It's been a long time, believe me I know. I'm back at college, I went on vacation, I went to a supernatural convention, my mom was in the hospital…oy, and loads of shit went down that I just got tied up. Not to mention, my muse abandoned me. She'd come back and I'd be able to add a paragraph every now and then but…got this was the worst writers block I have ever had. And there's really nothing I can apologize for. I'm incredibly sorry it took me this long and here's a new chapter.

I promise, to all the faithful readers, that I will never take this long to update again and that I'll push through a writer's block if I have one.

Thanks to everyone who sent me a review or PMed me about the story and for keeping up on it.

I will NEVER give up on this series, no matter how long it takes me to update, I just want to make that clear. Regardless, won't take this long again.

Thanks everyone! Happy reading :)

O0o0o0o0o0o

Chapter 8: Bad Day at Black Rock Part 2

"Could you take it easy on the bumps Dean? I have ketchup back here." I groaned as he rolled over another bump and the fries sitting in my lap in their little container jumped up.

"I told you no ketchup! It's too messy." He glared at me through the review mirror and Sam smirked around taking a bite of cheeseburger.

I rolled my eyes and squeezed the ketchup packet gently and it squeezed out along one of the fries I held between my fingers. I popped it in my mouth. "Fries aren't any good without loads of ketchup…and I am sacrificing the 'load' part because I don't want to drip anything in your car."

Dean smirked. "Oh, so sorry you have to deal with a little serving of ketchup like normal people do when they eat fries."

Sam snorted and I glared at him. He raised his eyebrows at my glare and threw a napkin at me. I snatched it and set it down on my lap. "Coming from the person who has to have extra everything on their cheeseburger."

Dean shrugged. "What can I say; I like a lot of flavor on my burger. Sue me."

As Dean pulled into the lot with the storage facilities lined up, it kind of looked like a really big parking garage; I gathered my trash and put everything into the bag the cashier had given me the food in. I got out of the car and threw the bag away, I turned to watch the Winchesters get out of the car and close the doors almost simultaneously.

"So…should we take something in case?" I asked, walking up to the trunk.

"Doesn't hurt to be prepared." Dean commented as he opened the trunk and pocketed his keys.

He took out his favorite handgun; it was decorated white on the sides. It was a pretty gun…if that made sense. God I was in the business so long that I was calling handguns pretty.

Sam took out a gun as well and was about to hand me one until Dean intercepted him.

"Hey!" I pouted a moment and Dean smirked at my mouth. I rolled my eyes. "Why don't I get a gun?"

"You don't need one. We both have rifles, you'll be fine." I rolled my eyes again and Dean snorted. "You keep doing that they're gonna roll right outta your head."

I shoved him, but not hard enough that he dropped the gun in his hand. "Ass! How many times have you both had guns and I needed to save your asses?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other, then back at me and spoke at once. "Twice."

My mouth fell open a little and I crossed my arms over my chest and just shook my head. "You guys are freaks for even keeping track."

I turned and started to walk through the parking lot to the building with the elevator down to the storage rooms. I heard Dean and Sam laugh a little with each other before they both caught up and on both sides of me. Dean pushed the elevator button and the machine came to a screeching start. I winced softly as I heard the cart come up to our level. The doors shook open and I boarded first, Sam and Dean following me.

I swallowed and leaned against Dean as Sam pressed the button to go down.

Dean smirked softly and ran a hand down my back. "You still afraid of elevators?"

I looked up at him and glared. "I am not afraid of elevators! I just…prefer stairs for exercise."

Sam snorted and leaned against the wall next to us. "Right, right. Has nothing to do with the fact that one elevator, that one time—"

"That one elevator ruined me for life! I can't believe I was stuck in there for like an hour! The hotel had to call the fire department and everything."

"John and your dad were pissed." Dean shook his head and I frowned softly.

"I didn't even do anything. I mean, it was an accident. And as I recall, you," I poked his chest and he covered the spot I poked with his hand and pretended to be offended. "were the one who threw the ball we were playing with in that general direction and told me to get it! I wouldn't have even been on that elevator if it wasn't for you."

He snorted and the elevator came to a halt at the bottom floor. "After all this time you're still blaming me I see."

The doors tried to pull open on the designated bottom floor but only one successfully got all the way open. I squeezed through the door and Sam and Dean did the same. Course it took them both a moment. They were skinny but they had some bronze to them. And Sam was just so goddamn tall.

"Course I'm blaming you." I shivered as a cold wind whipped through what looked like a parking garage full of storage tanks. "Because it's usually your fault!"

Sam smirked softly at Dean and took off his cream colored jacket and held it out to me without a thought. I swallowed and looked up at him and the look on Dean's face as I took it in my hands and slipped it on. The silence filled up the parking garage scenery like humidity. It was thick and hard to breathe in. The small caring gestures Sam was providing, Dean did not seem to appreciate.

Not that Sam hadn't been doing these small little things all my life; getting doors, giving me his jacket, giving me his half of the ice cream when we were little, sharing his toys, or even now how he loaded my gun for me, or made sure I had the warmest shower by letting me go first. All these little things never seemed that important…until Dean only had a year or less to live. Now every little thing meant something to Dean. It would be one more thing Dean wouldn't get to do for me after he was gone.

I swallowed and zipped up the jacket and sighed softly. "Let's just go…okay?"

Dean shrugged and pretended he didn't know what I was talking about. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."

He put an arm around my back and walked with me, leading me down a storage container row that were numbered. We searched for John's number, Sam trailing behind us.

He gently squeezed my lower back and rubbed his fingers along my spine. I looked up at him and he turned his head a moment and pecked my lips, putting a damn sign that said "Mine" on my upper lip. I sighed softly and looked forward. I didn't feel like Sam was trying to flirt or whatever, like he had been a year ago. I think he was just…being Sam. If that made sense. He was sweet and he cared about me as a best friend. To be honest, I was kind of glad he was being like this with me…that meant that after Dean was gone I would know Sam would be here for me and Riley, no matter what. That I wouldn't be alone in the world; raising this little girl on my own.

My thoughts were broken when I heard Sam and Dean break the lock open on the storage unit. Dean slid the lock off and let it fall to the ground with a clatter while Sam pushed the door up and it noisily curled into the ceiling of the unit like a garage door would.

Once the door allowed us in, I raised my eyebrows at the sign on the floor. And all three of us knew pretty damn well what that star shaped sign was for.

"Devil's trap…no demons allowed." I muttered, stepping a bit closer. Sam stuck his arm out and I walked into it, I looked up at him as it prevented me to go forwards. I looked down at the floor to see what he was looking at.

"Blood…" He said softly.

I raised my eyebrows at the tripwire set up right in front of my left leg. "And a tripwire…how very John Winchester. No demons…" I followed the tripwire that was set up along a shotgun on a shelf a few feet away. "Or humans allowed."

Dean scoffed softly. "Whoever broke in got a buckshot in them."

Sam looked along the floor as we carefully moved further into the storage unit, making sure there were no other hidden surprises from the Winchester's dear old dad.

I winced softly as I thought about it and carefully stepped over the wire. "Hey, two sets of boot tracks, Dean."

He nodded as I walked over to him. "Two man job."

Sam looked around the dusty storage container as we started through it. It was mostly weapons and file cabinets, nothing I wouldn't suspect John Winchester to put into storage.

"So…would he work here, or something?" Sam asked, curiously he picked up a rife, dust covering the metal and making it look rusty.

I made a face. "I don't remember him mentioning anything like this."

Sam shined his flashlight onto some of the shelves, old knick-knacks and artifacts that could have been for anything were littering the surface. The desk I was at was covered in papers and I brushed some dust off the top layer to look at some of them.

"No way!" I exclaimed and Dean and Sam came over at the same time to see what I was holding up. It was a finger painting I had made in the third grade. It was mostly made up of blue and greens, I had tried to add red in there around the edges but the blending of the green made it look brown in some places. "I made this when I was in third grade!" I looked at Dean and beamed, I felt proud. "I can't believe it was in here…"

It made me feel important that John had kept something like this and put it in the storage container no one knew about. It gave me some sort of weird comfort.

Dean smiled at me and shook his head, kissing the bridge of his nose. "Van Gogh would be jealous as all hell, babe." I rolled my eyes and shook him off as he chuckled. "Especially since you still have both of your ears." He winked and I laughed, feeling Sam roll his eyes behind me.

He moved away when he thought I was going to shove him and looked around at some things near the desk I was at. I set the painting down and watched him pick up a small trophy; it looked like a small boy kicking a soccer ball.

Dean brushed off the dust on the bottom plaque. "1995."

Sam's ears seemed to perk at the year and he came up behind him, snatching up the trophy. He laughed and moved around some file cabinets to go where the boys were. I squeezed between them to see what Sam had taken from Dean.

"No way! No way! That's my division championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this." I heard something in Sam's voice that I really never heard when he was speaking of his father. His tone sounded…admiring, grateful and something else I couldn't put my finger on.

I touched the top of the trophy, some dust pulling off and sticking to the pads of my fingers. He smiled at me and I smiled back. "I remember when you won that."

He raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

"Or…well maybe it wasn't that exact one. I remember you used to have a lot of trophies in your house. Baseball, soccer, track," I smirked. "You were a great sports player."

I saw a small tinge of blush darken his cheekbones as he smiled softly. "Thanks, Andy."

"You know, he probably kept it because it was probably the closest you ever came to being a boy." Dean snorted as he looked over on the desk again; I rolled my eyes as I looked at him. He said that like he hadn't heard all the stuff I just said about Sam.

"Sam did a lot of sports back then Dean, all you did was the cheerleaders." I sneered and Sam snorted, putting the trophy down.

Dean smirked at me. "Still jealous after all these years, Andy?" He winked and I rolled my eyes, turning to walk towards another part of the storage unit.

I vaguely heard Dean say something about a sawed-off and continued down past the walls of weapons and shelves filled with boxes and large file cabinets filled with files. I wondered if they were all filled, and if they were, how long it had taken John to fill them. What kind of files could take up tons of file cabinets? Papers on demons, witches, ghouls and other creepy crawlies that went bump in the night? Stuff like his journal that he had passed down to Dean and Sam? Or was it files that pertained to the normal life he once had? Mortgages, house payments, old car bills and photo albums.

I saw a heavy door around the side of a few file cabinets and moved towards it, intending on opening it. Unfortunately, as my life usually goes, my foot caught on something under one of the cabinets and I tripped. I fell forward, trying to break my fall and successfully landed against the side of a very big file cabinet. It swayed and I squealed as the cardboard box on top toppled over on me, covering me in dust and papers.

I heard scrambling and suddenly Dean and Sam were right next to me, pulling papers off me.

"You okay?" Dean's hand brushed dust bunnies off my hair.

I sneezed in response and groaned softly, my sinuses lighting up like a wildfire. I rubbed my nose.

Dean chuckled softly and gently cupped my cheek. "I'm guessing that's a yes?"

I sniffed and sneezed again, Sam smiling out of the corner of my eye as he gathered the papers to put back into the box that had fallen. "Bless you."

"I tripped over something."

"Graceful as always, huh Core?"

I shoved Dean and since he was crouching down the force knocked him back on his ass. Sam grinned at his somewhat dazed brother and, he probably should have seen this coming, Dean kicked his leg out and the same thing to Sam.

So there we were all sitting on the ground in an old, dust filled John Winchester storage unit. Huh. I never would have thought about that when I woke up that morning.

Sam reached over Dean and pulled out a box under the file cabinet my foot was near, the perpetrator for tripping me in the first place.

He settled the dusty, flower printed box down between us and opened the lid. He bent over to look at the contents, sliding what looked like old photographs out of the box. Sam smiled softly.

"Andy, these are of you."

I smiled softly and move to sit on his right while Dean leaned a little to the left to look at the picture Sam held in his hand.

"Really?" I asked, touching the edge of the photo gently, some dust sticking to the pads of my fingertips.

Dean grinned, pointing to a little baby being held in the arms of an older woman. "Yeah, that's you."

I smiled softly. "Aw, I was so cute! Is that a pink baby bonnet on me?"

Sam snorted. "Great fashion sense that carried over into adult life..." A bit too sarcastic for me. I smirked before I elbowed him in the side and he smiled at me.

"But…who's the old woman?"

Dean took the photo and held it closer to his face. "I think that's your…grandma Amy?"

He handed the picture to me and I looked at her and smiled at her warm and smiling face. I gently touched the photo, tracing her wrinkles on her face, which if I had an opinion, looked to be smile lines instead of age ones.

"I never knew I had a grandma Amy…"

Sam frowned. "Your dad never told you about her before he passed?

Dean licked his lower lip as I shook my head no. "Might make sense. She moved to Texas before you reached your third birthday. Least…" He scratched the back of his head. "That's what my dad told me."

I frowned now too, looking at other photos in the box. "I don't understand. Why wouldn't my dad mention I had a grandmother and when he died, why didn't John tell me I had a living relative in Texas?"

I saw Dean shrug his one shoulder out of the corner of my eye. "I don't know."

I bit my lip, looking over some other photos. Most of them were me as a baby. Playing in the yard, having tea parties with my dad, my grandmother and my mother holding me at the hospital the day I was born, about two or three were from when I was older.

"From my scrap book!" I grinned and pulled the photo out from the bottom of the stack. The edges were warn and a bit torn, the side on the right crumpled a bit. "Look Sam, me and you."

Sam looked over my shoulder and smiled. "God, my hair looks so awkward."

I laughed and gently touched the photo, with care and affection. "It just looks weird because you had just got out of the water."

Dean was curious now; I could feel his eyes on me. "Where are you guys at?"

"Lake Eerie," Sam answered Dean before I could. He looked over the photo again, smiling at my red and white polka dot bikini and his bright blue swim trunks. "What were you, thirteen?" He was now looking at me.

I shrugged, taking the photo. We were standing right in the water, waiting for a wave to crash into our legs.

"I guess so. Maybe? I should have written the year down on the back. All I remember was that your dad was away and…my dad wanted to take us to the beach."

"Oh right, right." Dean nodded. "I got sun poisoning, right? That was such a son of a bitch."

I pouted and Dean grinned, touching my lower lip with his thumb. I smiled softly. "I was so bummed you couldn't go anywhere with us. The beach, the pier, the festival…"

Sam nodded. "But we did bring you back ice cream."

I grimaced. "Which he successfully threw up all over the bed."

"Yeah, mint chocolate chip vomit all over the white sheets. Maids were so not happy about that." Dean nodded, groaning as he remembered. "Never went out in the sun without sun block after that."

I shook my head and swallowed. "You know, why would John keep this stuff and not tell us? I mean, I really would have liked these photos after my mom died." I looked at the container. "After my dad died." I added softly. "I know we left in a hurry after that, hitting the road and all but…I can't help but think that these would have helped somehow. Or at least kept my mind busy with putting together another scrap book."

I felt Sam's arm swoop around my shoulders and he rubbed my arm gently. "Well at least you have them now, something to show Riley when she grows up."

I looked up at him and smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah."

I swallowed as we locked eyes for a moment, his brilliant eyes shining against mine. I'd put all the pictures of Dean in there too, the only thing I'd have of his after…just after. Wouldn't lose them or lock them away in a storage container forever. Riley would see these as soon as she could comprehend them, could understand where her family came from. Who her dad was; because after all the time after…Dean is gone, Sam would be as close to a father that she would ever have. And even though I was highly grateful that Sam would chose that role in her life, I would want Riley to know her true father, the one she'd become so attached to even when she was still inside me. She deserved to know.

"You okay?" Sam asked me softly and I swallowed, looking away and rubbing under my eyes.

"Yeah, dust in my eyes."

Dean cleared his throat and Sam's arm dropped from my shoulder as he stood, he helped me up and I took the tin of photos with me, settling them against my side.

I looked around the storage container, taking in the various weapons and landmines.

"They weren't after weapons or…landmines." I swallowed, running my finger over a barrel of a gun. "I guess they knew what they wanted."

"Hey…Dean, look at this." I turned to look at Sam's back, Dean joining him on the other side of the room. I moved to where they were standing and loomed next to Dean's side. There were a ton of boxes in many various sizes.

"See these symbols? That's binding magic…these are curse boxes." Sam looked at Dean, who was leaning closer to look at one of the boxes.

"Curse boxes –- they're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right?"

I nodded softly, remembering a reading I did on Pandora when I was a teenager. I should really brush up on all the stuff John and my dad had made me read over the years. Re-reading would only help in any situation I would need to know information but…where was all that reading material now? Burned down in John's house? Left in the very back of the Impala or discarded accidently at a hotel we'd stayed at? Who knows….they might have been in the storage unit here. God only knows what John and maybe my dad had been keeping in those file cabinets.

"Kind of like a Pandora deal?" I asked and Sam nodded his head once, looking up at the top shelf, which he was almost just as tall as. Out of the six shelves, Dean any my head only met the fifth one…barely. And Dean was even taller than I was.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "They're built to contain the power of the cursed object."

I frowned and touched one of the boxes. "This is dangerous stuff. Curse boxes are unpredictable…"

"Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, you know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes - he never did say where they ended up." Dean mused, looking down the row of black, wooden boxes.

"Yeah." Sam grimaced. "This must be his toxic waste dump."

I raised my eyebrows. "How thoughtful. He should have told us all this stuff was here. Now we have to worry about those chuckleheads that broke in and took something…and judging by the amount of stuff here, there is now way we'll be able to…"

I looked on shelf four, noticing something. "Fuck."

Sam and Dean turned their heads to look at me.

"One of the boxes is gone…" I ran my finger through the dust between the shelves and then through a neatly pressed box shape in the dust…where a box had been, preventing dust from getting underneath it.

I felt Dean lean over my shoulder and watch my finger before I pulled back. "Well, maybe they didn't open it…"

How optimistic.

O0o0o0o0o

It took us twenty minutes to figure out who broke in. Luckily, the art of getting the footage off of a security camera was so well practiced by the three of us it took us less than ten. The other ten minutes was from driving, so all and all, the case was moving pretty fast…that is as long as the chuckleheads who stole the curse box hadn't opened it. But then again, how lucky was that really?

Dean pulled to a stop outside of a grungy looking apartment, turning the engine off. He peaked his head out the window to look at the back of a car.

"Connecticut. Last three digits, 8-8-0."

I looked at the sheet of paper and leaned up between the seats. "Yep. That's them."

Dean shook his head, a look of amusement and irritation on his face all at once as he pulled out the car keys. "Should have blacked out the plates before they parked in front of the security camera."

I smiled and got out of the car, going to the trunk to get out a gun. I handed Dean his special 1911 white and silver engraved handgun. He smiled as I put the gun in his hands, his fingers brushing my palm.

"Your dad gave you that one right?" I asked, sticking the gun in the back of my jeans. I heard Sam move the weapons around in the trunk, getting his own out and closing it.

He nodded. "When I killed my first werewolf."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "Oh right, how could I forget all the bragging?"

I laughed as he clipped my shoulder with his own as we started walking towards the apartment complex. We quietly slipped inside and made our way up to the third floor, looking for the right room. It was easy getting the room number, one call from Bobby posing as the Health department scared the manager right into giving out the room number for the 'highly intelligent' burglars Wayne and Grossman.

I cocked my gun as Sam picked the lock, shoving the instruments back into his back pocket as Dean gently nudged the door open.

"Royal flush! Grossman, that's the second royal flush in eight hands. I can't lose. I mean, really. I can't lose." I heard Wayne yell, slapping down what I was guessing as cards on a wooden table. I glanced at Dean; he motioned me to go up against the far wall, Sam following in step.

Sam moved quietly along the wall, shoulder to shoulder with me. "Maybe this thing really works. You know what I'm saying? I'll tell you one thing, there's no way in hell we're handing it over to that stuck-up bitch." I frowned softly. They stole the thing to sell it to another buyer? "Not after all we've been through. Let's go. Let's get out of here, let's go have some fun."

If that wasn't a queue, I didn't know what was. All at once, Dean, Sam and I raised our guns, cocking them and aiming them towards Wayne and Grossman as we turned the corner.

"Freeze! Freeze! Nobody move!" Dean yelled, pointing the gun at Wayne, who had a lovely patched up shoulder from the buckshot courtesy of John Winchester.

Sam pointed towards Grossman, who was slowly getting off the couch. "Don't move!" He put his hands up; dropping some cards on his lap as he slowly rose from the couch. "Stop!"

He froze as Sam's warning hung in the air. I looked on the table, past the cards and the bloody gauze. "All right, give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't…"

I heard Sam swore and I looked to him for a brief instant. "Oh, they did."

I bit my lower lip as Dean didn't hesitate slamming Wayne against the far wall, swearing. "You opened it?"

"Are you guys cops?" I could see Wayne starting to panic and I slowly moved towards the half open box on the table. I opened the lid as Wayne repeated his question.

"What's in the box?" Dean asked me, Sam's gun still aimed at Grossman.

Wayne gestured to the table, right next to the box. I frowned. "What the hell is that thing? A rabbit's foot?"

Before anyone could answer me, Wayne punched Dean. Dean swore, heading backwards and dropping his gun. I yelped as the gun went off, the bullet ricocheting around the room, hitting a lamp and exploding the glass base to pieces. I dove for the gun, just as Dean stood to get punched again, landing right back on me. I gasped and winced as the weight of Dean's body collided with me into the floor, the gun sliding across the floor from under me.

Sam tried going for it but Grossman pushed him back, knocking him over the table. The rabbit's foot flew off the table, landing God knows where. Dean groaned, trying to roll off of me.

"God, Andy, are you okay?"

I grunted in response as he gripped my shoulders, lifting me off the ground a little, my ribs aching in response.

"I think…" I noticed the gun was inches away from us and nudged Dean as I tried scrambling for it. He got the idea and tried too, after all, two people after the same gun was better than one right? Wrong.

Wayne got there first, even though he seemed so much farther away. How lucky was that? I tried tripping Wayne to get him out of the way and drop the gun but he just ended up tackling into Dean as soon as Dean stood.

I winced. "Oh God Dean, sorry!"

I heard Sam grunt and gasped as I saw Grossman kneeling over him, choking him. I scrambled up as quickly as I could and jumped on Grossman's back.

"Get off him!" I punched him hard in shoulder and he threw me off easily, I landed back against the couch and knocked my head into wooden panel right beneath the cushions. I moaned softly, feeling the back of my head. I winced and saw white and black spots filling my eyesight.

I heard Sam grunt again, shifting under the weight of Grossman. I saw through the haze that Sam had grabbed something on the floor, a piece of paper? Or maybe it was the rabbit's foot. Whatever it was, Sam gained his momentum and kicked Grossman hard, sending him flying back.

"Dean! I got it!" I heard Sam exclaim as I leaned up, holding the back of my head.

"No, you don't." Wayne commented, coolly, aiming Dean's gun at Sam's head.

I gasped and tried to get up but I couldn't make it. Wayne had already pulled the trigger, Sam squeezing his eyes shut, bracing himself. And nothing. I breathed out, afraid to feel relief. I saw Wayne try again but Sam had realized no shot was coming from the jammed gun, he went forward to knock him out but Wayne was accomplishing that for him. He backed right over my leg, tripping backwards into the wall, knocking himself out as his head collided with the wall.

"Andy!"

I turned to Dean's voice, as Grossman aimed a gun at me. Which I thought was kind of ridiculous; I had didn't even have the rabbit's foot. But regardless Grossman lost his balance, falling back into a bookshelf of books. The gun went flying and I wouldn't have believed this…even though I saw it happening. Actually, I still didn't believe it, but Sam caught it perfectly, easily, soundlessly.

Dean ran over to my side, sliding his arm around my waist, trying to help me up. I grunted as my ribs protested. Sam came to my other side, helping me to my feet.

"You alright?"

I just nodded at Sam, nothing was broken. Lots of bruises tended to be a daily occurrence in our line of work. I'd survive. "That was a lucky break." I answered instead, my forehead creased at the part of a furry mongrel in his hand. "Is that a rabbit's foot?"

Sam nodded, holding it up. "Uhm…I think it is."

"Gross…poor bunny."

Dean chuckled softly at my pout and ran his hand over my lower back. "We should call Bobby; see if he knows anything about dad and his curse boxes."

I went over to the knocked over table and bent over it to pick up the box from the floor. "Good plan, let's get out of here before tweedledum and tweedledee wake up."

O0o0o0o

"Just let me see them, Andy."

"Sam…you try to lift my shirt again and I will kick your ass through the window of this car."

He chuckled. "I doubt that. Come on, I got an ice pack and I can already tell you have them bruised."

I groaned softly and turned around to put my back to him, lifting my shirt a little. I could feel the back of my ribs flare up a little as Sam prodded them.

"This gonna be a regular thing for you?"

I turned my head to look at him. "What do you mean? Goddamn, where the hell is Dean doing in there?"

He had disappeared into a grocery store ten minutes ago and hadn't come back yet. Which of course, Sam had noticed me groaning in the back of the car, fucking ribs. How many times was I going to bruise these goddamn things before they just gave up on me?

"Your ribs getting—"

"Ow!" I turned my head and glared at him. "Easy!"

He smiled softly and placed the ice pack on the black and blue patch on my side, upper part of my ribs. "Sorry. Your ribs getting kicked, punched…"

"Hit, bumped or thrown into something? Yeah, my ribs have been taking some beatings lately." I swallow and wince softly as Sam rested his hand on my side, letting the ice pack numb some of the initial pain.

I swallowed as silence seemed to envelope the car, the only sound was Sam and my breathing and the crinkling of the ice pack bag. "Are you…worried?"

I could feel Sam frown. "What do you mean?"

"About Dean…and…you know a year." I swallowed again. "Less than a year."

"I'm scared for Dean really." He ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm scared too." I nodded softly. "I'm scared of how Riley will turn out, I'm scared that…sadness will tear us apart." I looked down at my hands, lacing the fingers in and out after a few moments.

He touched my hand as I turned around. I leaned the ice pack against the back door and then leaned back against the ice pack, letting it rest on my ribs. His thumb ran across my knuckles.

"I promised I wasn't going to go anywhere. And I meant that. Dean…" He looked out the window and I glanced too, seeing him approaching the car from a distance, a plastered grin on his face. "He made me promise to look after you." I looked him in the eyes. "I mean, I had already planned on it but…" He shrugged. "He made me promise. To look after you. You and Riley. Keep you safe."

I bit my lower lip hard, trying not to tear up on the spot.

"And I will Andy. You have my word." He nodded.

I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Sam."

He smiled softly and blush ever so slightly bloomed on his cheeks. Dean opened the car door and looked at us. I smiled at him.

"What were you doing in there?" I pulled the ice pack out from behind me and got out of the car, he stood as I got out and Sam followed.

He held up lottery tickets, grinning.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, come on."

"What?" I came around the side and took a card out of Dean's hands to look it over. He snatched it back, regardless my pout. "Don't pout at me missy. You're not the one with the lucky charms."

I smirked. "That's not what you were saying last night." I winked.

He chuckled and leaned down to place a kiss on the hollow of my throat. Sam took the cards from his hands and he wrapped his arms around my waist, having free hands now. He rubbed the back of my waist gently as I leaned into his chest.

"Hey, that was my gun he was aiming at Andy's head. My gun don't jam. So, that was a lucky break. Not to mention, them taking themselves out, also a lucky break." Dean corrected Sam's speculation face. "So, scratch one. Come on, Sam. Scratch and win!"

I giggled softly as Sam rolled his eyes and scratched away with a quarter from his pocket. "Dean, it's gotta be cursed somehow." I bit my lip as he handed the card back to Dean. "Otherwise, Dad wouldn't have locked it up."

I leaned over to look at the lottery ticket and gaped. "Twelve-hundred dollars. You just won twelve-hundred dollars." I laughed loudly and cheered, Dean chuckled and whooped.

Dean handed him another ticket "I don't know, man. Doesn't seem that cursed to me."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, not yet. There has to be some supernatural backlash to this…"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Isn't there always? But for now…win us some more money. Riley needs some new jumpers."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, and I'd like to buy that subscription to BustyAsianBeauties…"

I shoved him and he laughed, pulling himself closer to me, trying to kiss all over my face as I laughed and tried pushing him away.

Dean had barely a year left. But in these little moments, it felt like we had all the time in the world.