The Runt of the Litter

Control Is a Precious Commodity (Part VII)

Note: I'm so so sorry I made y'all wait so long for this final part. My mental health kinda plummeted for a minute there, and I had this chapter half-written in my laptop for over a week. But here it is, chapter seven.

Thank you so much to everyone who's commented and voted. You're the sweetest <3

Control Is a Precious Commodity (Part VII)

When Sam says he's got a case, Anna is thrilled. But when he says it's in Iowa, she wants to disappear.

She knows she can't avoid a whole state for long, especially not one that borders Kansas. But fuck if she hadn't been planning to try.

Her hand is almost usable now, but it hurts like hell every time she bends her fingers. She'll start PT next week. In the meantime, Anna sleeps in the car for two hours before they stop for gas. It's odd that she can suddenly sleep through the night, sometimes even without dreaming. But it's even more strange that she's now falling asleep all over the place.

On her desk, in the kitchen, in the car, in the library. She's always conking out. Maybe that's why her brothers keep checking her stab wound.

The gas station is mostly deserted. It's early yet. An elderly man walks out of the mini mart with a paper coffee cup, pulling his keys off his belt and looking ahead toward his truck. The sun glows warmly overhead, reflecting off the metal of passing cars.

Anna sits up straight and feels heat wash over her from head to toe. She feels breathless and dizzy but is determined not to let it show. Fortunately, neither of her brothers notice. They're both getting out of the car already.

In an effort to seem okay, she pushes her way out of the backseat. But the change in altitude is too much for her, and Anna nearly lands flat on her face. She only manages to catch herself a few seconds before she would have hit the ground, but it's her bad hand that she catches herself with. The impact of her still-healing wound against the gas pump is enough to make Anna lose her breath.

"You okay?" Sam asks from in front of her. He's holding his arms out toward her, like he's ready to catch her.

Anna knows she must look like utter shit. Her stomach is cramping, her head hurts, and she's so dizzy. She's always dizzy. "M'fine," she says, the words like cotton balls stuffed inside her mouth. She tries to straighten, her hand throbbing in time with her rapid breathing. Usually these feelings fade after a few seconds. But now, they refuse to dissipate.

She goes to step past her brother, but the world tilts, and Anna loses track of everything. It's just buzzing, her vision black then orange then black again. She wakes up what can't be more than thirty seconds later, eyes fluttering open and shut. She's on the concrete, back against the Impala's front passenger tire.

Sam is crouched beside her, holding her upright with his hands on her biceps. He's speaking to her, but she can hardly make out the drone of his voice, let alone the actual words he's saying.

She's still breathing wrong. She can feel the sharpness in her chest. It blends painfully with the cramping in her stomach. Her vision finally begins to clear, and she knows with one look between Sam and Dean that she is well and truly screwed. She should never have gotten out of the car.

"Well, what the hell?" Dean is asking to her right. He's crouched beside Sam, but he's holding a bottle of water and frowning like he's mad about something.

Sam, by contrast, just looks worried but calm. "I don't know," he says tersely over his shoulder.

Anna blinks a couple more times and manages to slow her breathing down a smidge. "Sorry," she murmurs, sweating as her skin turns clammy all over. "S'okay." She presses her palms to the ground, hoping to brush this off as unimportant. She's under no illusions that it'll work, though, and she's proven right when Sam applies just the tiniest bit of pressure to her arms, keeping her seated.