Chapter 1: Prologue
I listened to the sound of the bathtub faucet dripping behind me as I sat perched on the edge of the tub and waited. I could hear the ticking sound of the timer as it counted down the minutes.
I clenched my hands together in my lap and tried to slow my breathing- I was nervous.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the green plastic timer let out a cheerful sounding “ding!”
I took a deep breath and stood up, stomach twisting with nerves, then stepped over to the edge of the sink.
I picked up the pink and white applicator and peered at the tiny oval window- two blue lines. I bit my lip nervously and picked up the instructions again, finding the part that explained, “How to read your pregnancy test”.
One line was negative, two lines was positive.
Two blue lines.
This was a cheap test from the Dollar Store, maybe I should buy another one from a pharmacy and take it just to be sure? But I knew in my gut that it was correct. I'd been feeling nauseous for over a week now, and my breasts were starting to get tender. I had gone back and counted out the last couple of months, figuring out when I got my period and when I had most likely been fertile. We had been careful, I don't know how it happened.
Two blue lines.
I had to let Dean Winchester know.
I folded up the instructions to a tiny square and stuffed them into my jeans pocket, and then wrapped the pregnancy test in a swath of toilet paper. I slid it up my sleeve, and then picked up the timer to take it back to the kitchen.
As I walked in, my half-sister Tiffy asked, “Why you got the timer?” Her sharp little eyes didn't miss anything.
“I was, um, using it for science homework,” I lied, setting it on the counter, “Have you done all your homework?”
“I'm doin' it, gosh,” she said with annoyance, shifting in her chair.
I pulled some paper towels off of the roll and stood at the sink, furtively sneaking the test out of my sleeve and wrapping it in the towels. How was I going to get it into the trash can?
The twins came into the kitchen just then, arguing.
“Donatello is so the best!”
“No he isn't, Michaelangelo is the best!”
“Are you guys arguin' about them Ninjar Turtles again?” Tiffy rolled her eyes.
Troy pulled a box of crackers off of the shelf.
“Hey, lemme have some!” Tina exclaimed.
Tiffy clambered off of her chair and hurried over. “I want some too!”
While they were busy dividing the crackers, I went over to the trash can and shoved the wad of paper towels deep down into the trash, underneath this morning's used coffee grounds, egg shells, and napkins.
I walked over to the sink and washed my hands. “Not too many, guys, save room for dinner,” I told them.
“Yeah, yeah,” Troy rolled his eyes.
I pulled a pan out of the cabinet and set it on the stove.
“What we havin' ?” Tiffy asked.
“Pasta with meat sauce,” I told her.
“Again?” she complained.
“I'm using sausage meat this time instead of ground beef, it'll be different.”
“Prob'ly yucky,” she wrinkled her nose.
“Try it, you might like it. It won't taste that different.”
She huffed at me and sat down on her chair again, shoving a cracker into her mouth.
As I filled a pot with water for the pasta, and turned the burner on under the frying pan, I started to think. What was I going to do? If I really was pregnant...what were my options? I wasn't even old enough to get my driver's license. What would Dean say? What would everyone at school think? Oh my God, what would my parents say?
I started to feel panic rising, more anxiety twisting in the pit of my stomach, and I fought the tears that started to gather in my eyes. I took slow, deep breaths, grateful for the distraction of cooking, watching the meat in the pan slowly turn from pink to brown as I turned it, keeping an eye on the steam that rose from the pot as the water began to bubble.
I set the table by rote, walking around the table putting a plate and silverware at each place. It was the twin's job, but they never did it without a fight, and I didn't have the energy to deal with them right now. Tiffy picked up her notebook and Math book and shoved them into her backpack, and carried it into the living room.
I was grateful for the distraction that my half-siblings provided for once. The twins bickered, as usual, and Tiffy tried to join in, as usual. I could barely eat anything, and mostly just pushed the noodles around on my plate. None of them noticed my silence.
My step-father, Trent, came home halfway through dinner, smelling like sweat and machine oil. He was still wearing his coveralls from the factory.
“There enough left for me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Daddy!” Tiffy hopped off the of chair and ran over to him with her arms out. She's still young enough that to her, parents are everything.
He put his hands up, “Don't hug me, sugar, I'm all a mess. Let me go shower.”
“Okaaay,” she said with disappointment, her shoulders drooping.
He chuckled, and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.
By the time he came back into the kitchen, the kids had finished eating and left the table. I was at the stove washing out the pots and pans I'd used for cooking. I felt calmer now, but I wasn't sure why.
He sat down at his place and began to serve himself.
“We got salt?” he asked.
I took the salt and pepper shakers off of the the microwave and carried them over to the table, placing them in front of him.
He glanced at me. “How's, uh, school?”
“Fine,” I said, “I've got a big test on Friday in English.”
He and Mom hated it when we kids gave them one word answers about school, so we had to tell them things that were happening. My mom had read an article about 'How To Engage With Your Kids' and apparently it said to ask for details about school, and to not accept simple answers.
He grunted and started to eat.
I finished loading all the dishes in the dishwasher, and then started to get food out to pack lunches for tomorrow.
I walked over to the doorway and called, “Guys! I need your lunchboxes!”
“Jesus Christ, do you have to yell?” Trent growled, “We've talked about that more than once.”
“S-sorry, it's just that they're supposed to bring their lunchboxes into the kitchen and they never do.”
In a couple of minutes, Tiffy and Tina came into the kitchen and placed their lunchboxes on the table. Tiffy walked over and climbed onto her dad's lap.
“Thanks,” I said to them, “Hey, want to help me?”
Tina shot me a look as she left. “No.”
The front door opened, and Mom came into the kitchen. “Whew, finally home. Traffic was awful today.”
She walked over and kissed Trent and Tiffy, then slumped into her chair.
“How was school?” she asked me.
“Fine, I have a test Friday that I need to study for,” I reported.
She served herself some food and started to eat. “This isn't ground beef.”
“No, it's sausage, I thought it might be nice to try something different.”
“I thought it tasted different...sausage?”
“Yeah, ground pork sausage.”
Trent glared at me. “Did you ask? Did you check and see if it was okay that you bought that? That's more expensive than ground beef, and we probably can't afford it!”
“I checked, I compared the prices, and it was on sale. It was only a couple more pennies than the same amount of ground beef,” I explained.
He slammed his fist down on the table. “God-dammit, I've talked to you about this before! You do not just go spending our money willy- nilly! We can't afford to go buying every expensive thing just because you want something different!”
“Geez, it's just some ground pork, it's not like I went out and bought lobster!” I snapped.
“Don't you talk to me that way!”
“You're grounded. Until next weekend,” Mom's voice was hard.
“Mom...c'mon, I have a babysitting job on Friday and I might go out Saturday...”
“Babysitting? Did you ask?” Mom frowned.
“Yes, I did, I checked with you! Please, I really need the money!”
“What d'you need money for?” Trent narrowed his eyes.
“Who are you supposed to sit for?”
“Well you'll just have to call them and tell them you're grounded. And I need you to watch the kids this weekend anyway,” Mom said dismissively.
“Aw Mom, that's not fair!”
“Well, life isn't fair. What were you going to do anyway, go see a movie with some boy and then get felt up in his car after?”
“Trent!” I blushed. He always had to say stuff like that to me, and it was embarrassing.
I had hoped that Dean Winchester would see me on Saturday, we had talked a couple of weeks ago, but he dated more than one girl at a time, and was busy- he often went away with his father on the weekends. They hunted a lot, he'd told me.
Mom stared at me. “Who were you supposed to go out with? That Winchester boy? I don't like him...he seems arrogant.”
“You aren't going out with anyone, period,” Trent said with finality.
“Trent!” I protested.
“You need to be at home taking care of your family, not out hangin' all over boys!”
“I do take care of my family! I do more with--with feeding the kids and helping them with homework and—and all than you do! “
As I was speaking, Trent shoved Tiffy off of his lap and came around the table, getting right up in my face. “What'd you say?” he said in a hard voice, “How dare you. Your mother and I work hard to make sure that there's enough money to feed and clothe all of you and to pay our bills...the least you could do is be a little damn grateful!” he grabbed my arm and gave me a shake.
“I am grateful, I just think I--I deserve some time to be a regular teenager!”
“What you deserve is to get your ass beat for your damn attitude!” he jerked my arm.
I tried to pull away from him. “Let me go!”
He did let go, only to backhand me in the mouth. I stumbled backwards, tears coming to my eyes.
“Get the hell out of here before I do more,” he growled, “Stay outta my sight for the rest of the evening.”
I turned and ran to my room.
Things start to get a little complicated...
Dean Winchester was the kind of guy every girl dreamed about...up to a point. If you wanted “true love” and commitment, he wasn't your guy, but if you wanted a fun couple of hours with a good guy, he was your man. He was sassy, funny, and cocky- just this side of disrespectful with teachers. When you were with him, he made you feel great. He was attentive, opening your door, putting his hand on your shoulder or the small of your back when you crossed the parking lot. When you sat together, he paid complete attention to you, watching your every move with his bright green eyes. He would reach across the table and take your hand, playing with your fingers, moving them and stroking each finger. He responded to what you said and joked and laughed.
When you were together, and I mean in the 'romantic' way, it was like you two were the only people in the world. It had felt that way in the back of his car, a shiny black car called an Impala. He'd become a strange mixture of confidence and shyness, being gentle yet insistent with his mouth and his hands. I hadn't done much previously in the realm of making out, and Dean was 'my first time' for a lot of things. He'd talked me through it, and been slow and gentle. He'd said again and again that we could stop, that it was my decision...and in the end his attentions had decided me, and we'd gone all the way. He'd slipped a condom on, but obviously it hadn't done its job.
~ ~ spn ~ ~
I saw Dean in school on Monday, he was actually hanging out in the hallway before class for once. A lot of the time he ambled in late, or almost late, and then would give the teacher an insolent half-grin when they grumbled at him.
I walked up to him- he had his arms slung across the shoulders of one of the girls in the “loose” group. Her name was Brandi or Candi or something similar and she wrote her signature with a little heart dotting the 'i' at the end of her name. Her hair was always up in a side ponytail and she always wore heavy makeup that extended down her neck, often to cover over the hickeys that she so often sported. Yes, the “loose” girls were called that because they made out and/or slept with anyone and everyone they could.
“Hey, um, Dean?” I looked up at him, “Can I, um, could I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure, kid,” he said with a grin, shifting his weight. Brandi or Candi shifted too, leaning towards him.
I glanced over at her. She was watching me, chewing gum open-mouthed.
“Um, I mean, alone?” I asked hesitantly.
He glanced at the girl, and she gave him a little smirk. “You can say whatever it is in front of Candi here, we're all friends, right?” he asked easily.
She wrinkled her nose at him, smiling, and blew him a kiss.
“Uh-- I-- never mind,” I said hurriedly, turning and walking over to my locker. I heard Candi laugh meanly as I walked away.
My stomach flipped as I spun the dial on my locker, and I prayed that I wouldn't start to feel nauseous in school. I hadn't thrown up yet, but it was getting stronger and harder to ignore.
I felt frustrated. I needed to talk to Dean, how was I going to manage to get him alone? Girls were always hounding him, either hanging on him or flirting with him.
Suddenly a feeling of loneliness welled up in me. I needed to talk to someone about this, to tell someone, anyone, this terrible secret. I didn't even know what I planned to do yet, I just needed to talk. To have someone hear me. To not feel so alone in all of this. Tears stung my eyes and I slammed my locker just as the bell rang, and hurried into homeroom.
I kept my head down at my seat, trying to blink rapidly to clear my eyes without having to wipe them. I didn't want anyone to notice the tears. I listened to the teacher call out names, and when she got to my name and I replied, my voice cracked, which made everyone laugh.
When she got to Dean's name, and he replied in the affirmative, the teacher said, “You're actually here and in your seat on time, will wonders never cease?” which also made the class laugh.
My neck was prickling as I sat down after saying the Pledge of Alleigance with the class, and I lifted my head and glanced around. Dean was watching me from his seat three rows over, and when he saw me looking at him, he raised his eyebrows. When I didn't respond, he mouthed, 'You okay?'
I lowered my head and didn't look up again.
~ ~ spn ~ ~
I hurried up the hall, wondering if I had time to go to the bathroom before class, and felt something pull on my backpack.
“Hey,” Dean was suddenly beside me, and he put his hand on my arm, “What's up?” he asked. His green eyes looked down at me with concern.
“Nothing,” I suddenly felt angry at him, “Just forget it.”
He pulled on my arm, making both of us stop. “Hey, you're the one who wanted to talk to me all serious in the hallway, and then when you walk into home- room you look like you're about to cry. Something's up, so spill.”
“I, uh--” I glanced around, and then stared at the ground. “Not—not here.”
“What is it?” he asked intently, bending down to look at me.
I glanced up again. “I can't-- I don't-- it needs to be in private, okay?”
He sighed. “Okay. At lunch time, you want to meet behind the bleachers?”
I raised my head and gave him a look. That was a notorious make-out spot for kids, during the day and after school.
He held his hands up. “We'll talk, okay, just talkin', I promise. And you can tell me whatever it is that's so important.”
~ ~ spn~ ~
I walked down the hall towards the lunch room, and the smell of hot grease and cooked meat hung in the air. All of a sudden, my stomach clenched, and I knew-- I wasn't going to be able to hold on—I ran past the door, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean appear in the hallway.
“Hey!” he called out.
I could see kids turning as I ran past them, and then I couldn't stop it, it was coming up my throat-- I stopped right at the door of the bathroom and leaned over, throwing up all over the floor and my shoes.
I heard people yelling “Ewww!” as my stomach heaved, and then my vision started to go gray.
~ ~ spn ~ ~
“Please, I'm okay, can I just go back to class?” I asked Mrs. Forrester, the school nurse.
“Sorry, hon, I can't let you. Once you've thrown up, you have to go home for the day,” she said apologetically.
I sighed and laid back down on the hard mattress in the nurse's office. I hoped—prayed--that Mom wasn't too mad at me for this. I hoped that she was the one that the nurse got ahold of. If Trent was the one to have to come pick me up, I'd never hear the end of it.
I jerked awake when a cool palm laid itself on my forehead. Mom stood over me, looking down at me with concern. She glanced at Mrs. Forrester. “She's not running a fever,” she said.
“Yes, I know. Sometimes with a virus, there is no fever,” Mrs. Forrester said.
Mom sighed. “Have you been feeling sick for a while?”
“Uhh...no, I just...woke up this morning with a sour stomach,” I lied, hoping it didn't show on my face.
“Hmm...maybe it was that sausage. My stomach didn't feel too hot either this morning. Probably why it was on sale,” Mom sighed, “all right, let's get you home.”
“She can come back when she hasn't thrown up or had an elevated temperature for 24 hours,” Mrs. Forrester told us.
When we got home, Mom checked my temperature, and then sent me to bed with a trash can and a glass of ice water. I didn't feel sick at all, any more, but I knew I had to act like I felt bad. I laid in bed and read the book our English class was working on. Mom made dinner in the evening, and I was excused from doing any other chores.
~ ~ spn ~ ~
I didn't see Dean Winchester for two more days after I came back to school. I glimpsed him in the hallway a couple of times, and then when I was at my locker at the end of the day, he suddenly appeared next to me.
“Hey,” he said casually.
“Hey,” I replied, opening my locker door.
“So...you feelin' better?”
“Yeah,” I pulled a couple of books out of my backpack and placed them in the locker.
“You want a ride home?”
I closed my locker and looked at him with surprise. “What?” He had never offered me a ride home before.
“So we can talk...about whatever it is you wanted to talk to me about.”
“Oh...that...” I felt nervous all of a sudden.
“What?” he stepped close to me, his eyes searching my face, “What's got you so...nervous like this?”
“Uh...I don't—I'll tell you--” I stammered.
“C'mon,” he jerked his head to the side.
I thought long and hard about how a teen-aged Dean Winchester would react to finding out he'd gotten a girl pregnant. I'm not intending to stir up any controversy on the issue of abortion, but I think that Dean would consider that as an option. Teen angst alert.
Getting out of school was an arduous process. Several people stepped up to say goodbye to Dean, or chat with him for a moment, or hang on him. He had to shake a couple of girls off and promise to call them later, or see them later, or give them a ride tomorrow. By the time we made it to his gleaming black car, the parking lot was mostly empty.
I got into the front passenger seat of his car, placing my backpack at my feet, and buckled the seat belt. He started the engine, and music started to blast out of the speakers, “WE COME FROM THE LAND OF THE ICE AND SNOW, FROM THE MIDNIGHT SUN WHERE THE HOT SPRINGS FLOW--”
I yelped and clapped my hands over my ears at how loud it was.
Dean spun the dial and turned the volume down. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “Sometimes you need to get your blood pumping in the morning, and Zeppelin is great for that.”
“That's okay,” I lowered my hands to my lap and laced my fingers together.
He pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive.
“So, this, uh...whatever you need to talk to me about...I was gonna go up the Old Mill Road, for some privacy?” he glanced at me.
“Um, sure,” I agreed, with slight hesitation. The Old Mill Road was a twisty back road, with forest on either side, that eventually ended in a large, open field where an old paper mill had been. The mill had been closed down, and then fallen into disrepair, and then become place where people went to squat and party. The mill had burned down about a decade ago, and now the road itself was used as a make-out and party spot for teens. Because of all the turns and the length of the road, there were plenty of spots to find a small private area to talk, or to do whatever it was you wanted to do.
My stomach began to clench up with nerves as Dean drove. Was I really going to tell him? I'd wanted some time to mentally prepare myself for this, and I hadn't been expecting that I'd be dealing with it today. Most of the time I was able to push my worry about it out of my mind, and I walked around in a numb state the rest of the time.
Dean put the car in park, and then turned to me. His face was open and friendly. “So...what's up?” he asked casually.
I felt guilty all of a sudden. I was about to drop some momentous news on him, something that would be potentially life changing for both of us. His life wouldn't be the same after I was done talking.
“Well, uhh...” I twisted my hands in my lap and looked down again, feeling my face heat up as I blushed, “I, uh--” My nerves overtook me and I stopped, feeling like I suddenly wanted to burst into tears.
I glanced over at him. He looked concerned now, and leaned over towards me. “Hey, what is it?” he asked gently, lifting his hand. He brushed a strand of hair off of my face, watching me intently.
“Well, you know...remember when we...” I took a deep breath. Better to just say it. “Dean, I'm pregnant. I mean, I'm pretty sure I am.”
“Pretty sure? What do you mean, 'pretty sure'?” he asked, with humor in his voice.
“Well I've been feeling sick, and...I took a pregnancy test, and it—it was positive,” I turned to look at him.
He leaned back. “Okay...so why're you tellin' me?” his face had that cocky look on it that seemed to make all the girls swoon.
“Because, Dean, you-- you're the, you know, father. I was, uh, I told you, when we...I told you that I was a virgin. And I haven't been with anyone else. So...it's you.”
My stomach twisted even further as I watched the color drain out of his face. He got very pale, and as he closed his eyes, I saw fear in them.
He kept his eyes closed for a couple of moments, and then when he opened them, they were hooded. “You sure about that?” he asked, and there was a slight edge to his voice.
“What—what do you mean?” I felt stunned, “Of course I'm sure, I told you, I haven't been with anyone but you! You know, I think I would know if I had-- had messed around with some other guy!” I felt angry now.
“Okay, okay...” he held his hands up, palms out, “And you're sure? I mean, it was... positive and all?”
“Yes, Dean, it was positive. I did the whole thing, y'know, pee on a stick, wait 5 minutes--”
“All right, you don't gotta--” he blushed, dropping his eyes, “Have you been to a doctor?”
My anger jumped a notch. “No, I haven't been to a doctor! What the hell, do you think I just told everyone that I think I'm pregnant and I ran to a doctor first thing, and they verified it and all? Geez!”
“Okay, okay, you don't have to jump on me--” he said defensively, “so...what are you gonna do?”
“What am I gonna do?” I turned my body towards him, “What am I gonna do? I don't know, Dean, I figured the first thing I should do is tell the father of my baby, so that WE can decided what WE'RE going to do!” I snapped, my temper flaring.
He had turned and was staring at the steering wheel of the car. “The f-father-- of--”
“Yeah, and that's YOU, in case you didn't realize!”
I saw something in his face change as it hit him. “Oh—oh my God,” he said, and his breathing became shallow as his face flushed a deeper red, “Oh my God, what—what are we gonna do?” he turned back towards me, “I can't-- this can't-- I mean--” he raked his hands through his hair, “My—my father's gonna kill me!”
“Yeah, likewise,” I said sourly, “So, what do we do?”
“Uh, well, what are the—the options? I mean, y'know, do you-- what do you want to do with it?” he looked at me, and his face seemed very young.
“I don't know, Dean, I hadn't thought that far in advance. I just—I wanted to tell you first, you know, because we're in this together--”
“Yeah, thanks for thinkin' of me,” he said sourly.
“Excuse me?” I exploded, “Excuse me? I have a baby growing inside of me, that you put there, you were the one who was all gung- ho about it, you were the one who wanted to--”
He leaned towards me, and said viciously, “Oh no, don't you try and pin that on me, you wanted it just as much, you were all, 'please, Dean, don't stop, that feels so good--'
I felt myself blushing. “All right, fine,” I snapped, “We're not going to get anywhere blaming each other. We need to think about our options, and decide what we're going to do.”
“Well I don't fuckin' know!” he exploded suddenly, and he faced front, and then brought his fists down on the steering wheel. “Jesus fuckin' Christ!” he roared, “What—the--fuck--” he slammed his fists down again, and then again, and I jumped each time.
He slumped forward slightly, closing his eyes, and put a hand up to his face, covering his eyes. His chest was heaving.
All my anger dissipated, and I suddenly felt bad for him, for both of us. “Dean--” I said timidly, not knowing what I else I should say.
He sat up, and lowered his hand, staring out the front window. “Whatever you want to do,” he said heavily, “I-- I'll get you some money, for the—the doctor, and the—procedure--”
“Thanks,” I said gratefully, and then I realized what he'd said, “Procedure? What do you mean?”
He continued to stare straight ahead. “For, y'know, uh, getting rid of it and all.”
“So-- you're saying you think I should...should have...an abortion?” I asked, feeling a little breathless. The thought of having a medical procedure done on myself, where a doctor went inside of me with metal instruments, and removed something, made me go cold.
“Well, yeah. I mean, it's your body and all, but-- you got to think of this, this could—could ruin both our lives, and we-- we're not ready to be parents, I mean I know I sure as hell am not--” I saw his eyes flick to the side, towards me, briefly.
“Dean...” I said weakly, “I don't...I don't know if I can-- can do that.”
“What do you mean? This is--” he turned towards me, “This is our lives, at stake here, man! I mean, this could-- this will- change everything! Can you deal with that?”
“I don't know!” I flared, “I honestly don't know, I hadn't gotten that far, I just wanted—I wanted to talk to you, to tell you-- you know, so you knew—”
“Yeah, thanks for sharing,” he said bitterly.
All of a sudden, it seemed to be too much. This was such a heavy burden to carry, and I'd thought that telling Dean would help me, that we could support each other, but it hadn't turned out that way. I burst into tears and covered my face with my hands.
After a few moments I felt his hand on my arm. “Jane,” he said apologetically, “Jane, c'mere,” and he pulled on me. He had shifted over towards me, and now he gathered me into his arms. I leaned my head on his chest, and then put my hands down, gripping his flannel shirt with one hand and sliding the other arm around his back. I could smell the leather of his jacket and his slightly spicy deoderant.
“Shh...” he murmured, and I felt his hand on the back of my head, stroking my hair, petting me like I was a cat. “It's...okay...we'll...we'll figure this out. We will. I promise...we'll figure out what we're gonna do, all right?”
He held me while I cried, and then when I had calmed, he shifted, and glanced at his watch. “Listen, I...I've got to pick up my little brother from school, it's almost time,” his voice was apologetic again, “We'll...we'll talk more soon, okay?”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead and then moved away from me. I nodded and sniffled, wiping my eyes with my shirtsleeve. He reached into an inner jacket pocket and produced a blue bandana, handing it to me. “Here.”
I wiped my eyes with it, intending to give it back, but I kept welling up as he drove me home. I held the bandana out to him when he pulled up to the curb, and he waved his hand. “Keep it,” he said, “I'll, uh, talk to you later, 'kay?”
“Okay, Dean, thanks,” I said, and he smiled at me.
I was glad, once again, that I was the only one home for a short while. I usually got home around 2:45 pm, and my sisters and brother didn't get home until after 4 pm, on account of them all being in elementary school, and riding the bus. Dean's younger brother was in middle school, and they got dismissed right after 3 pm. I knew that Dean picked him up from school every day.
This meant that I got time alone every day during the week, and I was very grateful for that today. I kep crying, on and off, for about the next twenty mintues, and then I told myself to buck up and stop, and I blew my nose and washed my face, and then I sat down and did my homework. At least, I tried to. I couldn't concentrate, I kept replaying our conversation, and then I remembered that I had wanted to ask him if we could get together this weekend and just hang out. I felt like I wanted to be with him, like it would somehow make things all right.
As it turns out, I didn't see him for several more days. I don't know if he was actively avoiding me or not, but I didn't see him in homeroom for a few days, and the days he was there, he was so late that he didn't look at anyone, he just slunk to his seat and sat with his head lowered. And then as soon as the bell rang, he was off like a shot. I usually passed him in the haways going to certain classes, and he was never there. He wasn't on the field during or after school either, where he usually hung out with the rowdy kids, passing around cigarettes and sometimes a discreet bottle in a paper bag, and occasionally making out with girls.
One afternoon, I finally realized that it had been days since I'd seen or talked to him. I'd been in a fog of nausea and nerves, trying to hide the vomiting that was happening more and more frequently, and my growing sense of anxiousness. I didn't know what do do, or even how to make a decision, and I was becoming more nervous and anxious about the whole situation every day.
And then something as simple as the laundry made the decision for me, and it all changed.
CONTENT WARNING: Violence, swearing, and angst in this chapter.
I had been trying to stay under the radar- responding to my mother and step-father when they asked questions, taking care of my brother and sisters, cooking, cleaning, doing my homework- while trying to figure out ways to sneak off to the bathroom and throw up as quietly as possible. I wasn't always able to, and one morning Mom almost made me stay home from school. I lied and told her I'd eaten the 'mystery meat' casserole at school the day before, and that it was known to give kids vomiting and diarrhea.
I had been doing my homework in my bedroom on a Thursday night, when my mother called to me. "Jane!"
I walked down the hall to find her, she and Trent were standing in the living room. There was a pile of unfolded laundry on the sofa. My mother held what looked like a crumpled, torn piece of paper in her hand.
"What's up?" I asked, unable to read the expression on her face.
She held the paper up. "You want to explain this? I found it in the dryer. I was washing the kid's clothes, and it just so happens that a pair of your jeans got thrown in there. And since I know none of them would have need of this-" she stepped forward and turned the paper over, and I realized what it was.
My heart stopped and my throat became dry. It was the instructions from the pregnancy test. I had shoved it deep into my pocket, intending to throw it away, and then forgotten about it.
"I—I-" I stammered.
"I should have guessed, I should have known," my mother stepped closer to me, "When you started throwing up. And now you're acting out of it, you're not doing your chores as well, you're not paying attention to anything, off in la-la land...and sneaking off to throw up all the time. So...who is it?"
I stared at her, not knowing what to say. "Mom, I didn't mean to- I mean, I-"
She raised her hand and slapped me across the face. Tears came to my eyes and I opened my mouth to say something-
Trent pushed Mom out of the way and came barreling up to me. "You didn't mean to! You didn't mean to spread your legs for some teen punk? Or you didn't mean to fuck someone and then get pregnant?" he was yelling now.
"Trent!" I gasped, shocked. My face flushed crimson.
"You little slut!" he yelled, and his hand came at me, slapping my face. "How dare you, after all we've done for you, you act like a cheap, common whore, who just runs off and fucks some guy, you're nothing but trash!" He slapped me, again, and again, once across the face and then backhand, and I shrieked.
Then his hand was hitting my shoulder, and my chest, and I hunched forward as he slapped at me and yelled. "This is not going to happen in my house! This is not going to happen to my family, we are good, decent, people! I should've known better, all this time I've let you take care of my kids, how dare you, you little bitch!"
And then I felt his fist, punching me in the shoulder, and I gasped and cried out. I started to raise my hands, but his fist caught me in the corner of the mouth. I stumbled back and put my hand up to my face and tried to lean away as I saw his fists coming at me.
He knocked me down, and I curled up in a ball on the floor as he hit me again and again. I was crying and screaming and gasping as he yelled.
"This ends tonight," he said decisively, and he stepped over me. I heard his footsteps walk down the hall. I laid there sobbing, trying to get my breathing under control.
Everything hurt. I could taste the metal tang of blood in my mouth, and my cheeks throbbed. I brushed my hair away from my face. My sisters and brother stood at the end of the hallway, all staring at me, wide-eyed.
I turned slightly to look up at my mother, still standing behind me. "Mom-" I said, and my voice broke.
"Don't," she snapped, turning away from me.
I heard footsteps coming up the hall, and Trent stepped around my brother and walked over to me. I hid my face in case he was going to hit me again. Something landed on the floor next to my head, and I peered between my fingers. A green plastic garbage bag.
"Here's all your clothes and shit."
Papers fluttered to the floor around me and I saw a dollar bill. He'd just thrown a handful of cash at me. "Get out. Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back."
I sat up and looked up at him, at my mother, who wouldn't meet my eyes. "Trent-"
He leaned down and grabbed the back of my neck, "I—said—get-OUT! Leave, before I throw your ass out onto the street!"
He let me go with a shove, and I sat up and looked for all the dollar bills. I collected them and shoved them into my pocket, and then picked up the bag. I glanced over at my sisters and brother, who were still watching. Big tears were rolling down Tiffy's face.
"Never come here again," Trent snarled as I walked to the door.
I turned, and walked out of the house. The door closed hard behind me.
I walked. And I walked. Somehow I found my way to the bus line, and I got on the bus going into town. I realized where my feet were taking me. The diner where Dean told me he always ate with his family. It was near the motel he was staying in. There were a couple nearby, but I would walk to each of them if I needed to, to find him.
I walked into the diner, past the waitress at the front, down the side row where the booths were. Dean and a tall man were standing at a booth, and there was a kid sitting in the booth, facing away.
"-on the road tonight. They'll have soccer at the next school, too, I'm sure of it," the man was saying. He was looking down at the boy in the booth. He glanced up at me as I walked towards them, and then stared.
"Dean?" I said, and my voice cracked.
Dean turned towards me, a wide mouth grin on his face that quickly changed to horror as he took in my appearance.
"Oh my god- Jane-" he rushed up to me, "What happened?"
I looked up at him. "My parents- they- they f-found out, and they k-kicked me- out-" I whispered.
"Oh, God," he said, closing his eyes a moment, "I'm so sorry. What- what're you gonna do?"
"I don't know!" I said, feeling panicky.
A waitress came over to me. "Oh, honey, what happened?" she asked sympathetically. "Who did this to you? Do you want me to call someone?"
The man with Dean came over to us. "Dean, what's going on?" he asked, looking at me.
"Uh, Dad, this is...a-a friend of mine...she, uh-"
"I can call the police, you should make a report," the waitress declared.
"No," Dean's father's voice was emphatic, "We'll take care of this. Come on, Dean," he said authoritatively. He turned back towards the other boy, who was now standing next to the booth. "Sammy," he motioned with his head.
I followed them to the black car, and Dean's father got into the driver's seat. Dean sat next to him, and I climbed in the back, next to Dean's younger brother. We drove one block over to a cheap motel, and I followed them into a small room that had duffles on the ends of the beds. It looked like they were packing to leave.
"Dean, report," his father said.
"Uh, Dad, this is my friend, Jane... Jane, this is my father, John Winchester. And that's my little brother, Sammy."
"It's Sam, and I'm not that little," Sam said reproachfully, glaring at Dean.
Mr. Winchester nodded at me. I stepped over and offered my hand. "Nice to meet you, sir," I said, and he looked surprised. He shook my hand briefly, and then dropped it.
"Her parents...they, uh, kicked her out," Dean said.
"I'm...sorry to hear that," Mr. Winchester said, "Is this an on-going thing?"
I glanced at Dean. "No, I mean...I just..." I lowered my head.
"Who did...this... to you?" he asked, gesturing to my face.
"My, um, step-father."
He gave an abrupt nod. "And has he done this before?"
"He, uh, he uses his hands, y'know...on us, but never...never like this," I felt myself blushing.
"Well, you can stay here overnight, give everyone a chance to cool down, and then tomorrow I'll take you over and you can see if you can work things out," he said.
"Uh, no, sir, you don't understand, he...he kicked me out for good. He...told me to leave, said he never wanted to see me again," I stared at the floor, willing myself not to start crying again.
"Things will look different in the morning. We'll deal with it then," Mr. Winchester's voice was assured.
"But Dad, can't we just go, tonight, like we were planning to?" Dean asked.
"What, are you planning on just leaving your friend here by herself?"
"No, I thought...she could come with us," Dean said quietly.
"No, that is not a good idea, Dean, and here's why," Mr. Winchester folded his arms across his chest, " A lot of times when a kid is kicked out of their house, things get said in anger, in the heat of the moment, and then next morning, or a couple days later, everyone is regretful and ready to reconcile. If I take her with us, and we're two states away when her mother decides she wants her to come home, then I can get arrested for kidnapping and transporting a minor across state lines."
"Oh," Dean said.
"So, we'll all try to get a good night's sleep, and gain some perspective on things tomorrow."
I felt tears come to my eyes. He didn't understand. Once Trent said something, he meant it. He had cut other relatives and people out of our lives without a backward glance. I was scared to go back.
Dean came over to me and looked down at me. "Hey," he said softly. He put his arms around me, and I leaned my head on his chest, and closed my eyes. I slid my arms around him, under his jacket, feeling the muscles in his back moving as he tightened his arms around me. It had been so long since anyone had touched me, or held me- I found myself sinking into him, reveling in the closeness of our bodies.
I tilted my head back to look up at him, and he gazed down at me.
"Dean, I-" I whispered, and my voice caught.
"I'm so sorry, baby," he murmured, touching my sore cheek gently with his fingertip.
"What—what'm I gonna do?" I asked in a choked whisper.
"All right, what-" Mr. Winchester came over to us, and he was staring at us. "Dean," his voice was a reprimand, and Dean let go of me and dropped his arms, unconsciously straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders. "Explain what's going on. I want to know why your friend got kicked out of her house," his Dad said, watching Dean carefully.
"I, uh, I found out...that, uh...I'm, uh, I'm pregnant," my face flooded with embarrassment, and I stared at the floor again.
"And why is this a concern of my son's?" Mr. Winchester asked, his voice razor sharp.
I saw Dean glance at me, and he took a deep breath. "Because, sir, uh, because it's...I'm, uh...it's- mine," Dean glanced down at the floor, and then back up at his father again.
Mr. Winchester's face changed, got harder somehow. "And how do you know this?" he stepped towards Dean, "How well do you know this girl? Do you trust her at her word? How do you know she isn't just saying this, to get something out of you?" He put his hands on his hips.
I felt anger welling up in me. "Excuse me? Excuse me?" I asked, "How dare you!" I clenched my fists, hands at my sides, "You don't know me from anyone, and yet you're judging me and acting like I'm this horrible person trying to use your son? How dare you!" I repeated, "I've never had a boyfriend, okay, I've only been on two dates before I met Dean, and he—we- it was my first and only time! And something happened, the condom didn't work, or- I don't know! And now, now I've been kicked out of my house, my step-father beat the crap out of me and collected all my stuff in a garbage bag and—and th-threw money at me!" Tears had started pouring down my face.
Mr. Winchester looked surprised. Dean and his little brother were staring at me with shock on their faces. They looked at their Dad, and then back at me.
"You know what, never mind, I'm sorry I came here. Forget it," I said bitterly, "there's a homeless shelter off of route 501, I'll go there," I started to walk towards the door, to pick up my bag.
"Stop," Mr. Winchester said, "Just wait a minute," he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Then he lowered his hand and looked at Dean. "Dean, is this true?" His voice had deepened.
Dean blushed, lowering his head, and then he took a deep breath and looked up at his father. "Uh, yeah...yes sir. It's- true."
Mr. Winchester's face slowly got red, and he began to look angry. I saw fear flit across Dean's face for a moment, and then it was gone.
"What have I told you?" Mr. Winchester asked in a stony voice, "What have I always told you?"
"I—I know, Dad, I—I h-had—somethin', but it didn't-"
"Do you have any idea how stupid and irresponsible you've been?" Mr. Winchester yelled.
"Dad, m' sorry! I-" Dean said desperately.
Mr. Winchester stepped up to Dean and grabbed the front of his shirt, shaking him. "I knew it, I should have grounded your ass every single time you wanted to go out on a date, I should have taken my belt off when I caught you with that girl last year—what the hell were you thinking?" he let go of Dean, and raked a hand through his hair, "Never mind, I know what you were thinking, and it wasn't with your upstairs brain. If you even have one in that head of yours."
Dean blushed again and stared at the floor. Mr. Winchester sighed heavily and shook his head. "Well, this is going to change everything. You and I will definitely be having a discussion about your dating habits, in the nearby future," he glared at Dean, and Dean shuffled his feet, looking nervous.
Then Mr. Winchester looked at me. "So...what are your plans?"
"Uh—what-what do you mean?" I gulped, nervous at the intensity of his gaze.
"Are you going to keep it? Get rid of it? I'm assuming you don't have any money-"
"Uh, I—I think I'm going to—to keep it," I said hesitantly.
He sighed again, heavily. "So, are you expecting that my son is going to marry you? Is that what you're here for?"
"I—I-" I felt shocked, "No, I just-" the realization that I had a baby growing in me, that in less than a year I was going to become a parent, and Dean was the father, and that people would expect us to marry, hit me all at once. I glanced at Dean, and he looked just as shocked as I felt.
I burst into tears, and then turned away, hiding my face in my hands. I was embarassed to be crying in front of them, and I had no idea what I was going to do.
"I'm s-sorry," I sobbed, "th-this was a mi-mistake, I should go."
I felt a hand on my shoulder. "No," it was Dean, and he pulled me in for another hug. "Shh," he murmured, rubbing my back. I clung to his flannel as if for dear life and cried into his chest for a few minutes.
"Here," I heard Mr. Winchester say. I pulled my head back and looked at him. He was holding a plastic baggie filled with ice. "For your lip," he said.
I let go of Dean and took it from him. "Come sit down," Mr. Winchester took my elbow and led me over to the small table and chairs and pulled a chair out. Then he brought over a glass of water and a couple of pills. "You can take ibuprofen?" he asked.
"Yeah. Thanks," I said gratefully. I swallowed the pills and then put the ice pack onto my mouth. Dean's younger brother brought over a box of tissues and set then in front of me, and I took one and wiped my face with it, giving him a small smile.
"You can take the bed closest to the bathroom," Mr. Winchester said to me, "Sam, you're in the other bed, Dean, you're in a sleeping bag on the floor, next to the couch."
"Where are you gonna sleep, Dad?" Sam asked.
"I'm going to be on the couch."
"But Dad-" Dean started to say.
"You really want to cross me right now? You're going to be right where I can keep an eye on you. In the morning, we'll go over to Jane's house and talk to her parents. When do they leave for work?" Mr. Winchester looked at me.
"Um, my—my step-father leaves at 6:30, but he's not-"
"I'll talk to him," Mr. Winchester said with confidence, "We'll work things out," he glanced at his watch, "Boys, you might as well get ready for bed, since we'll need to be up earlier than usual."
I sat quietly as Sam and then Dean took turns in the bathroom, and then I walked over to the trashbag and found a pair of my pajamas. I went into the bathroom and changed, and then splashed water on my face. When I came out, Sam was in bed, and Dean was spreading a sleeping bag out on the floor near the couch.
I placed my clothes in the garbage bag and then straightened up. "Um, thank you for—letting me stay here tonight," I said awkwardly.
Mr. Winchester was sitting on the couch. He nodded at me, and said, "Get some sleep."
I got into the other bed and pulled the covers up, curling up into a ball and willing myself not to start crying again. I didn't think I'd be able to actually sleep, but then all of a sudden I was hearing an electronic beeping sound.
I sat up and looked around- Mr. Winchester was sitting up on the couch, and he reached out and picked his watch up off the table and did something to it. The beeping stopped.
He leaned down and shook Dean's shoulder. "Dean, come on, wake up," he said gruffly. "Sammy, you up?" he called across the room.
Sam rolled over and made a grumbling sound. Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, and then stood up and walked over to one of the duffles, scratching his head. He pulled some clothes out, and then as he walked to the bathroom, he leaned over and poked at Sam, who had buried himself further under the covers.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean said with a grin.
"L've me 'lone," Sam mumbled.
"Sam, time to get up," Mr. Winchester said.
I got out of bed and dug some clean clothes out of the bag. Trent had methodically emptied all of my dresser drawers, including my jewelry drawer, and my necklaces and earrings were scattered among the clothes.
I waited until all three of them were done in the bathroom before I went in to change.
"We'll drive over and talk to Jane's parents, and then we'll get started," Mr. Winchester said.
Dean gave his Dad directions on how to get to my parent's house. My stomach got tighter and tighter with nerves the closer we got. I saw the porch light was on as we pulled up to the curb.
"Dean, you come with me, but you stay back, and you don't speak unless spoken to, understand?" Mr. Winchester's voice was stern.
"Yessir," Dean said.
Mr. Winchester walked up onto the porch first, and I stood slightly behind him, gripping the trash bag in my hands. Dean was behind me, on the stairs.
Mr. Winchester knocked on the door. After a moment, Trent opened the storm door, and then opened the screen door a couple of inches. "Yes?" he asked coldly, looking at Dean's Dad.
"Hello, sir, I'm John Winchester. My son and your step-daughter Jane were—involved, and she-"
"I have no step-daughter," Trent interrupted. He stared unwaveringly at Mr. Winchester, "I have three children with my wife, and they're all still asleep in their beds. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to finish getting ready for work."
"Sir, if you just let me-" Mr. Winchester started, and Trent interrupted him again, "I have nothing more to say on the matter," his voice was hard as he started to close the door, and I thought I heard my mother's voice inside, asking a question. Trent started to close the storm door, and I heard him saying, "It's nothing-"
Mr. Winchester knocked on the door again, harder. Trent yanked the door open and glared out at him.
"Sir, if we could just-"
Trent's voice was vicious. "Get outta my yard before I call the police on you." He glowered at Mr. Winchester for a moment, and then slammed the door closed.
Mr. Winchester sighed, and turned to me. "All right, let's go," he said, and Dean looked at me. We turned and walked back to the car, and got in.
As we pulled away from the curb, I covered my face with my hands and started to cry.
I tried to keep quiet. I felt a light touch on my arm and glanced over. Sam was holding a napkin out to me. I took it from him and wiped my eyes, and then turned my head to stare out the window.
Mr. Winchester had pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald's. He turned around in his seat and looked at me. "Is that...the way he is?" he asked.
I nodded, and felt tears welling in my eyes again. "Yeah, he, uh, he can be pretty ruthless, he's cut people out of our family before- I mean, not our—my-" I lowered my head and started to cry again.
I heard Mr. Winchester sigh. "All right, I've got to make a couple of phone calls...do you want the usual for breakfast?"
"Yes sir," I heard Dean say, and Sam said, "Yeah, Dad."
"What, uh, what do you eat for breakfast?" Mr. Winchester asked gruffly, looking at me.
"I, um, I don't want anything. I haven't been able to eat breakfast in a while, because of-" I waved my hand at my stomach.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Mr. Winchester said, getting out of the car.
Dean turned around to face me in the back. "Man, your step-father's a dick," he said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, I know," I said hoarsely.
"I'm really sorry," Dean's voice became sympathetic.
"Thanks...hey, how come you guys are leaving?" I asked. I saw Dean and Sam give each other a look.
"We, uh...our Dad is a traveling salesman, and he- he travels around a lot," Dean said slowly.
"And he takes you guys with him?" I asked, looking from him to Sam, "That hardly seems fair. Can't you stay with your mom?"
"Uh, we—our mom...she, uh, passed away," Dean looked uncomfortable now.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, feeling embarrassed.
"Yeah, so we have to go where-ever he goes, y'know? It's not that bad," Dean said.
"Speak for yourself," Sam grumbled.
"Oh c'mon, Sammy," Dean reached back and shoved Sam's shoulder.
"For once, just once, I'd like to start and end the school year in the same place!" Sam huffed.
Dean looked at me and rolled his eyes. "Sammy here is a big brainiac nerd-o, he just loves school," Dean's voice was teasing.
"It's Sam, and shut up, Dean," Sam reached out and shoved at Dean, and Dean responded by leaning over the seat a little bit and flicking Sam's ear with his fingertips.
"Ow!" Sam complained, moving over on the seat, "cut it out!"
Dean leaned further back, holding his hand up again and grinning, and Sam put his hands up defensively, "I'm gonna pop you one, Dean," Sam said warningly.
"I'd love to see you try, dude, you know I'm faster than you," Dean replied, moving his hand.
"Ow! Dangit!" Sam hissed, shoving at Dean's hand.
The car door opened, and Mr. Winchester got in. It took him a second to look at Dean and Sam and figure out what they were doing.
"Boys," he rumbled, and Dean turned quickly and dropped into the front seat.
Mr. Winchester had a large paper bag and a drink tray with cups in it. He began to hand things out. "Sammy, here's your juice, and your sandwich- they were out of yogurt this morning, sorry, kiddo- Dean, the smaller coffee is yours, and here's your sandwiches-"
He turned towards the back again and held something out to me. "I got you an egg and sausage biscuit," he said, "I wasn't sure if you liked cheese or not."
"Oh, uh, thanks," I took it from him.
The car was filled with the sound of crackling wrappers and sipping and chewing, and then I began to notice the smells- the greasy sausage and the warm cheese- and I felt my stomach do a slow flip. Oh no.
"I- uh- I ca—oh- oh no-" I turned towards the door and grabbed the handle, opening it quickly, and leaning out as far as I could-
and I threw up. I heard someone exclaiming something in the car, but I couldn't hear what they were saying.
There wasn't much in my stomach, so not a lot came up. When I was done, I sat up and closed the door, and looked at them, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
"S-sorry," I said shakily. Dean looked a little green, and Sam had a horrified expression on his face.
Mr. Winchester passed me back a couple of napkins, and then opened a cooler and passed me a bottle of water.
"Does that happen every morning?" he asked.
"Yeah, pretty much, and at other times too," I told him.
He nodded. "Happens through the first tri-mester usually."
"Dad!" Dean looked shocked.
"What, Dean? Jane's got morning sickness, it's a part of pregnancy."
"You—you mean- she's gonna puke like that every morning?" Dean asked slowly.
"The whole time?" now Dean seemd horrified.
"No, it usually stops after the first couple of months. Your mother had it really bad with Sam, not so much with you."
"She—she did?" Dean looked interested, "Did she—puke a lot?"
Mr. Winchester nodded. "I got skilled at holding a bucket up at catch it, quickly," he smiled, with a faraway look in his eyes, "She had sleeves of saltine crackers all over the place to help settle her stomach," he shook his head and looked at me, "Does anything help? Crackers, or ginger ale?"
"I—I don't know, I haven't tried anything," I said.
"Well, we'll have to get some and see if they help. Are you nauseous a lot?"
"Not all the time."
He nodded again. "Well, I have to tell you something. I put a call in to a friend of mine, he's looking into a place for you to go."
"Uh- a place for me to go?" I asked suspiciously.
"Who, dad?" Dean asked.
"Pastor Jim," Mr. Winchester said, looking at Dean, and then at me, "He's an old friend, got a parish in Blue Earth, Minnesota. I asked him to find somewhere for you, like a home for unwed mothers."
"I—I don't even know where that is, Blue—what did you say it's called?" I said.
"No, you wouldn't go there, he's making some calls to people he knows to see if there's something in this area. That way you can be close to—your—family, in case, you know, things—work out."
"They won't work out, once Trent's made up his mind, you're out," I said bitterly, "He cut his own sister out of his life right before her wedding."
"Well, your mother-"
"She'll go along with whatever Trent wants," I said, remembering how she had turned away from me last night. And I was crying again. I leaned over and put my hands up to my face.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and gasped a little.
"What's wrong?" Dean let go of me, "are you hurt?"
"I, uh- I've got a little bruising, that's all- Trent hit me some last night," I wiped my eyes with my sleeve.
"A little bruising?" Dean sounded outraged, "Man, what a fuckin' dick-"
"Dean-" Mr. Winchester's voice was a reprimand.
"What, Dad? Did you see him, he didn't even look at her this morning, like she didn't even exist!"
"I know, but that's not respectful-"
"He doesn't deserve respect!" Dean said loudly.
"Dean, he is an adult, and you are not. Now watch your language and your tone."
"Yes sir," Dean grumbled.
Mr. Winchester started the car. "I've got to go drop the keys off at the mechanic's, and then we'll go get Sam a new pair of boots at the supply store."
We drove into town, to the mechanic's, and Mr. Winchester parked around the side of the building. "I'll be back in a minute," he got out of the car.
"What's he doing?" I asked Dean.
"He was working here, and they let him use one of their trucks, so that I could have the Impala during the week," Dean told me.
"Wait...I thought you said your dad was a traveling salesman?"
I saw Dean glance back at Sam, and then he said, "Yeah, uh, he is...but he sometimes has, uh, a few weeks between jobs, and uh...he does part—time work as a mechanic, y'know?"
"Oh," I said. It seemed a little odd, and Dean looked uncomfortable again, so I didn't want to ask more questions.
Next we went to a military supply store. Dean told me that his father had been in the military, and so he got discounts at places like this. We stood off to the side while Mr. Winchester helped Sam find a pair of boots that fit him.
"All right, I need to pick up a few other things," Mr. Winchester said. We followed him through the store.
Dean began to bother and tease Sam, stepping on the back of his shoe and flicking the back of his head. Sam kept telling him to stop, but Dean wouldn't.
Dean put his arm around Sam's neck and started tickling Sam's side, and Sam yelped and dropped the shoebox.
"Dean, leave him alone, geez," I said.
"Oh, you want me to bother you instead?" Dean asked with a grin, coming over to me. He grabbed my wrist. "You ticklish?"
"No, Dean-" he began to tickle my side, and I gave a little shriek, and turned my body.
Dean grinned wider and pulled me closer. "Uh huh, anywhere else?" he began to tickle my neck, and I scrunched my shoulders up.
"Dean!" I gasped, trying to pull away from him. He pulled me closer and wrapped his arm around my torso, trapping my arms, and began to tickle me harder. I was laughing, breathless, squirming against him, and then suddenly I looked up into his eyes.
He was looking down at me intently. "You're so beautiful when you laugh," he whispered, and I became aware that our bodies were pressed against each other, and I felt a surge of desire sweep through me.
He held my eyes for a long moment, and then started to bend his head towards me- a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Dean," Mr. Winchester said in a deep voice, "Carry this."
Dean let go of me and straightened up, and his face got a little red. I stared at the floor as Dean took the items that his dad handed him.
We followed Mr. Winchester to the register, and stood silently as he paid for everything. I glanced at Dean, and he glanced at me at the same time, and gave me a small smile.
When we got to the car, Mr. Winchester opened the trunk. He pulled something out of the bag, and held it out to me. "Here, I got a duffle to put your clothes in," he said gruffly, "you shouldn't be using a garbage bag."
"Oh," I said, surprised, "Thank you, sir." I took it from him, and opened it. It was a military- grade duffle bag made of olive-green canvas, and it had a couple of pockets inside.
Mr. Winchester's phone rang. "You three get in the car, I need to take this," he said to us.
When he got into the car, he turned to me. "That was Pastor Jim. He's located a home for unwed mothers, it's the next state over, and he called them and talked to someone there. They have a bed open, and he's reserved it for you. We should get there by this evening."
"Oh...okay," I said.
"Dad, are you sure...I mean, it's okay?" Dean asked uncertainly.
"Yes, it's fine. Pastor Jim knows one of the people who works there, it's connected to a local church. There's one that's closer, but they're full up right now. This place is the only one in a couple of states with an opening."
"Th-thank you," I said, feeling nervous. I didn't want to go, but I knew it was probably the best place for me.
"They have good pre-natal care and they'll counsel you about your options," Mr. Winchester told me.
"Yes, some people choose to give up the baby for adoption, and they work with a local adoption company to insure that everything works out for everyone."
Mr. Winchester started the car and pulled into traffic. I set the duffle on the seat between Sam and me. "Do you mind if I pack this?" I asked him.
"No problem," Sam said.
He watched as I began to sort through the bag at my feet. I pulled a couple pairs of jeans out and tried to fold them but there wasn't a lot of room. An earring fell out of the clothes, and I picked it up.
"Want me to hold it?" Sam asked.
"Okay," I said, "Trent just dumped my jewelry drawer in the bag too."
As I pulled clothes out of the bag, different pieces of jewelry would fall out of them from time to time. I handed each necklace and earring to Sam.
"Darn it, this one is tangled," I complained.
Dean turned around and looked at me. "Want me to untangle it?" he asked.
"Uh, okay," I handed it up to him.
I tried to discreetly pull my panties and bras out of the bag, but I know that Sam saw, because I glanced over at him and he was blushing. He turned his head and stared out the window for a few minutes.
"Okay, Sam, I'll take the jewelry," I said. He handed it to me and I placed the pile in one of the inner pockets.
"Here ya go," Dean turned around and held the necklace out to me. It was a gold chain with a pink and gold rose pendant.
"Thanks," I took it from him.
"It's pretty, why don't you wear it?" Dean asked.
"Oh, well, I guess I don't- I don't need it any more, I mean...it was a birthday present from my mom, it came with this card about 'What a great daughter you are', and now she doesn't think that, you know...I'm just trash..." my eyes filled with tears.
"Hey," Dean reached out and took my hand, "You are not trash, you hear me? You're not," his voice was emphatic.
I bit the inside of my cheek so that I wouldn't keep crying. I was tired of crying all the time! "Th-thanks, Dean," I smiled at him.
He squeezed my hand and let go, smiling back at me. "Hey, how about some tunes? Beatles okay?"
"Sure," I agreed.
"Dad?" Dean turned towards his father, who nodded. Dean leaned down, and pulled a shoebox filled with cassette tapes out from under the front seat. He selected one and turned on the radio, and the pushed the tape in. Seconds later, the Beatles were singing about Sergeant Pepper and his Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Dean is singing 'Highway to Hell' by AC/DC at the beginning of the chapter.
"No stop signs...speed limit...nobody's gonna slow me down...like a wheel-"
"All right, champ, take your foot off the gas," Mr. Winchester interrupted Dean, who was singing at the top of his lungs, "I don't want to get pulled over for speeding," he turned the volume down slightly.
He and Dean had switched places when we had stopped for gas, and Dean was behind the wheel now.
I looked out the window and swallowed. I had started to feel dizzy a while ago, and now the nausea was back. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window. The cool glass felt good on my face.
"Hey...uh, Jane...are you, uh, okay?" Sam asked quietly.
I didn't respond to him.
"Jane?" Mr. Winchester said, "What's wrong?"
I sat up and opened my eyes. He had turned to look at me.
"Nothing—I mean I just, I feel a little...off," I swallowed uneasily.
"Are you feeling nauseous?" Mr. Winchester asked.
"Uh, kinda," I looked down at my lap.
"You didn't eat anything for breakfast, did you?"
Mr. Winchester faced front. "All right, Dean, pull off at the next exit, find a convenience store."
"Okay, Dad," Dean said easily.
I leaned forward. "No, it's okay, really-"
"You should eat something, it will help the nausea. Do you get car sick?" Mr. Winchester turned again to look at me.
"Uh, no, I never have before."
He nodded. "This is probably because of the—pregnancy. We'll try some ginger ale and see if that helps."
In a few minutes, the car pulled into a Gas-N-Sip.
"Do you want to get out, stretch your legs?" Mr. Winchester asked.
"I—I need to use the rest room," I said.
All four of us got out of the car. I walked to the back of the store and used the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face after I'd washed my hands.
Dean and Sam were in the aisle with all the junk food. Sam had a bag of Funyuns in his hand.
"Man, why do you always get them, Sam? They're gross, they smell like dirty socks," Dean made a face.
"I like 'em, and they're not that bad. You're the one who smells like dirty socks," Sam nudged Dean with his shoulder.
"Shut up, I do not. You-"
"Boys," Mr. Winchester came over to us, "Have you picked something, Dean?" he raised his eyebrows at Dean.
"No," Dean muttered, turning to the shelves. He leaned down and picked up a bag of Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chips. "So I'll have onion breath too," he smirked at Sam.
"I don't have onion breath!" Sam huffed.
"You do after you've eaten that crap," Dean retorted.
"BOYS," Mr. Winchester said again, "Enough," he sighed, and looked at me, "I got some plain crackers for you, and ginger ale."
"Thank you, sir," I said, feeling my face get red.
We walked over to stand in line, and the boys began to bicker again.
"Juice, Sam? What, are you a baby? You want that in a bottle?" Dean teased.
"Leave me alone, I don't feel like soda right now," Sam frowned at Dean, "Why you always gotta be making comments?"
"Does widdle Sammy need a blankie and-"
"Dean," Mr. Winchester interrupted him, "Go outside to the car," he handed Dean the keys.
Dean turned to me. "Hey, c'mon," he pulled on my sleeve. I followed him outside, and we stood next to the passenger side of the car.
"How's your stomach?" he looked down at me.
"A little better, now that we're not in the car."
"Man, that sucks," he shook his head, "Are you nervous?"
"Goin' to this place."
"I don't know, yeah, I guess. It hasn't- it hasn't hit me yet, y'know?" I sighed, glancing up at him.
He was looking at me intently again. "Well, uh, for what it's worth, I'm, uh, I'm...sorry."
"For what?" I was confused.
"For uh, all this—I mean, getting' you into this mess. I had no idea, I mean, I thought, y'know, the condom-" his face started to get red, and he stared at the ground.
"Well, it's not your fault. I mean, it was both of us-"
He chuckled. "Yeah, we were both there, that's for sure," He pulled me into a hug, and I put my arms around him, "I'm just—sorry it's been rough for you," he said, leaning his head on mine.
"Thanks," I tilted my head to look up at him, and he gazed down at me.
Dean's lips met mine, soft, and warm, for just a moment-
"Shotgun!" Sam called behind us.
Dean broke away from me and turned. "Uh, no, little brother, shotgun's my seat."
"But I called it!" Sam protested, "You were just—standing there-"
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Fine, you can sit in the front, and I'll sit in the back with the girl cooties-"
"Sam, you're in the back," Mr. Winchester said sternly.
"But Dad, Dean just-"
"In the back, Samuel," Mr. Winchester's voice was testy.
Sam huffed and walked around to the back. Dean grinned at me and wiggled his eyebrows. I guess that his dad didn't want us sitting together in the car.
My stomach settled after I'd had some ginger ale and crackers. It also helped if I didn't look out the window. After a while I felt sleepy, and I leaned my head back on the seat and closed my eyes.
Someone was shaking my shoulder. "Jane—Jane, wake up-" Dean said gently.
I opened my eyes and looked at him.
"We're stopping for lunch," he told me.
I rubbed my eyes and unbuckled the seat belt, then got out of the car. We were in the parking lot of a diner. I walked behind Sam, yawning, and Dean fell back to walk next to me.
"You got some drool there," he pointed at my chin.
I wiped my chin, but it felt dry. "Oh, you-" I shoved at him, and he grinned at me.
We had to wait a few minutes before we were shown to a booth. Lunch hour was in full swing, and the diner was crowded and loud.
Dean pulled on my arm as we walked, slowing me down, and I didn't understand what he was doing. When we got to the table, he let Sam walk ahead, and then gestured to me. I slid into the booth and he dropped in the seat next to me. Now I understood- he wanted to sit with me.
Mr. Winchester looked at us for a moment, and then seemed to come to some sort of decision.
"Um, I don't- I'm not really hungry, so I don't need to get anything-" I said hesitantly.
"If you're hungry, get something. You need to eat, you're eating for two, you know," Mr. Winchester said.
"Daad!" Sam said, rolling his eyes.
"Well, Sam it's the truth," Mr. Winchester told him with a grin, then he looked at me again, "Get whatever you want."
"Okay...thank you, sir," I felt embarrassed that he was having to pay for so much. I remembered that I had some money just then, and I reached into my pocket and pulled out the crumpled bills. "Oh, I can pay for my-"
"Put that away, it's all right, I've got it," Mr. Winchester waved his hand.
The waitress came up to the table. "Can I start you off with a drink?" she asked, glancing at all of us.
After we ordered drinks, we all sat there uncomfortably. I didn't know what to say to them.
"So, Dad, are we, uh, going to, uh, meet with...Uncle Bobby like you said?" Dean asked slowly.
"We'll see. Probably," Mr. Winchester replied, glancing around, "Sam, whatver happened with that science report you were working on?"
"I got an A on it, not that it matters now," Sam grumbled, frowning at the table, "Are we gonna stay at Uncle Bobby's again?"
"I don't know."
"'Cause I hate that school-"
"I said I don't know, Sam. Let it go for now," Mr. Winchester's voice was terse.
"How can you hate it, Sammy, you're such a geek-boy about school-"
"Well there were a lot of jerks there!" Sam snapped.
Dean looked at Sam. "What do you mean?"
Sam blushed a little and looked down at the table. "Just—some guys wouldn't leave me alone, last time."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean leaned forward slightly.
Sam shrugged. "I dunno, you were just- busy with- y'know, helping Dad-" he glanced at his father.
"Oh," Dean sat back, "Well next time that happens, you tell me, all right? 'Cause no one's gonna mess with you."
"Dean," Mr. Winchester said.
"I don't want you starting fights."
"It's my job to watch out for Sammy, isn't it? And I'm not gonna let anyone bug him, okay?" Dean said.
"Sam can take care of himself, I'm sure," Mr. Winchester glanced up as the watiress brought a tray of drinks over. She set everything down and pulled out her pad. "Ready to order?" she asked.
After we ordered, I excused myself to go to the restroom. When I came back out, Mr. Winchester had left the booth.
Dean was balling up little pieces of straw wrappers and flicking them across the table at Sam.
"Where's your Dad?" I asked.
"Oh, he, uh, had to take a phone call," Dean shifted, and put his arm along the back of the booth, behind me.
"I'm really not looking forward to starting training again," Sam muttered, taking a drink of his soda.
"Well, it's not like you got a choice," Dean said.
"Training for what?" I asked, looking from Sam to Dean.
"We, uhh, our dad wants us to be in top physical condition, y'know," Dean said, seeming uncomfortable, "And he hunts, and takes us with him sometimes. He's teaching us how, and we have to, y'know, train for that too."
He shifted and put his hand on my shoulder, draping his arm casually around my back. He had done the same thing when we'd been in his car, watching a movie at the drive-in. It was kind of charming, the way he thought he had to sneak putting his arm around me instead of just doing it. I saw him glance at me out of the side of his eye, and leaned into him slightly.
The waitress brought our food, and to my surprise, Dean kept his arm around my shoulders as we started to eat.
"You want a french fry?" he asked me.
I had gotten a turkey sandwich on toast and a salad because I didn't think my stomach could handle a greasy hamburger.
"Okay," I said, starting to reach for one.
"Here," he held one up to my mouth.
I gave him a look, and then opened my mouth and allowed him to feed me.
He grinned at me. "More? Ketchup?"
"Yes please," I said, and he dipped one into the ketchup on his plate and fed it to me, gazing into my eyes.
Sam made a scoffing noise and rolled his eyes.
Dean offered me another fry, and as he held it up, he pulled his hand back, and I leaned forward. He acted like he was going to put it in my mouth, and then put it into his own mouth quickly, and then leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the lips.
"Dean!" I laughed.
"Oh, brother," I heard Sam say.
"You want some more of that?" Dean asked with a little smirk, and he leaned over to kiss me again. I felt his hand tightening on my shoulder, and leaned into him even more. I could taste the salt on his lips from the food.
"Dean," Mr. Winchester barked, and we both jumped apart.
I realized that my hand had been resting on Dean's thigh. I felt my face get red, and his did too.
Mr. Winchester stood next to the table, phone still to his ear. "Get my plate boxed up, and finish your meals, we've got to get back on the road ASAP," his voice was terse and no-nonsense.
"Yessir," Dean answered, staring at the table. His dad put a couple of bills on the table, and turned to leave again.
"Uh- is he—I mean, are we in—has he done this before?" I asked quietly.
"Yeah, sometimes Dad gets a work call or somethin', and me and Sammy have to hurry it up. I'll pay the bill when we're done," Dean signalled to the waitress and asked her for a to-go box.
"Is he—is he pissed as us?" I whispered.
Dean looked down at me. "Nah, it's cool," he said casually, "He just gets that way sometimes."
We ate quickly and Sam put his dad's meal in the styrofoam container while Dean paid the bill. I followed them out to the car. Mr. Winchester was looking into the trunk as he talked on the phone.
We got into the car, and in a couple of minutes, Mr. Winchester joined us. He seemed lost in thought as he drove and ate his hamburger. Dean asked if he could turn some music on, and then slid a Led Zeppelin tape into the stereo.
Finally Mr. Winchester turned his head. "We should be there in less than an hour," he said.
I got more and more nervous. I had no idea what this was going to be like. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe I should get rid of the baby and beg for my parent's forgiveness. Maybe I should run away. Maybe I should ask if I could stay with Dean. Would he marry me if I asked him? He probably wouldn't want to be saddled with a wife and a kid at such a young age. He didn't seem to be the "settling down" type.
I tried to stay calm and not cry, it wouldn't help anything. I had gotten myself into this, and I was going to see it through to the end. I could do this.
Finally, the car turned into a long driveway. There was a plain white mailbox at the end of it.
Mr. Winchester parked the car in a parking pad off to the side of a huge old building. It looked like an old-fashioned school.
There was a white sign in front of it that said, "St. Martha's Home for Unwed Mothers".
We got out of the car and I shouldered the duffle.
"Ready?" Dean asked me.
I took a deep breath and nodded. Mr. Winchester led us up the steps.
The door was opened by a friendly looking woman with short gray hair. "Hello, I'm Sister Mary Margaret. And you are-"
"I'm John Winchester, Jim Murphy called for me—" Mr. Winchester said.
"Oh, yes, come in," she opened the door wide.
We all trooped in and stood there awkwardly.
Sister Mary Margaret looked at me. "What is your name?" she smiled at me.
"Oh, it's, uh, Jane Lewis," I felt myself blushing again.
"Let's go into the waiting room, can I get any of you something? Coffee, or water?"
We followed her into a large room with a desk at one end and several sofas and chairs against the other walls.
"Uh, no, we've got to...head out on the road," Mr. Winchester told her.
"I see. Well, I've got some paperwork that needs to be filled out. First, though, Jane, if you would come with me, we'll do a test," She held her arm out towards a doorway.
"Uh, test? What kind of test?" I asked nervously.
"A pregnancy test, just to be sure. Sometimes girls get here, and a day or two later, their menses start. We've found that it's best to perform a test before the family leaves," she looked from me to Mr. Winchester.
"Will you be able to tell how far along the pregnancy is?" Mr. Winchester asked.
"No, you can only ascertain that with a blood test, and we'll do that tomorrow. This is a urine test, just to be certain. Right through that door, dear."
I glanced over at Dean. He and Sam were staring at the floor, and both of them were bright red. I felt embarrassed too, and I hurried into the bathroom.
After I was finished, I came back out to the waiting room. Sam and Dean were sitting on a sofa next to each other, and Mr. Winchester was sitting in an overstuffed chair. Sam had his hands in his pockets and wouldn't look up. Dean nervously thumbed through a magazine.
I sat down in a chair next to him, and he glanced at me, but avoided my eyes.
Sister Mary Margaret left the room, and we sat in silence. A clock chimed in another room. Dean cleared his throat. I jiggled my knee anxiously.
In another couple of minutes, she came back. "Well, it is positive. You can get started on the paperwork and then after that I'll give you the short house tour and then show you to your room."
"We've, uh, we've got to go," Mr. Winchester stood up, "Boys," They stood up too, shuffling their feet.
I looked up at him. "Thank you for finding this for me, and getting me in here," I said gratefully.
"You're welcome," he said gruffly, "Good luck with everything."
I looked over at Sam. "Bye, Sam, it was nice to meet you. Don't let Dean beat up on you too much."
He grinned at me shyly, showing his dimples. "I won't. Someday I'll be taller than him, and then I'll be kickin' his ass all the time!"
"Sam, language," Mr. Winchester reprimanded.
Dean shoved the back of Sam's head. "Keep dreamin', little buddy."
Sam huffed at him and stepped away.
"Hey, Dad, can we have a minute?" Dean asked, coming over to me.
"Sure," Mr. Winchester led Sam over towards the front door.
"Well...I guess this is it," Dean's voice was husky.
"Yeah," I said, feeling my throat get tight.
He put his arms around my waist. "I had a lot of fun with you...you're an awesome girl, don't ever forget that."
"You—you're pretty awesome, yourself," I said.
He chuckled, and pulled me close, moving his arms up to my shoulders. I slid my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. "I'll miss you," I said in a choked voice.
"Hey, none of that," he said, trying to joke, but his voice was tight too.
"Can I...call you?" I asked.
He pulled back and looked down at me. "Sure, babe, any time."
"Thanks," I said softly. He pulled me in for another tight hug. I rubbed my cheek against his soft flannel.
"Dean, we should get back on the road," Mr. Winchester said.
Dean sighed, and let me go. He leaned down, and kissed my forehead. "You take care," he whispered.
"You too," I whispered back, tears filling my eyes. We let each other go, and I watched them walk out the door. Sam turned as they left, raising his hand and giving me a forlorn little wave.
"What happened here?" the doctor touched the bruise on the side of my mouth. It was now dark green instead of purple.
"Oh, I, uh-" I stared down at my hands and felt my face get red, "My, uh, when I told my parents, they were...unhappy, and my—my step-father, he-"
"It's all right," the nurse stepped forward and put her hand on my arm, "We see that a lot."
"Does your step-father do that often?" Dr. Smith asked.
"Uh, no, I mean, well, he—slaps me sometimes-" I felt tears come to my eyes.
"We'll get you an appointment with the counselor," the nurse said.
"Counselor?" I took the tissue she handed me.
"Yes, it's helpful to talk about your family situation with a licensed counselor," Dr. Smith said smoothly.
"Well, I don't- I don't have a family situation any more, they, uh, my step-father kicked me out."
"It's still good to talk to someone," the nurse smiled at me, "Are you ready to have some blood drawn?"
She led me over to a chair and pulled a tray in front of me. "I need you to make a fist," she said, tying a piece of rubber tubing to my arm.
I turned my head away and closed my eyes so I didn't see what she was doing.
I had cried myself to sleep last night after Sister Mary Margaret had shown me a couple of rooms- the kitchen, the Great Room, and a couple of classrooms. I had a room-mate, but she was asleep in her bed when I was shown into the room.
After I had a medical exam in the morning, I was taken to an office-like room and had to talk to a woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Brown, the director of education. I took a written test to figure out where I was academically, and that took a couple of hours. She took me to the cafeteria after that, and I ate by myself. Another woman came over to me while I was finishing, and she told me her name was Miss Sharp. She was young and bubbly. She told me that she was one of the 'house mothers' who dealt with keeping things running. She took me on another tour, and then we sat down and she explained how they did things here.
Once they got my academic scores back, I'd be placed in a class. I'd attend class every weekday, and then have chores at the end of the day. We were expected to do chores on the weekend, and attend church, but we'd have some free time. They also had individual and group therapy for people who needed it, and different support groups for things like if you wanted to give your baby up for adoption. And every week you'd get a checkup. We had to be weighed and have our vitals checked every day, and record what we were eating too. They also offered classes for things like cooking and sewing and gardening on the weekends.
By the time dinner was over, I was exhausted, and my head was swimming with all the information I'd been told. I went straight to bed afterwards, and as I fell asleep, I realized that I hadn't even had time to think about Dean or wonder what he was doing.
~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn~ ~
I sat down in the small booth, dialed the phone number and listened to it ring.
"Dean?" I asked, uncertain if it was him.
"Yeah? Who's this?" he asked suspiciously.
"It—it's me, Jane," I said.
"Oh! Jane! What's—how are you?" his voice changed from suspicious to happy, and in my mind's eye I could see him smiling.
"I—I-" I started to cry just then, realizing how lonely I'd felt this past week, and how I'd longed to hear a familiar voice.
"Aww, what's wrong, baby?" he sounded concerned.
"I just—I miss, you know, ev—everything, it's so dif-different," I tried to explain how I felt, "and I- m-mis you."
"Aww, geez...well, I, uh, I—I can see how you'd be feelin' that way," he said.
I felt a little disappointed, I'd been hoping he'd say that he missed me too.
"What have you been doing?" I asked, clearing my throat.
"Uh, we're, uh, staying at my Uncle Bobby's place for a few."
"Where is that?"
"Uh, it's uh, South Dakota," I heard rustling on his end of the line, "What's it like there?"
"They keep us busy," I said, "I have classes every day, and we have chores, and there are things to do on the weekends too. And I have to see a doctor every week. I get to make a phone call every Friday, they have a little phone booth for privacy."
"Oh...how are you feelin'?"
"I still get nauseous sometimes. They gave me some medicine to help with that." I looked out the window, there was a girl standing next to the booth now.
We were both quiet for a long moment, then I said, "Oh, I—I saw the baby!"
"You what? How?" Dean was shocked.
"They did an ultrasound, you know?"
"Oh. What'd it, what'd it look like?"
I laughed. "Tiny. I'm almost 8 weeks. They said the baby's the size of a kidney bean!"
Dean chuckled. "A kidney bean, huh? Wow, that's..." he trailed off.
"Dean?" I wanted to tell him how it had felt when I had seen the black and white image on the screen, knowing that that was my baby—our baby- growing inside of me. How I suddenly felt like I wanted to have this baby and keep it and raise it, how I wanted him with me.
"I—I wish—I wish you could be here with me," I felt embarrassed for some reason.
"Well, I don't think I'd fit in there very well, with a bunch of pregnant girls," he joked.
"No, I mean, I wish—that we were, you know, together," I swallowed, feeling tears come to my eyes. I wanted to feel the same closeness that I'd felt when we were together in the back of his car.
A banging on the door of the booth startled me. I looked out the window again. The girl stood there with her arms crossed, and she pointed at her wrist.
"Dean, I have to go, other people need to use the phone."
"Well...it was good to hear you."
"Yeah," he cleared his throat, "You too."
"Take care, Dean."
"Yeah, you, uh, you too."
He hung up. I placed the receiver in the cradle and stood up, wiping my eyes.
~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~
Two weeks later, I had settled in. My room-mate, Lori, was a quiet girl who was hugely pregnant. She was going to give her baby up for adoption and then go back to her family. She didn't really have any friends or talk much to anyone, and trying to get anything out of her was like pulling teeth, so I didn't interact with her very much.
My teacher, Miss Rachel, had taken me under her wing. She was impressed with my academic scores and chatted with me almost every day after class. Most of the girls who were in my class were nice, and helpful when I had questions.
There were a few different nurses on rotation, who took our vitals every day, and I had become close with one who was an older woman. Nurse Margie was a grandmother 8 times over and a great-grandmother three times over and she loved babies. She was very encouraging to all the girls who lived in the home. She worked about every third day and sometimes did the night shift.
I placed my arm on the desk and Nurse Margie wrapped the blood pressure cuff around it, and slid the end of the stethoscope under the cuff.
"You going to call that boy of yours this Friday?" she asked as she inflated the cuff.
"Yeah...I just hope he'll talk to me," I waited quietly as she took the reading and then removed the cuff and looped the stethoscope around her neck.
I had confided in her about Dean, that he and I had dated, and I was feeling like I had feelings for him but I didn't know if it was just because I missed home, or I really felt something for him. She had told me that that was a common thing that happened when girls were separated from their families.
The last time I had talked to Dean, he had seemed distracted and like he didn't really want to talk to me. I was afraid that he was losing interest in me.
"I'm sure he will. Any teen-age boy has a lot on his mind, and he's got more going on than the average, probably worrying about you," she picked up a pen and wrote some numbers on my chart.
"You think so?" I asked hopefully.
"Yes. He'll talk to you, and everything will work out, you'll see,"she smiled at me, "Your BP looks great, temp is normal, and you've gained a few ounces. Everything looks good, sweetie," she patted my hand.
"Thanks, Margie," I stood up and picked up my backpack to go to class.
When I went to my room after dinner, it looked different. I couldn't figure out why at first, and then I realized it was because my room-mate's side of the room was empty. The framed photos of Lori's family were not on her nightstand, and the basket of barrettes and hair elastics was not on her dresser.
I walked out to the desk at the end of the hallway, near the Great Room, where a staff member hung out in the evenings. There was a woman sitting behind the desk that I'd never seen before.
"Hi, um, my room-mate, her stuff is gone from the room. Do you know what happened?" I asked hesitantly.
She was looking through a large three-ring binder, and she raised her head and looked at me. I felt a momentary shock. She was very pale, her skin was porcelain white, and her eyes were a very pale blue. The fact that she had very dark hair and was wearing dark red lipstick accentuated her paleness. "Who are you referring to?" she asked, and her voice seemed cold.
"Um, Lori Haverty, in room 208."
She continued to look at me. "She went into labor," she said, and lowered her head again to continue reading.
"Oh," I said, and the woman ignored me.
I walked over into the Great Room, which was like a living room and meeting area. There were a couple of sofas and a t.v. on one side, and on the other was a set of chairs in a circle, for meetings, and then towards the back was a ping-pong table and another table where people could sit and play cards or put together jigsaw puzzles.
I went over to where there were a couple of girls watching tv. "Hey, did any of you hear about Lori?"
Jasmine glanced up at me. "No, what?"
"That she went into labor?"
"No, when?" Alicia sat forward, her face curious.
"I don't know, her side of the room is empty, and that new nurse at the desk said she went into labor, but that's all she told me."
"None of you have heard anything?"
"Nope," there were head shakes all around.
I walked back to my room, frowning. A girl had gone into labor about 10 days ago, and apparently when that happened, everyone got excited. The news spread through the building quickly, with everyone talking about it and speculating on the details, but this time it was quiet. No one seemed to have heard anything about Lori. It seemed odd.
I got a towel and went to take a shower, and then joined the other girls in the Great Room afterwards. Tomorrow was Friday, and I'd be able to call Dean in the evening.
The t.v. was turned off at 9 PM, and we all had to go to our rooms for Quiet Time. The girls who took medication in the evenings lined up at the desk.
As I walked to my room, the woman from before stopped me. "You're Jane Lewis?" she asked.
"Uh, yes," I said. I stopped, thinking she was going to say something else to me.
She looked at me, and then nodded, and turned away to go back to the desk.
I had trouble falling asleep that night, I'd gotten used to sleeping with someone else in the room, feeling their presence and hearing their breathing. I resolved to ask Nurse Margie if she'd heard anything, if she was on duty tomorrow.
My head was hurting, like something was pressing on my brain. I rolled over in bed, and winced as my head began to pound and my stomach did a slow flip. I opened my eyes and then shut them quickly- it was bright in the room. I wasn't in my room, it was different, more sterile. I could smell an antiseptic smell like a doctor's office. I didn't know what was happening or where I was. I tried to sit up, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. What was happening?
I don't know how long I laid there. I heard the squeak of door hinges, and footsteps, and opened my eyes the tiniest bit.
A woman wearing nurse's whites stood next to the bed with a small rolling cart next to her. "Oh, you're awake," she said, "time to take your vitals."
"Wh—what happened, where am I?" I asked hoarsely.
She lifted my wrist and circled it with her fingers, taking my pulse. Her hand was dry and cool.
"You don't remember? You got very sick after breakfast, and we brought you to the medical wing. There's a nasty flu going around, and we don't want any of the other girls catching it."
"No, I don't remember," I said, "My head really hurts, it's awful. Can I have something for it?"
"Do you get headaches often?" she questioned, as she lowered my hand back to the bed. She picked up a thermometer and stuck it in my ear. After a moment it beeped, and she glanced at it.
"Do I have a fever?" I asked, "Aren't fevers bad for an unborn baby?" I tried to sit up a little bit and winced again as my head throbbed. "Please, my head- it's really bad! I've never had a headache like this before! It feels like there's pressure inside, and it's pounding, and everything makes it worse-moving, and the light in the room-"
"Could be a migraine...you said you've never gotten one before?"
"No," I sank back into the pillow.
"I'll see what I can get for you. Let's check your blood pressure now," she placed the cuff around my arm and put the stethoscope in her ears.
"Where's Nurse Margie?" I asked, "is she on today?"
She didn't answer me, just took my blood pressure and then removed the cuff. The sound of the velcro ripping made my head hurt.
"Close your eyes, and rest. I'll be back with some medication," She turned on her heel and left the room.
I could hear talking in the hallway outside my door. I sat up slightly, my head spinning again. The nurse had given me some medication, and it had helped with the headache, but I still felt dizzy and out of it. My eyes still felt sensitive to light and I felt like my head was full of cotton balls.
I sat up slowly, and stood up, taking slow steps towards the door. I grabbed the doorjamb and opened the door. Two nurse stood in the hallway chatting, and they looked at me.
"What are you doing out of bed?" one of them asked.
"What day is it?" I rasped, "Can I- I need to call my—my friend, please-"
"Come on, back to bed," the second nurse said, "you don't need to be making any phone calls right now, you're sick."
"But- I'm not running a fever, I call him every Friday—please-"
"No, you need to be in bed and resting," she said firmly, walking me back to the room.
~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~
I laid in bed, listening to the nurse's footsteps walking away. Then I propped myself up on my elbow and spit the pills out into my palm. I stuffed them into the pillowcase, and then laid back down to wait.
Something strange was going on. The nurses in the medical wing would rarely answer my questions about anything, and I didn't recognize any of them. They kept telling me I had to rest because I was sick, and there was a flu going around, but there was no-one else here with me. There hadn't been any talk about a flu going around before I got sick, either. They wouldn't let me get out of bed, or have any visitors when I asked, or even call Dean. They gave me medication but wouldn't give me a direct answer about what it was. I had noticed that I would start to feel woozy after I took it, and I would sleep heavily for several hours, so I had resolved to fake taking it tonight so that I could possibly sneak out and talk to one of the other girls, or try and call Dean.
I had meant to stay awake, but I ended up falling asleep. I woke up when I heard the door hinges squeak. My room was dark, and there were two figures standing in the doorway, partially blocking the light from the hall.
"I can't believe our good fortune," one of them said.
"Yes...we'll be moving her soon," said the other voice quietly.
"Who would have thought that Winchester blood would just fall into our lap?" the first voice sounded like it was gloating.
"It should fetch a good price," the second voice said.
"I don't care about the market, I want some for myself!"
"Don't let him hear you say that, he won't like that you're thinking that way," the second voice warned.
"I know, the selfish bastard wants it all," the first voice snapped.
"Shh...let's leave her."
I heard the door gently click closed, and the room became completely dark. My mind was whirling. What did they mean? Were they talking about selling blood? Why did the one person say they wanted some for themselves?
And then I felt a shock, as it hit me- one of them had said, "Winchester blood". That wasn't me...they were talking about my baby! My baby would have Winchester blood in its veins. I began to feel scared. Who were these people?
And then I realized something else. They had said they were going to move me. Where were they going to take me? What would happen to me? Oh God, I had to call Dean, and tell him what I had overheard.
Content Warning for mild smut.
I stood at the front desk and picked up the phone receiver. I had to be quick- there was a shift change at 6 AM, and the night staff and morning staff held a short meeting together in the office. I was alone- for now.
I dialed Dean's number and listened to it ring, praying he wasn't in the shower. I didn't even know what day of the week it was.
"H'lo?" he answered sleepily.
"Dean?" I whispered.
"Yeah...who'z 'is?" he grumbled.
"Dean, it's Jane-"
"Listen," I said quickly, "Something's going on. I'm in the medical wing, they told me I was sick but I don't think I am. I—I heard a couple of nurses talking, one of them said something about selling blood, and then the other one said 'Who would have thought that Winchester blood would just fall into our lap'! I—I think they mean the baby! I'm scared, Dean-" my eyes filled with tears.
"Oh my God," he muttered, "Tell me again what they said? All of it!" his voice was urgent. I relayed the conversation I had overheard, and I heard him exhale as I spoke.
"Okay...okay...uh, hold tight, okay? We'll, uhh—I gotta talk to my Dad, but we'll be there-"
"What if they move me?" I asked anxiously.
"Don't worry, we'll, uh, we'll figure it out. Just, uh, act normal, don't say anything to them, and we'll be there as soon as we can, okay?"
"Okay...I—I-I gotta go," I said.
"All right, just hang on, okay?"
"Yeah...bye." I hung up, and started to walk back to my room. Behind me, I heard the door to the office open. "What are you doing?" I heard a voice say.
I had to think fast. I turned. "The, um...the wind woke me up, a branch was banging on the window. I wanted to see if I could get some water."
"Go back to your room. I'll bring you some." It was the same woman from before, the one with the pale blue eyes. I felt goosebumps break out on my arms for some reason.
I laid in bed and listened to the wind. Sometimes during the middle of the night, the wind had picked up, and now it was raining. The rain pattered against the window every so often. It would have been a relaxing sound, but I was too nervous, and it made me feel more jumpy.
There was a quick rap on the door, and the nurse from before came in, followed by another nurse, who was pulling a metal stand with an IV bag attached to it.
"We're going to give you some fluids," the pale woman said.
I sat up. "Wh-why? I've been feeling better."
"Well, you're not better. We're going to take you to get an amniocentesis."
"Why?" I looked up at both the nurses with fear.
"To make sure that the baby is healthy."
"But—but amnios are dangerous, aren't they? I mean—there's a risk of miscarriage!" I exclaimed.
The nurses glanced at each other. "And where did you hear that?"
"My- my mother, when she had my youngest sister, they had to talk to a doctor about getting an amnio, and they were told that it was risky. She opted not to get one," I told them.
"Well, it will be fine," the second nurse said, fiddling with the IV tubing, "Let's get this started."
"Don't I—don't I have to agree to it? Don't I have to sign forms for testing? I—I don't want an amnio!" I said.
"We'll talk more about that later, let's get this IV in," the nurse said soothingly, "And we'll bring you breakfast, shortly, all right?"
I sat, trying not to cry, as the nurse inserted the IV into my arm and taped it into place. I remembered learning about an amniocentesis where a doctor inserted a needle into a pregnant woman's belly, to take some tissues samples from the baby. There was a big risk of something going wrong, and that was why my mother had chosen not to get one. The prospect of having to get one made my anxiety jump a notch.
~ ~ spn ~ ~ spn ~ ~
I could feel that I was in motion, and hear the sound of rain pattering every so often, and the sound of an engine. I moved slightly, and felt pressure on my wrist—I couldn't move it, it was being held against something.
Oh, that's right... I had gotten sleepy after they had put the IV in. I had laid in bed for hours, drifting in and out of weird dreams, being lulled by the sound of rain falling and being woken up at one point by a crash of thunder. The thunder storm lasted for hours, it seemed like, the crashes making the windows rattle and the lights flicker. It didn't bother me too much, because I was still pretty out of it.
They had wheeled a stretcher into my room late at night, and I had fussed at them. I became panicky- how would Dean find me if they took me somewhere? What were they going to do to me? I didn't want any testing done!
I tried to fight them as they talked to me, and then a nurse brought a syringe in and injected something into the IV line. As I started to fall asleep, I saw one of the nurses get out a pair of leather restraints and attach them to the side rails of the stretcher.
"Geez, take the turns a little slower! The last thing we want is to end up in a ditch!" I heard a voice hiss. It sounded like the person was sitting next to me.
"Shut up, I know what I'm doing!" another voice snapped from behind me.
"I wish this fog would let up and we could see where we're going," said a voice on the other side of me.
"Well I'm the one driving, so just shut it," the voice behind me gritted out, "Oh, shit, what is this?"
I felt the vehicle slowing down, and then stop.
"Yes, officer, what's, uh-"
"Your left tail light is out. Can I see license and registration please?" I heard a deep voice say.
"Look, we're transporting a sick patient to the hospital, we don't got time for this-"
"I'll give you a police escort after we finish here, all right? I need your paperwork," the deep voice said sternly.
I opened my eyes slightly. I was in the back of a small ambulance, and the woman with the light blue eyes was sitting on one side of me. On the other side was one of the other nurses.
There was a bang on the back of the ambulance, and the doors opened. Two men stood there, wearing black uniforms and hats. I could see the flashing red and blue lights of police cars behind them. They were back-lit by the headlights, so I couldn't see their faces.
"Hey, what's going on!" the nurse on the right demanded, "We've got a sick patient here!"
"Federal marshals, ma'am," said one of the men. His voice sounded- familiar. "We got a call about some suspicious activity and we need to check that everything is in order. Need to see the paperwork on this patient."
"Federal marshals? What for?" the other nurse said skeptically, "I wanna see some ID-"
And then things happened very fast. The other voice outside yelled, "Code V!" and there were sounds of a struggle. I heard the front door open and something was slammed against the side of the ambulance.
The two marshals pulled out guns and fired them, but bullets didn't come out, I saw tiny darts fly into the necks of the two nurses. The one with the blue eyes gasped and clawed at her neck, and then slumped over, her eyes fluttering.
The marshal who had spoken stepped up into the ambulance and looked down at me. It was Mr. Winchester! He nodded slightly at me, and turned back to the other man, still outside. "It's go time," he said.
The other nurse pulled the syringe out of her neck and laughed. "Surprise, asshole, I'm not one of them," she snarled. I looked up at her and gasped in shock- her eyes had turned completely black!
She raised her hand, and all of a sudden Mr. Winchester had a small flask out, and he splashed her with liquid. It sizzled and turned to steam as it hit her skin, and she screamed and grabbed at her face where the liquid had touched her.
The other man threw rope at her, and it landed around her neck. He pulled on the noose, and as it tightened on her skin, more steam rose from the rope. "What—the-hell-is-this-" she gasped, clawing at the rope.
"Hemp rope soaked in salted holy water," Mr. Winchester growled. He pulled something out of a pocket- a syringe- and injected it into the womans' neck. She sank down onto the floor.
Another man had come around to the back of the vehicle, and the men started to pull the unconscious nurse out. One of them was tall and thin and the other one had a beard.
Mr. Winchester leaned over me, removing the leather restraints from my wrists and ankles and helping me to sit up. "How are you doing, can you walk?" He noticed the IV in my arm and disconnected it. "We'll have to get that out later, all right? Come on," he took my arm and I stood up, but my legs wobbled, and I started to collapse. I whimpered, and he picked me up in his arms.
"All right, sweetheart, it's okay, I've got you," he said, turning to get out.
The men were working on pulling the other nurse out beside us, and she sat up and hissed at us. I stared at her- her lips were drawn back from her teeth, and it looked like more teeth—pointed teeth- had come out of her gums.
"What—what's that!" I gasped.
"Shh," Mr. Winchester got out of the ambulance.
I heard footsteps and turned my head. Dean and Sam were running towards us.
"All right, take her to the cabin like we talked about, we've got to deal with this. It'll take some time...we're gonna need to set up an exorcism," Mr. Winchester told Dean, "We don't know what they gave her, so you're gonna have to watch her for a while. Make sure she stay hydrated and warm, all right? I'll call you when we're done."
"Yes sir," Dean said, stepping forward. Mr. Winchester transferred me into Dean's arms.
"Dean," I murmured, clutching his leather jacket. I started to cry, feeling overcome by everything that had happened.
"Hey, baby," he looked down at me and smiled. "Okay, Sam, let's go." He turned, and they began to walk quickly down the road.
"Dean, wha- what's goin on?" I murmured, "I saw—that nurse—had- extra teeth! Fangs!" I tried to shift upright.
"Shh, no, relax," Dean tightened his arms around me, "We'll talk later, okay?" He wiped my tears with his thumb.
"Dean, they took me... cuffed me- to the stretcher...was so scared...she had black eyes!" I whimpered, grabbing at his collar.
"Okay, okay, relax, you're safe now...I gotcha, okay, I gotcha," Dean soothed me, "Sammy, get the door, the front."
He leaned down and into the front seat of the car, setting me down gently. Sam went around and slid into the passenger side. Dean got behind the wheel and started the car.
"Where—we goin'?" I mumbled.
"Some place safe," Dean told me, turning the wheel.
"M'cold," I whimpered. I felt motion next to me, and opened my eyes. Sam was taking off his jacket, and he draped it over me.
Dean leaned over and turned the heat on, making the vents point towards me. Soon the car was warm, and I drifted to sleep again.
I woke up when the car door creaked open. I had been leaning over, my head on Sam's shoulder. I sat up with a jerk, feeling a hand on my arm.
"C'mon, babe," Dean pulled on my hand. I slid across the seat and turned to get out of the car.
"Hold on," he said, and slid his arms behind my back and under my knees, lifting me up and holding me against his chest again.
"Where are we?" I asked. I could hear crickets and water dripping. By the light of the headlights, I could see woods, and that we were in a small clearing. A large square shape loomed up ahead- a house of some kind.
"Third rock on the right side, Sam," Dean said as he walked. I saw the round circle of light from a flashlight bobbing in front of us. Sam crouched down in front of a small garden that had a wall of rocks in front of it, and moved one of them. There was a small metal box under it, and he picked it up and then stood.
Dean carried me up the stairs, Sam walking ahead of us with the light. He unlocked the door of a small cabin and we went inside. Dean carried me over to a sofa and set me down.
"Be right back, I'm gonna get the lantern," he told me.
I could smell dust and a faint smell of mildew, an old-furniture smell. The air was chilly, and I shivered- I was only wearing a hospital gown and a pair of socks.
There was the scrape of a match being lit, and then the flare of light. Dean brought over a large lantern and set it on the table in front of me.
"How you doin'?" he asked me.
"I'm cold, and—and scared," I said, shivering.
"I gotta go out and get a couple things out of the car, all right? Be right back. You stay put," and I heard him walk away.
In a few minutes he and Sam were back in the cabin.
"You get the salt set up, Sam," Dean said, unzipping a duffle.
"Okay," Sam agreed, and walked away.
"Salt? What for, are you gonna cook something?" I asked.
"No...you thirsty?" he set a small green cooler on the table next to the lantern and opened it. He took out a bottle of water and twisted the lid off, offering it to me. "Drink some, okay? We need to flush whatever they gave you out of your system."
I drank some of the water. "Dean, how did you guys find me? Why did—I don't understand what- what happened. I—it was all so weird, I had all these weird dreams, and- and then-" tears filled my eyes, "The one nurse, I swear her eyes went black! And the other one, oh God, she made this awful hissing sound- and her teeth, it looked like she had all these fangs!" I shook my head, "am I on a lot of drugs? Am I high?"
"No, it's—we'll talk later, okay? When my dad gets here."
"Dean, who were they? Why did—they talked about my blood! They wanted my blood, how did they know that the baby is yours?" I asked with agitation.
"Shh, stay calm," he leaned down and rubbed my shoulder, "You are cold. Lemme- hey Sammy!" he called, "Can you lend Jane a pair of your sweats?"
"What?" Sam came over to us, "Why does it gotta be mine?"
"Because, dork, you're about the same size. If I give her a pair of my pants she'll drown in 'em," Dean said.
Sam sighed. "Fine," he walked over to a duffle and unzipped it, rooting around in it and then pulling out gray fabric. He walked over and handed the pile to me.
"Thanks," I said.
Dean wiggled his fingers. "Ooh, Sammy, your sweats are gonna have girl cooties on them, you won't be able to wear 'em again!" he teased.
Sam shoved Dean's shoulder. "Aw, be quiet, jerk!"
"Yeah, make me, bit-" Dean stopped, and I looked up to find them both staring at me. I'd been pulling the sweatpants on and the hospital gown had bunched up over my stomach, showing my panties and my pale stomach for a moment. I realized that the shoulder of the gown had come unsnapped, and the fabric was hanging down and exposing most of my shoulder and upper chest.
"Sorry," I muttered, pulling the hoodie on and zipping it up.
"Uh—uh, you get all the salt lines down, Sammy?" Dean asked, and his voice shook a little. Sam turned and walked away. "Yeah, I did. Uh—let's make sure the door's locked-" and Dean walked over with him.
Dean cleared his throat as he walked back over to me. "You finish your water?" he asked.
"Not yet," I replied.
"How you feelin'?" he sat down next to me.
"Um, okay, just...shaken up, you know?" I looked up at him. His green eyes shone in the lamplight.
"Yeah...you dizzy, or feelin' like you might, y'know, puke or anything?"
"No," I leaned my head against his arm, "I'm so glad to be out of there...I was so scared, Dean," my voice shook and tears came to my eyes.
"You're okay now," Dean lifted his arm and put it around my shoulders. I turned towards him, sliding my arms around his torso and burying my face in his side. I couldn't help it, I started to cry again, more from relief this time.
"Oh, hey...c'mon, it's okay," he murmured, his lips against my hair. He leaned forward. "Here, drink some more water, 'kay?"
I sniffled, and nodded, and took a drink.
"Shhh," he soothed, and I curled into him again. I started to relax, and then I started to fall asleep.
Eventually I heard him say, "Hey, come on, let's get you in bed," and I opened my eyes. He put his arm around my waist and guided me across the room to a bed up against the far wall. The sheets were cold when I got in, and I grabbed his arm.
"Please stay," I begged, "I—I'm scared, Dean."
"Uh—all right," he agreed, "Shove over."
I moved over in the bed, and he sat with his back propped up against the headboard. I curled up against his side and he put his arm around me.
It took me a few minutes to remember where I was when I woke up. I could hear someone breathing next to me and feel a body behind me—I opened my eyes and turned my head.
Dean was laying in bed, under the covers, on his stomach with his arm under the pillow. I turned around to face him, and he opened his eyes briefly and rolled to face me. He put his arm around me and drew me into his chest.
"Mmm—Jane," he murmured, pulling me up against his body.
"Dean, I—I thought I'd never see you again," I whispered.
"I'm here, baby," he whispered back. He brushed my hair back from my face and then kissed me, cupping my cheek.
After weeks of no-one touching me except to do things like take my blood pressure, this felt like heaven. I could smell his smell, feel the muscles in his chest against me, and I kissed him back and put my hand on the back of his head, running my fingers through the short hair there.
He propped himself up on his elbow and then pushed me onto my back, rolling his body on top of mine. He began to kiss me more insistently, his tongue finding mine. He thrust his hips against me and I could feel a hard length pressing on my lower abdomen.
"Oh—god, Dean," I panted, desire sweeping through me. I opened my legs and he settled between them, then I moved my hips in tandem with his, finding a rhythm, as we continued to kiss.
We both heard it at the same time- a thrumming in the distance, coming closer. Car engines. Dean pulled back and looked down at me.
I heard Sam's voice, "They're here."
Dean got off of me and we both sat up. Sam was over on the sofa, sitting up in a sleeping bag and rubbing his eyes sleepily.
Dean stood up as we heard car doors slamming and then footsteps coming up the wooden porch steps. He walked towards the door, throwing on a loose hoodie and zipping it up.
He opened the door, and three men walked in, carrying duffles.
"Hey, Dad," Dean said.
"Everything okay here?" Mr. Winchester asked.
"Yes sir," Dean replied.
Mr. Winchester looked over at me, and I noticed him looking at the blankets on the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked me, "Sleep okay?" he looked at Dean.
"Yes, I'm fine," I said, "Sam lent me some clothes because I was cold."
"They had your things in the ambulance, so we got them for you," Mr. Winchester walked over to the table in the tiny kitchen area and set down a paper bag. "I've got breakfast here, come and eat."