The suspension in older vehicles sucks! Especially when traveling on unnamed, untreated back roads that are full of dips and potholes. And it is really lousy when you're trying not to jostle an injured limb.

My foot is propped up on blankets Dean pulled out of the trunk, in a cast from my toes to halfway up my calf. Five days ago, I fell over a tree root completely shattering most of the bones in my foot plus my ankle snapped, so after an intensive surgery to place screws and bolts and plates, we are headed to Sioux Falls so I can recuperate on Bobby's couch.

"How you doing back there?" Sam asks as he turns his head looking at me. I know he can see the pain in my eyes and I wince as we hit another rut in the road.

"If we don't get there soon, I'm gonna pass out from the pain," I tell him through gritted teeth. "These bumps are killing me. I feel like popcorn back here! This car is not gentle."

"Hey! Don't be talking about Baby like that. Her shocks are practically new," Dean defends his car. "I'm trying to avoid the big holes but for every big one there are half a dozen little ones."

"I know, Dean. I'm just in pain."

"Need another painkiller?" Sam asks, opening the glove compartment to grab my bottle of medicine.

I shake my head. I don't want to take it too close together and it has only been 4 hours since I took one. Plus they knock me the fuck out. "I'll take it when we get to Bobby's. That way I can sleep while you guys catch up," I tell them. "And no laughing because I got taken out by a tree root!"

"We wouldn't dare!" Sam says, sounding offended. And I might have believe him if he was better at hiding the chuckle.

Bobby's driveway wasn't any better than the stupid back roads we traveled to get here. Almost 2 miles of gravel and washed out ruts that by the time we are pulled up to his porch and stopped I'm ready to hop on one foot to the door. I lay there and watch the boys get out; Sam to the trunk and Dean opens the door behind my head to help me out. Once I'm leaning on the open door, Sam hands me the crutches and then grabs our duffels. Dean follows closely behind me, ready to catch me if I lose my balance. Sam's already on the porch talking to Bobby, telling him what happened.

"I got the couch in the den made up for ya, Nic. Brought your blanket off your bed so you'd feel more comfortable," the older man tells me once I get to the top step.

"Thank you Bobby," I say, smiling at my pseudo-father. If it wasn't for Bobby, God only knows where I'd be. If it hadn't been for Bobby, after demons killed my dad, I would probably be hell bent on revenge not caring that those tickets who murdered my father was something I didn't even know existed.

John Winchester had helped slay the ones who did the actual killing and saved me from their clutches but it was Bobby who showed me that evil actually did exist and it was out there in broad daylight. And Bobby's house had became my home. For over 2 years I lived with Bobby and that is how I met Sam and Dean.

And now here I was, back to live with the old mechanic once again. I looked forward to catching up with Bobby and getting my leg and foot healed up.

That night, Dean and I exchange words over sleeping arrangements. It had already been decided that I would spend my time recovering on the couch in the living room and I have bedded down for the night after Sam and Bobby retire upstairs. Dean and I are the only ones left watching t.v. in the dimly lit room. I am this close to losing consciousness when I hear it click off, the room is now bathed in moonlight.

"Good night Dean," I whisper, expecting him to be heading upstairs. Instead, I hear his voice above my head, "Good night sweetheart."

I crane my neck to see him with his huge frame, bent and folded in the leather chair with his legs hanging over one side and his head held up on the other.

"Dean, go to bed."

"I'm in bed, " he tells me.

"Go upstairs. Sleep in my bed so you can stretch out. That-," I motion toward him with my hand, "-cannot be comfortable."

"I don't wanna leave you alone," he mutters.

I set myself up on my elbows, "Dean Winchester, get your ass upstairs now. I won't sleep knowing you are so uncomfortable!"

He slowly disentangle from the obvious uncomfortable position and stands. He walks over to the front of the couch and I lay back down, looking up at him. He leans over and gives me a chaste kiss, "Call if you need anything. I mean it, Nic. Anything."

"Ok babe. Get some rest," I smile up at him and watch as he walks away. "I mean anything you need just call me," he tells me, stopping at the doorway and half turning to look back at me.

"Dean, I am NOT going to call you if I have to pee. I can handle that on my own," I say, finally clued in when he smirks. "You, mister, are not watching me pee!"

"So, I'll stand outside the door and wait," he shrugs. I grab one of the throw pillows from the floor and sling it at him. He laughs and heads upstairs.

The next day is uneventful, if you want to call being waited on hand and foot by Dean Winchester uneventful. Every time I made to get up, he was right there, handing my crutches to me, following behind to make sure I made it my destination. After my third trip to the bathroom, though I had had enough. "Dean, I can do it! I'm not totally immobile. You need to relax. The doctor said not to overdo it. I think walking to and from the bathroom is not what he meant."

"Sorry," he says, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "I just don't want you falling and hurting something else."

I sit down, situating my leg back onto the pile of blankets and pillows. "You know, I don't think Bobby has any rogue tree roots lying about," I joke trying to make him realize I'm not mad.

He smiles down at me and chuckles. "Yea, ok. I'll back off."

He walks back toward the kitchen and I speak up, stopping him."Dean, thank you for looking out for me." He winks and disappears into the kitchen.

Later, after an unplanned nap, I awoke to the three of them sitting around Bobby's large mahogany desk; their heads in more books.

"What's up guys?" I ask stifling a yawn and stretching.

"Possible case," Sam answers me, his eyes never leaving the page of the book in his hands.

Realization hits me. They're going to be leaving. I knew that eventually they would have to do so, but I was kind of hoping for a bit of reprieve from hunting for them too.

"What's the 411?" I ask, figuring I could still listen and try to help identify the source.

"Milwaukee. Longtime bank employee knocks guard out, robs bank and then offs himself," Sam explains what they know so far. "Then about a month later, woman cleans out jewelry store, shoots guard only to go home and kill herself."

"So, what makes you think it's our type of thing?"

"Well, for one, none of the loot was ever found anywhere. Why steal all that to just hide it and then go home and commit suicide?" Sam lifts his head and looks my way.

"So, when you leaving?" I ask, resigning myself to the fact that they were heading out without you.

"Late afternoon. It'll take 6 hours to get there, with Dean's driving. That way we can grab a room and get a thorough idea of what we're looking for."

"I get you there, don't I?" Dean spoke up, defending his speeding flair.

That evening I watch my boyfriend and his brother carry duffel bags and a suitcase out of Bobby's house to pack into Baby. I tried to keep my emotions in check, knowing if he saw how much this was upsetting me, Dean would feel even worse about leaving. I smiled at Sam as he came and gave me a hug, telling me to take it easy and get well so I could be back out on the road with them. Dean's goodbye took much longer. When he reached down to hug me, I refused to let him go, making him promise to keep in contact with me. I wanted to relish the feeling of his strong arms around me and get lost in his kisses. I ultimately had to release him when Bobby cleared his throat for the second time. Dean leaned over, kissing my forehead before he stood from his perch on the edge of the couch and walked out the door. As soon as the rumble of the Impala could no longer be heard, I let the first tear drop fall.

Day 1: Nightshifter

I texted Dean the next afternoon. I missed him and I knew if he was interviewing suspects, he couldn't answer a call and could reply to a text later. He texted me back almost immediately, apparently taking a break from the case.

N: How's the case coming along?

D: Slow. Got a lead though. Dude was caught on film with glowing eyes.

N: Shifter? Man those suck. Never know who it's going to be next.

D: This one guy swore we had a mandroid on our hands.

N: Mandroid? Like on Terminator?

D: Exactly! That's what I told him too! But man Nic, you should have heard Sammy. He is getting good at this fake FBI schtick.

D: Told the guy we had to remand the tapes he copied. That they held classified evidence of an ongoing investigation.

N: Awe Sammy boy is growing up.

A few hours later my text notification goes off as I'm returning from a quick dash, albeit slow with my crutches, to the kitchen for a soda and a sandwich. Bobby was out in the scrapyard somewhere and I was hungry. I picked up the phone, opening the text app and laughing loudly at Dean's message.

D: I hate playing dress up. Sammy has us going undercover as technicians for the security system.

N: You like it when I dress up.

D: Yea, yea. Way different babe! I don't think lacy thongs would look good on me.

N: You never know Dean ;)

D: I am not wearing a lach thong, ever! You hear me woman.

N: Yea, yea. Get to work techie.

Finishing my sandwich, I flipped on the television to laze the day away.

D: Gah! This is boring. We're watching security feeds. I miss you Nic

N: OMG! That does sound boring. Sam's idea I bet huh? I miss you too Dean

D: How's your foot? Keeping it elevated?

N: Yes, Nurse Singer is taking very good care of me.

D: Bet he ain't no Dr. Sexy huh?

N: Oh gross Dean. Not cool

D: Hahahahaha

D: Shit! Gotta go Nic. Mandroid boy is holding up the bank!

N: Fuck! Be careful Dean

I was now worried again about the safety of my boyfriend and his brother. A bank holdup was no laughing matter. Cops would be involved and if mandroid boy was the least bit on the insane side, who's to say he doesn't just shoot the hostages and whoever else in the building. I lay on my tan and brown prison, watching the people on the boob tube fight, make up, cry and whatever else they were scripted to do. Daytime tv blows!

Bobby comes in as the last bit of daylight fades away and starts on dinner. I try to hobble into the kitchen but he sends me back to the couch. I sit with a huff, crossing my arms. I'm tired of laying around, doing nothing. My phone beeps and I grab it.

D: So uh what's your thought of dating a supposed bank robber?

N: Huh? What the hell are you talking about?

D: Some federal agent came in guns blazing to take us out. Knew who we were, knew who dad was

N: What the fuck? How'd you get away?

D: Knocked out two SWAT officers and borrowed their uniforms.

Thank God! They're okay. I can breathe easier now. Which is probably a good thing once I get Dean's next message because I lose my breath from laughing so hard!

D: Shifter got me in the jewels. Kinda wish you were here.

N: What? You need me to ice your balls? ;)

D: Wow way to kill a moment there babe

N: Sorry. I'd kiss them and make them all better. Would that help?

D: Maybe...

N: So where to next?

D: Providence Rhode Island. People killing others because it's God's will

Day 2: Houses of the Holy

That morning, Bobby serves me oatmeal and toast but he allows me to shuffle to the kitchen table to eat. I promise not to tell Dean that he let me off of the couch, laughing that he made me make that promise. I'm on my way back to the living room when my phone beeps. I sit down and grab it to see a message from my boyfriend.

D: I fucking hate being on lockdown

N: Well, you were the one caught on the news...kinda makes being in public a problem.

D: We should really have sex on a vibrating bed...there's really magic in the "magic fingers"

N: Dude! LOL So what are you doing while enjoying that?

D: Wouldn't you like to know *winky face*

D: Shit, Sam's back

D: Please tell me you don't believe in angels?

N: Uh, what?

D: Sam believes in angels. And apparently unicorns.

N: You talking halo and fluffy white feather wings? Nope, don't exist.

D: Thank God!

N: He don't exist either.

D: Good point!

The rest of the morning is spent sitting up a makeshift work desk for me. I had suggested that since I couldn't get out and about that I would take the task of answering the phones and helping out the hunters who called in for advice and information; Bobby happily agreed. Around mid-morning I got another text from Dean, which helped brighten my day.

D: Another one bites the dust...

N: What?! Another murder or you quoting Queen?

D: Murder. Guy whacks another and then goes and turns himself in.

D: And Queen isn't that bad.

N: That's stone cold crazy!

D: Ha! Very fitting. I got one for you...I will rock you my fat bottomed girl.

N: Dean Winchester! Did you just say I have a fat ass?

D: What? No! Never mind.

I knew what he was trying to say and it made me smile but being the little shit I am, had to give him a hard way to go. I didn't hear from him for about an hour and I was beginning to worry that he might have thought I was mad. I had my thumb hovering the call button when a text came in.

D: We might have found a connection

N: Really, what?

D: Two of the three dead guys were world class pervs

N: Still, death by avenging angel?

D: They all belonged to the same church. Get this. Our Lady of the Angels.

N: So some do-gooder knew their secrets and disposed of them? I don't know, sounds prophetic.

N: Look into the pastor...they confess their sins to him, right?

D:I thought only Catholics done that

N: Eh, I don't know. Maybe? Check out the pastor anyways

D: On our way now. Let you know what we find out.

N: Ok. Hey Dean. Be careful

D: Will do sweetheart

The rest of the day passed quickly. I answered Bobby's phone when a hunter named Aaron called needing information on how to attract a Craitzen, a monster who sucks the blood directly from the heart using a long sharp spear-like hollow razor to pierce through the breastplate into the hearts of the victims. I had never heard of one so I had to deal with the hassle of limping around to find the correct lore book and get the information.

When my phone rang a little after 6, I was surprised to see Sam's name on the i.d.

"Hey Sam," I answer enthusiastically.

"Hey Nic, how's the foot?" Sam asks, but I can hear hesitation in his voice.

Not answering his question, I ask him one of my own. "What's wrong?"