Supernatural... But Better (Vol. I)

Chapter Eighteen

When we finally got back to the motel that evening, we were all in high spirits.

"Y'know, it's a really small city for being the state capital," Dean commented, as he had multiple times before.

"You clearly know nothing about Nebraska," I commented.

He gave me a weird look. "Who does? It's Nebraska."

"Yeah, but even so, it was pretty fun," Sam countered. "I've never actually explored anywhere we've gone hunting before."

Sitting down on the bed, I smiled at them. "What was your guys' favorite part?"

Dean breathed a laugh. "The ridiculously overpriced bowling alley in the mall. I mean, come on! Why do people actually go there?"

I giggled along with him. "Yeah, it's pretty much always been that way. Most people just don't care anymore, I guess. What about you, Sam?"

He thought for a little bit. "My favorite part... well, I liked all of it, but my favorite part was probably when you convinced Dean to let you drive his car."

Immediately, his brother's face soured. "You said you wouldn't bring it up again."

Sam raised his hands in an innocent gesture. "Okay, okay, that was the last time, I promise."

I laughed, feeling more full and happy than I had in days, if not even longer. Having a day where I could just hang out with my friends, where I wasn't worried about the supernatural or hiding my identity... it was really nice. When I first met Sam and Dean, I'd never really expected to become so close to them. I'd thought that as soon as Bloody Mary was gone, they would be too, and I'd never see them again. But then... I couldn't imagine what it'd be like without them. Lonely and boring, that was for sure.

"Hey, Annabeth, we should probably replace those," Sam told me, pointing at the bandages around my wrists.

I nodded, standing. "Oh, you're probably right."

"I'll order in some Chinese for dinner," Dean offered, going for the phone.

"Sounds good," his brother called back as he ushered me into the bathroom.

Closing the door behind us, probably so there was more room, he started going through a bag on the counter. "Let me just get the stuff."

I furrowed my brows, wondering if he meant to change them himself. "Uh, I— I can do it myself."

Sam breathed a laugh, pulling out a roll of bandages and some sort of cream. "I'm sure you can," he observed, kneeling on the ground.

I hesitantly sat down on the lid of the toilet. "Really, you don't have to do this."

Silently, he reached out, taking hold of my arm. He began unwrapping the old bandages, gently pulling them off.

I was highly uncomfortable. I wasn't used to people doing things for me, I was used to doing them on my own, like I'd been doing everything for practically my whole life. There hadn't been anyone there to do things for me, so I'd figured out how to be almost completely independent pretty much from the moment my parents died. Kindness had come in short supply ever since, so I'd stopped seeking it out.

"This might sting a little," Sam warned me as he got to the bottom layer.

I tensed as he pulled it off, because it stuck to the still-sensitive skin around my wrists. He went slowly, gently, trying to minimize any sort of pain, but it was still there. My other hand gripped the edge of the counter, trying to somehow alleviate the pain that way.

He noticed once the bandage was gone. "Why is it you seem to have a higher tolerance for stronger pain than for a little pinch?"

I slowly rotated my wrist, trying to stretch it out a bit. "My life isn't in danger here, so my mind isn't focused on trying to make sure I survive, so it's free to exclusively pay attention to the pain," I explained.

Sam shrugged, moving on to my other wrist. "Makes sense."

He worked in silence for the rest of the time, going to my ankles once he was finished. The ropes hadn't rubbed against them as much, so they were pretty much good as new, and he left them unwrapped. He put the cream on my wrists, though, then began bandaging them again.

I simply watched him as he did so, and I noticed something. He had the same expression on his face while he was helping me as he did while he was asleep. Calm. Not happy, not upset, not anything, really, just... calm.

"Thank you," I said, before I forgot to.

Sam met my gaze, his fingers pausing on my wrists. "You don't have to thank me."

"And you didn't have to help."

Smiling softly, he nodded, finishing up with the bandages. "Well, then, you're welcome." Standing, he helped me to my feet, opening the door. "Let me know if they start hurting, okay?"

I nodded, walking out after him. "Okay."

Dean was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV. "Chinese is on its way. Oh, by the way," he added, looking over at me. "Sam and I decided it'd be safer if we all just stayed in one room from now on, so I'll take the couch tonight."

I gave him a surprised look. "N-No, if one of us has to sleep on the couch, it should be me, since I'm the reason why."

Taking a relaxed sip out of his beer, he shook his head. "Nope. Sam and I'll switch off every other night, and you get your own bed in between the two of us for protection."

That was actually sort of offensive. "I'm not so fragile and weak that you need to give me all this extra protection."

Dean just shrugged, continuing to watch the TV.

I looked to Sam, incredulous.

He just grabbed his own beer and went over to sit down next to his brother. "Don't look at me, I agree with him."

Putting my hands on my hips, I tried to figure out what I could say to convince them. "But—"

"Look, you're getting the best deal out of all this," Dean interrupted. "If I were you, I'd just take it."

I stared at the both of them for a moment longer, but neither of them seemed to care, if they even noticed. Finally, I rolled my eyes, climbing up to sit on my bed and watch TV with them— but I was most definitely not happy about it.