"Does this mean I get my bed back," Sam asked as Sophie dozed against Dean's chest. She had a dry towel tucked into her arms once again, and Dean realized it must be a little nightly ritual of hers. To his surprise, he found it endearing.
"So long as you promise to never refer to me and her as an 'item,'" Dean replied.
"We shouldn't leave her alone again," Sam said.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, stroking Sophie's hair, "We shouldn't."
"But what do we do with her?" Sam asked, "It's not like we're going to get her to start shooting ghosts with rock salt."
"She'd be a fine getaway driver," Dean suggested.
"Dean," Sam's voice was flat, "She has epilepsy. She can't drive. You know that right?"
"I definitely knew that," Dean tried to sound convincing and utterly failed. His gaze drifted down to the medical bracelet around Sophie's wrist. She had what she called "focal seizures" regularly. She'd get a blank look and maybe an unusual twitch. They were gone in less than a minute and left her confused, but fine. Once she'd passed out, slumped in her chair and banged her head on the table. But nothing severe yet. No body wracking, tongue biting convulsions. Yet.
But Dean knew it was just a matter of time before something worse happened. She said that it was rare for her to have more severe seizures, that her medication did a good job of keeping them at bay, that it only happened every couple of months. But she'd also said her last one was over the summer and Dean was acutely aware that the "couple of months" interval was rapidly drawing to a close. He thought of her spending thirteen hours alone with a migraine, then shuddered at what might happen if she had a grand mal seizure while they left her alone to go hunt.
"But having her wait in the Impala isn't a terrible idea," Sam said, "Take a couple days to get her handy with a weapon she's comfortable using. Lock the doors and make sure she's in earshot."
"Heard about a case up in Manitoba," Dean said, "Hikers getting limbs ripped off. Blaming the trees. Could be something."
"And it's a three day drive," Sam said.
"Plenty of time to teach her how to defend herself."
"Dean there's something else I need to tell you," Sam took a deep breath and waited for his brother to respond.
"What's up? You sound worried."
"I am worried," Sam said, "While you were taking care of Sophie with her migraine. I had a vision."
"Those hurt like hell," Dean cut in, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"She needed you more," Sam nodded in Sophie's direction, "I was not in so much pain that I spent thirteen hours vomiting, unable to open my eyes and find medication."
Dean shuddered and pulled Sophie closer.
"A vision about…" he prompted. He needed to stop thinking about her laying alone on the bathroom floor.
Sam's visions usually meant somebody was going to die. And Dean could feel himself tensing up, bracing to hear the inevitably bad news.
"Dad's gonna try and kill Sophie," Sam said.
"He's going to do what now?" Dean asked in disbelief.
"He's going to try and kill her," Sam said.
"But why?" Dean was baffled, "She's totally clean. Human through and through. And so help me the best at taking orders out of anybody I've ever hunted with. Dad should love her."
"I don't know why," Sam admitted, "But I know it's gonna happen."
"What, exactly, did you see?" Dean pressed.
"Dad aiming a shotgun at her," Sam said.
He paused and hoped Dean would move on with the conversation.
"And…" his brother prompted.
"She was naked and bleeding," Sam finished.
"That's," Dean paused for a moment, "Disturbing."
"Yeah. I know," Sam agreed, "So when Dad shows up…"
"If Dad shows up," Dean put in.
"Fine," Sam conceded, "If Dad shows up, we protect her."
"What do you think I've been doing this whole time Sam?"