That Never Really Had A Name:

I was curled up on the couch with an oversized fleece blanket wrapped tightly around my crossed legs while I continued reading in the den in virtual darkness. It was a rare occasion for me to have the house all to myself without there being any outstanding research or homework waiting for me to finish, so I took this opportunity to get caught up on some recreational reading instead. I of course made sure to keep the land line and my cell phone close by in case my Mum called and needed any help with research for the case than she was currently working with my dad. Despite his numerous protests I knew that no hunter worth their salt would be surprised if their job took an unexpected turn and might need someone at home that could help to shed some light on their situation.

My Mum had tried to talk me into going on this hunt with them, but tensions were still extremely, uncomfortably high between my father and I, so I declined… Emphatically, numerous times when she and I were alone. I figured that it would be best if they worked this job on their own since I was still trying to readjust to living at home again after being away for months while I awaited the inevitable time where I gave birth to my first child. My dad seemed to be more than excited to head out (alone) with my Mum and I was praying that if they were solo and everything went well on this hunt that things would be less stressful between us all.

It was getting so dark that I was forced to turn on a lamp beside the couch so that I could see the smallish type face on the pages of my novel. Since my parents had just headed out that morning for this current job, I wasn't too worried about getting into trouble like I had in the past from my dad for falling asleep on the den's couch and I soon found myself laying down across the cushions to use the arm of the chesterfield as a pillow. As soon as I was laying down flat, my book was completely forgotten and I let it fall to the floor so that I could pull my blanket up to my chin up to my chin in an attempt to get even more comfortable.

Reluctantly I released my hold on my blanket to reach up and turn off the light in order to actually fall asleep, but I froze mid-motion when I heard a loud and deliberate THUMP at the kitchen door. I then very carefully reached under the couch for the shotgun that I had stashed there earlier in the day just in case anything unexpected happened before my parents got back home.

My house was thankfully completely shrouded in a black darkness so that I could move easily through the main floor rooms undetected. As I approached the backdoor, I stole a glance out of the kitchen window and could just barely make out that there was now another vehicle that did not belong in my yard parked beside my GTO. Between the night having fallen and the dark color of whatever vehicle was not out there, I couldn't tell if it should be familiar to me or not, so I continued to proceed towards the backdoor while using the same extreme caution that I was taught to use if it was a foe that was near my door.

I crouched down so that I was below eye level of the door knob while I strained to listen for any other noises outside because I hadn't hear anything since the initial THUMP that had awoken me initially and I wanted to make sure I wasn't just hearing things during my first stay home alone in years. As I strained to listen for any other sounds on the steps, I jumped slightly when I heard a painfully distinct knock on the door. Since it wasn't likely that someone, or something, that wanted to shoot any of us through the door to take us out would knock first, I stood up (much to my knees relief) to peer through the window near the top of the door.

Whomever was standing on the other side of the door was slumped over so much that I couldn't only see the top of his head. While I tried to get a glimpse of him he knocked again and then I just barely made out a muffled and frustrated, "Come on… I saw your car…"

Even after he spoke I couldn't quite tell who it was, so I didn't feel comfortable opening the door as I finally called out, "Who's there?"

"Addy?" He replied sounding somewhat surprised. "Come on Addy… Open the door."

Now that he had spoken more clearly I knew exactly who it was standing on my doorstep and I immediately felt beyond annoyed at him for thinking that he could order me around in my own home as easily as he did on the road so I petulantly called out, "Sorry but you didn't answer my question so I'm no opening this door yet!"

"Adelaide…" He answered with an annoyed growl. I held my ground and then I heard him say almost begrudgingly, "Addy… It's John… John…"

I cracked opened the door before he could say "Winchester" without lowering my shotgun and for some reason automatically announced, "Mum and Dad aren't here."

John just scowled in confusion at my announcement without actually saying anything else. I slowly opened the door a little bit wider and then I finally noticed that he looked like he was in pain which actually (in my mind) did explain why he had previously been nearly doubled over at my door just a few minutes ago. I quickly slipped my shotgun onto the bench of the coat rack behind the door so that I could lurch forward to catch John when it looked like he was starting to sway so bad that he might fall back down the stairs.

John visibly winced when my right hand hit his chest as I slipped my left arm under his right arm pit causing me to worriedly ask, "John are you okay? What happened?"

Miraculously he let me be his crutch as I helped him to a chair at the kitchen table without any protests. Once he was seated he tried to give me a strong smile as he replied, "It's nothing for you to worry yourself about Addy. I'll be fine."

I gently touched a spot on his chest with my index finger where I saw a blood stain blossoming through his undershirt as I replied with a very serious tone, "Blood isn't something that I can just ignore John."

His eyes snapped down to where I was pointing and when he saw what I had referenced he sighed out a frustrated, "Shit" under his breath.

John started to strip off his jacket and plaid over shirt, so I rushed into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid supplies. By the time I got back into the room, John had stripped off all of his layers and was starting to work at peeling back the tape around the perimeter of the blood soaked gauze on his upper right chest. I dropped everything in my hands on the island so that I could try to stop John for starting to work on his wound on his own but I got detoured as I scooped up his t-shirt to soak it in the laundry room.

I tried to move as quickly as I could to start the work to remove the stain so that I could get back to John's side. I wasn't surprised to find John struggling to get to his feet to make his way to the island when I got back into the kitchen.

"JOHN!" I shouted when he started to strain to reach the island with his left hand. He paused mid-reach to glare at me so I gave him a cheeky smile as I said, "My house, my rules, so sit your ass down and behave or…"

As he sat back down John quirked a questioning eyebrow at my idle threat with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I blushed darkly and then I finished my statement with my eyes securely trained on the supplies I was picking up, "Or I won't give you any dessert after dinner."

My comment elicited a deep chuckle from my new patient and that movement of his chest caused John to cringe slightly in pain. I felt my face fall into a sad frown, but I immediately forced myself to somber my expression before he could see my face. It was going to be tough enough for me to get him to sit still while I tended to his wound, so I didn't want to give him any reason what so ever to protest and me looking like I was pitying him would definitely cause him to raise a few objections and he might even try to mend himself on his own again.

The gauze he had taped to his chest was nearly dripping with blood by the time I was able to peel it off his skin and I couldn't help but ask, "Geez what the hell happened to you John?"

He tried to shrug as he replied, "I got the bullet out."

I paused while cleaning the now revealed wound and just stared at him for a couple of breaths. He gently gripped one of my hands and started to extract the cloth I was holding as he said, "It was too awkward for me to stitch it myself before, but I can see that you not really up for the task so…"

"No," I interrupted snatching my hand out of his grasp. "I'm up for the challenge. I was just a little shocked that you didn't pass out or anything worse while you were driving here. It's pretty risky operating heavy machinery with an injury like this you know."

"I know," John answered with an annoyed growl. "But I didn't and I made it here so I guess that that must mean that I might actually know what I'm doing or something, huh?"

I just shook my head, but I kept any further commentary on that subject to myself by biting my bottom lip hard. John Winchester lived by his own set of rules and my scolding him would only result in us fighting while I tried to stitch the still bleeding hole in his chest closed, so I just let the subject drop to focus on the task at hand.

As I turned my back to John and moved towards the kitchen island I asked, "So do you need any anesthetics or am I good to jump right in and start now?"

He remained silent while I plucked out the tools I would need for this job with my back still facing him. I kept my eyes on my hands until I got back to where I had been standing in front of him previously, but then I only raised my eyes so that I could place everything in my hands on the table top. John continued his selective muteism to watch me while I opened a couple of packages and lined everything up in the order that I thought I would be using them. He then suddenly grabbed my right hand in an almost uncomfortable grip.

"Where did you get all of this Adelaide?" John nearly snapped when I tried to pull my hand out of his hold without acknowledging his question in any way. When he finally noticed that I wasn't going to answer him, John squeezed my hand tightly and added some severity to his tone as he demanded, "Adelaide?"

I flinched slightly as I finally replied, "An ER doctor left me alone in a suture room a little while ago, so I pocketed some supplies. It just seems safer to me to use sterilized materials from a hospital when I can than it is to try to do it ourselves all of the time." I paused and took in a deep breath to try to force myself to keep my tone as calm and neutral as possible. "If you keep squeezing my hand like that, you're liable to break it and then you'll be back to square one and will have to stitch yourself up." He quickly released his hold on me without even so much of a noise of contrition. "And you didn't answer my question… Should I just dive in or do you want me to grab you something from the liquor cabinet first?"

John relaxed back in his chair and then nodded at the now open medical tools answering, "It isn't all that big, so just go on ahead and start."

Without saying another word, I put on a pair of latex gloves and cleaned the wound again. I had tried to pay close attention whenever I was being stitched or had the chance to watch when my Mum was a patient, so I felt fairly confident in my abilities to stitch other people's wounds with the same ease as any classically trained doctor, even if I hadn't had a chance to prove that ability to anyone just yet. John managed not to move while I worked, but he did let out a few quiet grunts of pain to which I whispered apologies without so much of a thought of pausing my hand.

When I was done, I cleaned any lingering traces of blood from his skin, but I didn't make any attempts to cover the wound again. Although it had been a while since I had had a chance to work a job with John, I still knew that he would want to scrutinize my work, so I instead bagged up the garbage. I had had the foresight to bring a small mirror out of the bathroom with me and I passed it to John right after I had the glove removed from my right hand.

"Did you take a paramedic's course or something since the last time I saw you Addy?" He asked with the mildest hint of admiration in his voice.

I turned around to face him and replied with a soft chuckle, "No, no courses… I was a little too preoccupied to take any courses."

He looked up from bandaging his chest to give me a confused scowl. I stared at him while practically mirroring his expression. After a couple of incredibly awkward and uncomfortable minutes it finally dawned on me that he might not have remembered what I looked like the last time that he saw me in person. Of course my pregnancy had completely turned my world upside down for months, but even I was starting to feel all of those memories fading away since I had returned home after the adoption.

John's eyes drifted slowly down from my face to my abdomen where both of my hands had started to unconsciously stroke my shirt. I was still carrying a small amount of extra weight, but my Mum had kept me on a fairly strict diet during the months that I was living with my parents at their house, but Sister Mary Catherine was more than happy to spoil me with treats while I was at the convent. Aside from the odd job that I worked on my own, I also started an earnest work out regime that I actually stuck to more earnestly than I ever had in the past so that I could regain my old physique and stamina.

"Pre-… Oh… OH! Right," John mumbled as realization hit him. "I… Umm… I almost forgot"

I smiled sympathetically and shrugged saying, "I sometimes wish I could too… But no drama, it is what it is. So can I offer you a night cap?" He nodded softly while still looking a little shell shocked. I knew that I couldn't ask him if he was going to be alright, so I instead asked, "What's your poison? Mum and Dad have pretty much everything in stock… Scotch? Bourbon? Gin? Whiskey? Rum? Vodka?"

John's lips twitched into a small sly grin as he answered, "Why don't you surprise me?"

I just nodded then moved into the living room to get him his drink. When I got back into the kitchen John was working at buttoning his flannel shirt and I quickly told him in a mildly apologetic tone, "I should be able to get the blood out of your t-shirt for you… I mean… That's if you're going to stay the night and all… Unless you were planning on heading…"

"If you have a couch to spare, I wouldn't mind getting some shut eye," John interrupted when he realized that I was on the verge of starting to ramble.

"Couch?" I retorted humorously. "Come on Winchester, you know that we treat our guests better than that. The spare room upstairs is all made up and ready for you to use."

"Oh," he said with a soft scowl. "So does that mean…? Uh… You… I mean, so the uhh… The baby's sleeping in your room then?"

I shook my head and refilled his now empty glass. "No… Because like I told you before I didn't keep the baby…" He nearly choked on his mouthful of liquid causing me to chuckle as I added, "No… Not like that John. Geez… I found a lovely couple who were more than happy to adopt him because they have always wanted to be parents. But enough about all of that… You need to rest and don't need to worry about things that have already been taken care of."

He quickly finished his drink with an absentminded nod. I left the bottle and his glass on the kitchen counter and then followed closely behind John just in case his coordination was off in the slightest from the trauma and its inevitable blood loss. Well the blood loss and the fact that I wasn't sure when he had had his last meal so I wasn't sure how hard the alcohol was going to hit him. Once again I was surprised that John allowed me to help him onto the bed and didn't try to stop me when I started to work at untying his boots.

Once his second boot was off his foot, John started to undo his flannel shirt once again, so I jumped up to my feet saying in a rushed, embarrassed tone, "You didn't have your bag with you… Is it still in your truck?" I just barely caught a glimpse of him nodding so I quickly added, "And keys are in your jacket?"

"Yeah," he replied sounding like he was on the verge of falling asleep.

By the time that I got back to the room, John had stripped himself down to just his boxers and was completely passed out on the bed. I placed his duffle bag at the foot of the bed, making sure to keep it out of any path that he might take to leave the room. He was sprawled out face down and was shivering slightly, so I hanged his jacked over the foot post of the bed frame so that I could pull the covers up and over his shoulders.

I wasn't naïve enough to think that John's shivering was solely caused by him possibly being cold, so I tried to make myself comfortable in a chair by the foot of the bed to watch him while he slept. My fear was that he had made it to our house too late and that an infection was trying to set in, which was something that I wasn't completely prepared to deal with right now. As stupid as it made me feel to admit, I knew that if John's condition took a turn for the worse that I would really need my Mum to be here to save the day. That thought caused tears to blossom in my eyes and I nearly got up from my post where I was watching John settle under the covers in a restless sleep to call my Mum when I heard his phone ringing in his jacket pocket.

Since John seemed to actually be sleeping, I instinctively pulled his phone out of his jacket's pocket and answered it so that it wouldn't wake him to hear a petulant, "Dad? Dad? Are you there?"

The voice didn't sound at all familiar so I figured that it must be Sam and not Dean calling so I replied, "Sorry kiddo, he's sleeping… And before you ask, no I'm not going to wake him up. He really needs to get some rest right now."

"He…" Sam sucked in a breath and then more confidently stated, "And why should I trust your opinion? I don't even know who you or where he is!"

I don't know what came over me, but suddenly I found myself trying to mimic my mother's tone as I replied, "You're right Sammy you don't know me or my family at all, but your father and brother do… Now I'm guessing that if your dad was working a job this risky on his own that he left Dean at the motel with you and I'd hazard a guess that your brother is the reason that you chanced making this call to your old man… Right? Dean's being a pain in the ass and you wanted your dad to do something about it? So… Okay… He's… I mean Dean's probably close by so let him know that John made it to Iowa and that he's at the Jones' right now."

Sam let out a quiet snort of laughter which told me that my statement was beyond accurate and then he had a muffled conversation with someone that I could only assume was his older brother. If I hadn't been absolutely sure that it was Dean with whom he was speaking, I got my confirmation when I heard Sam almost hesitantly ask, "And which Jones would you be?"

After a loud indignant sigh I replied, "Tell that wanker brother of yours that it's Victoria, so you have nothing to worry about and everything is ace… Well it will be after your old man has a good night's sleep."

"Victoria you say," Sam said in a tone that I could tell was an obvious ploy to tell his brother who was on the other line while attempting to actually be inconspicuous about it.

Before I could utter any other reassuring words, I heard a slight scuffle and then I heard Dean's voice lowly saying, "Vicki? Hey it's me, Dean. Thanks for taking Dad in, Sammy's been worrying since he missed his last check in, so Sam should be good now…" He paused for a moment to take in a deep breath as I hummed out a sound to the affirmative. "Okay Vicki Sammy's all settled doing his homework now so you can give it to me straight… How bad is dad? How long do you think he should be riding the pine? What was it that got him?"

"Oh…" I started nervously while trying once again to find my Mum's voice in my head. I had imitated her tone of voice a few times in the past with school officials and other hunters but there was something about Dean putting so much faith in her opinion that it me it difficult for me to speak at all. As soon as I felt like I could actually impersonate her voice convincingly I replied in a rushed sentence, "Just a minor GSW. John shouldn't be laid up too long."

"Good… That's good…" Dean replied with a thoughtful tone. He suddenly paused there and I could almost see him checking over his shoulder to make sure that Sam wasn't paying attention to him as he as he asked just over a whisper, "Vicki…? I know you said that I should just let her go and move on, but… Umm… How's Lay doing? Is she helping you with dad? I know she's been… Well she used to seem pretty keen on working on her first aid skills and all… And she was pretty good with a needle…"

Before I could stop myself I let out a soft sob and felt completely choked up by his thoughtfulness. I cleared my throat and didn't really pay attention to the tone I was using because speaking at all was a bit of a struggle with the lump that was forming in my throat as I replied, "Dean… I…"

"Lay?" He questioned a bit louder than I'm sure he meant to because of his surprise. "Uh… Addy? Is that you?"

I awoke with a start after yet another crash of thunder caused the window of my motel to rattle. As I laid back down and tried to settle under the covers again I couldn't help but think Damnedable Winchester!

Since Dean and Sam had rescued me from that Shojo in Kansas (and kept me from having any nasty consequences from becoming overly intoxicated that night), I had had some disturbing dreams practically every night. Lately they were getting even worse and forced me to remember things that I had worked hard over the years to forget or at least suppress deep down so that those memories and the feelings that came with them wouldn't be able to find me easily. Tonight for some reason the dreams were so vivid that I had awoken in a panicked cold sweat and had to force myself not to pick up the phone and call Dean to comfort me like I had so many other times. He wasn't that man in my life anymore and yet while I tried to ignore the sounds of the violent storm outside so that I could fall asleep, I wasn't sure my resolve to keep him out of my life was as strong as I tried to convince myself that it was.