Previously: Dean flirts with the blonde to keep her from getting on her bike but is jumped in the alley by a bunch of demons. Sam comes back to the diner to find Dean gone. He runs into a woman named Quinn who is looking for the blonde, Jenna, and after threatening him with a gun, he discovers she's a hunter also. He sends some security camera footage to Ash to see if he can get a licence plate from the van they suspect Dean and Jenna were taken away in and the two wait in the diner together to hear back from him.
CHAPTER 3– WIFE SWAP
Sam spent the next three hours on his laptop, researching the area and looking for any other signs of demon activity. When he found nothing, he expanded his search to Nevada, Arizona, and Oregon, even northern Mexico. Still nothing. No livestock deaths, no freak weather incidents such as electrical storms and temperature fluctuations, no reports of sulfur being found at any crime scenes.
Quinn sat in the booth across from him, her own laptop out on the table but she had given up her pounding of the keys an hour ago, slamming it shut with a frustrated huff. She had pressured Sam to give up the name of the psychic who had seen Jenna in a vision, forcing Sam to lie further. He told her the psychic was a recluse who didn't want his name repeated and insisted that the guy would definitely call Sam if he had any more visions. So for the next hour she sat drumming her fingers on the tabletop and shifting restlessly in her seat. Sam peered over at her a few times as he worked, trying to hide his smile behind his laptop screen. It reminded him of countless times he had been waiting for a lead to break with Dean. His brother wasn't known for his patience either.
She finally let out a deep exhale and rested her temple against the window pane. Sam closed his laptop and leaned back in his seat. "You look tired," he said honestly.
For once she didn't get defensive. "I just got back from a hunt," she admitted. "Haven't slept in a couple of days."
"Go crash," he offered. "There has to be a motel somewhere around here. I'll call you when Ash gets back to me."
"I'm not going anywhere until I find Jen," she said wearily. "Right now, you're my best lead."
Sam nodded in understanding. She closed her eyes and they sat in silence for a few minutes before she opened them back up and looked over at him.
"Hey, Winchester?"
"Yeah?"
"Your brother... he a good hunter?"
Sam nodded. "The best," he answered truthfully. "Best I know. Best I've ever known, actually."
"Good." She was silent for another minute, her head still leaning against the diner window and her expression worried. "Coz Jenna, she's not a hunter. Not a real one. I mean, she hunts but I stick her to research and legwork. I make sure I do all the heavy lifting."
"Dean'll watch out for her," Sam assured her, worry knotting his own stomach at the truth in his own words and what that could mean for his brother. "He'll do whatever he can to keep an innocent safe."
She didn't seem all that comforted by his last words and Sam wondered again if there was more she wasn't telling him. She did, however, close her eyes again and within ten minutes, her breathing evened out the slow, deep breaths of sleep.
She looked younger with her face relaxed, the lines of worry and anger gone for the first time since he had met her. She had long, straight brown hair and her angular, well-defined cheekbones hinted at an Indian heritage. She was definitely attractive. Not sweet, girl-next-door, Jessica kind of beautiful, more Kate-Beckinsdale-in-Underworld kind of hot - only without the leather.
He watched her for a minute, trying to curb the impulse to pick her pockets for some real ID. She had his whole history but all he had of her was a name, and he wasn't even sure if it was a first name or a last. He didn't like being at a disadvantage. Dean was always accusing him of being too trusting – too quick to give people the benefit of the doubt. Well, this time Sam was playing his hand close to his chest. After the incident with Gordon Walker, he realized Dean had good reason to worry about the players on both sides of this fight coming after him. He and Dean were on their own.
He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her, forwarding it to Ash with a text saying he would call him about it later. After finishing his current cup of green tea, he headed to the washroom to make room for the switch to coffee, sliding out of the booth without disturbing Quinn. He needed to caffeinate. It was almost four o'clock in the morning but he couldn't even think of sleeping. Not with Dean missing.
When he came back out into the hallway, the waiter that had relieved Giselle an hour or so ago was there, frowning at him. "This isn't Starbucks," the old man said testily, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of a still-sleeping Quinn. "Or a motel. You have to eat to keep a seat."
The hunter groaned inwardly but gave the guy a polite smile. "Yeah, okay man," he conceded. "I'll order some food."
The waiter nodded but stayed where he was, his brow knitting in an expression of curiosity as he looked past the tall hunter towards the outside door. "That your jacket?"
"Huh?" Sam spun around to follow the man's gaze. There on the floor near the back of the hallway was a brown leather jacket. "What the..." Sam was stooping down to pick it up within two heartbeats, knowing before he got to it that it was Dean's - the one their father had given him and that he would never ditch willingly despite his waning adulation of John Winchester.
He snatched it and stood up, spinning back towards the waiter as a dozen alarm bells went off inside his head. "This wasn't here befo..." was all he got out before the waiter's eyes flitted black. "Demon!" Sam hissed, realizing his flask of holy water was still in his jacket pocket, lying fifty feet away on the bench seat in the restaurant.
He heard the door behind him opening but before he could even turn around, strong arms grabbed him and started hauling him backwards. He started struggling immediately, kicking and punching at whoever had a grip on him. He knew if they got him out into that alley, he was finished. He managed to land a sneaker in the black-eyed waiter's gut and break one arm free, swinging it wildly behind him.
He loosened the unseen attacker's grip enough that his other hand managed to slip into his jeans pocket to grab his rosary. With recent demon-related events, Sam had memorized more than one exorcism and had been nagging a Latin-challenged Dean to do the same. He twisted around and slammed it against the forehead of the man who had been manhandling him out the door, chanting one of the exorcisms as fast as he could.
The man started screaming and Sam could smell the burning of his flesh under the cross but another appeared right behind him. Between the waiter and these two, and probably more outside, Sam knew he was flanked, outnumbered and basically screwed.
There was a scream from behind him and he turned his head, the steady stream of Latin words still spilling from his mouth. He was greeted with the sight of Quinn latched onto the old waiter's back, dumping the contents of her flask on his head. The demon in his grip finally tipped its head back and a jet of black smoke gushed from his mouth, dissipating into the floor.
"Winchester!"
He shot a sideways glance at Quinn's shout to see a flask flying towards him. He snatched it out of the air with one hand, ducking just in time to avoid the punch from the second demon who had just come in from outside. Sam danced backwards as he unscrewed the top of the flask and splashed the demon in the face. Quinn had a rosary wrapped around the waiter's neck but the demon was clawing at her and slamming her back into the wall in an effort to get her off him.
He heard a commotion behind him, confirming his suspicion that there were more demons outside. He kicked the door shut with a bang and splashed more water on the demon that had taken a swing at him. He dropped all his weight down onto a knee in the demon's chest, trying to hold him still as he poured the rest of the holy water on his face. Sam didn't need to recite another exorcism because Quinn, although she'd been thrown and was now on the floor taking hits from the waiter, was just gasping out the last few words of hers, within earshot of the one he had pinned.
Both demons were suddenly spewing black smoke and their stolen meatsuits sagged lifelessly to the floor. Breathing heavily, Sam straightened up and reached a hand out to help Quinn up off the floor. Her jacket was open and her t-shirt had ridden up in the tussle, giving Sam a glimpse of a tattoo peering out the top of her low-cut jeans. A white star with black and gold trim. He knew that insignia.
She winced as he pulled her to her feet. "You okay?" he questioned.
"Yeah," she replied with a nod, one hand pressed to her ribcage. Her head swiveled to survey the two demons Sam had taken out before her gaze fixed back on him. "Nice job, Winchester," she flashed him a smile.
"You too," he acknowledged, pointing to the dead waiter.
"Hooyah," she said with a roll of her eyes. She winced again as she took a step past him and towards the door. "Come on, kid. We'd better get outta here before those ones think to go round front."
He frowned at her calling him 'kid' but the angry pounding that was rattling the door behind them spurred him into motion. They dashed into the empty diner and Sam shoved both laptops into his duffel as he grabbed his jacket off his seat, Dean's leather still held tight in one hand. Quinn snatched two salt shakers and smashed the heads off on the edge of a nearby table before shouldering her backpack and heading for the door just two steps behind Sam.
They were just ten steps into the parking lot when three men rounded the corner from the alley.
"There he is!" one of them shouted.
"Oh crap," Sam hissed, turning to Quinn. "Which car's yours?" There were only two cars plus Jenna's bike in the parking lot. The Impala was parked in front of the bank across the wide street and Sam didn't like their chances of making it all the way over there.
But Quinn was already tugging at his arm. "Neither. I'm down the street; yours is closer."
They started running, the three demons not far behind. Sam hoped like Hell none of them were powerful enough to do what Yellow-Eyes had done when he was possessing John Winchester, press the brothers up against the wall with the power of his mind. If any of them had that kind of juice, he and Quinn were screwed.
The two hunters darted in front of a passing van, earning a loud honk from the driver and a squeal of brakes being locked up. The van's presence stalled their pursuers long enough for the pair to reach the Impala and Sam yanked the driver's door open as Quinn skidded over the hood to get to the other side. He was folding his tall form into the seat when the first demon reached him, wrapping a fist in his flannel shirt and trying to pull him back out of the car.
Sam struggled and punched wildly to break loose from the demon's grip, at least free enough to get the key in the ignition. He heard Quinn getting in the passenger side behind him then suddenly she was leaning up next to him, in between him and the wheel, tossing salt from the shakers she had stolen at the demon at his door.
The second demon appeared right behind the first brandishing a pistol. He raised it towards Sam but hesitated at a shout from the third demon. "Boss wants him alive!" the one in behind snapped.
The demon snarled and Sam was relieved to see the gun swing away from his face... at least until he realized it was aimed at Quinn instead. He leaned forward instinctively to shield her, jamming the key in the ignition at the same time. One last frantic kick pushed the closest demon back into the one with the gun and Sam slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. The Impala surged forward and for a moment, Sam thought they were home free but his door was still open and the closest demon was still hanging on.
Sam elbowed him a couple of times as they pulled out into the street but the demon was strong and persistent. Next thing he knew, Quinn's arm was in front of him, firing her Glock directly into the face of their clingy attacker. The demon dropped off onto the pavement and Sam kept going, leaning out to pull his door shut as they sped away.
"I'm sure that hurts like Hell but it won't kill it," Quinn said, sounding decidedly disappointed as she sat up on her knees to look out the back window. "There's a white van in the alley," she added with a frown. "Couldn't make out the fucking licence plate."
"Same demons that took Dean," Sam scowled, hating that they were being forced to run from the only thing that might be able to give them answers.
They sped along in silence for a moment, Quinn keeping her eyes glued out the back window. She finally turned around and slumped into the Impala's leather seat with a loud sigh. "I think we're clear. I`m pretty sure that whole kerfuffle was just out of range of the bank's security camera and I don't think anyone saw us besides the van full of demons, so cops shouldn't be a problem."
"Giselle," Sam pointed out, referring to the waitress who had served them for the first couple of hours in the diner.
"Did she get your name or see your car?"
Sam shook his head. "Nah. I think we're safe on that count too. Still, four dead bodies..."
Quinn groaned. "Yeah, we'd better lay low for a while, watch our sixes." Her face pulled into a frown. "Since when do demons carry guns?"
"I don't know," Sam answered truthfully. "Most of my demon experience is all pretty recent."
"Yeah, they seem to be coming out of the woodwork the past couple of years."
He frowned, growing angrier now that the adrenaline rush was subsiding. "Why the hell are they after us?"
She looked over at him with an arched eyebrow. "Us?" she questioned. "They didn't give a shit about me. I was just in their way. You heard them. They wanted you and they wanted you alive."
Sam shot a wary glance sideways, realizing she was right. "Why?" he found himself asking her again.
"I don't know, but you know what I think?" Her tone was almost accusing now. "I think this may not have been about Jenna. I think these demons were more likely after you and your brother. Jenna could have just been collateral damage." She pointed out the window. "Turn right here. There's a quiet motel along here with a sheltered parking lot. We'll get a room and you can spill everything you're not telling me from behind the safety of a salted door."
Sam pulled a bitchface but obeyed and turned the car into the requested street.
"You haven't exactly been generous with the personal information either," he pointed out. "I don't even know your full name and you forgot to mention you're US Army." She gave him a surprised look and he smiled smugly at catching her off guard. "Tattoo on your hip," he acknowledged, thinking enlistment records would make it a lot easier for Ash to dig up some background on her.
"Huh. You're observant, Winchester," she said, directing him to take another right turn. "And that was another life. I'm ex-Army now."
"Howcome?"
"Long story and completely irrelevant. Why are these demons after you?"
"I don't know." He could feel her studying him and he looked sideways. "Honestly," he added, holding her gaze as he said it. "I really don't know."
"Have they come after you before?"
Sam pursed his lips and paused before answering. "Not like this. Not directly."
"Care to be more specific?"
He swallowed. "A demon killed my girlfriend just over a year ago."
Quinn's face never flinched but the observant hunter noticed her fist clench at the revelation. Sam waited for the expected condolences on his loss but she never said a word, instead simply staring forward for a long minute before pointing up ahead. "Turn left here."
He turned the car as directed again but spared an annoyed glance at his passenger. "Anyone ever tell you you're bossy?"
"So I've been told," she chuckled.
They found the motel and Quinn went into the office to check-in. Sam was thankful for a brief moment alone. He wasn't used to working with anyone but Dean. As aggravating as his brother could be, he missed him. Dean would know what to do right now.
Sam leaned back in the driver's seat and closed his eyes, his face scrunched up with worry and fear.
Quinn was right. The demons were after him. A week ago, Ava Wilson had disappeared at the hands of demons leaving her husband rotting in a bath of his own blood. Collateral damage. What if Dean... Damnit, this was all Sam's fault. If anything happened to Dean, it would be because of him.
~X~X~X~X~X~
Eight hours earlier...
The first thing Dean became aware of was his discomfort. His hands were bound behind his back and he was lying on a cold, hard floor that was vibrating. Magic fingers? Oh, no, crap - the van. He was in the back of the van. His head was pounding in his skull and with his face on the metal floor, all he could see was a pair of sneakers.
He shifted his weight, grunting as a stab of pain shot through the stiff, cramped shoulder underneath him. Rolling sideways, he looked up to two men flanking the blonde – shit, what was her name again? Jamie? Jennie? Jenna, that was it, Jenna – all three sitting on the van's sidebench.
His eyes locked with Jenna's and she started to drop forward towards him but one of the men threw an arm in front of her to keep her in place. The other man moved forward and planted a kick in Dean's gut, his eyes flashing black as he grinned and sat back down.
"Don't!" he heard Jenna cry. "Leave him alone!"
"Shut up," the first one snapped.
"Motherfff..." Dean gasped, trying to regain his breath. He pressed his back against the far wall of the van and rolled himself into a sitting position across from the three on the bench. "What is this?" he snarled. "You're demons, right? What do you want with us? Where are you taking us?"
"You ask a lot of questions, Winchester," Demon-on-the-left snarled.
"Still waiting on an answer here."
Demon-on-the-right chuckled. "You'll find out soon enough."
"What's that mean?"
"Where's your brother?" the first demon fired back. "We were expecting two of you."
Dean's heart lurched in sudden fear for Sam but he put his game face on. "Well, lucky you - you got me."
Lefty gave Righty a nervous glance. "Boss said to bring both," he growled to his accomplice, shaking his head.
"It'll be fine," Righty scoffed. "We got one of 'em and the girl. That ought to keep his limey ass happy."
Jenna spoke up. "What does your boss want with us?" she asked cautiously.
Lefty glared at her, his eyes flitting black again. "Like you don't know already, sweetcheeks."
Dean watched her jaw stiffen and a hard swallow make its way down her throat. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable as he worked the knots on his wrist behind him all the while wondering what Jenna was hiding.
The van fell silent, black-eyed glares from the demons dissuading Dean from opening his mouth and earning himself another kick in the gut, or worse. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out cold but he was only awake thirty or so minutes before they were slowing to a halt. There were no windows in the back of the van but he wasn't surprised to find it was still daylight when they parked and the demons shoved them roughly out the back doors. He stumbled as he hit the ground, his bound hands throwing his balance. Jenna's hands were free and she grabbed his arm to steady him, keeping close to him as they were ushered roughly up the walk.
They were at a house - no, scratch that, they were at a mansion. It looked like a freaking Hollywood movie star's house, with a mile-long driveway and a wrought iron gate. Immensely relieved to be out of the van but alarmed at the unexpected destination, Dean found his smart mouth jumping back into action.
"This boss-demon's place?" he quipped. "Damnit. Shoulda known my man Nicholson was possessed. Nobody's that good."
"Keep moving!" one of the demons ordered, clearly not amused.
"So, not Nicholson?" Dean rambled, his way of covering when he was nervous. "Gotta be Spielberg's place then. Spielberg a demon? That explains Jar Jar."
He was rewarded for his attempt at small talk with a punch in the gut from Lefty in the grey suit and he doubled over with a pained grunt.
"Hey stop it!" Jenna defended. "Stop hitting him!"
"Only if he stops talking. I may have to bring you freaks in alive but there's no rule against you being bloody."
"You're wearing purple socks and we're the freaks?" Dean scoffed, wincing as he straightened back up. He half expected another hit but the demon just shoved him forward up the stone path to a back door. He was encouraged, however, by a little snicker that escaped Jenna at his side.
The inside of the large house was as fancy as the outside. It may have been a back entrance but it opened into a large foyer with marble floors and an ornate oak door on each side, the opposite wall adorned ceiling to floor with an ancient looking tapestry. The prisoners were ordered to wait there and one of the demons disappeared through the door on the right, the other three huddling together by the outside door murmuring among themselves. Dean groaned inward in frustration at not being able to untie his hands. Whichever demon tied him up must have been one Hell of a boy scout. While he had been out, he had been relieved of his leather jacket, knives, his gun, his lockpick, and his holy water.
He could feel Jenna hovering close to him and at first he figured she was just scared, seeking comfort and protection, but then he felt fingers behind his back brush his hands lightly. He gave her a questioning look.
"Stay still," she whispered, glancing nervously at the demons, who were now arguing in heated whispers, not paying much attention to their prisoners. She pulled at the ropes while still facing forward so the demons couldn't see what she was up to but was clearly getting frustrated at her lack of success.
"Geez, this freaking knot..." she frowned, tugging harder.
Dean snorted. "Tell me about it. Overkill much."
"If I get this undone, do you think we can run?"
He nodded. "Damn right." He realized as he spoke, however, that they wouldn't get far, even if he was untied. Not without a distraction, anyway. The demons were blocking the exit and if they tried to run into the house, he had no idea what to expect – probably more demons. "Okay, look here," he whispered, trying not to move his lips in case any of the demons looked his way. "I'm gonna get their attention. As soon as they move over here, you get out that back door and run. Just run and don't stop until you're clear... and then keep running." He gave her a hard look, trying to gauge if she would do it or panic. He hadn't had a chance to figure her out yet. She hadn't freaked or panicked or fallen apart so far, which was a good sign.
She opened her mouth as if about to argue but closed it again. "What about you?" she said finally.
"Don't worry about me. Get that knot undone and I'll be fine. I'll be right behind you."
He felt the ropes slip loose but wrapped the rope in his hands and kept them behind his back. He ran through possible ways to create a distraction and none of them gave him much of a chance to get out the door with Jenna. "Listen, if I give you a phone number, will you remember it?"
She gave him a confused look. "I suppose, why?"
"No, I need you to remember it. It's my brother, Sam. If you make it out of here and by some chance I don't, you have to call him for me. Tell him everything you know. Can you do that?"
She nodded somberly.
"Six five oh, nine seven sev..."
"Don't bother," a new female voice sounded from the door across the room. "Neither of you are going anywhere."
Dean looked up to see a redhead in her thirties glaring at them. She pulled her hands to her hips and gave the three demons at the door an impatient huff. "What are you waiting for?"
The three stopped their hushed squabbling as soon as she entered and jumped to attention. Lefty gave her a nervous look. "We weren't sure what to do with them."
"Get them in the rooms!" she snapped. "Do you morons need to be told when to take a crap, too?"
"Uh, you want him in the end one and her in with Reagan?" Righty asked.
"No," she answered curtly, narrowing her eyes in thought. "Regan's finally cooperating so Boss wants to keep her isolated to make sure it stays that way. Put them both in the empty end one."
The three demons jumped into action and once again began shoving their prisoners forward.
"Let me speak to your boss," Dean demanded, instinctively struggling against the demon who had grabbed his arm. He didn't want to be taken anywhere - Sam was out there alone.
Redhead snorted. "He's a little busy. Got more important things than you to deal with."
"Who is he?"
"Huh. Like I would tell you, hunter."
Dean's lips drew into a tight line. "Lemme guess," he ventured. "Asshole douchebag with yellow eyes?"
She laughed, her amusement sounding genuine. "You're so clueless it's almost cute."
The three male demons didn't hesitate to get rough and despite his hands being free, Dean was easily overpowered. He and Jenna were led down a long hallway, through a large but modestly furnished living room, and down a set of stairs.
The lower level could hardly be described as ornate – more functional. "Where we going?" Dean groused irritably as they started down another hallway. Place was freaking huge.
"This is the staff wing," Righty informed him. "Hope you like it because you're probably going to die here."
The hall looked much like a hotel corridor, with a pair of doors every twenty feet or so, one on either side. Dean noticed the last four were heavy steel rather than the panelled wood of the first ones. They came to a stop at the end pair and Lefty pulled open a heavy sliding dead-bolt on the door on the right, pushing it open with a loud creak. Dean and Jenna were unceremoniously shoved inside and the heavy door slammed loudly shut behind them, the sound of the deadbolt clicking back into place vibrating through Dean with ominous resonance.
Dean looked around the small room they were in, Jenna next to him doing the same. Linoleum floors, white walls, and one single cot against the far wall under the bricked-in window. One small plastic table with a deck of cards on it. There was a door on the far side and he strode over quickly to push it open. A bathroom. Toilet, sink, and small stand-up shower. A couple of white towels. Again, no window. Geez, this was worse than most of the motels he stayed in, and that was saying something.
Again he felt Jenna behind him peering into the bathroom over his shoulder. He picked up the single toothbrush on the sink and turned to throw her a smirk. "Looks like we're sharing this."
She gave him a half-hearted smile in return, moving back into the room to drop heavily down on the edge of the cot, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "This is bad," she said, as if just realizing the gravity of the situation.
Dean shrugged, trying his best to appear unfazed. "Oh I dunno," he joked. "I've swapped spit with worse than you."
Her shoulders quivered in a silent laugh and her expression had brightened when she looked up at him. "You've been captured by demons who basically just told you they're going to kill you and you're still flirting?"
He waved a hand around the room. "This is nothing," he scoffed. "We'll be fine. Don't worry." He sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. "I got someone looking for me. We won't be here long."
She nodded. "Your brother?" she asked. "Sam?"
"Yup. Kid's wicked smart. He'll find us."
"I have a friend," she said hesitantly. "Quinn. She'll come looking for us too."
He knitted his brow, running through the events of the day in his mind. "You don't seem to be too freaked over seeing demons," he pointed out. "I take it these aren't your first?"
She shook her head but answered with another question. "You're a hunter, right?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah."
"So I'm thinking it's time we get to know each other," he smiled, nudging her shoulder. She raised a brow with an incredulous expression and he laughed. "You can start with your name," he told her.
She told him her name was Jenna Harrison and that she hunted now with a friend. Her mother had died when she was a child and her father when she was just eleven, leaving her eighteen-year-old brother as her legal guardian. Her brother, Jason, had taken up hunting in his early twenties but had died in a car accident just over a year ago. Her voice choked up a little as she spoke of him and Dean felt his own grief renewing itself with thoughts of his father.
"Sorry," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort to abort the tears Dean could see starting to well in her lower lids.
"S'okay," he assured her. "I lost my dad a few months ago," he then admitted in a rare moment of sharing. "I thought he was invincible but... he died to save my ass."
She patted his arm in a gesture of comfort. "He must have thought you were worth it," she said softly.
The crushing weight of guilt over his father's fate was suddenly back on his shoulders, it having taken a brief hiatus to make room for the extra Sammy-worry the past couple of weeks. "It still should have been me," he said, speaking mostly to himself. He sighed wearily and looked around the room again. "My dad wouldn't have been stupid enough to get ambushed by a bunch of demons in an alley and leave Sam unprotected," he blurted.
"Hey," she protested, giving him a light-hearted smile. "I got ambushed. You calling me stupid?"
She got half a chuckle in response, Dean's mood still heavy. "No," he assured her. "Of course not. It's just... I screwed up. I'm supposed to look out for Sam and I was trying to look out for you and... well, here we are. I'm doing a bang-up job as usual."
He swallowed and rubbed a hand down his face, pushing his worry and fear back inside where he preferred it stayed. He forced a lopsided grin and looked at the blonde next to him. "So what are we gonna do for entertainment?"
She rolled her eyes and got up, grabbing the deck of cards from the table. "I hope you like poker." She made another sweep of the room with her eyes, which came to rest on the very narrow, single bed. "Uh, and sleeping on the floor."
~X~X~X~X~X~
A/N: Not a long chapter - hope you enjoyed. More action to come.