Zoë pulls over and enters the parking lot of Motel 6. Thunder still rumbles in the distance, as if the thunderstorm can't get passed. A red glow colors the horizon in the East; the sun will rise within an hour or so. As she puts her bike on the centerstand, Deans black Chevy is parked next to her. Sam gets out of the car and walks around to help Dean, but he already manages toget out, muddling that he can do it himself. The brothers walk up to the entrance, Zoë follows, keeping a sharp eye. But when she glances at Dean who keeps a tight grip on his shoulder as he stumbles towards the door, she sighs annoyed. She walks up to him and smacks her hand against his wounded shoulder.
"AAH! You b…", he cries out, but she intervenes.
"Don't you dare call me that, or it will be your face my hand hits", she warns.
"What is your problem?", he spits with lowered voice.
"You're acting like your already seeing the white light. Stand up straight, let go of your shoulder and stay behind your brother, understand?", she snipes and lays her hand on the door handle.
"Yes Mother", he responds with a tone.
"Shut up, don't make a scene, okay?", she orders.
"Do you have any idea how much this hurts? Probably not, since you're an amateur", Dean lets go of his shoulder and shrugs.
"As a matter of fact, I know exactly how much it hurts. But I have a question for you, Dean", she turns around and walks up to him, halting right in front of his face. "I believe I was the one you didn't see coming inside that house, I was the one who shot you and not the other way around. So tell me; who's the amateur here?"
She gives him a deep penetrating look and then goes back at the door, whipping her hair round as she turns. Dean grinds and watches her enter the lobby. Sam follows with his lips pressed together, trying not to laugh, but when his brother notices anyway and gives him a push in the back. The door closes behind them just as the thunder roars louder than it has all night. Dean, although not amused, does as told and stays in the shadowof his brother, so that the man behind the counter doesn't notice his injury. Again the old man looks up from his magazine. He hasn't done much, because the paper wraps and the beer bottle still remain on the desk. He did have coffee though, probably to get through the boring night.
"Well, at least I'm not just sitting here to become part of the furniture, thanks to you, Mrs. Johnson", he comments, as it's the third time this night that she enters the motel.
"Last time it will happen tonight", she promises as she halts for a moment by the counter.
"That's an easy one to keep, considering it's morning", he responds with a tone.
"Tell me 'bout it", Zoë yawns and continues her way to her room.
Sam clears his throat loudly and Zoë looks over her shoulder, when she realize she's forgetting something.
"Oh, right. These are collogues of mine, they need a room", she adds.
"Sorry, no can do", the manager shakes his head and turns the page.
She halts and turns around, as both Sam and Dean await an explanation with a confused look upon their faces.
"Why not?", Sam asks.
"Lots of folks coming for that Texas Holdem' Poker Tournament this weekend, I'm fully booked", the old man explains.
"Great…", Dean rolls his eyes.
Sam sighs and glances at Zoë, but she doesn't blink.
"I guess we have to find ourselves another motel then", he concludes and intends to turn around.
"Good luck with that, but I believe most of the motels are pretty much booked too, I think your best option is to take a few hours sleep in your car", the manager advises, without looking up from his magazine.
"Well, you heard the man, good luck with that", Zoë quickly turns around and walks on.
"Wait a minute, Zo", the oldest of the two brothers steps towards her, as Sam tries to talk to the manager.
"Sir, isn't there some sort of arrangement we can make here? Me and my brother, we're road tripping and we haven't seen a decent bed for weeks", Sam's words are calm and friendly.
The manager stands up and leans on the counter, biting on the plastic spoon from his empty coffee container, thinking for some kind of option.
"I have no rooms left, but I tell you what", he turns over to Zoë en Dean, who are arguing down the hallway.
"Room 82 has a double bed and a couch, if Mrs. Johnson doesn't mind, I will allow you two to spend the night without any extra payment", he suggests while looking at the owner of the room.
"What? Like… share?", she asks with a bit of disgust in her voice.
"That's what social people do", Dean whispers at her.
She glares at him and over at Sam, who looks at her with begging eyes. She sighs and glances back at Dean. He hints at his shoulder; the blood is coming through his leather coat. She can't let him sleep in the car, he needs to be treated. Rejecting them would be absolutely cruel and although she doesn't like Dean's attitude, she was the one who did this to him. Then she rolls her eyes and nods approving.
"Alright then, that's settled. Now I don't want any trouble, this is off the books, so if anything occurs…", the manager warns them, as he sits back into his chair.
"We understand, thanks very much", Sam gives him a thankful smile before he joins up with his brother and Zoë.
The three of them walk through the hallway together, but as soon as they are around the corner, she smacks Sam.
"Hey!", Sam puts his arm up in defense.
"Why do you think I let you walk in the middle?", Dean comments.
"What were you thinking!", she spits with lowered voice.
"Don't worry about it, I'll sleep on the couch", Sam offers.
"And let him sleep next to me? Not in a million years", she glares at Dean and gives Sam a penetrating look afterwards, as she takes out her key.
"What a bummer", Dean reacts with a tone, but Zoë can't tell if his words are sarcastic or not.
To be honest, she doesn't give a crap what he means by it. They walk into the room and Zoë switches on the lights, but before she can turn around, Dean has crashed on her bed.
"Get off", she commands.
"I'm actually quite comfortable", he nags.
"You are laying on my research", she persists.
Dean is about to start another argument with her, but Sam interrupts them.
"Is that what I think it is?", with wide open eyes he walks towards the bed and kneels next to it, staring at Zoë's Macbook.
"The Macbook Pro, careful with that", she warns hesitating when he picks it up.
"250 GB and 4 GB of RAM. Wow, this is amazing", the icons enlarge on the screen enlarge as he moves the mouse over the menu bar.
"That's not it, it has new Intel Core 2 Duo processors, speeds up to 2.6GHz, the whole shebang", she walks over to Sam and with a few quick finger moves an entire database pops up.
"Everything I found on anything supernatural, right there", she tells, slightly proud.
"This is sweet", Sam eyes sparkle as he scrolls through the wiki.
"She's worth the money, I tell ya", Zoë ensures, looking over Sam's shoulder.
A short silence follows, it's just now that Zoë notices the fact that Dean hasn't said a word for at least 20 seconds. Sam must have been thinking the same thing, because at the exact same time, both she and the youngest Winchester look upat Dean, who just stares at them puzzled.
"Oh God, this is Revenge of the Nerds 5, isn't it?", Dean says frightened.
Frustrated Zoë glances at Sam, as if she expects him to correct his brother, but he shrugs.
"Dean…", he sighs.
"What? I'm tired, hungry, my shoulder hurts like hell and all you can talk about is a damn computer. I just wanna have a whole bunch of painkillers andget some sleep", he falls down on the bed, staring at the sealing.
"Do me a favor and take the entire bottle, but you're sleeping on the couch or on the ground", she decides, turning back at Sam. "You two figure out who sleeps where".
Annoyed she lays down her helmet on the table and takes of her biker jacket, which she hangs to dry on the back of the chair. Dean eye catches the briefcase on the table and swallows apprehensively as he beholds what's inside. Sam puts down the Macbook next to him on the bed and observes Zoë, who cleans her equipment efficiently, then he glances over at Dean.
"You know, it just occurred to me…", Sam clears his throat and puts his hands together as he leans forward. "You never answered my question".
"What question?", Zoë doesn't even look up, apparently not interested.
"How did you two meet?", Sam asks curious.
Before she even says a word, Zoë looks up at Dean. She sighs, clearly she doesn't wanna answer that. Dean keeps watching her with a questioning look in his eyes. She nods approving; he can tell him.
"Zo was a case, about five years ago when you were still in school", Dean starts off.
"A case?", stunned Sam glances from Dean to Zoë.
"She was possessed by a Diligo Vesco demon. Nasty son of a bitch, believe me", he explains.
"Diligo Vesco… Don't they feed on the loved ones of their victim?", Sam checks with them.
"Yep", Zoë answers shortly, obviously not glad about the fact that she's the subject of this conversation.
"We hung out a bit while Dad was working the case, he took care of it", Dean tells, while Zoë gets up.
She walks over to the kitchen cabinets and opens one.
"Crap", she curses, looking inside.
"Now what?", Dean, who just wants to get this day over with, sighs annoyed.
"I'm out of whiskey", she declares, closing the cabinet doors.
"Well, I don't know 'bout you, but a beer will do it at this hour", he comments.
"Not to drink, moron", she places her hands in her side and watches him. "To fix you up".
"Right…", he clears his throat, but then suddenly realizes what she's saying. "Wait, you're gonna fix me up?"
She can read the doubt in his facial expression, even though he tries to hide it. Before she can answer his question, Sam intervenes.
"I can patch him up if you wanna get some sleep", he offers.
"Can you stitch up an axillary vein? Because I blasted his into oblivion", she responds with an attitude.
"No, can you?", Sam returns her question.
"She can, annoyingly enough", Dean answers before Zoë can. "She studied meds".
Sam looks at her surprised. Clearly he didn't expect Zoë to have the brains, but apparently she's a lot smarter than he thinks.
"You're a med student?", he asks stunned.
"Was", she corrects shortly, walking to the bathroom to get a wet towel.
"Sam, do your brother a favor. Go down the 52 into Rochester and take the first right. You'll find an Apollo Liquor store on 55th Street".
"Got it", Sam needs no further explanation and heads for the door.
"Johnny Walker", she adds.
"Make that two in that case", Deans eyes light up."And while you're at it, bring me a cheeseburger, extra onions.
"Make that two too", Zoë's hollow voice sounds from the bathroom, but then she walks out."There's a Wendy's around the corner", she nods in the direction of the fast food restaurant.
"Anything else?", Sam sighs, as he glares at them both.
"Yeah, I'd like fries with that, and if you deliver within 10 minutes, I'll pass you some extra tip", she answers smartly, not appreciating his attitude.
Dean smirks, Sam shakes his head and leaves the room muddling. When the door slams, he leaves what should be an awkward silence, but Zoë doesn't even feel a bit uncomfortable; clearly she's not impressed. Without a word she walks to the bed and sees Dean's grin.
"What?", she asks, not understanding his expression.
"I have to say, you are way more of a smartass than you were back then", Dean notices about her when she sits down next to him with a wet towel in her hand.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, you're still the same smartass as you were back then", she bounces back. "Take off your shirt".
Dean looks at her sideways, a bit overwhelmed by the sudden order.
"Oh, don't get all awkward with me, it's not like we made out or anything", she pressures.
"Alright, but I normally don't do this until the second date", he takes off his shirt.
He moans as the fabric comes loose from his skin. Zoë feels his pain, although she won't admit it. His shoulder doesn't look so good, there's too much bleeding for a clean shot.
"I bet you tell that to all the girls", she responds to his earlier comment.
Without warning she presses the towel against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, letting it observe the blood. Dean swallows apprehensively and looks away, grinding his teeth. He feels uncomfortable.
"This is embarrassing", he muddles.
"And why is that?", she questions while she takes away the towel, flips it over and softly presses it against his shoulder again.
"I got my ass kicked by a girl and guess who's patching me up", he admits.
"True enough, I can see why your pride is damaged", she smirks.
"You are enjoying this, aren't ya?", he notices.
"A bit, yeah", she honestly answers. "But I'd rather be sleeping at this moment".
"That makes two of us", Dean groans and squints a few times, fighting the tiredness.
"You could have ended up far worse", she brings to notice.
"Dead perhaps? You won't get rid of me that easily", he grins.
"That's not what I meant", Zoë takes a closer look at the wound. "Sam might be the brains of you two, but he couldn't have fixed this".
He looks aside for a moment, examining her. She turned out quite nice, that Sullivan. Her long eyelashes curled up, dark brown hair hanging in front of her eyes, nice full lips. Her skin seems soft, but there's something about her that gives her a tough appearance. Lets put it this way; if he'd spot a girl like her in a bar, she would end up in his motel room. But not Zoë, there were more like distant friends, at least they were. Zoë changed.
"Thanks", Dean mumbles with difficulty.
Zoë glances at him, he looks down.
"Did Dean Winchester just thank me?", she smirks.
"Don't push it".
She chuckles.
"Here, hold this", she lays his hand on the towel still pressing his shoulder and gets up.
"It's way to quiet in here".
As she walks to the radio on the small table next to her bed, Dean checks her out and nods approving without her seeing it. Definitely. She would definitely had ended up in his motel room. She turns on the radio and the tunes of Heartbreaker by Led Zeppelin sound through it. A smile appears upon her face; she loves this song. With a swing in her walk she moves to the small kitchen and opens the fridge.
"Beer?"
He nods and she throws him a bottle. He lets go of the towel and skillfully catches his beer with one hand. Before Zoë opens hers, she searches the small fridge for something to eat. She bends forward to shove some cans and bottles aside in the back, fortunately for Dean.
"Dean, stop looking at my butt", she gives him a sudden piercing look as she closes the door.
"I wasn't…", he quickly looks away.
"Yes you were", with a grin she opens her beer bottle and takes a swig. "Like I said: you didn't change a bit".
He looks back at her, comparing the self-conscious girl he met seven years ago to the self-confident woman standing before him this then she was much more vulnerable, more open, or is this just a shell?
"You've changed".
His eyes are serious. It was only three weeks that she spent with him, but she knows these moments are rare for Dean Winchester. She keeps looking back at him, not knowing whether to smile or act differently. The guitar solo of the Led Zeppelin song sets in and gives an awkward feel to the moment, which Dean decides to break up.
"So…", he takes a look at the research on the bed behind him. "You're a hunter now".
"Looks like it", she responds shortly.
Again an unpleasant silence, the tones from the guitar strings echo through the room as Dean seeks for words.
"Funny though", Dean takes a swig from the bottle and continues. "Of all the girls I've met, you were about the last on earth I'd thought to become a hunter".
"I see things differently now, I guess", she thinks back of that time.
As she stares at the wall, her eyes change and become shallow. She doesn't think about that period of her life that often, at least she tries not to. The beat comes back into the song and immediately gives a different feel to the moment.
"Why this sudden change of carrier, if I may ask?", he looks up at her.
She snaps out of it and gives him a puzzled look.
"What, like being possessed by a demon wasn't enough?", she turns away and strolls through the room.
"No, most people would try to forget it ever happened and move on", he claims.
"Well I'm not like most people, am I?", she glares at him, suddenly irritated by the interrogation.
He makes her feel uncomfortable, obviously she doesn't want to talk about it, but Dean digs deeper.
"You used to be", Dean returns.
"People change, Dean. So did I", annoyed she sets down the beer bottle on the table with a loud bang and gives him a penetrating look.
Dean shuts up for a moment, carefully observing her reaction. He can tell that the fact that she was possessed by a Diligo Vesco demon, wasn't her main reason. There's more to this and she's not telling him.
"What happened?", he asks directly, but calm.
"Damn it, Dean! Would you just drop it?", she snipes, asthe door of room 82 opens.
Sam walks in and detects the tension between the two them. Dean keeps looking Zoë in the eye with an curious expression upon his face; he's not planning to let go. Zoë, on the other hand, stares back at him and doesn't need words to tell him to shut the hell up.
"Okay… awkward", Sam closes the door behind him and breaks the silence by holding up the bags. "I have booze and burgers".
"Ah good, I'm starving", Dean reaches out for the burger, but Zoë snatches it away.
"You're not eating anything till I'm done with you", she clears up, not amused.
"Ah come on!", Dean objects while she walks away with his food. "That's like dangling a bone before the eyes of a dog and tell it to get the paper first".
"Well, if that mud is anything like you", Zoë puts down the Wendy's bag on the table and turns back. "I would have absolutely no problem with that".
Pissed off Dean looks over at his brother and Sam has all the trouble to hide his smile. But Zoë doesn't think of herself as funny or smart, she just thinks she's right. Not giving Dean's glares any attention, she sits down next to him on the bed and pulls the chair that stood next to the wall closer, probably in position to set up her instruments. First she takes away the soaked through towel. Sam frowns when he sees the bullet wound, takes out the whiskey and places it on the chair.
"Good luck with that", he says, glad he's not the one going through it.
"Yeah thanks, bro", Dean comments sarcastic.
Zoë takes a serious look at his shoulder, making a unsatisfied sound with her mouth.
"Sam, get me some warm water and an empty glass", she orders without lifting her eyes.
"Yeah sure", Sam enters the kitchen.
Items shove in the sink cabin as Sam tries to find what Zoë asked for. The noises from the kitchen disturb the music on the radio, but also the silence between Dean and Zoë. He hesitates; shall he continue his questioning? He decides to wait, after all, she still has to patch him up. It's only now that he notices thatI Wanna Be Sedated by Social Distortion is playing on the radio; ironic. Sam comes back with a bucket of water, some new towels and an empty glass.
"I'll be honest with you", Zoë starts off. "This will hurt like absolute hell, but I need you to keep completely still".
She turns to Sam, who leans over against the wall and watches from a distance.
"Hand me over my medical kid, will ya?", she points at the metal briefcase still on the table.
"If this goes wrong", she gives Sam a serious look as she takes the opened briefcase and puts it down on the chair in front of her. "I need you to take him to the Mayo Clinic immediately. Got that?"
Sam nods, but seems worried.
"I thought you said it was 'just' a flesh wound?", he recalls.
"Yeah, I lied".
Zoë takes out the instruments she needs as the boys look at each other, Sam even more worried, Dean even more frightened. Then she looks up; it's getting awfully quiet in here.
"What?", she asks puzzled.
"You lied?", Dean repeats.
"I had to say something to shut you up", she declares bored.
Again Dean looks over at Sam, his mouth half opened, unable to say something back. His brother lowers his hand with a penetrating look, in other words; shut up about it. Apparently Zoë thinks her answer is good enough and has no reason doubt herself, but Dean isn't so sure.
"You do know what you're doing, right?", Dean questions carefully as she takes a forceps in her left hand.
"Of course I know what I'm doing!", she snipes.
"Okay, okay…", Dean hushes.
But when he looks aside at his brother, Sam sees fear in his eyes, which is quite rare and even a bit amusing actually. He decides to jump in to help.
"Have you done this before?", he asks calmly, just before she starts on Dean's shoulder.
She stops, but doesn't look up at him; this time her reaction isn't as quick as usual. Sam and Dean wait for her to respond, but apparently she decides to ignore that question and intends to go to work. Dean pulls back, looking her straight in the eye.
"Before you stick that thing in my arm, answer the damn question", he demands.
"I did this before, happy?", she answers annoyed.
"On a human?"
Again silence. It's Sam who's on to her. His penetrating green eyes stare straight at her. After rolling her eyes, she sighs.
"On a dead pig, okay? What's the difference?", she snaps irritated.
"Hey!", Dean says insulted, until he realizes what she's actually saying. "Wow, wait… You're actually gonna do some difficult pros secure on me you've never done on a living human being before?"
"Something like that, yeah", she admits, not seeming even a bit worried. "But I know what I'm doing, you just have to trust me".
"Trust you?", Dean cries out. "You shot me!"
"Dean, calm down", Sam tries without much result.
"I am calm!", he argues, raising his voice even more.
"Hey assface!"
Zoë calls Dean back to reality, forcing him to face her.
"You listen to me now, Winchester. 'Cause I don't see another option here, unless you wanna end up in jail", she gives him a piercing glare.
"What do you care?", he returns.
She chuckles and stares at him stunned.
"You know, you're absolutely right! I don't give a damn".
Mad she gets up, puts back the forceps and the other instruments in the briefcase. She slams the lid and heads for the door.
"Zoë, come on. Wait a minute", Sam desperately tries to repair the damage.
"Nope, now get the hell out", she turns around and opens the door, holding it for them.
"What? You're kidding me right?", Dean says startled.
"Do I look like I'm kidding?", she returns the question, not amused.
"Okay, fine", Dean grabs his jacket and his shirt next to him and gets up, while Sam looks over from one to the other, a bit startled and completely helpless.
"Can't we talk about this, guys?", he tries.
"Nope", both Dean and Zoë answer at the same time.
Dean stumbles to the door, it's clear he isn't feeling well. But neither he or Zoë even flinch.
"Okay, this is ridiculous!", now it's Sam's turn to get mad.
Dean turns around and Zoë frowns; finally he has their attention.
"Listen to her, Dean", he claims.
"Oh what, you're on her side now?", Dean reacts insulted.
"That's not what this is about, damn it! There are no sides, we're all hunters and we have job to do. Fighting like cats and dogs isn't helping", Sam states. "She has a point. We're in Minnesota, remember?"
Dean needs a moment to think, but then remembers the case he and dad worked about on about a year ago, in Lafayette, a little over 100 miles west from here. The local police caught him with the victim of a poltergeist, they had a clear view of his face before he escaped. When they started digging, they found a list of scams, carjacking, robbery, suspect of several more crimes and now murder to top them all. If Dean walks into a hospital and is listed as a patient, it won't take long before the cops take him in.
"Crap", he curses, realizing Zoë's right; he has 'wanted' written all over him.
Sam looks over at the only woman in their company, who leans against the open door, her arms crossed in front of her.
"Can you fix him up?", he asks gently.
"Of course I can, I wouldn't get myself into things I couldn't handle", she answers annoyed.
He nods approving and looks deep into her eyes.
"Please", he begs. "I know you won't do this for him"…
"Obviously not", she interferes pissed, glaring at Dean.
"Then do this for me, please fix him up", Sam asks.
She watches Sam, still mad, but calming down. Dean realizes that for his best interests, he'd better shut up. Then she sighs and steps away from the door, which she closes.
"Cut if off with the puppy dog eyes, I'll do it", she muddles.
Dean slowly sits down on the bed while Zoë opens her briefcase again, getting out the things she need.
"Thanks, Zo", Sam says grateful, words that Dean couldn't possibly get out of his mouth at this time.
"Don't mention it", she says. "Ready?"
That last question is meant for Dean. He looks up at her as she takes his arm. She can see in his eyes he would've rather gone to the hospital and figure out a plan to bust out later, but at least he isn't saying it out loud. Considering it's Dean, that has to count for something.
"Alright", he nods. "But if you mess up, I'll kill ya".
She glares at him, but finds a smile on his face.
"Not if I kill you first", she bounces back grinning.
She swallows apprehensively, Dean prepares. Then she goes in…