Longhorn

Chapter 08 | John's Journal

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Y/N

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The boys make you all stay in the motel for an extra week for you to heal. Dean catches you up after you wake up in an empty motel the next morning, no messages, no boys.

He, unsurprisingly, did not listen to Sam, and went down into the sewers. Unlucky for him, though, the skinwalker was pretending to be Rebecca and was currently with Sam. Dean did find the right Rebecca tied up in those nasty ass sewers, and the boys were able to kill the skinwalker right after he shifted into Dean. So, now, the cops believe Dean Winchester killed Emily, Zach is free, and Dean Winchester is legally dead.

The boys also make sure you get your trip to the arch. You brought your handy-dandy Polaroid and now have more pictures to add to your photobook.

It's been two months since the skinwalker place. You and the boys are now sitting in a cafe in Nebraska. Dean's flipping through a newspaper, legs crossed, and Sam is scrolling on his laptop. You're sat between them, Dean facing Sam and your back facing the diner bar, a warm tea in front of you and a book in your hands.

Dean sighs, folding the paper up and setting it on the table. "Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What have you got?"

His hand moves from the newspaper to rest on your thigh. You don't look up from the book. Not when the toe of Sam's shoe is rubbing against your knee.

"Well," Sam starts. His foot pauses, and you finally look up. "I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota. Here -" he points at the screen despite neither of you being able to see it - "A woman in Iowa fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived."

Dean's eyes narrow. "That... sounds more like "That's incredible!" than the "Twilight Zone"."

"Yeah," Sam sighs.

"You know, we could just keep headin' east -" he gives your thigh one lasting squeeze before intertwining his fingers on the table - "New York, upstate. Could stop by and see Sarah again, huh?" Dean gets that teasing look in his eye, and that award-winning smirk on his face. "She's a cool chick, man. Smokin'." He whistles. "You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?"

You chuckle. Sarah was a woman from New York that you had all met while working a case. She was the daughter of an art gallery owner and helped you guys destroy a cursed painting, all while risking her own life. Her and Sam shared a strong attraction, but because of The Job, Sam had to leave. Dean refuses to let it go.

Sam has a soft, subtle smile, but it's quick to disappear. His foot rubs against your leg again. "Yeah, I dunno. Maybe someday. In the meantime, we've got a lot of work to do, Dean. You know that."

"Yeah, all right," his brother relents.

You close your book, picking up your tea in both hands. "Anything else, Sammy?"

Your voice is soft as you speak. Despite knowing the boys for so long, ever since the shapeshifter case, you've all been a lot closer. Probably because you've never really gotten injured on a case. A gunshot here and there, a few cuts and scrapes, that's to be expected. But a knife wound running from your hip to the bottom of your ribs is a little different.

They've become a lot touchier in the last two months. Subtle traces of it; Dean walking next to you with a hand on the small of your waist; Sam standing behind you while you're researching, his hands massaging your shoulders or playing with your hair.

They're less subtle with what they say now, especially Dean. He was quick to return your longhorn belt to you, telling you to put it on, then and there. You had frowned, confused, until he explained that he liked the way the buckle emphasized the tiny little inch of skin visible between your pants and the hem of your shirt.