeling like we missed something..." he breaks off, chewing on his bottom lip. The gesture is really adorable, and who needs a puppy when you have Sam? I try not to laugh at the mental image that conjures in my mind.

"We'll figure it out Sam." I give his shoulder a reassuring pat and when he looks up at me it takes him a second to realize he is expecting a different pair of hazel.

I move my hand just as suddenly feeling like I have intruded on something special.

"I'm...uh... going to make sure Dean doesn't need clean towels." I stutter over my words and fly up the stairs before he has a chance to respond.

It turns out Dean doesn't need a clean towel as he emerges from the bathroom with only said towel covering him.

I gulp, heat instantly rushing to my face. My god this man is attractive.

Dean smiles at me for just a minute, joking. "Perfect timing."

"Haha. I was just..." don'tlookdon'tdon'tlook. "Coming to see if you needed more towels."

"That's what they all say." he smirks at me and I think that I desperately need to get out of that hallway.

"Guess you are good then." I all but squeak before rushing into my room. When I come back out Dean is fully clothed, standing outside my door, his hand raised in what I assume is the 'knocking' position.

"Hey, Sam said he thinks he might have something, but he needs your help."

"Sure." I close the door and hurry down the stairs.

"Okay so I've been checking out the inventory of abandoned buildings here in Clovis and while there isn't much to go on, I don't know the town as well as you."

I peer over his shoulder, scanning the list of buildings and suddenly some of the unreachable information in my mind clicks into place.

"There." I point to the building labeled Hotel Clovis.

"It was built in 1931, the tallest building in Clovis, vacant for the last thirty odd years." Sam lists off the facts on the website.

"So what's in it now?" Damn, how did he always end up behind me?

"Homeless people and vandals." I retort, turning so they are both in my line of vision.

"Awesome. So what makes you think it's there?" he sits next to Sam.

"It's the only building big enough to house what we are after, and the new governor recently flushed it out completely, talking about keeping a clean community and protecting our landmarks."

Sam nods. "Yeah, I read an article on that just a little while ago, she's right Dean, it fits." his whole fact lights up and I have the distinct impression that he was a teacher's pet in another life.

I jab the picture on the screen with a finger. "That is where the bitch is."

Dean is smiling too. "I think its hunting season."

They start organizing weapons on the table as I pull one of the longer knives from my suitcase. Dean eyes it with disapproval.

"What?" I question rankled.

"What the hell are you doing carting around a steak knife?"

"Sorry hotshot, not all of us own guns. This is all I have."

Confusion gives way to understanding, before finally being replaced with anger.

"You're not going with us Kayla." End of discussion.

"Excuse me?" Two could play this game.

Sam looks nervous and Dean slams the gun down on the table before he whirls on me.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 23." I throw out. "How old are you? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm 27 and I've been doing this since I was four. Four! You know how to shoot a gun? You ever killed anything before?"

"No I haven't but,"

"So you leave it to the professionals, you don't go after a monster with Ginsu knife!" his face turns red with rage.

"That's all I have!" I scream back, taking several steps in his direction. "Maybe it's not as fucking effective as your," a flail of hands to the spread of weaponry around me. "Whatever the hell you have."

"That's because we know what the hell we are doing. You are going to get yourself killed!" Those eyes are really not all that stunning when they are sparked with disdain.

Sam gets between us, shuffling his seething friend away from me and vice versa.

"Let's just all calm down." He states in a placating tone. "Kayla, Dean is right if you don't know what you are doing you could get seriously hurt. We do know what we are doing; you can trust us to take care of this."

"I'm sorry, no. Look I really appreciate all you have done, but I can't just sit back while the only family I have left is in trouble. I just can't."

There is it again, the flicker of understanding, compassion brimming from both of their eyes. A silent agreement as Dean clenches his jaw, Sam turns towards me, gun in hand. For about a split second I think that maybe this isn't going to turn out that well for me and then he grips my hand and pulls up to plop the gun in it. Now I'm the one who is confused.

"What?"

"We can't go in until nightfall."

I'm still staring at the gun like I can't quite piece together what he is trying to tell me.

"This isn't Lord of the Rings; you aren't going to kill the fugly by good intentions alone." Dean grumbles.

And now I get it.

"But I don't know how to shoot a gun." my voice is small and nervous.

Dean smiles grimly at me. "That's what we're here for."

I try to compare the gun in my hand to something I have done before. Laser tag, paintball maybe? It seems like a ridiculous match up. Nothing has ever felt like the cold slick metal in my hand. Like steel death itself. However it turns out the greatness of the weapon is not reflected in its handler, because I miss every time I fire it.

I discover there is a small shooting range on the outskirts of Clovis and Dean and Sam follow me in the Impala out there. It's not much to look at but it's better than practicing shooting out in my backyard. Sam starts coaching me and try as I might; I flinch every time I pull the damn trigger. When aiming for the head, I'd get a shoulder, aiming for a leg, I'd catch the gut, I hate to think it but Dean might be right. I am terrible. Sam is patience and guides me with verbal cues to change my stance, lower my arm, and close one eye. Nothing works, I'm not able to concentrate and the thunderous boom that sounds every time I pull the trigger unnerves me almost as much as the kick of the gun itself. It isn't even a big gun, nothing like a shotgun or a rifle.

A hand jerks me backwards and pulls me up against a solid wall of muscle. I crane my head to glare at Sam and stop short. Dean. He positions my body against his, kicks my feet apart and aims the gun for me. Sam is off to the side, looking entertained as I pretty much become Deans' puppet.

"You don't start getting better soon and you're not coming." he says it low so only I can hear and I feel a protest rise up in me.

"I'm doing the best I can." I whisper harshly.

"Bullshit." he whispers back as he tightens his fingers around mine. Another tug and the trigger will go off again.

"Well then what the hell do you suggest oh wise one?" I'm annoyed at his smugness.

"You gotta get mad."

Well, that was the last thing I expected him to say. "Beg pardon?"

"You know pissed."

I blow out an exasperated breath. "And how exactly is that going to help me, I'm already mad and the madder I get the more I lose my focus."

"No, you're annoyed, fine I get that. But you have to get mad; I'm talking seeing nothing but rojo furious."

His voice is soft this time, and I can tell he is instructing me from experience.

Mad...Okay I can do that.

I level the gun at the cardboard cutout and take aim right between the eyes.

My parents are dead, taken from me by booze and stupidity. Ripped from this world by a two ton metal monster. Pop!

The first person I ever really loved betrayed be, threw me to the cold because it was easier than fighting for me. Bang!

Bailey is gone, the only family I have left taken by some demonic bitch that sliced me open in the process. Boom!

When the red haze clears from my vision I can see I have hit the space between the eyes all three times.

"Good job." He murmurs by my ear accompanied with a pat to my shoulder before the presence behind me is gone.

When I can compose myself enough to turn and meet them I swear they look proud.

We stop by Wal-Mart before heading back to the house, the guys' state they need to pick up a few things; I nod and tell them I will see them back at the house. It's not easy, but they have shown trust in me, it's time I return the favor.

When they come back they plant a black ski mask in front of me and I look at them like they are crazy.

"What's this for?"

"We are breaking and entering tonight, got to look the part." Dean says.

Duh. I would have so never been able to pull this off without them.

"You guys do this sort of thing a lot?"

Sam looks uneasy, but nods. "Comes with the territory." he says.

It's 3pm, about the time I would be getting off of work. I wonder how everyone there is doing with a wistful sigh.

Almost like they have read my mind (or maybe I said it out loud) Sam asks. "So nobody at work is missing you?"

Dean looks surprised like he's forgotten that other people have jobs.

"I took some time off." I say quietly.

"Six months?" simultaneous again, is there a script somewhere? I ponder for a minute how they even know that about me before deciding I really don't want to know.

"No not six months, two weeks for the funeral and then I went back."

"So why are you off now?" Dean asks as he lays his Wal-Mart bag on the table.

"Had a breakdown." I say matter of factly. "Was told I needed to take some time off."

They look like they can sympathize.

We've gone over the plan a dozen times now, it's systematic and organized and they both seem completely in their element.

I'm so in over my head. But Bailey needs me, so I suck it up and trudge on.

Around six pm. tactics are halted when Deans (or maybe my stomach) lets out a loud growl. He looks up sheepishly as he pushes away from the table.

"I'm gonna go grab some food, I'll be right back." He says, snagging the keys from the kitchen counter.

"I can cook." I speak up, driven by the need to do something other than sit here and begin to panic.

He turns back towards me. "You don't have to."

"I don't mind." and I really don't, already getting up to grab a frying pan and turning towards them with a smile.

"Any requests?"

I raid the freezer. Chicken, steaks, ribs, how had I not realized that there was so much food in here? Was I that far gone? Bailey and I ate out almost every day, money wasn't an issue, giving a damn was.

If... no, not if, when she got back I was going to make good use of my cooking skills once more.

I ramble off the list of food we have available and watch Deans' mouth water. When I get to ground beef he speaks up. "Do you have bacon?"

"Yeah, there are still leftovers from breakfast."

"There's my vote bacon cheeseburgers, how bout you Sammy?"

Sam looks up with a shrug, "I'm fine with whatever."

"Burgers it is then."

The burgers are good, really good, juicy and filling and Dean has had two already and suddenly starts to complain that his stomach is hurting. Sam makes some sort of joke about does he need Pepto and Dean grumbles. "You're such a bitch." the response to that is "Takes one to know one, jerk."

Oh so that's what it's all about...

It seems so familiar having people around the table, although I am used to talking about school and boys and TV shows, not loading guns across the food. But I have to admit it's nice. I'm smiling as I clear off the table, swiping a chip from a bag and chewing it happily. If I could just plop Bailey in the middle of this everything would be right in life again. Sam does the dishes even though I let him know that I don't have a problem doing them myself.

"We are already staying here free of charge; the least we can do is help clean up."

"It's not a problem; truth is...I kind of like it." I didn't mean to say that, but Sam has this weird effect on my wall of defenses. Almost like they aren't there.

Sam casts a look back to Dean who is trying to finish off the bag of Lays that is still on the table. There is infinite kindness in his green eyes when he looks back to me. "Yeah, me too."

Still an hour to go and Dean is getting that restless look on him. I've asked if we should practice shooting anymore and he states that I hit six cardboard dummies on every mark I aimed for and I'm good. He even kept the first one that I hit saying it's something I would want to keep for later. What a dork.

He pulls a deck of cards from inside his duffel and Sam sits down next to them. I have never seen two people so in sync. They are playing poker inside of two minutes and I watch from the side not wanting to get between the two of them. Dean shuffles the cards and Sam says something to him about "this week's chores." and I have more and more time to pick apart our plan.

What if it doesn't work? What if someone gets hurt? What if I get killed? What will happen to Bailey then? What if... my endless stream of questions is cut off as a card sails on the table to land into front of my clasped hands. I look up confused, to get caught in Deans' gaze. Like a moth to a flame.

"You in or are you out?" The question is loaded with gravity and I know I just know he is asking about more than the card game.

And really isn't that the question, the only one that needs to be answered right now. I look at Sam's face, seemingly too young to be the face of a soldier, to the arsenal spread out on the couch, to my own hands that shake as I pick at the edge of the card, and then back to Dean. Was I in or was I out?

My voice is steadier than I feel when I pick the card up. "I'm in."

Coming up...Action! Terror! Kayla figuring out they aren't gay ;) Stay tuned!