A.N.: Update time! Here is Chapter 5, hopefully you like! Thanks again for reading and reviewing as always, you guys are the best!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Chapter 5
I clean up the house while he's gone, do a load or two of laundry, wash some dishes, get rid of the blood soaked clothes, wipe down the bathroom, and peruse the fridge for something to eat. I assume Dean will want to eat something when he gets back and I know Sam has to eat at some point too. Cleaning only kills two hours of the day and before I know it I am back to just sitting by Sam's side, idly reading a magazine.
Where the hell did Dean go? What are we supposed to do now?
Almost as if I have spoken my thoughts out loud Sam shifts in his sleep and opens his eyes in my direction. He still looks more than a little out of it, but I can't help but be impressed that his eyes first scan the room for threats before they land on me. Apparently the alert part of his brain communicates that he is safe because he throws a lopsided smile my way.
"Hey Sam." I grin back.
"Did you read to me at the hospital?" he asks softly.
"Yeah, I did."
"Dean reads to me sometimes so I know that I'm not alone..." his voice trails off and he scans the room again, seeking out a different figure.
"He left a little while ago, he'll be back."
A nod of the floppy brown hair. "Yeah, yeah he will be." His voice sounds a lot less unsure and weak.
Sam and I talk for a little bit, mostly about books. I'm surprised that his taste matches a lot of mine. He tells me he wanted to write once upon a time, so did I before death had ripped a hole in my soul.
"You should still do it," I muse. "Someday when all this is done."
Sam looks wistful at my comment. But when he turns green eyes to me they are sad and full of regret. "Yeah, someday...when this is all done." Something tells me their work is never done.
"So, tell me about Dean." I say to change the subject and Sam grins just at the mention of him.
"Well we have been friends since we were little,"
"I know you're brothers."
"Oh." It doesn't surprise him nearly as much as I thought it would. However I can see by the shift of emotion on his face that he isn't going to give me the whole story. Protecting himself, protecting his brother. I understand.
"So what did he tell you?" Guarded, he's got the tone down after years of practice I assume.
"He didn't tell me anything, I figured it out."
Again he doesn't look surprised.
"Sorry we lied to you. It's just,"
"How your life is." I finish for him.
We talk until he tries to sit up again, using his elbows for leverage and I would have discouraged him, but he did it so fast I had no time. A painful yelp is what he gets for his troubles and then he falls back towards the bed as I hover over him like a mother hen.
"What do you think you are doing?" I ask, sitting on the edge of the makeshift bed.
"Felt fine for a minute," he wheezes and then snorts under his breath.
"You and your brother are both stubborn idiots." I mumble as I pull the pill bottle from my pocket and dump one single blue pill into the boys' palm.
"It's the Winchester way." he murmurs downing the pill with no liquid. I grab the glass of water on the coffee table and watch as he drains the whole thing.
"Winchester? Like the gun?"
He spears me with a look that states he didn't mean to let that slip and mutters. "Mmm hmmm."
I drop the subject and watch as Sam visibly relaxes. It only takes him a couple of minutes to drift back into sleep. I push the shaggy bangs away from his eyes, wondering about the fairness of a world that has picked this boy to be a hunter.
Dean charges back into the house an hour later, the roar of the Impala cut off a mere thirty seconds before he bursts through the door. He scans the room, evaluating the situation before turning the intensity of his gaze on me.
"Sam's fine." I say and his whole being loosens.
If I had a hundred years to study and know them, I would still never understand what makes them tick.
He drops a bag on the island. "There's twizzlers in there for when the big geek wakes up."
"He was awake for a while, but then he moronically tried to sit up too fast and one little blue pill later he took a trip back down the rabbit hole."
"Why did you let him get up?" he demands.
"I didn't let him do anything, what would you like me to do Dean? Sit on him?" With every step in the room I can see defeat and anguish etched into his form.
"What is it?"
The wall slams back into place. "Nothing."
Takes a bullshitter to know a bullshitter.
"Dean," I start, circling to the chair he is sitting in. "What happened?"
He sighs loudly.
"Is it Sam? Because he seemed fine when I was talking to him, I'm sorry if I did something wrong." a hand to the inside of my wrist stops my rant.
"It's not Sam, you did fine."
Okay good, one crisis averted. What is killing the light in those hazel eyes then?
"Where did you go?" I ask, suddenly anxious to know.
"Back to the hotel."
The hair on the back on my neck stands up and my heart drops into my stomach.
"What did they find?" I ask.
"Nothing." he repeats.
"What was it? Was it her? Did they find her? Is she okay? Is she," I'm grabbing at him, desperate for answers, desperate for something.
"Kayla!" Dean barks as he stands to his full height and seizes my frantic hands.
"Tell me what you found!" I yell, un-phased by his size and skill and the fact that he could fold me into a pretzel if he wanted too.
His face is stoic, not giving me anything.
"Tell me what you found!" I bellow again, hanging my head in defeat as I whimper. "Please."
His grip doesn't move from my wrists just lets up, steadying me now, not fending me off.
"Kayla," my name again, said in soft tones. I think I liked it better when he was yelling.
"Dean," my head fits under his chin.
I need good news, I need to know if she is okay, and I need to know when I can see her again and tease her, and tell her how sorry I am that I let so many things get in the way.
My thoughts are cut off by Dean leaning back, meeting my gaze for the first time since he's come through the door.
"I went back Kayla, and nothing was there. Other than a big freaking hole in the side of the building and about a dozen cops," he pauses, cupping my hands instead of gripping them now.
"Tell me." I urge.
"They searched every room there, the ones that they could get to anyway, the building was falling apart. There was nothing. Kayla, I'm sorry… there was nothing."
Nothing, no Bailey, no clues, nothing. Suddenly his despairing face makes so much more sense; my heart is having trouble catching up.
"No, there has to be something, anything! Blood, something, please God," I choke on the sob in my throat, tears stinging from behind my eyes.
"Kayla, I'm,"
"Maybe they didn't look in the right place, maybe they're lying, maybe,"
"They're not. Kayla, I checked myself, there wasn't anything there."
"No," I shake my head, tears tracing down my cheeks. "That can't be right. How can we find Bailey now? Where do we go? What do we do?"
He doesn't answer me just holds my gaze.
"Dean," I cry, body starting to shake with unshed grief. "What do I do?"
His hands let go of mine at the same time I lean into him, body collapsing under the maddening distress that has run my life recently. He pulls me close as sobs wrack my body, whole being trembling with the out pour of misery.
I can't stop, I can't. Bailey can't be gone, she has to be somewhere, God please, don't. Please just...don't. Haven't I lost enough? I can't do this by myself.
Some of that must be verbal because Dean strokes my hair and murmurs that it will be okay in a ruined voice. It's the last thing I can rationally process as I howl my heartache into his now damp flannel. I haven't been able to cry now in months, feeling like it will destroy me if I ever give into it, but now I have no choice, I'm too far gone in the storm to pull out.
It feels like hours before I have the strength or mind to pull away from him. I can't even muster the care to wipe my tear stained face. Dean watches me with compassion as I place a hand on the table behind us for balance; having given all my poor body has to give in that moment. I take a shuddering breath, resentful of the rise and fall of my chest and Deans' eyes never leave me. Ball is in my court I suppose; he's waiting to see what I will do next. Bring the wife and kiddies it's going to be a show. My tattered sanity frays even further, but I manage to rasp out. "Thank you." in a broken voice.
He doesn't say "you're welcome", doesn't need to, the words too small. My heart feels like it is squeezed tight in my chest. Bailey...everything good in my life has been ripped out from underneath me. I don't know if my heart can handle the pain.
"We'll keep looking, we won't give up, and we'll find her. I promise." Dean again, ever the white knight.
I don't respond to him, feeling like I have been wrung out. What else can I possibly give? What else can I possibly do?
"You can't give up." It sounds forced.
Give up? No, I was thinking going insane sounds good or comatose because that never gets old.
His fingers are at my shoulders, digging into to them.
"Kayla, you have to snap out of it! I know this is too much to ask of you, it's too much to ask of anybody, but you have to. Bailey needs you to."
Something in me that felt like it died stutters back to life.
"Bailey, yeah she's still out there." I feel like I'm coming out of a deep sleep, coming back to life. A phoenix rising from the ashes.
Dean looks concerned for me, a look I had previously thought reserved for Sam.
"You with me?" he asks, letting me go. I miss the contact within seconds.
"Yeah, I'm good." Far from good, but back in the game and that is what counts.
We are both startled by the loud buzz that sounds from behind us; Dean instantly swings his gaze to the laundry room.
"It's the dryer." I say with a laugh.
Dean looks abashed, but thankfully laughs a little as well. "Oh. Right, I knew that."
"I did some wash while you were gone; hopefully all the blood came out." Simple useless facts, better than choking on the aftermath of the out pour.
He beams at me. "Hell you might be a better wife than Sammy."
I have a great response on the tip of my tongue, but it is cut off by the perturbed moan of "I want a divorce."
Dean and I look at each other, then at Sam and then burst into full belly laughing. Maybe because of the fissure of misery that had opened up beneath us or in spite of it, but Dean and I are bent over in laughter, quaking with the hilarity of that moment.
Sam looks completely confused as he (slowly this time) lifts his frame up to a sitting position. Dean and I are still cackling as we make our way into the living room to check on our favorite patient.
His color is starting to return, but when Dean lifts his shirt to check the injured area there is a decoration of ugly purple and black that taints the skin.
"Jesus, Sam," Dean breathes, running a hand along them gently.
"They're not that bad." he moans.
Dean pulls his hand back into his lap. "Well at least they aren't swollen, bruised to all hell, but they aren't pushing against your skin, that's good."
So cops, doctors, damsels in distress rescuers extraordinaire...Is there anything these guys don't do?
I cook macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. None of us are particularly hungry, but we have to keep our bodies strong for the job so we all eat like its routine. Under different circumstances it would have been a good meal, under current ones its sustenance and that is all. Sam spends most of his day in the bed, drifting between a hazy half awareness and a tight lipped, pain-filled full awareness, and Dean is never more than a handful of feet away from him. He gives a whole new meaning to the definition "older brother."
Sam requests his laptop after the third time he jolts into consciousness, stating with a frustrated grunt "I can't just sit here and do nothing anymore," Dean concedes after Sam threatens to get up and get it himself.
I go over everything in my head again, the building, the Tascona, the way the skin tore off of its wing when I hit it. The fact that Bailey wasn't there, we don't have any leads and we are running out of time. Seventy-two hours by my count, maybe a little change. Barely more than three days before Bailey becomes another causality to my heart.
No. I had to find something, there was not going to be one more loss. No.
My mind is a carnival tilt a whirl though, too spent to put much more together than basic motor functions and the occasional already built in sarcastic quip. I need sleep and a hot shower and for some clue to show up gift wrapped at my door. I would take the two I can get.
I approach Sam's bed carefully, already putting a blanket and a pillow at the end of the loveseat knowing Dean would not want to stray far from his little brother.
"Hey guys," they both look up at me. "I can barely keep my eyes open; I think I'm going to call it a night."
Two heads bobs at once.
"Goodnight Kayla, see you in the morning." Sam says with a half-smile.
"Just lock up when you guys finally shut down. I'm thinking pancakes for breakfast."
The "All right!" that I get from Dean is worth all the exhaustion in the world as a soft chuckle escapes my lips and I make my way upstairs.
I run the water hot. Like 'cooking me like a lobster' hot. And it hurts, but it's the good kind of pain, the type that pounds my shoulder back into to feeling somewhat normal. The water cascades down on my face and erases the remaining traces of my sorrow. If only the rest of my disquiet would follow the path my tears had taken, leaving my soul as shiny and new feeling as my rapidly reddening skin. The soap rinses the blood from my hands, stubborn bits clinging to the underside of my nails. I've never held someone while their blood ran onto my fingers before, never shot a gun, never kissed someone on a whim, never invited not one, but two strange men into my life, never knew that things would get this complicated when I woke up to green eyes in the hospital.
I opt for a pair of boxers with smiley faces on it and a fitted blank tank for sleep clothes tonight. It is still the middle of August in Clovis and the summer heat hasn't let up at all. I'm incredibly proud of the fact that when I go to cross to my room and Dean is standing by the door I don't even jump...much.
He laughs a low rumble in the otherwise silent area. "You'd think you aren't used to strange men waiting outside your door."
I flash him a smirk. "Up until a couple of days ago I wasn't."
"Touché."
"Is Sam okay?" Because why else would he just be waiting for me?
"Yeah, he's fine."
"Okay," I start, folding my arms across my chest before I lean up on the wall next to him. "What's up?"
His face tilts away from mine. It takes a minute for him to speak again.
"I'm just...not good at this okay?" he huffs.
Good at what? Speaking, breathing, looking that good with seemingly no effort? All points I would like to argue.
He is just his t-shirt now, golden amulet glinting in the moonlight, his face conveys something I have never seen on him before. I realize with an internal gasp that his clothes are not the only thing he has shed. He looks open, and if I'm being completely honest, terrified.
I want to tease him; it's so much easier than what is in his eyes right now. But I don't, I ask instead in a voice much too quiet to be my own. "Good at what?"
He sucks on his teeth for just a moment as if testing the taste of the words he is about to say. "Giving a damn." He turns to face me.
"About what?" I still am not getting what he is trying to tell me.
"Everything, anything, except for Sam. Ever since my..." he breaks off, acutely aware of what he is about to tell me.
"Why are you telling me this?" It's the wrong thing to say and I regret it immediately as his face shuts down, his eyes shuttering back to detachment.
Foot meet mouth, mouth foot, I believe you're old friends.
"Forget it." he grumbles as he shoves off of the wall and moves away from me.
"Wait, I didn't," my hand cups his arm this time; the shock from the contact is electric. "I'm not good at it either." I mumble and to my surprise he laughs at that.
"You're kidding me right? You've been mama bear ever since we showed up here."
"I've had practice, taking care of Bailey. I know how to do the older sibling thing, it's the..." I gesture to the space between me and him and hope I'm not reading all the signs wrong. "Thing that I have trouble with."
Dean shakes his head slowly. "Man, we sure got issues."
"A mountain's worth." I agree.
I can see another life playing out before my eyes in that moment. Dean teasing me about liking romantic comedies, me kissing his football injuries better, Sam being a close friend, Bailey liking Dean, but thinking he is a little bit of an ass, because he is. Mom and Dad having a soft spot for the Winchesters and inviting them over for dinner, me waking up to a text from him, him laughing as I trip over something before checking to see if I am okay, but it's another life. Not mine.
He clears his throat, jolting me back to reality, his eyes scan my face as he tries to read the emotions on it.
I smile sheepishly, skirting around him to get in front of my door as I take the knob in one hand and turn my body back towards him.
"Well it's been a long night and I'm going to turn in. Big day tomorrow, fighting monsters."
"Yeah, no rest for the wicked." he takes a step closer to me and my whole body tightens in anticipation.
"Right, work, work, work." I twist the doorknob and begin to pull into my room a foot at a time. I blink and then he is there, his form casting a shadow on me as I look up into eyes that are as stormy as the expression on his face.
"Sleep tight Kayla."
"You too Dean. Sweet dreams." he turns to leave and takes two steps away from me before whirling back around.
"Dean?" I question, taken aback by the intensity of his eyes.
"Ah screw it." he growls as traps me up against the door jamb, his hand splayed against the small of my back.
I have just enough time to open my mouth to inquire what is going on before his lips descend on mine.
It's not violent or passionate or any of the other half a dozen adjectives I would have used when thinking of this moment, it's intimate and calm and feels a lot like what we shared in the kitchen. My body is just catching up to what is going on and I am rising on my toes to be able to reciprocate the kiss when he pulls away. He pushes my glasses back to their rightful resting place on the bridge of my nose, his eyes downcast as he does it.
"Night Kayla." he says curtly before he hurries down the stairs.
Color me confused, what the hell was that about?
Waking up is a little bit of a shock to my system, phantom pain still hangs onto all my limbs even though everything is mostly healed. I have to remind myself that I'm not bleeding out on my side and that my shoulder is not yanked all way to the front of my body. As I coax myself out of bed I wonder what Bailey wants for breakfast and is it a school day I haven't been keeping track, before the last four days falls into place in my head.
Not Bailey, Sam and Dean, not a school day, another day on the case.
When I get to the top of the stairs and am about to go down them quietly to start making breakfast I hear Dean talking softly. I peek over the railing. Dean's hair is sleep tousled and Sam is still asleep. Who is he talking to then? Himself? God? Something tells me Dean isn't a fan of the big guy upstairs, I lean a little closing to the railing, hoping to catch what he is saying.
I'm only human and after the abrupt end to our kiss last night I am dying for some details...
I can hear Deans' voice, pitched low.
"Man, we are so in over our heads." There is a shuffle of sound as he readjusts in his chair I assume.
"Dad didn't really give details of the Tascona he tracked, but I was there when it happened Sam. Dad got his ass kicked, I just wanted to let you know in case you..." he breaks off and I can just see his hand skim the top of his head. "I don't want you to feel bad you big girl." he gruffly says.
I wonder if the only time he is ever this open with Sam is when the younger Winchester is unconscious. Knowing Dean, probably. I lean my head against the railing, and wait for him to speak again.
"I hope we catch this damn thing Sammy. The sooner we get it the sooner we can put this town in our rearview." A heavy sigh. "We need to get out of here; this flipping place is driving me crazy." He says it low and everything in me stands on edge at the statement.
So that is what last night was all about? Why he ran away so fast? Couldn't wait to get out of here… Fine then, fuck him.
I lift myself from the floor and trot down the stairs. Heightened senses that the asshole has, he watches me from the first step I take. I breeze past him and Sam muttering a harsh "good morning" and go into the kitchen.
The bastard follows me in, dumb move.
"Hey Kayla, did you sleep well?"
Pleasantries, whoo- fucking- hoo.
"Just fine and you?" Big fake smile.
"Um...good." he looks unsure of how to proceed.
"Good. That's great!" I turn my back to him and dig a pan out of the cupboard.
"Yeah great." he mutters and I can almost see his face working as he tries to figure out what to say.
Save your breath you son of a bitch, I don't want to hear it.
"Dean?" Saved by Sammy, thank God for that overgrown boy.
Dean hesitates for a minute at my back before moving back to his brother.
Good, I don't have much of an appetite for bullshit today.
The pancakes are good, I think. I don't really know, I'm pissed so they just go down the hole, Sam looks happy though, and Dean, well he jumps when I drop the plate in front of him. Did he kiss me last night just to see if I had any feelings for him? Was it a test? One I had failed miserably? Because every girl wants to be kissed breathless and then left with a boatload of questions.
I must look agitated because Sam speaks up after another bite of his pancakes. "Is everything okay Kayla?"
Dean leans forward with a look that says 'yeah because I'd like to know.'
YOU'D like to know? Sure, I shouldn't have listened in, I have no one to blame for my current shitty mood but myself. Despite all that, I can't lie about how deep his comment has cut me.
Get out of this town, get away from me...they seem to go hand in hand in my mind.
"Yeah. Fine." I assure the brunette across from me.
He and Dean share a look of perplexity before shrugging their shoulders with a look that says 'Women.'
I desperately wish Bailey was there to counter back with the look that said 'Men.'
I take the quickest shower on God's green earth, not willing to give myself the down time to think about all my problems. A wrinkled hard rock café t shirt and a pair of jeans with flip flops is my outfit choice for the day. I do however shove my favorite pick earrings into my ears before I stomp back the stairs, hair free and wild about my face. Hairbrush be damned.
Dean watches me as I cross to the table, with something bordering on lust in his eyes, but when I turn to meet his gaze he moves far away from me, and when ten seconds later he looks back he is met head on by my heated glare.
Dean stays away from me after that, purposely sitting or standing as far away as possible. Sam notices, but thankful doesn't bring it up, at least not to me. Smart kid.
Maybe I am blowing things out of proportion; maybe I am letting my temper get the better of me but after my significant other had left me in a flash my heart turned a little cold.
Not to mention that between the bickering, brotherly connection, blood, and battles, I had started to like him. Just a little bit.
Deans' knowledge on how to not rile up a pissed off animal or maybe a previous encounter with someone of the female persuasion has him talking at me and not to me. And by the middle of the day I can feel my rage dissipate, giving way to disappointment and regret.
It is another day of research, the three of us monotonously sift through pages that have the same maddening information and when I turn to a book that shows just how savagely the Tascona eats its sacrificial victims I almost lose my breakfast.
Okay enough of this.
I stand, slamming the book shut in the process as the Winchester boys look up at me. I can't quite tell if it is fear or amusement that sparks in their eyes as I tear a rubber band from my arm and throw my hair up.
I am going a little bit out of my mind thinking of Bailey in the clutches of evil and I'm…not getting any closer to anything useful with every thick tome I thumb through. My sanity is hanging on by its nails. I need to get away, and since locking myself in my room seems both childish and useless (the boys will still be downstairs waiting for me to come to my senses) fleeing to my car seems like the next best thing.
"I'm going out." I state.
If they were dogs and not boys their ears would have literally perked up on the top of their heads.
"Where are you going?" Dean inquires. He tries to look nonchalant and to my surprise, fails.
Sam just looks interested as he waits for my answer.
"For a drive." I shoot back as I reach for my purse.
They both stand up, looking unsure of what to do.
Figures. Demons, monsters, ghosts, mortal danger those things they could deal with. But toss one pissed off, overly tired, worried woman at them and these hunters look like I am the most terrifying thing they have ever seen.
I force a breath out though my teeth and slow my feet as I turn back to them. They look like little boys about to be chastised.
I give.
"I'll be back in a little while, I just need to clear my head," I pause while waving my cell at them. "Call me if you need me, or need me to get anything."
Their stances soften as they look from me to each other and then sink back into their seats.
I just shake my head with a small smile, casting one last glance back at them before going out the door.
Up next: Plot, peril and more of that snarky pistol Kayla you have come to know and love.