A/N: Hello once again! I would've uploaded this chapter sooner had I not been distracted by skewl, but what else is new, ya know? Of course you do.
Anyway! I am gonna be honest and say I am very pensive about this chapter. I don't know if I made Dean... well, DEAN enough. Or Sam Sam enough.
I'd love if I got some more responses after this chapter to see if you thought the meeting of Sam and Dean was amazing, or if it was mediocre, or if it was downright awkward and/or not real enough.
In response to mun3litKnight: Dean. Oof. This was originally going to be a Dean/OC, but I was indecisive and held a vote with my friends. xD
Anyway, enough blabbing... and here you go!
She took to the road they had taken to find the cabin. It was a simple sun-faded two-lane road with no lights, and best of all - no cars.
The only sound she could hear was that of her steel-toed combat boots crunching in the road-side gravel, but it wasn't long before the sound became annoyingly monotonous in their chant of thump, crunch, scrape.
She lost track of time, not allowing her thoughts to turn to her father as she walked the seemingly endless road to the town that she had forgotten the name of. It was... Appleton... or something like that.
No, wait, she thought distractedly, feeling both of her back pockets on her jeans. Apple-something was the name of the motel...
She was startled out her stupor when she faintly heard a car roaring down the highway. The sound was very distinct, and she immediately quelled the fear of it being her father when she identified the engine purr to belong to an Impala. Sixty-seven, at the least.
She turned around and watched the road, seeing the lights far off in the distance. As she waited, she casually strolled backwards, sticking her thumb out to the road when the car got close enough, praying they'd let her bum a ride into town. It would be another hour, at least, on foot.
To her relief, the sleek car pulled over in front of her. She smiled slightly as she heard the beginning intro to "Stairway to Heaven", her mother's favorite, playing quietly from the black Impala.
She shielded her eyes from the headlights and could just barely make out the shape of two men in the front seat, the man at the wheel rolling down the window, waiting for her to approach.
She walked forward, making sure her voice wouldn't rasp by quietly clearing her throat.
"Howdy," she drawled sarcastically, mimicking what ninety-five percent of the town said in greeting to her and her father.
She bent down drastically to get her tall height low enough for her to peer through the somewhat low Impala window to smile at the man.
He returned the smile easily, although a bit falsely, as he imitated her. "Howdy," he replied with vague sarcasm, but he seemed pleasant enough.
He shifted himself to observe her better. "If I may ask, what are you doin' out in the middle of nowhere, Miss uh...-"
"Drake," she finished, offering an amiable hand through his window for him to take with her nicest smile.
He took the offered hand, albeit a tad cautiously. Ophelia didn't miss it.
His hands were rough and calloused.
"Dean," he replied with another slight pause. Almost unnoticeable, but Ophelia didn't miss it.
His voice was naturally gruff, not because of his hushed tone.
She rejuvenated her bright smile. "Dean, then. If it isn't too much trouble, would you please help a girl out and deliver her to town?" She had opted for using a drawl she had heard in town by one of the more sickeningly sweet young women residents.
Her name had literally been "Mary Sue", if you could believe it. No joke.
Dean seemed to hesitate, glancing over to the lightly snoring giant of a man in his passenger seat.
Picking up on this codependent gesture, she immediately amended, "I swear not to wake your friend up. You won't even know I'm there."
Dean looked like he was going to rebut the implication that he was worried, but instead he grumbled, "Just hop in." He said this with a begrudging tone, but also an amused undertone. He sounded like a big brother.
She let out a very relieved laugh as she gently popped open the back door and quietly rearranged some of the bags they had that were in the way before taking a seat. She shut the door after her as gently as possible, and they were off.
The chorus of Stairway to Heaven had taken off, and she couldn't stop herself from humming along and drumming her knees almost inaudibly to the beat. It's what she did every time she heard it.
She noticed Dean doing the same, drumming to the beat upon the steering wheel.
"Good taste in music, I see," she commented casually, hoping for some conversation. She liked Dean. She could tell he noticed she hadn't answered him, and she appreciated the fact that he didn't completely buy her act.
Dean cracked a small grin at her in his rearview mirror and replied, "Same to you, Drake."
She returned the grin with her own before looking out the window to her left quietly, studying the dark woods.
"So, uh..." Dean started, leaning his left elbow against the windowsill and resting his head against his left palm, leaving his right to rest on his leg, his hand loosely at five o'clock. "Drake. You never answered my question. About why you're out here."
Ophelia pursed her lips, not entirely used to being confronted, but unfaltering in her amiable act. "'Spose that's true..."
She opened her mouth to supposedly continue, when she acted distracted from the situation before her, to direct his attention to their established commonplace: Led Zeppelin.
"Wait, this is my favorite part!" Thank god she didn't have to lie about that. She sang along as she always did.
"'If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now, it's just a spring clean for the May queen'," she sang, perfectly emulating her voice to that of the lead singer's with no effort. She had grown up with this song.
As she continued to sing along, she went into her deadly-observant, nosy-detective mode. Her eyes flicked discreetly to Dean, seeing his suspicious but again begrudgingly amused expression in the mirror.
Her eyes moved on the the man, of which was still sleeping.
She then focused her peripherals on the backseat, studying their large duffel bangs. They were either on one long road trip, or... well, what else is there?
She took in a deep, swift breath through her nose, continuing to sing, but now noticing the very evident that the old, lived-in car smell wasn't the only smell present. There was car grease, obviously, but also salt, and gunpowder.
Salt and gunpowder... Salt and gunpowder just happened to be the signature smell of a certain light blue vessel named Wanda.
She stopped singing almost immediately.
Were these two hunters?
At the jarring absence of her voice, Dean looked back at the surprised woman in his backseat.
"You alright there, Drake?"
All pretenses forgotten, she genuinely smirked up at his reflection in the mirror. This seemed to take Dean off-guard, as his posture stiffened and he looked instantly regretful.
Ophelia chuckled lightly, leaning back in her seat, propping her foot on the back of the front seat. She was genuinely happy now.
"Relax, Dean," she eased, still chuckling to herself, and easing out of her 'act'. "As for me, I've never been better." With a small pause, she questioned casually, "You here for the death of Abigail Bart, too?"
At Dean's silence, Ophelia lifted an eyebrow at him, lifting her eyes to the man in front of her. His expression seemed mixed between confused and angry.
Hm. Maybe not the best approach...
Smile.
She obeyed her thoughts, and an appeasing smile took place of her smirk. "Gunpowder and salt," she explained. "Telltale smell of a hunter," she chuckled softly.
Dean's dark eyes flicked between the unlit asphalt and her reflection in his rearview mirror for a moment. "Indeed it is..." He replied with a small, but growing smirk of his own. "You solo?"
Ophelia shook her head. "Nah. I travel with my dad, we took out the case here - roaming ghost - but... Uh," she searched for words, "We had a spat. So I started walkin'."
Dean bobbed his head in understanding.
Ophelia nodded to the snoring gargantuan, "Family, or...-"
"Family," Dean interrupted with finality, causing Ophelia to chuckle. "Gotcha," she said amiably.
After a moment of silence, Stairway to Heaven temporarily forgotten, she adjusted herself to sit on the edge of the seat, and she leaned forward, offering her hand again. "Ophelia Drake," she said quietly in consideration of the sleeping man to the right of her. "Happy to meet you Dean."
He returned the gesture somewhat haphazardly, transferring hands on the steering wheel again. "Dean Winchester," he replied. "The noisy sasquatch is Sam."
Ophelia attempted to suppress the laugh that bubble up her throat. Brothers, then.
"He's my-"
"Brother, yes. I understand," Ophelia allowed a throaty chuckle to escape. That unfortunately caused her to start coughing, as laughing aggravated her still raw throat.
She caught the sound with the hem of her shirt, and fire erupted up her throat, causing her to cough even more but thankfully muffled.
"You alright there?"
She tried to respond, waving her hand dismissively, but it only turned into a more violent cough. She had spoken too much, dammit.
Stopping any attempt to speak, she opted to stop breathing when Sam started to stir. The coughs started sounding like violent hiccups in her closed mouth, and she decided it didn't help anyone.
"You need water?" Dean sounded sarcastic in his attempt to help, and despite herself, it only amused Ophelia he even cared enough to ask. He seemed a kind of untrusting kind of guy.
Finally her coughing subsided. Against her better judgment, she straightened from her half-fetal position and grinned up at the mirror. "That'd be fantastic," she rasped out. She shouldn't have taken so many liberties. Her throat HURT. She coughed again.
Suddenly Dean leaned over to the passenger side and cracked open something, maybe a cooler, and a moment later a cold water bottle was tossed back to her.
She caught it expertly, opening it immediately, and gulping down as much as she dared at one time, she could physically feel the cool water slide down her throat.
Suddenly the sleeping one of the two - Sam - groaned loudly, alerting the two of his awakening and startled Ophelia as she was nearly decked in the face by the man stretching.
Groaning loudly again with his stretch, he yawned obnoxiously before shaking his head and rubbing his face
"We there yet, Dean?" He questioned groggily, scratching the back of his head.
Dean peaked up at his mirror, winked at Ophelia, and replied nonchalantly, "We're not needed anymore, Sammy."
Ophelia, albeit confusedly, got the hint and silently sank down below the seat, out of view. If Ophelia picked anything up from Dean's wink, it definitely was the single instant of a wicked smirk. And if he wanted to haze his brother, and she was happy to oblige.
"What the hell do you mean by that?" Sam questioned, obviously disorientated. "How long was I out?" He checked a watch under his plain brown jacket. "We shouldn't even be there yet, Dean."
"Oh, I know," Dean replied, clearing his throat discreetly. Instantaneous eye contact with her clued her to that that was probably her cue. "Picked up a hitchhiker."
Gracefully, she slipped up from her spot and leaned on the backrest beside Sam's left shoulder.
With confusion, Sam was preparing to shift to peer in the backseat, but met the sight of Ophelia grinning.
Forcing the rasp from her voice, she crooned almost seductively, "Mornin' sleepin' beauty."
All in a moment, Sam yelped and practically leapt in his seat to punch Ophelia in the face, but she effortlessly dodged his clumsy hit-easily seeing it coming-causing her to start laughing as hard as she dared with her pained throat.
Dean had been laughing since she slunk up the back of the seat, and Ophelia couldn't help but feel proud for making a new acquaintance laugh.
Sam, however, was wide-eyed and panicked. He kind of looked like a kicked puppy.
Seeing the likeness, Ophelia's laughed shifted to the "aw-haw-haaaw"'s one emits when a baby animal startles.
"I'm sorry," Ophelia practically giggled. "Dean instigated this."
Dean snorted dismissively, "Did not."
Sam just was trying to calm the hell down.
"Who the..." Sam stuttered. "Who the hell is th- who are you!"
Ophelia smiled softly, softening her voice for two reasons. "I'm Ophelia Drake, occupation: hunter of things that go 'bump' in the night." She offered an awkward right hand. "Salutations."
Sam stared at her hand, her face, and then Dean. Dean nodded discreetly, but Ophelia didn't miss it. She let it slide.
Sam's hand dwarfed her fairly large and slender hand as his enveloped hers. "Pleased to meet you," Sam replied, somewhat sarcastically, but not without humor.
Ophelia smiled brightly at the man, and returned to her seat, drinking more water.
We should almost be back to town, she thought with a furrowed brow. How far did me and dad drive?
Dad... Ophelia wondered if he even cared that she had run off...
She extracted her phone and checked her messages... Or lack thereof. She huffed and shoved the phone back in her pocket.
Of course he didn't.
Dean interrupted her brooding thoughts as he turned to beam a sarcastically condescending smile at Sam. "Ah, there we go! A sign," Dean sounded teasingly enthusiastic. Ophelia smiled at his comment, and studied Dean's profile, eyeing his sharp canine. "We're 'five miles from the homeliest town this side of the county!'"
Sam seemed to resent the fact that Dean's voice had adopted an annoying cutesy drawl as he read off the sign, but Ophelia just laughed distractedly from the back.
"Shut up," Sam grumbled, almost pouting. A subconscious gesture that Ophelia found somewhat endearing as he clichely folded his arms before him.
Ophelia grinned at the exchange before her, grateful for their banter as a distraction.
"Jerk," Sam muttered, looking away from Dean, out the window.
"Bitch," Dean replied, drawling out the 'I' hilariously.
Ophelia's face softened entirely, shoulders slack. Now, this was hitting too close to home...
"OAPHY!"
Ophelia yelped and bent under the weight of the two children. She both loved and hated being tackled by two toddlers. A ten-year-old's body can only take so much.
"Oaphy!"
"Stoopid, it is OPIE. Not 'Oaphy'."
Ophelia grinned despite herself at how her younger brother scolded their youngest sister.
Percy had accentuated every word, trying to inform the *mis*informed Helen that 'Oaphy' was a name NOT to be used.
Ophelia was touched.
"O, Perceval, my brave knight!" Ophelia exclaimed dramatically, sweeping the back of her had to her forehead. "Please, take mercy upon this poor fool! She doesn't understand the crime she hath committed!"
"But its your NAME!" Percy rebutted stubbornly.
Ophelia sighed. Being stubborn was a Drake trait, through-and-through.
"Loser," she murmured softly, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately.
"Butt-face," he replied in the same manner, pushing her hand away to fix his hair.
"Opie? Ya there?"
Her head automatically shook out of the memory and her eyes darted around to find her father. Opie was the nickname he had dubbed her with. Family used that name. Where was her father?
She only found Sam turned in his seat, staring concernedly at her and Dean taking long glances at her in his mirror.
"Who called me that," she muttered out, neither a question or a statement.
"I did," Dean replied unabashed.
Ophelia blinked twice.
She was going to open her mouth, say 'don't ever call me that again', but she couldn't.
"So, as I was saying..." Dean trailed off, looking at Ophelia carefully. "We're almost in town. Where's your motel? I'll drop you off there."
Mo...tel... We rented a motel room? Think...
She shook her head again, oh, yeah.
"Um..." As reached into her back left pocket and found her room key. "'Apple Betsy's Bed and Breakfast'," she rattled off as if she were pronouncing something foreign.
She finally noticed Sam was still looking at her, even if in his peripherals.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm fine."
She stared out of the window, watching the first bit of the town's residential houses darting past them even as Dean slowed his speed as he turned down the main road.
As they pulled up to the motel, Ophelia got out and was ready to bid her farewells but Sam and Dean had climbed out of the car as well, to stay the night at "Apple Betsy's Bed and Breakfast".
She smiled and nodded a quick "be right back", and walked to her room to grab her stuff.
A/N: There we have it. Chapter two! Yeaahh. Woo! Mm-hmm.
How are you guys liking it? Was it okay? Should I scrap it? Start over? Leave it? Be sure to tell me! I love feedback. :D
Thank you for reading, and have a great day.