Topic: Back In Black (AU)

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-09 13:05 EST
Halfway between Chicago, IL, and Lawrence, KS

"....on a steel horse I ride; I'm wanted, dead or alive ..." Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his - or her - cakehole. But not, apparently, when shotgun is singing along at the top of her lungs to the driver's choice of said music.

Curled up against the passenger door in the front of the Impala, her head half out the window, Nim was more than happy with Dean's choices on the radio, enjoying the sense of freedom that came with knowing they were finally on the road. Her foot tapped out a rhythm counter to the heavy beat of the bass and drums as she grinned over at the driver. The goodbyes that morning had been awkward, and yes, she might have shed a discreet tear as they pulled away, but there was no other way this could have gone. Brian was like a father to her, but Dean was everything. And he was stuck with her, too.

Dean had not shed a single tear at their leaving. He was a drifter at heart, never happy to stay in one place for too long. Most of his life since the age of four had been spent on the road, and while he sometimes bitched and moaned about it, the truth was he was happiest when he was on the road behind the wheel of his baby, headed for another adventure. So, without much ado, he'd bid good-bye to Bobby and Brian, promising Bobby to keep in touch and promising Brian to keep Nim safe. The first few hours had passed quickly with Dean taking the long way, avoiding the highways and toll roads, preferring rural routes that ran through the small towns that dotted the midwestern countryside from Illinois through Missouri to their eventual destination - Kansas.

The amulet that had been a gift from Sam still hung from the rearview mirror, in memory of his brother. He hadn't had the heart to put it back on yet and wasn't sure he would, but with Sam gone from this world, neither could he bear to part with it again. The car was littered with the usual stuff Dean tended to gather on road trips - a few empty coffee cups, some crumpled up take out bags containing more trash, mostly from various food stuffs, some cassette tapes, an opened and partially eaten bag of Doritos. One gun was carefully stowed in the glovebox while the other was tucked into his jacket. One could never be too careful, not even while stopping to take a leak on the side of the road.

The Bon Jovi tape wasn't his, but had belonged to Sam, and as such, he'd allowed Nim to play it, smiling a little as she sang along, remembering having done the same with Sam a few years back. It was a bittersweet memory, one that both saddened him and warmed his heart all at the same time.

He wasn't the only one discreetly armed. Along with the iron knife she now knew was all she had left of her real father, Nim was packing a handgun tucked into the back of her jeans, under the hang of her shirt and jacket, and her favored rifle was tucked under the seat they were sat on. As the song wound to a close, she lifted her head from its wind-swept lean in the window, combing her fingers through her hair as her lips curved into a cheeky smirk. "Are we nearly there yet?"

Most of Dean's weapons were stowed in the trunk and included just about anything he might need for a hunt. Bobby had made sure it was all there, save for the Colt. Not just any Colt but the Colt - the one Samuel Colt had made specially for hunting supernatural creatures, and Dean suspected specifically for the killing of demons. The Colt had remained behind with Bobby for safekeeping at Dean's insistence. The truth was he felt to blame for losing it back in his own "universe" and didn't want to chance doing so again. The song came to an end, which was just as well. Wanted Dead or Alive wasn't exactly the most optimistic way to start a road trip.

Dean chuckled at Nim's question. They weren't even half-way there yet, and she was getting antsy already. He knew they could have taken a quicker route, but he detested driving on the interstate, preferring the more scenic backroads. "You're like a kid on vacation with her parents. Are we there yet' Are we there yet' Are we there yet?"

She burst out laughing, shifting away from her lean against the door at his teasing. "What?" was her innocent exclamation. "I haven't peed all over your car yet, or broken anything because I'm having a temper tantrum." Snickering, she shook her head, turning her face toward the windscreen and the road ahead. "Kinda surprised you haven't stopped yet. I would've pegged you for the kind of guy who has to eat at least once an hour or he gets cranky."

"Which is exactly why I have these!" he replied, reaching for the half-eaten bag of Doritos in his lap and holding it up triumphantly. Along with the remains of the other foodstuffs he'd brought for the road that he'd already managed to scarf up. "If you're hungry, just say so. We've still got quite a ways to go." Or if she had to pee, since unlike him, she couldn't go on the side of the road. "You haven't been too far from home, have you?" It felt weird to think of Chicago as her home when he still thought of that place for her as Nebraska.

Nim stared at him, incredulous and laughing as he flailed his bag of chips triumphantly. "God, you live on salt and sugar, don't you? No wonder Bobby laughed so hard when Brian tried to warn you about my idea of a decent meal!" Rolling her eyes, she batted at his hand, making him lower the bag once again. His question made her smile fade a little, knowing that in comparison to him, without her memories, she was nowhere near the experienced hunter he was.

"Haven't crossed the state lines before," she admitted with a shrug. "Not that I'm really going far from home now you're around." She flashed him a sparkling smile, hoping he wouldn't notice the awkwardly tense way she was sitting. "You planning on stopping anywhere in the next half hour or so?"

He lowered the bag of chips back into his lap, right hand going back to holding onto the wheel, though he had a bad habit of driving one handed. Brows furrowed momentarily at her remark about home, but he didn't question what she meant by it just yet. He did glance over to find her smiling sweetly at him and thought it was probably time for a pit stop. He and Sam could and often had driven twelve hours straight with hardly a stop, but she wasn't Sam. Hunter or not, she was still female and being female meant rest stops in places that had powder rooms.

"You need to stretch your legs?" he asked, looking back at the road. He hadn't planned on stopping just yet, but he would if she needed to. "I could use some more coffee." He was probably running pretty high on caffeine about now.

"I could do with stretching, yeah," she agreed. For all that she was comfortable with him and had been almost from the first conversation she recalled, Nim wasn't quite comfortable enough to inform him just when she needed to deal with certain biological imperatives. That would, doubtless, solve itself over the next few weeks, but for now, she was going to have to get creative. "Seriously' More coffee" I swear your stomach must be lined with titanium or something."

"Is that a nice way of saying you gotta pee?" He chuckled, shooting a quick glance her way again. "I live on coffee. It flows like blood through my veins." That wasn't quite true, of course. He lived on coffee during the day to stay awake, bourbon at night to go to sleep, but for some reason, ever since he'd found himself in the alley in back of the Landing, he'd found he hadn't needed either quite so much. Still, getting sleepy on the road was never a good idea, and he wasn't sure she was ready to take over driving and navigating on her own yet.

"There's a town up ahead. We can stop there for a bit." He didn't need to look at a road map to know where he was, where he was going, or how to get there. He'd crisscrossed the country so many times, it was hardwired into his brain.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-09 13:11 EST
She flushed, ever so slightly embarrassed by a frank discussion of her bodily functions. "Yeah, all right, so I need to pee," she admitted, rolling her eyes. "I was trying to preserve your image of women in general as not needing to do things like that, but hey, if you wanna burst your own bubble ..." Chuckling, she shifted on the seat, squeezing her legs more tightly together for a moment before relaxing again.

"Be good to get an idea of what?s goin' on around the state, too," she mused, resting her head on her hand, her arm leaning along the length of the back cushion, unconsciously leant toward him. "Find out if there's anything we should take a look at while we're here."

He smirked, gloating a little as he pegged her bodily functions right on the head. "So, what happens, like, when you get your period" Are you going to go Jekyll and Hyde on me" Will we have to hole up for a week until you get your hormones under control?" Like he should be one to talk about hormones. "Sweetheart, my bubble was burst a long time ago. You gotta pee, you gotta pee. Just say so."

He arched a brow at her when she turned all business on him. "Look at' You mean like a job' I thought we were driving straight through to Lawrence." He didn't look too happy about the prospect of running into anything that might distract them or slow them down.

"Fine, I gotta pee," Nim snorted with laughter, shaking her head. "Happy now" And honey, you don't wanna know what?ll happen if you rub me the wrong way at that time of the month." She glanced at him as he openly objected to the thought of a hunt. "Well, yeah, obviously we're headed to Lawrence, but are you really gonna be able to just drive on through if we catch something that doesn't feel right' Really?"

"Um, let me think..." He paused for about half a second, if that. "Yes. We're not on a hunt, Nim. We're on a road trip. There's a difference. If something comes up, it comes up, but I'm not going out of my way to find something." He scowled grumpily as he watched the road. "There's a truckstop up ahead. You wanna stop there, or would you prefer to wait until we get to town?" He wasn't trying to be grumpy, but it was no secret that he was anxious to get to Lawrence.

"If there's a toilet, I'll use it," was her rueful admission at his offer. "Seriously, I've been holding on way too long. You should never have let me have that last coffee." With his scowling response to the thought of a hunt, which she had a feeling had more to do with his knowing he wouldn't be able to drive on through if they did see something than any grumpy instinct against having his plans postponed, she didn't pursue that topic any further, just barely stroking her knuckles against his neck in quiet apology for suggesting something that upset him.

Her touch soothing the savage beast, the scowl faded, turning to a remorseful frown, which he turned on her briefly. "You should have told me you needed to stop. We could have stopped miles ago. I'm not used to....It's usually just me and Sam and..." He found himself at a loss for words of explanation, having a hard time spitting out that he wasn't used to having a female along for the ride. It wasn't that he was regretting having agreed to let her come along, but it was going to take some getting used to.

"I'm not used to it either," she reminded him with a gently wry smile. Not so much unused to being on the road with a man, as simply being on the road for more than a couple of hours at a time. "I didn't wanna make a fuss." There was a pause before she added, with worrying candor, "Still kinda scared you might change your mind and send me back if I make things difficult for you."

He rolled his eyes at her admission. "So, you're gonna risk a bladder infection....or whatever..." Because he really wasn't sure what happened to women if they waited too long to relieve themselves. "....because you're afraid of pissing me off" I'm not that much of a dick." He paused a moment, brows furrowing again at his own statement. "Am I?"

"No, you're not." She was quick to refute even the slightest hint that this was anything to do with him. "This one is my problem, okay?" Her thumb smoothed over his brow, urging the frown to loosen and disappear. "I have issues about maybe being too much of a girl for hunting." Which, if Brian's assurances were anything to go by, were completely misplaced.

"Well....I've seen you in action and you're no slouch." He had to smile at the irony of his own statement, which could be taken any number of ways. "And I don't mean in the bedroom." Though she was certainly more than adequate in that regard, as well. "Seriously, Nim....I wouldn't have allowed you to come with me if I thought I'd have to babysit." And that was about as close as she was going to get to praise regarding her skills at hunting from him, at least for now.

Her smile deepened, reassured by his insistence in her favor. "Like I said, my problem," she reiterated, leaning over to touch a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks." A moment later, though, and she was grinning at the road ahead of them again. "And you'd better not be talking about the bedroom. I'm a sexual goddess, aren't I?" Modest' Nim"

A rather smugly proud smile curled his lips when she kissed him, relieved he'd said the right thing for once. Give him five minutes, and he'd put his foot right back in his mouth again. "Would it be a bad thing if I was?" He wasn't, but that was beside the point. She was no slouch in any area he could think of.

"It would if you were planning on getting further today than the truckstop you mentioned," she laughed, the sound warm as it rippled through the Impala. "I'm very easily distracted when it comes to you, you know that." She flickered a grin in his direction, only half-teasing. If he got her mind pondering in that direction, she'd already proved she could distract him just as effectively.

And speaking of truckstops, he flicked on his turnsignal and turned the steering wheel to pull the Impala into the parking lot, choosing a spot that was well away from the majority of vehicles. He chuckled at her remark, not denying it for a moment, nor admitting he was just as distracted by her. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, sighing dramatically.

"You don't have to tell me. I know I'm hard to resist. All part of the Dean Winchester charm." He flashed a grin at her as he shut the engine off and pulled the keys from the ignition. "Sam and I have been through here once or twice. They make decent burgers. I'd recommend the chili cheese fries and a chocolate shake myself."

"Combining the three major Dean Winchester food groups, I see," was Nim's teasing response to his recommendation. "Salt, sugar, and fat."

The pad of her thumb tweaked his nose as she twisted on the seat, the other hand gentle as she opened the passenger door. Her feet flailed for a moment as she wriggled to the edge of the seat before climbing out and closing the door behind her, stretching her arms up above her head with a loud groan of relief. And careful to keep her back to the car to hide the gun in her jeans as the movement lifted jacket and shirt a couple of inches too high to keep the weapon concealed.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-09 13:16 EST
A small frown flitted across his face momentarily. His usual response to any adverse comments regarding his diet of choice was that he wasn't planning on living long enough to worry about high blood pressure, diabetes, or cholesterol, but somehow he had a feeling she wouldn't take too kindly to that train of thought, even if it was true. Bobby was probably the oldest hunter he knew, and in his own world, Bobby was dead.

Instead, he reached over to turn the radio off and gather up his trash, eyeing her from the driver's seat as he did. Once that was done, he pushed the door open with a creak and shoved his keys into his pants pocket, looking over at the diner to gauge the crowd before stepping foot in the place.

There was a series of quiet cracks from Nim's spine and neck as she stretched, finally turning toward the diner herself as she finished her stretch with a roll of her shoulders, flicking her hair out of her face. Like Dean, her gaze scanned the people moving in and out, making use of the stop, as she moved to begin the walk from the Impala across the parking lot. "Order for me?" she asked Dean, proving that despite her teasing about his diet, she had no qualms about it really. It was Brian who suffered mostly from her healthy food kick.

As for himself, there was no stretching or neck cracking. Dean was accustomed to sitting in the car for long stretches of time and while it felt good to get out and stretch his legs now and then, he wasn't really feeling cramped or achey yet. He fell into step beside her, arching a brow at her suggestion. "You're trusting me to do the ordering" Aren't you afraid I'll order something that will ruin your girlish figure?"

Her grin deepened as she looked up at him. "Oh, I trust you not to order anything we can't ....work off, later," was her playful response as she nudged at his arm.

He snickered. "That shouldn't be a problem." He reached around her to pull open the door, staying close as it was a truckerstop, after all, full of, well, truckers. The kind of men who would eat a girl like Nim alive, if she let them. He nodded to a pair who were glancing their way, a hand going around to the small of her back as they stepped inside. "Afternoon," he said in way of general greeting.

Correction - a girl who looked like Nim would be eaten alive. Even Dean should know by now that trying to mess with her when she didn't want to be messed with was asking for trouble. As her companion took up his protective position at her back, her smile widened, offered to those who looked up in a friendly manner.

"Hey," she offered her own general greeting, stepping away from Dean as her eyes spied the bathrooms. "Be back in a sec," she murmured to him, patting his thigh lightly before turning away to disappear through a nearby door.

"I'll be right here, honey!" He called after her as she hurried off. He'd marked his territory and so, apparently, had she. It was obvious to anyone in the diner that they were "together", and that fact alone seemed to lose some of the attention they'd gathered as they'd walked in.

"She's gotta pee," he explained to the pair of truckers sitting at the closest table, jerking a thumb toward the bathroom. Neither seemed to care much, and he moved on to check out the menu that was shown on a board behind the counter - the usual truckstop offerings, just about anything that could be quickly cooked up on a grill.

He seemed to recall the place having pie, which was always a plus and one of the reaons he'd decided to stop here, not to mention the fact that Nim hadn't seemed able to hold her water much further.

While a 'sec' was something of an under-estimation of the time she did take, Nim wasn't actually too long out of Dean's sight. After all, how long did it really take to do your business and wash up" She exited the bathrooms with her hands in her hair, twisting the golden blonde length up and off her neck, into the grip of an elastic band. Of course, being back in view and seemingly the only woman in the place for the time being brought a certain amount of attention to her, all of which she ignored as she made her way back to Dean's side.

All except for the waitress who had appeared behind the counter and was checking out the newcomer like he was a fresh piece of meat. They didn't usually get too many lookers coming through here and she was unabashedly admiring what had just come through the door. "Hi, handsome, what can I get you?" she asked, beaming a smile at Dean from the other side of the counter.

Dark eyes settled on the waitress with instant dislike as Nim slipped back to Dean's side, touching her cheek to his arm as she offered a sweet, sickeningly false smile to the woman leering at her man. Someone who looked as sweet and innocent as the blonde huntress shouldn't have been able to exude 'touch him and die' vibrations with such terminal intensity. She rose onto her toes, nuzzling a kiss to Dean's jaw that was definitely marking her territory.

Dean smiled in amusement as Nim rejoined him and obviously marked him as her territory, deflating the waitress' hopes. He wasn't above a little harmless flirtation, but he wasn't going to flaunt it in Nim's face. Females had been fawning over him since he'd turned sixteen, and he didn't really give it much heed. "I'm thinking bacon double cheeseburger. What do you think, honey?" he asked, turning a sugary sweet smile on his companion and sliding an arm through hers.

"Sounds good to me." Her point made, Nim wasn't going to rub it in the disappointed waitress' face, wrapping her arms around Dean's as she leaned into him for a moment. "I'll go sit," she suggested in a quieter tone. "Try not to cause trouble." Brown eyes twinkled teasingly as she released him, slipping past. One hand caught up the first newspaper to hand from the pile on the counter as she turned to scan the seats available, making her way over to a booth that was both by the window and the exit.

The waitress seemed unimpressed with the girlfriend, and though she'd noticed no wedding ring on either hand, she wasn't about to fight a losing battle. Dean ordered them both double bacon cheeseburgers, his with extra onions, two sides of fries, and two chocolate shakes because as far as Dean was concerned, milkshakes should only be chocolate. He pulled a few bills out of his wallet, most of the wad Brian had given him safely hidden elsewhere, and looked the place over while he waited for their food to be ready.

Nothing much seemed to have changed since he had been here last, but if you'd seen one truckstop, you'd seen them all. After a while, they sort of all blended together and looked the same. Even the clientele started looking the same. Dean idly wondered how long it would take before Nim tired of this life.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-09 13:22 EST
As Dean looked over the place, Nim was idly scanning the paper she'd brought with her, her chin resting on her hand. It was a few days old, evidently left behind by a trucker on his way through, but at least it was something to keep her eyes busy. She had a feeling that letting her gaze wander in here would probably result in herself being propositioned, and Dean was still bristling over the last time that had happened. A header caught her eye - NEWBORNS STOLEN FROM HOSPITAL; POLICE ATTENDANCE REPORTS NOTHING - and a faint frown touched her brow. Ordinary humans didn't go on baby stealing sprees, after all.

As if from habit, Dean was checking out the exits, noting where the emergency exit was, just in case of an emergency. Whether the windows opened or not. Where the salt was located. Where the fire extinguisher was located. If anyone here looked suspicious or seemed to be watching. Could the place be easily defensible, if it were attacked" And on it went as Dean ticked off a list by rote in his head, so lost in thought that the waitress had to call him twice to tell him his order was ready. He smiled an apology and collected the tray of food, turning to head toward the booth Nim had picked out not far from the exit.

"Jesus, I think they were killing the cow back there," he complained as he slid into the booth across from her and set the tray down.

Lost in the text of the article, it was a moment before Nim responded. Post natal wards placed under high alert ....police response criticized ....all male, born within two days of their abduction ....dolls made of straw, containing what are assumed to be human afterbirth ....

Blinking as the tray landed on top of the paper, she looked up, shaking herself out of her contemplation. "Hmm' Oh ....Sorry, I got kinda caught up in reading," she confessed awkwardly, deliberately not mentioning what she'd been reading. She could always do a little research on her phone before presenting this to him.

He noticed she was a little lost in her reading and waved a hand in front of her face. "Hello....Dean to Nim. It's lunchtime, remember?" He handed her one of the cheeseburgers with a smile. "It's okay. Anything interesting?" He had no idea if the news and current events of this world were anything like his own. "Obama still President' The world still going to shit?" He grabbed a few fries. "I'm curious how much is different here and how much is the same." He jammed the fries into his mouth as he unwrapped his burger. "Now, that's what I call heaven."

"What, you mean you hadn't heard about the coalition of Botswana and Amalfi bailing the U.S. out of debt and buying off the presidency?" she asked, her eyes bright with laughing playfulness as she swept the paper to one side. "You should spend some time on Wikipedia before asking me things like that." A little more delicate in the way she ate, nonetheless Nim was hungry enough to attack her food with enthusiasm, opening her mouth wider than most people would assume she could to take a huge bite of her own burger. "Mmm," she moaned happily, chewing and swallowing before adding, "You're ordering for me all the time now."

"Wikiwhat? Now you sound like Sam." Though Dean had learned a lot about the internet in the past few months for various reasons, it was still not really his thing. And now that she'd answered, he was almost sorry he'd asked. "Yeah, I guess I'll have to do that sometime." Current affairs had never been of much interest to him, unless it had to do with demon sign or monsters or the Apocalypse. Despite feeling a little out of touch with the world in general, he smiled as he watched her devour her burger. "If I order for you all the time, you'll end up weighing 300 pounds." He bit into his burger, tongue coming out to lick at a dribble of catsup, moaning his approval.

"Sorry," she grinned, licking her fingertips clean for a moment to nip fries between her teeth. "I shouldn't tease, you might decide to get your own back on me." Despite his suggestion that she was going to blow up like a human balloon if he was given free reign over her diet, they both knew it wasn't likely to happen. Between hunting and other recreational activities, she'd be lucky if she ate enough calories to keep her current weight steady. "What, you don't want a cuddly armful to use as a pillow?"

He grinned around a mouthful of fries. "I can think of other things I'd rather use you for." He pushed the tray aside as he washed the fries down with a slurp of his milkshake. He furrowed his brows as something caught his eyes. The headline maybe? Something about missing babies" He snagged the paper and turned it to face him, eyes scanning the article. He didn't think much of it at first. After all, he'd learned a long time ago that people were the worst monsters, but as he continued to read, a few details jumped out at him, raising some red flags in his head. "What's this?" he asked, assuming she'd already read it.

She couldn't help an almost shy roll of her eyes to match the smile that rose at his blatant teasing, slower to finish eating than he was. Still, she was playing with her milkshake by the time he mentioned the article that had caught her eye in the first place, one hand rising to rub the back of her neck.

"Could be something, could be nothing," she shrugged lightly, aware that her voice was more likely to carry in the lull of male tones that murmured through the diner. "Kinda think it could be something. Newborn boys being switched with corn dollies and human afterbirth, happening in hospitals right under stationed policemen's noses." Her brows rose as she met Dean's eyes, her jaw clenched in obvious anger that it was being allowed to happen in the first place. "The paper's dated for three days ago, article says four kids had gone by then."

"Yeah..." He agreed, thinking it over, his eyes still scanning the article, as if he might glean something more from a second reading. "Doesn't sound like your usual run of the mill babynapping, does it?" He thoughtfully tapped a finger against the paper. "Just boys. I wonder why. Corn dollies and afterbirth' First of all, that's gross. Secondly, where the hell do you get afterbirth from and why?" He was leaning in, nearly head to head with her, voice lowered for her ears alone.

Nim matched his lean, her voice low enough that only he could hear her as she responded. To everyone else in the diner, their intense eye lock and softened voices only betrayed a couple who were very close and unashamed of that fact. "And all the kids are under two days old," she added to his round up. "Hospitals usually dispose of the afterbirth unless the mom or dad ask for it. It's the placenta and umbilical and all that stuff that keeps the baby going in the womb. Just the corn dolls, and it could still be human. It's the afterbirth that makes it suspect."

"I know what..." He made a face, suddenly not really hungry anymore now that she had given him a clear visual explanation of afterbirth. "I know what afterbirth is. I wasn't born yesterday." He paused a moment to snicker at his own pun. "You get it' That's not half bad."

She couldn't help laughing with him. You lived the Life, you developed a somewhat morbidly strange sense of humor. "Dean, that's terrible," she giggled quietly. "Look, I can look into this a bit more on my phone. Do you want me to take a closer look?" She was leaving it up to him with good reason; he was the one who had insisted not so long ago that they were on a road trip, not a hunt. She didn't want to be the one to make the decision.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-09 13:30 EST
He frowned, turning serious. "It....what? You think whatever is stealing babies is a monster" Last time I saw something like this, it was demons." He leaned back with a sigh. So much for Lawrence. It would probably have to wait. Why wasn't he surprised" If there was something weird going on - and it sure as hell sounded like there was - it would be irresponsible and selfish of him to ignore it, especially if innocent lives were at stake, and you didn't get much more innocent than newborn babies. "Yeah, okay....I guess we should check it out, since we're here."

"It could be nothing," she murmured softly. "I just ....I've learned not to ignore my gut. My instincts are all I have when I come across stuff like this." Her hand lowered to the newspaper, folding it closed to show him the title page. THE WICHITA EAGLE. "It's not that far out of our way."

"Your gut's probably right. It's not rocket science. It sounds like something right up our alley." His mood, already touchy at best, was dipping lower, more at the question of what someone would want with newborns than at the necessity of having to hunt. "Four hours out of Chicago," he sighed. "Four hours. It's almost as if we were meant to be here, meant to stumble on this. I wonder if anyone else is already looking into it."

"I can check with Brian," Nim offered, folding the paper into her palm as she prepared to rise from their shared seat. "Hey ..." Her hand gently touched his cheek. "If it's our call, we'll win. We're the good guys, remember?" Fatalistically optimistic, perhaps, but it was better than dwelling on unknown details.

"Yeah," he reached to take the paper from her and tuck it into his jacket. "We should be going. It's another seven or eight hours to Wichita." And it would be well past dark by then. He said nothing more on the subject, not wanting to chance anyone in the truckstop overhearing them. He followed her to his feet, pausing as she stroked his cheek, a small, slightly sad smile touching his face. "Yeah, I remember."

Her smile echoed his, perhaps not sad for the same reasons but warm in companionable understanding. "We're gonna have to stop somewhere overnight anyway," she said firmly. There might as well have been no one else at the truckstop but them, if you discounted how she stayed away from their sudden topic of purpose. "I'd rather start early than drive late if we can avoid it." It probably wasn't to his liking, but they were going to have to get used to each other as they went along. Compromises loomed.

He'd rather drive straight through and get a room when they got there, crash for a few hours and start early. Or start as soon as they got there, but he wasn't alone on this one and he wasn't with Sam either. He'd gone days without sleeping while on a hunt, but he couldn't ask the same of her. "We'll talk about it in the car," he informed her, not wanting to discuss it there, attract attention to themselves, and cause a scene.

He slid out of the booth, tossing a nod to the waitress behind the counter. "Thanks for the burgers!" he called, as if it really was only food they'd been interested in, reaching for Nim's hand as he started toward the door.

"Yeah, thank you!" She let him take her hand, falling into step with him as they slipped from the diner, her fingers squeezing his. "Sorry," she murmured as they crossed the parking lot together, her lips barely moving. "I guess I'm being indiscreet, huh?"

"No, it's not that," he replied, as he led her away from the diner back to the car, letting go of her hand. He pulled the paper out of his jacket and handed it back to her. "What if it happens today....tonight....while we're on the way' Someone's life could be at stake while we're catching a few z's in a roach motel somewhere. We need to know if there's a pattern. If there's any consistency."

She flushed hotly, ashamed of herself for not having thought of that. "You're right," she agreed quietly, sliding her phone out of her pocket as she opened the paper to the article once again. "I'll work on that, while you're driving." Indeed, she was already tapping in her search criteria as they approached the Impala, her thumb moving with enviable speed over the touch-screen. It was one thing Brian had insisted upon when she'd started going on hunts - a completely up to date smart phone made research on the move a hell of a lot easier.

He wasn't happy with having to burst her bubble and tell her that. He'd much rather spend the night in a motel room enjoying her company than worrying about a hunt, but if this was a hunt, people's lives were depending on them and every minute counted. "I'm sorry, I just..." He shook his head and shrugged, pulling the keys out of his pocket upon their arrival carside. "I've seen too much sh*t in my life, I guess."

She shook her head, managing a smile despite the inner voice that was accusing her of being worse than the monsters she wanted to hunt. "No, I'm sorry," she insisted, glancing up for a moment. "I didn't think." Her eyes lowered again to the phone in her hand, her thumb sweeping over the screen as she isolated websites to investigate. "You're the expert, anyway."

He sighed, moving close to tip her head up to meet his gaze. The web would wait another minute or so. "I'm not an expert. I'm just doing the best I can in a crappy situation." His thumb gently rubbed against her chin. "I'm glad you're here. It's lonely hunting alone." By crappy, he didn't mean being there with her, but having to hunt monsters and demons and other things that preyed on innocent people. But the truth was, this was what he was born to do.

The gaze he drew to his was proof enough that she wasn't going to forgive herself for that selfish slip in a hurry, but she managed a better smile for him this time, however lopsided it was. Taking the paper into the same hand as her phone, she lifted her other hand to curl her fingers into his palm. "I just don't want to let anyone down," she admitted uncomfortably. "I'll try harder." It was a promise, however quietly it was spoken, sealed with the kiss she pressed to the back of his hand.

He gazed solemnly down at her, not wanting her to feel guilty or blame herself, but knowing that if they tarried and someone else was hurt, that's exactly what she'd do. If she couldn't learn from her own mistakes, maybe she could learn from his. Touched by her promise and her kiss to seal the deal, his gaze softened, warm and caring. "You won't. I promise." He leaned in to brush a proper kiss against her lips, light but warm and affectionate.

She leaned into the kiss, sighing softly as she let a little of that self-blame go. Just a little, but just enough to lighten her mood to something she could think with. Gently drawing back, her smile was warmer, more relaxed. "Let's get going then."

He mirrored her smile after she returned his kiss, reaching around her to pull open the driver's side door. "I'll drive while you..." He bopped her lightly on the nose. "...do research." She was young, but he was confident she'd do fine, given time and experience. It was their first hunt together. Time would tell if it would make or break their partnership.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-09 19:22 EST
Super 8 Motel, Wichita, KS

It was well after midnight by the time the Impala finally arrived on the outskirts of Wichita, KS, blending beautifully with the darkness of the night as she was drawn into the parking lot of the first motel that came to the eye. Eight hours since the truckstop, with only a couple of very brief stops on the way. Nim had a lapful of notes scribbled in her journal and on torn pieces of paper, but at some point in the last hour, her pen had dropped onto the floor. It hardly mattered though, given that she'd fallen asleep in the same moment. She'd been fighting the need to drop off for at least an hour before then, insisting on having the window open to keep herself 'fresh', and even that hadn't kept her from giving in completely.

Roughly twelve hours, give or take, since they'd pulled out of the parking lot at Morgan's Landing, Dean was pulling the Impala into yet another motel parking lot in a long line of motels he and Sam had stayed a night or two in along the way. Dean put the car in park and shut off the engine, rubbing his temple where a dull ache was starting to set in. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep or something. He looked up at the sign outside the place that declared there was vacancy, the lights burned out on several letters.

Typical. Another crappy motel in another crappy town during another crappy hunt. Complain though he might, this was his life. It was all he really knew, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Dean glanced over at the girl who had fallen asleep beside him, and something twisted inside him. Not Sam, but Jo. One gone, the other alive, exactly the opposite from what he'd known back home, turning his life and his emotions upside down. He wondered if he should be trying to find a way home; if he was somehow betraying Sammy by not doing so.

He reached over to brush a lock of honey blond hair away from her face, remembering the first day they'd met. It seemed like forever ago now. "Hey..." he called, hoping to wake her gently, glad she seemed to be sleeping peacefully, nightmare free.

She came awake easily at his touch, somehow knowing at a deep level when it was safe to sleep soundly and when it was not. Outside the Landing, she was never going to sleep soundly for more than a few minutes at a time, no matter how long she appeared to sleep for. Drawing in a soft breath, her eyes blinked open even as she nestled into the gentle brush of his fingers against her hair. "We here?" she murmured hazily, clearing her throat as she moved to sit up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep." She offered him an owlish smile, noting the faint hint of stress on his face that betrayed his headache. "How long was I out?"

"Yeah, we're here. Welcome to Wichita." He smiled faintly, trying to appear comforting, reassuring, not wanting her to sense the weariness or the conflicted feelings that were troubling him, that always seemed to haunt him, like the ghosts and demons of the past. His fingers lingered against her cheek longer than necessary, seemingly needing that small bit of physical contact. "Not long. A few hours." He glanced at the pile of notes she'd been scratching before she'd drifted off. "Find anything interesting?"

She looked down at her journal and the random pieces of paper sticking out of it, not needing to even try and read anything in the darkness. "Nothing concrete," she admitted reluctantly. "Got a couple of suspicions, but kinda need access to medical records and path lab results before I go into detail. Since the article was published, another two boys have been taken, same circumstances. The only thing that links them right now is that they're male, but there's a couple of reports from 1932 of newborns disappearing, too."

It was a lot of information, and what she really needed was a couple of hours' decent sleep to be able to look at it with fresh eyes. Bending, she caught her pen and little Maglite torch from the floor, tucking them into the journal as she closed it. Her eyes lifted to Dean, one hand stroking her thumb over his temple. "You look exhausted."

He arched a brow at the information she'd been able to glean just from surfing the internet on her smart phone. Better than lugging around a laptop everywhere we go. Sorry, Sam, he silently apologized to his brother in his head. The marvels of modern technology. He suddenly felt ancient at thirty-three. "1932" So, this isn't the first time this has happened then."

He drew his hand back to rub at the dull ache in his temple as she ducked to snag something from off the floor, dropping his hand before she could catch him, but she seemed to sense his exhaustion. "I'm okay. Just need to close my eyes for an hour or so." He glanced over at the motel, which seemed pretty quiet this time of night. "Guess we should check in."

"I'll make you a deal," she said quietly, knowing he was going to argue with her but at this point not really caring. "You sleep longer than an hour or so - because you need it - and I won't bug you about it until the next time you try and pretend you're not a mere mortal like the rest of us." Leaning over to the backseat, she grabbed her backpack, stuffing the journal inside roughly. Her gaze wandered over to the reception, where a guy was just visible, scowling at them for daring to pull into the lot at this time of night. "Sooner we check in, sooner you sleep."

He opened his mouth to protest, to tell her he wasn't tired, not really, that he wanted to get started before someone else got hurt, before whatever it was that was stealing babies could strike again, but he knew she was right. He was just being stubborn. The fact was that, unlike most people, he wasn't really looking forward to sleeping. "I don't..." His protest trailed off, knowing it would only fall on deaf ears. Neither of them seemed to sleep well, unless it was in each other's arms. With any luck, he'd be too tired to dream tonight.

He sighed. There wasn't much point in going anywhere tonight. She needed to make heads or tails of her notes first, and then they had to go digging for clues. Nothing more was going to be accomplished until daylight. "I need to call Bobby. See if he's run across anything like this before."

"In the morning." Nim wasn't going to discuss this any further, a fact made clear by the stern look in her eyes as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. "C'mon, let's get checked in. It's only a few hours, Dean, and there's nothing we can do tonight." She liked it as much as he did, but she was right; they couldn't charge in on so little information, or make the right choices without getting some decent shut eye. Rolling the window up, she opened the door, dragging her pack out with her as she stood up with another round of those cringeworthy cracks from her stiff body.

She was right and he ironically realized that the whole "we need to get this done asap" speech he'd given her just a few hours earlier had all gone to naught. It wouldn't have mattered if they'd stopped halfway to sleep or waited until they got here. Either way, there was nothing that could be done tonight, except for more research, and she seemed to have that well enough in hand. He gave up with a heavily weary sigh. "Fine. He'll just get pissed if I wake him in the middle of the night anyway."

Dean pulled the keys from the ignition and pocketed them, pushing the heavy door open and stepping out, taking a moment to stretch his back, arms over his head, glancing at the moon that was peering down at them from behind a thin veil of clouds.

Hooking her bag on her shoulder, Nim came around the sleek car to touch her hand to his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly, offering another of her understated smiles. "You still with me?" Her fingers trailed down his arm to slide loosely between his, giving him a gentle pull toward the reception, her own eyes on the same half-hidden moon. She couldn't help but wonder if they had already missed a chance to stop another child being taken.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-09 19:27 EST
He lowered his arms as she came up to meet him, sliding her hand into his, like that was exactly where it belonged. He knew his mood had dipped again, and he knew why. The thought of some monster out there preying on innocents while he paused for a nap was infuriating, but he was only human and unless they knew if, when, and where it would strike again, there wasn't much more they could do tonight. "Yeah, just....I know someone has to do it, but it gets old, you know" Knowing something's out there, and I don't know how to stop it."

"Yet." She squeezed his hand tightly. Her dip in mood earlier had been bolstered by her research, by the knowledge that she was doing something useful as they approached their new destination. They might not know much at this point, but she was confident they would know plenty very soon. They were going to beat this, whatever it was. Dean would beat it, with her help. "You gotta do the talking here, I'm not so good at names."

He was confident whatever it was, they'd figure it out and beat it. It just galled him that they couldn't do it now. He had no patience when it came to hunting. Research had been Sam's thing and now seemed to be Nim's. Putting a silver bullet in some monster's chest, now, that was what he looked forward to, giving all that repressed rage inside him a target, a purpose.

"Names, right." The thought of them checking into a motel under assumed names put the smile back on his face. "You have a problem with Mr. and Mrs. Smith' Angie made one sexy assassin." Jolie, that is, from the movie of the same name he'd caught parts of late one night on pay per view when sleep had been an elusive b*tch.

Her lips curved in a laughing smile at this suggestion, her eyes rolling. "Nope, no problem with that," she giggled. "Just, you know, so long as you're not expecting me to do fight scenes only wearing your shirt." She, too, had experienced far too many nights where sleep didn't come, hence the wide movie knowledge from a woman who only had a little under three years of memory in mind.

"You can do something else wearing my shirt," he teased, waggling his brows at her as he pushed his way into the motel office, leading her up to the check-in desk.

"Evening," he greeted the man behind the desk, letting go of Nim's hand to pull his wallet out of his pants pocket. "We'd like a room for the night."

Giggling under her breath, Nim leaned close behind Dean, peering over his shoulder at the man at the reception, her eyes betraying her grin. He didn't look impressed, barely even glancing up as he pointed to the prices tacked up on the inside of his perspex window.

"Standard rate double room, in advance," was all he said, leaning backward to snag a key from the wall. "Name?"

Dean glanced at the board, pulling a fifty from his wallet, enough to cover a standard double room for the night and sliding it across the counter. "Smith. Mister and Missus," he replied, with a perfectly straight, sober expression on his face, almost daring the guy to challenge him.

There was no reaction, not even a second glance. The bill was folded into a grimy hand, the key pushed back over the counter. "17."

Behind Dean, Nim lowered back onto her heels, not particularly wanting the grumpy man serving them to know she was laughing at his distinct lack of interest in the people he was giving a room to.

Dean was just as glad there was no challenge. He was too tired to argue with the guy, but had no intention of giving him their real names. If push came to shove, he had a dozen or so pseudonyms and fake IDs he could draw form, but he was just as happy the guy didn't seem to care. He scooped up the key to Room 17 and tossed the man a feigned salute. "Thanks, have a good evening."

"Yeah." The grunted reply was all they were going to get.

Shaking her head, Nim took Dean's hand in hers once again, stepping backward toward the motel building itself and the line of doors that led into the rooms. "Friendly, isn't he?" she asked with a grin.

Dean shrugged as he pushed back out into the cool night breeze. "Welcome to Kansas," he repeated his earlier greeting. He'd learned over the years that no matter what people might say about this place or that place being friendlier, people were just people wherever he went, some friendly, some not so friendly. The one thing they all had in common was that they were human. It was the non-human variety that concerned him.

He came to a halt halfway to the motel room and handed her the room key. "Meet you there in a few. I'm gonna pull Baby up to the room and grab my bag."

"Okay." Her fingers closed around the key as she nodded, appreciating that there was no way Dean was even going to consider relaxing unless his Baby was nearby. She let him go with another quiet chuckle, hiking her own bag higher on her shoulder as she turned to continue on her way, opening up and letting herself into Room 17. It was exactly what they'd paid for - standard and faceless, and only too easy to get from the door to the bed in the darkness to switch on a lamp without breaking anything.

He waited, watching as she made her way to the motel room and let herself in, making sure she got in safely before retracing his steps to where he'd parked the Impala, getting into and revving the motor a moment before pulling her over to a spot right outside Room 17. At least, it wasn't 13, not that he was superstitious. Not him. Not at all.

He pulled the dumb phone Bobby had given him from his jacket, glancing at the time, his thumb scrolling through the list of names Bobby had programmed into it. He got to S and noticed with an empty feeling that there was no number listed for Sam, and why should there be? Sam was dead. He scrolled back up to B, his thumb hovering over the Call button, debating whether or not to call Bobby and risk waking him or wait until morning.

She'd left the door open for him - not the wisest move, perhaps, but then there was little in the human spectrum that either them couldn't deal with easily. Thus, as Dean pulled up and began his inner debate, Nim was visible inside, passing back and forth inside the door as she laid out salt lines and inspected the room for any sign of tampering, supernatural or otherwise.

Dean lifted his head from the phone to watch her inside the room, going about the usual hunter's ritual of checking and double-checking the room and laying out salt lines to prevent demons from making a surprise visit. He just sat there quietly watching, feeling a mixture of pride and sorrow. Like him, she'd never really had much choice, born to this life, like her father and his mother. Descending from a long line of hunters before them, it was in their blood - it was in her blood - no matter how much he might try to deny it.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-09 19:32 EST
This was where she belonged, where she'd always belonged - right by his side. He felt a lump forming in his throat and swallowed it back down. This wasn't the time for such silly softening. There'd be plenty of time to grieve when he got to Lawrence. Deciding against calling Bobby, Dean returned the phone to his resting place inside his jacket - his jacket, not John's - turned around to retrieve his pack from the back seat and got out of the car. He made sure all the doors were locked and headed for the door to Room 17 to join his new partner.

Unaware of his eyes on her, she paused in the gap of the doorway, shrugging out of her jacket to toss it over a chair, tugging the band out of her hair finally. Little normal things that contrasted so strangely with the hunters' rituals of salting and checking. Even without the memories he had of her to inform her actions, Nim knew what to do. It all came from the blankess in her mind that had saved her life on more than one occasion; the same blankness that had rolled over and purred when she'd accepted that the unexpected warmth she felt for the stranger who was not a stranger was, in fact, love. It was a part of her, a legacy of the bloodline Dean pondered as he watched her, the skill and instinct that gave her the edge she needed to be his partner on this road.

Hearing the Impala's door close, she glanced up with a smile, moving out of sight once more. When he entered, it was to find her sat on the edge of the wide double bed, checking the magazine of her handgun, the iron and rock salt bullets that nestled within. No hunter was ever without some weapon to hand.

Dean closed the door as he stepped into the room, careful not to break the salt line she'd laid out across the threshold, turning to lock and chain the door shut, more out of habit than necessity; if something really wanted to get inside, it would find a way, salt and locks or not, but those might at least give them enough time to defend themselves first. It wouldn't be long before word got around that Dean Winchester was still alive, and the long list of enemies would come knocking at the door eventually, starting with demons and right down the line. There weren't any ifs about it, only whens. It was simply the way things were.

"You gonna do guard duty all night or catch a few z's?" he asked as he turned back around, tossing his pack on a chair that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of wear and tear.

She looked up at him, that lopsided smile of hers back in its accustomed place on her lips as she set the gun down on the bedside table. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" she asked him in a wry, soft voice, rising to her feet to hook her fingers into his shirt, pulling him over toward the bed. "I love you, but I really don't trust you when it comes to lookin' after yourself. " Truth and honesty and loving affection all rolled into one teasing little comment on his bad habits in the gloom of the motel room.

He arched his brows in mild surprise as she remarked on his self-destructive bad habits and pulled him toward the bed, hands settling against her hips, a weak but warm smile on his weary face. "Planning on wearing me out more than I already am, or you gonna tuck me in and tell me a bedtime story?" he queried, yet another confession of love from her kindling the growing affection he felt for her. He was still in his jacket, which held the various essential tools of his trade that might be needed at a moment's notice. "Because I really wouldn't mind if you want to use me a little."

Nim laughed softly, rising onto her toes once more to gently smooth a smiling kiss to his lips. "You wanna be used up and tucked in, is that it?" she chuckled quietly. No matter how tired she was, it was highly doubtful she was going to deny him anything, especially when it was so easy to kindle her to the same feelings. "Only if you promise to actually sleep when we're done."

"Something like that," he chuckled, lifting a hand from her hips to trace an X across his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to live," he promised, changing the words of the pledge because he really saw no point in promising to die. The fact was that he slept better with her curled beside him and slept even better than that when he was too worn out to dream.

Her smile widened, a bright ray of sunshine in the darkness of the small hours of the night as she flicked her head back, blowing her hair from her eyes. Gentle hands released his shirt to smooth up into a cradle at his jaw, drawing him down to her, letting her breath warm his lips as she breathed her answer. "We'll just have to see what we can do, won't we?" A moment's further teasing, and her lips closed with his, soft and slow and tenderly wanting, asking for nothing more than he was happy to give. After all, he wasn't the only one who slept better when they were side by side.

He was happy to give her whatever she wanted, meaning what he'd said - only too happy to let her use him in whatever way she so chose, too weary to resist, too wired to pass out. He needed her, almost like a drug, to relax him, to ease the tensions that were inherent in the kind of life they led. He followed her down to the bed, returning her kisses, coaxing moans from her even in his weariness, partnering with each other in the oldest dance known to man - one that had originated with Adam and Eve.

An hour or so later and both were lying spent in each other's arms, caught in each other's embrace, bed clothes tangled around them, each with a chosen weapon close at hand, ready at a moment's notice. He sighed contentedly, heavy eyelids drifting closed, surrendering his consciousness at last to the Sandman.

Nim lay quiet in his arms for a long while after he succumbed to sleep, tracing her gaze over his more peaceful features in repose, smiling lovingly at the way he fought so hard to be the one in control all the time and yet would give up that control at barely a word from her, in the right circumstances. Nestling close, she released a soft, weary sigh of her own, brushing her lips one last time against the dark ink pentacle that marked his chest. The Life could wait another few hours while they recharged spent batteries. And then ....then the hunt was on.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-11 12:46 EST
Super 8 Motel, Wichita, KS

Time ticked away on the clock while Dean and Nimue slept. One hour became two and Dean slipped into deeper sleep - the kind of sleep that was accompanied by dreams. They started off innocently enough, bits and pieces of this hunt or that, liberally sprinkled with appearances by Sam and Bobby and Nim - the people he loved most. It wasn't long before the dream changed to nightmare, as it almost invariably did, and Dean found himself trapped in Hell and at the mercy of his personal tormentor - a demon by the name of Alastair - more memory than nightmare.

They don't call it Hell for nothing, and there are few words to describe what Dean suffered there. Unspeakable horrors, the kind that would break the strongest of spirits, but somehow he had survived, burying the pain and the anguish so deeply that it only came out in his dreams, when his mind was at rest and he could no longer fight it.

It had been years since he'd been rescued from Hell, and still the dreams tormented him, like an open wound that would ooze and fester, never quite healing. When the nightmares got the best of him, he'd often drink himself into oblivion, too numb to dream, or he'd refuse sleep, but before long, his body would protest and he'd have no choice but to surrender, hoping he was too exhausted to dream. Such was the case tonight, but the nightmares came.

To his credit, he had become accustomed to them enough that he no longer screamed himself awake. He'd awoken once too often that way and had been forced to endure a barrage of questions from Sam and later, from Lisa. Bobby had never asked, seemingly understanding without asking, but Bobby had always been that way - quietly supportive and understanding without coddling.

Tonight it was the rack - Dean's most dreaded form of torture. Alastair slicing and dicing his way through the session, even while he made polite conversation, always finishing by telling Dean all he had to do was say the word and it would be over. All he had to do was agree to take the place of tormentor and the torment would be finished, but Dean had learned the hard way that becoming the tormentor was only a different form of self-inflicted punishment.

In the end, it was the guilt that had eaten away at him, until he'd realized he'd only done what he had to to survive. Now, the nightmares were simply about pain. They say it's darkest just before dawn, and as if to prove a point, it was just as the world was turning that pre-dawn shade of gray that Dean pulled himself out of the nightmare, waking suddenly, eyes snapping open. He bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath, an unreleased scream caught in his throat, shaken and pale.

It was a bit of a rude awakening for his bedfellow. Nim had been curled close to his side, her own nightmares held at bay by having him so very present, but the moment Dean snapped upright, she was flipped away, slithering in an ungainly heap onto the floor with a loud thump. Still only half-awake, her flailing hand moved unerringly for the gun on the bedside table, snatching it up and aiming even as she blinked herself to full consciousness, naked and crouched on the floor. Her dark gaze swept the room in the pre-dawn gloom, making absolutely certain nothing had crept up on them ....and fell on Dean, shaken, pale, breathless.

"Oh ..." The gun was laid back on the table in an instant, pale limbs scrambling to bring her back onto the bed and against him, arms wrapping about her lover as she kissed his temple. It didn't take a genius to work out what had happened.

He was caught up in the slowly fading tendrils of the nightmare - like being stuck in a spider's web or in the sharp claws of a monster's grasp - heart pounding with fear, face pale, hands shaking. It took a minute or two to realize where he was, to shake off the horror of the nightmare that was more memory than dream. He was vaguely aware of Nim's presence as she tried to comfort him and he tried to pull himself back from the dream and into the present and the world of the living. She wrapped her arms around him, and he tensed, every muscle flinching at that soothing embrace, just for a moment, before forcing himself to relax.

She held on, despite his flinch, despite the tension that tried to bleed from him to her, forcing herself not to react to it. It was hard, when Dean was on edge, not to share that feeling, but she knew he needed her to be soft right now. He needed her to be Nim, his girl, not Nim the hunter. Her lips moved gently against his hair as she knelt high on the bed, drawing his head to her chest, letting him hear the reality of a beating, living heart. It was his heartbeat that soothed her when she woke in a panic; she could only hope that hers might do the same.

Even if he didn't move a muscle or seem to acknowledge her presence, internally struggling and fighting his way back from the clutches of that nightmare, he knew she was there. There was no resistance from him as she drew him in, her presence slowly pulling him away from his nightmares and back to the world in which she existed. He heard her heartbeat, her breath, slow and steady, her voice quietly soothing and summoning him back.

It only took a few minutes, but it seemed like forever, the minutes stretching on like the years spent in Hell, until the very first golden ray of light shone through the window, casting light and color on the gray, silent world of night. He took a deep breath, his muscles slowly relaxing as the terror slowly receded, pushing it back into the deepest recesses of his mind, where it belonged.

Slowly, as he began to loosen from that tense, wired, anxious wait for the first light of dawn, Nim felt the little core of rock hard anxiety deep inside her unwind with him. She knew, academically, what his nightmares must haunt him with, but there was no way she could ever even begin to empathise or imagine the torment he went through. But, just like he had with her, she didn't tell him everything was okay, she didn't promise to keep the darkness away. She just kept repeating, over and again, that he was alive, he was here, she was with him. Hard facts he could cling to, no matter how much that haunted part of him tried to deny them. Her fingers stroked lovingly over his shoulder, against the dip of his jaw, as she murmured against his hair, quietly guiding him back to this reality, this present moment in time.

Slowly, he unwound and loosened himself from the clutches of that nightmarish memory, glad she didn't ask him for details the way Sam had, or tell him that he'd feel better if he talked about it. She was just there, like an anchor, keeping him safely in tow. He drew another slow breath, unable to hide the tremor from his voice as he finally spoke, apologizing in part for what he deemed his own weakness. "Sorry," he muttered quietly, a hand coming up to touch hers, as if to make sure she was real and not a figment of some illusion.

"Don't be." Her voice was soft in the quiet that spun itself around them, not yet broken by the sound of others in the motel getting ready to start their day. She lowered to her heels, letting him take her hand as the other smoothed against his cheek. Her lopsided smile, that normal, familiar expression, made itself known on her face as she leaned in to touch her forehead to his. "Just be glad I didn't shoot you."

He turned his head slowly toward hers to meet her gaze, closing his eyes a moment as her forehead touched his, exhaling slowly to slow the pounding of his own heart. "Sorry I woke you," he apologized again, each word feeling heavy and thick on his tongue. Two hours of sleep was more like a nap than a good night's sleep, barely enough to recover from the twelve-hour drive, but now that he was awake, he wasn't surrendering to sleep and risking drifting back into that particular dream again just yet.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-11 12:52 EST
Unlike Dean, who'd gone from deep sleep to anguish, Nim had been snapped straight from deep sleep to let-me-at-it-I-want-to-kill-it. There was no way she was going back to sleep now. Her smile warmed as he apologized, dismissing the need with a tender touch of lips to his. "Like I said, don't be," she reminded him. Her eyes flickered to the clock nearby. "We'd have been up soon, anyway."

He drew comfort from that kiss, coming out of a dream that often seemed more real than the living world around him. "Are you real?" he asked, the question leaving his lips before he could stop himself from asking. In his own world, she was dead; here, she was not. In the past, it had been easy - tempting even - to get lost in a world that wasn't real, where those he loved were still alive. It wasn't always easy to tell the difference, and there had been times, he'd been tempted to surrender to the world of his own making, rather than face reality.

She could understand that a little better. The nightmares weren't the only remnant of her lost memories lurking in her mind; Nim often dreamed of faces and places and events she would dearly love to remember truly, rather than as snatches in a dream world. "I'm very real," she promised Dean, her tone fierce as she stared into his eyes. "I'd offer to prove it if I thought that'd help." Her smile widened to a faintly teasing grin as she leaned in once more to kiss him, a little firmer, a little warmer, and a whole lot more playful, silently urging him to let go of the dream and wake up.

It hadn't been that long ago that she'd proved it to him, that they'd proved it to each other. Only a few hours before, they'd been tangled in a lovers' embrace, proof that they were both more than just figments of one's imagination. He could still taste her on his lips, feel the memory of her on his body, her scent lingering against him, mingling with his own. He drew more comfort from her kiss, an arm sliding around her waist to draw her up against his chest, banishing the last remaining tendrils of the dream from his mind, at least, for the time being.

Had she really expected him not to rise to that' She wasn't sure in herself, truly. But, of course, the taste of him on her lips, the sensation of his skin against hers ....these were real, tangible, and oh, so difficult to resist. Not that she really wanted to. It was so easy to forget the world in Dean's arms, and she had a feeling he knew he did that to her. Drawn closer in a slither of bare skin and bed sheets, she let her arms slide about him, tender and warm and his, whatever he needed. Her smile softened against his lips as she breathed him in, the familiar scent of gunpowder, oil, leather, and the unique musk that lay beneath it all and was Dean drawing a quiet moan from her throat.

A flicker of flame was rekindled with her kiss and the way her body reacted to his, like twin flames flickering and dancing to reignite the fire that burned in both their hearts and souls. She was a perfect match to him in every way, almost as if they were meant to be together, star-crossed and fated from the beginning of time. Or maybe it was the Gods' doing. Either way, it didn't matter. He knew what he was feeling, and he was no longer fighting it. He drank her lips in, like the sweetest of nectars, fingers finding the soft curves of her body and laying her back against the pillows once again.

The hell with the world. It could wait for a while longer.

Two hours later, and the world had woken up with them. As kisses and touches were exchanged in the loving quiet of Room 17, men and women all around them, people who lived ordinary lives, rose from slumber and started their day, unaware of the agony and ecstasy in their midst.

Nim sat on the end of the bed, squeezing the remains of her shower from her damp hair with a towel as she went over the notes she had not been able to make much sense of the night before. The time for play was over; it was time to go to work, now.

Dean took his showering seriously, and and such, usually spent a little longer in there than necessary. It wasn't just about getting clean; it was about the sheer enjoyment of it. The stinging massage of hot water against tired, aching muscles; the scrubbing of a day's worth of hard work away; the ritualistic way of greeting a new day in the world of the living. Shampooed, shaved, and showered, he emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a generically white motel towel to dig through his duffel for a change of clean clothes. He glanced over at Nim on the bed, engrossed in the notes he as yet had not read and knew little about. "Care to share or do I have to wait for the abridged version?"

She sighed, her expression rueful as she looked up at him. "I was wrong about the different hospitals bit," she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. "All the kids have been snatched from two of the WesleyCare centers, the main clinic and the women's center. Six so far, no new reports of anything happening last night." She handed him her journal, open to a page covered in her careful scrawl. "I really have no idea what we're up against here. I mean, babies usually mean Changelings or demons, but there are the straw dolls, and the whole afterbirth thing ....I think that's the main clue. We need to get the police pathology reports on those afterbirths, find out if they are actually the ones that were attached to the kids that have been taken."

"I don't really get the straw dolls. I mean, why would you leave a straw doll in place of a kidnapped baby' It's not like no one would notice the difference." He reached for her journal, eyes darting over the notes she'd made there. He'd run into a few monsters who bore similarities to this case, but a square peg still didn't fit into a round hole and until they knew more, he didn't care to hazard a guess. "If they aren't the ones that belonged to those kids, it begs the question, whose - or what?s - are they?" He handed her back the journal so he could get dressed. "So, how do you wanna play this?" he asked, as he stepped away, ducking back into the bathroom with an armful of clothes, leaving the door cracked open far enough that they could still converse with relative ease.

Nim sighed, shaking her head. "Well, I kinda think we need to get those police reports," she admitted, tilting her head to admire each glimpse of Dean that flashed past the crack of the door before she caught herself. Unable to keep the smile from her face, she chuckled at her own distraction before continuing. "And I still think the medical center's records on the mothers is the best chance of finding a link. Which would you rather do?"

"If you're asking whether I'd rather play Eliot Ness or Dr. Sexy, I think you know which I'd pick," he remarked from the bathroom as he pulled on a clean pair of jeans. Of course, Eliot Ness required a suit and Dr. Sexy required a lab coat, neither of which were in his present possession. He frowned at the thought of that, wishing he was more prepared. All he had was whatever Bobby had seen fit to pack in the Impala before he'd left South Dakota for Chicago. No Colt, no laptop, no three-piece suit.

She snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes. "In public, Dean, we're not talkin' sex games here," was giggled back to him as she flicked through her phone. "We can grab a suit from somewhere, and there are scrubs in those centers, so that's not a problem. Make the choice, princess, I'm gonna need to make up a badge or two."

Dean had agreed to leave the Colt with Bobby for safe keeping, not expecting to need it in Lawrence and still hoping he didn't in Wichita, but he often felt better with that ace in the hole up his sleeve, just in case it was needed. "I'm more comfortable in a tie than scrubs, so be my guest with the hospital records. I've got a badge or two in my wallet. I'm good." He pulled on a t-shirt and ran his fingers through his hair before emerging once again from the bathroom, fully clothed. "We grabbing breakfast first' I don't work too well on an empty stomach."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-11 12:56 EST
"Shouldn't take a minute to run off a couple of logos on the motel printer, then," Nim nodded, finally dropping the towel onto the rumpled bedsheets to comb her fingers through her drying hair. She glanced up as Dean walked back in, her face again lit up with a smirk. "You feelin' the need to refuel, Deano?" She grinned, tucking her notes back into her pack before lifting a comb out, dragging it ruthlessly through her hair.

Takeout was fine. He wasn't picky. He'd started more mornings with an Egg McMuffin and coffee than he cared to count. "After last night, hell, yes. You wear a guy out." Or maybe it was the nightmare that had worn him out. He'd found his tryst with Nim more invigorating than exhausting, but he couldn't help but tease her a little, not wanting her to know the true source of his need for caffeine and sustenance. "I should call Bobby later. After we know a little better what we're up against. He might have stumbled across something like this before."

"Good plan. But let's find something out for ourselves first, huh?" Hair at least tangle-free, Nim finally got to her feet, reaching to tuck her weapons back about her person. She had a feeling they weren't going to be staying here another night; if whatever it was spotted them at the medical centers, they might end up the hunted instead. It was a risk you took with every case. "C'mon, princess. You get Baby revved up, I'll check out and charm the guy into letting me use his computer for a coupla minutes." She flashed Dean a wink, tossing him her pack as her phone slid into a pocket.

"I don't get what kind of sick puppy would want to hurt babies," he remarked idly, as he rolled up his dirty clothes and tucked them safely away in a separate compartment in his duffel. Laundry would have to wait until they got to Lawrence. Turning to her, he caught her bag, narrowing his eyes at her suggestion. He didn't really like the idea of her trying to charm anyone, unless it was him. "You want me to distract him or something while you borrow his printer?" he asked, slinging her back over his shoulder and taking up his own.

Nim chuckled at his reluctance. "Dude, I'm not gonna flash him or anything," she assured her lover confidently. "I'm just gonna ask nicely to use the printer, and probably end up paying him for it too." She paused, waiting until she had his full attention before laying her hands on her own breasts teasingly. "These are not on offer, okay?"

No smirk from him, not even a hint of amusement in his expression or tone of voice. "Better not be, or I may have to shoot first, ask questions later."

He threw a cursory glance around the room to make sure he had everything. Gun, check. Clothing, check. Duffel, check. Wallet, check. Phone, check. Everything seemed to be in order, other than the telltale lines of salt that still edged the door and window. The maid would probably wonder about that, but nothing could be done about it now.

Choosing not to start an argument over whether or not he actually trusted her, Nim turned away with a faintly irritated sigh, doing her own check of the room before snagging the key from the table. How much proving did she have to do' Didn't he believe her when she told him she loved him' She pulled open the door, stepping aside to gesture to the sun-drenched parking lot. "After you, princess."

Oh, he trusted her all right. It wasn't her he didn't trust. It was the beady-eyed guy in the motel office, and he wasn't just wary of him the way a jealous lover might be, but in the way someone might be who didn't trust anyone he didn't know well. Everyone was a possible demon or monster. One could never be too careful about that. "Keep calling me that, and I might have to find a nickname for you," he warned, this time with a slight curl of a smirk to his lips, as he passed her on his way out the door.

"Yeah, like that's a threat I'm gonna quiver at," she snorted with laughter, pulling the door to and locking it. Her hand passed discreetly but possessively over his rear as she slipped out from behind him, flicking her damp hair out of her face, heading for the reception and her self-appointed task. It didn't take more than fifteen minutes - in daylight and without Dean to scowl at him, the grumpy guy was susceptible to a bright smile and politeness, and didn't even question what she ran off his printer. A few minutes later, and she was back in the parking lot, offering Dean a triumphant grin. "So ....breakfast?"

The groping of his rear did illicite a small smirk that he didn't even bother to hide as they temporarily went their separate ways. By the time she got back to the Impala, he was rocking out to some Led Zeppelin song that was playing on the radio.

Singing along with Robert Plant and strumming an air guitar behind the wheel, he didn't even notice Nim outside the Impala awaiting an answer. The music was loud enough that it could probably be heard from the motel office, the low thrum of bass and beat of the drums.

He was oblivious, obviously. Laughing to herself, Nim moved around to the driver side door, bending down to look in through the window, wondering if she should tell Dean how cute he was when he was rocking out in his own little world. She probably wouldn't survive that conversation, though. Giggling, she lifted her hand, knocking on the glass by his head, deliberately out of rhythm with the music.

Obviously startled by the knocking on the glass, he jerked his head toward the window, his rocking out coming to a complete halt. If he were a blusher, he'd have blushed, but he just didn't embarrass that easily. He reached over to pop the lock and let her in, as if singing at the top of his lungs was a normal everyday occurance. "Hey, how'd it go' Did googly eyes let you use his printer without asking you on a date?" He turned the sound down on the radio to a less deafening decible as he waited for her to climb in.

Moving around once again, she thumped down into the Impala with a grin, drawing the door closed behind her. "Googly eyes?" Laughing, she reached back for her Cosey box, slipping the print out inside before settling more comfortably on the seat. "Well, he did ask to marry me, but I told him he'd have to ask you first," she teased through her grin, leaning over to tweak at his nose.

"Marry you?" he echoed, eyes narrowing a moment before chuckling in amusement. "Fat chance in..." He broke off before he could say the word hell. "Like that's gonna happen," he mumbled instead. "Over my dead..." he broke off again, annoyed that he couldn't find a figure of speech that fit the situation without hitting one nerve or another. He scowled at her as she tweaked his nose, batting her hand away from his face. "You're lucky you're cute or I'd kick your a$$."

Nim broke up with giggles at his fumbling scowling response, blowing him a cheeky kiss. "You can kick my a$$ anyday, love muffin," she countered his threat with another teasing wink. "But only if you promise to kiss it better afterward."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-11 13:01 EST
"Love muffin?" he echoed, arching both brows at the term of endearment. "Oh, I'll definitely kiss it." He broke into a grin. "Later. Business first, then pleasure. Where to, snookums" Feeling like takeout or a proper breakfast?" He turned the key in the ignition, turning over the engine with a loud roar, as sweet as a kitten purring to his ears. Or a woman's moan.

Snookums. Nim groaned cheerfully at his chosen endearment, patting his thigh affectionately. "I'm thinking somewhere for a proper breakfast, 'cos I can't see us eating a whole lot more if we get cracking on today," she nodded, hands lifting to twist her drying hair into a ponytail. "You're the one behind the wheel, though. You choose."

"There's a diner up the road a bit. If I recall correctly, they make a decent breakfast." He turned his head to back out of the parking spot, turning the wheel and easing onto the gas. "It's been a few years since I've been there." Kansas might be home, but it wasn't his favorite place to be. Too many memories here.

Odd, how they contrasted in so many ways and yet fit together so well. He had too many memories; she had too few. And they both felt their situation keenly, yet made so light of it, even with one another. Blowing a hank of hair hat had already escaped out of her eyes, Nim studied his face as he backed them out, remembering how peaceful he had seemed when he'd first fallen to sleep. She didn't think she would ever get enough of just looking at him.

Drawing back to herself, she shook out of her thoughts, hooking an arm over the back of the seat comfortably. "So long as I get pancakes, I'm easy."

"Pancakes?" he repeated, adding with a mutter, "Pig 'n a poke." He grinned, remembering a place he and Sam had stumbled on a few years ago, a place that was probably better off forgotten except for the awesome breakfast. And then he was chuckling at something else she'd said that stuck him funny. "Better not let that get around. You belong to me, and I've never been too good about sharing." He hit the gas, squealing the tires just for fun as he pulled out onto the road.

"Hey!" Laughing as she caught up with herself and her own slip, she poked at his shoulder, rolling her eyes. "So you want me be hard, huh' That's gonna make your nights interesting." Snickering teasingly back at him, Nim pulled out her phone, already working on getting them set up with their aliases for the day. She was relieved that Dean had decided to be the fed, though; with her sweet, girl-next-door looks, she just couldn't muster the authority necessary to bullsh*t her way onto a crime scene on her own.

"No, I'll be hard," he twisted her words, guttering them again, like he had a one-track mind centered on sex, which wasn't really the case but it helped relieve the tension of a hunt. "You just worry about being available when the mood strikes."

"Honey, I'm always available for you," she assured him in a voice rich with fond amusement. It was a good distraction from the task ahead of them, and really, there was no hardship in teasing and being teased. "I draw the line at wearing skirts unless there's a real good reason, though."

He flashed another teasing grin at her, glancing to the phone in her hand. "That thing is like a minature laptop." No, he wasn't all that up on the latest and greatest new thing in technology, but ask him to field strip a weapon or rebuild an engine, and he was your man. "Sammy had a laptop, but..." he trailed off, leaving the rest of that thought unsaid. Flashing him another warm smile, she stilled her search for a moment. "Practically is," she agreed, in relation to the phone in her hand. "It isn't great for details in images, though. I'd show you how it works, but it'd make your brain dribble out your ears." No, it didn't take a genius to spot Dean for the technophobe he was. His mention of Sam brought a faint frown to her brow as she looked over at him, dark eyes narrowing as she waited to see if that reference to his lost brother would have a knock on effect on his mood.

He had learned to work his way around a computer and the internet when he had to, but until his obsession with killing Dick Roman, the most use he'd gotten from computers was searching for internet porn sites. He frowned a moment at the thought of Sam, but pushed it aside for now. There was a hunt afoot and people's lives at stake. Grieving Sam was a selfish indulgence he'd save for later. "Maybe I'll have to think up a good reason for you," he smiled weakly, attempting to change the subject back to flirtation.

He wasn't exaggerating when he said the diner was just down the road. It was practically and conveniently only about a mile from the motel heading west toward the city. Gravel crunched beneath the Chevy's tires as he pulled the car into the parking lot. It was still early, and the place wasn't too crowded yet, mostly people stopping for coffee and a quick bite to eat before heading to the city to work.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-06-11 13:05 EST
"You know ....you could make a mint off being a living, breathing road map," Nim heard herself say in quiet astonishment as they pulled into the diner's parking lot, much sooner than she had been expecting. "I'll bet there's not one place in the States you don't know the way to, and where the best places to stop are on the way." She flicked the phone to standby again, sliding it into her pocket. "Hey, are you gonna let me pay for anything" I'm not, you know, flat broke, and I swear you got here with nothing."

He snorted doubtfully, but then arched a brow, wondering if she was serious. "Really?" A smile touched his face as he claimed a parking spot, his expressions as mercurial as his moods. "I'll have to remember that for retirement. Beats the hell out of being a Walmart greeter!" It was unlikely he was ever going to retire, even if he was lucky enough to live long enough. He'd just end up like Bobby - a grumpy old man on the hunt til the day he died. "Hawaii," he replied, out of the blue. "And Alaska. Never been to Alaska. Always thought it would be peaceful there." And he really didn't mind the cold. He shut down the engine, pocketing the keys in his jacket. "I got it, Toots. No worries." There was that sarcastic grin again, amused by his own sense of humor.

"Toots" These are getting worse!" She reached over to poke at his shoulder again, her laughter still a slow drawl of amusement at how funny he found himself. "I should so start calling you something like ....I don't know ....pookie or something. In public. Where there are lots of manly truckers to leer at you." She flickered him a cheeky grin, twisting to reach toward the door handle.

He snorted again, all to ready to point out her faux pas. "More likely they'd be leering at you." He pulled open the door with the usual heavy creak of metal on metal and stepped out into the warm sunshine. How many times had he repeated this very same routine with Sam' Breakfast, swap ideas, poke around for clues, and when the sun disappeared, go hunting for monsters. He wondered suddenly why they never hunted during the day, why it always seemed so safe in the daylight and so sinister at night.

"It's gonna be a nice day," he idly remarked, for no reason at all, except to make an observation, wishing not for the first time that he was as oblivious to the things that went bump in the night as most people were.

Unbeknownst to him, Nim's thoughts were wandering along the same lines, a favorite quote of Brian's littering up her reflections. From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties, and things that go bump in the night, Lord deliver us. She snorted lightly to herself as she slid out into the sunshine, her jacket left behind her on the seat. There was nothing in it she'd need in a hurry - all that was secreted in various places on her person.

"Correction, it's gonna be an awesome day," she countered Dean's idle remark with a grin that was probably over-confident. She could never be accused of being a pessimist, that much was certain. "C'mon, big man, feed me before I start eating you."

"You ever think about taking a vacation?" he asked, taking a lean against the car, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, watching as the clouds opened up and the sun warmed his face. Like angels opening their wings, he thought to himself, but the only angel I ever cared about is dead. He turned back to Nim, pushing the thoughts from his head. "I always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. Just once, you know?"

She smiled at this rather sweetly innocent wish, making a note somewhere in the back of her mind to make it come true at some point in the not-so-distant future. If, once they found out just why he was here and if he could go home again ....if he stayed. The thought that he might not was physically painful now, turning her face away as she forced a smile onto her lips, gazing up at the sky. "Sounds like a nice dream."

"Yeah, well..." He broke off, his thoughts moving along the same track as hers, unsure if he could stay, not really wanting to leave. If only he could be in two places at the same time, not knowing that in a way, he was. He pulled a hand from his jacket and held it out to her as he pushed off of his lean. "Come on, beautiful. I don't think well on an empty stomach."

The painful uncertainty was always going to be present, a nasty reminder in the back of her mind that her chosen future with Dean was by no means secure and fixed. But she could push it away, let it fester without notice for now, especially in the face of an endearment she couldn't have predicted. Beautiful was definitely a nickname she could live with. As an almost shy smile softened her face, her hand slid into his, her body stepping close to press her face into his shoulder for a moment as they walked toward the diner. "I can think of a few things you do very well on an empty stomach."

He tilted a smile at her, warm as the morning sunshine, the hand clutching hers firm but not too tight, with just the right amount of pressure to claim that hand and the woman attached to it as belonging to him. "That's instinct," he replied. "There's not a lot of thought involved."

Hunting was almost the same at times, going with instinct and gut feelings, both of them the product of their upbringing. He'd hit the road with his father at four, but didn't really embrace hunting and consider himself a true hunter until around age sixteen, when he'd finally told his father he'd learned everything school could teach him and wasn't going back.

Hand in hand, he led her to the crappy little run of the mill outside of town diner, a bell ringing to announce their arrival as they stepped inside. A little breakfast to set them up, and the day was theirs.