Reckless [Dean Winchester]

3. Meet the Winchesters

3. Meet the Winchesters

For a while, nobody says anything; Dean just guns it down the road. We're lucky no cop cars are nearby. But I doubt they'd try and catch us anyway, some of the speeds we're going would be enough to scare a cop, probably.

I roll down the window partway, practically sticking my head out. Keep it together, you're alive. That's the big thing. You're alive. You're with strangers, you're in some strange shit, but you're alive. My stomach is tumbling.

"All right, whose bright idea was it to bring the homeless with us?" Dean asks.

"We couldn't just leave her there, Dean," Sam says. He looks to me, concerned. "You okay?"

"G-give me a minute," I say, sticking my head back out the window, letting the wind try and take my panic with it. "You two definitely aren't cops." I keep the bile down. "Is it bad that I wish I was on some hallucinogen right now so there was a reasonable explanation to this?"

"You seem to be handling it alright," Dean adds. "You're not passed out. And don't even think about getting sick. If you do, it goes out the window and doesn't touch the car."

"I'll try." I close my eyes, pull my head back in, and take deep breaths. "You know it wouldn't be an awkward car ride without me asking questions."

"Another time. I've got one for you while we're running. I need a name to the pain in the ass we brought along."

"Natasha," I say curtly. He doesn't need to know my real name, anyway. None of these men do. "Manners isn't your forte, is it?"

"What did you want, a formal interview?"

"Enough," Sam calls to order. I open my eyes and turn my head to him wearily. "Y-you better pull over somewhere soon, Dean. Somebody might lose it."

Not long after we pass under a long bridge, Dean decides to pull over. Henry and I get out of the car in unison and go our separate ways. I hunch over, gagging, while I hear Henry make vomit noises a distance away. I shake violently. Easy, easy. Keep it inside. Somehow, I don't puke. I feel accomplished.

I should feel more so since I didn't faint, like Dean said.

After a few more minutes to ensure nothing is going to come out of me, I walk back to the car and rejoin Sam and Dean. We watch-me with pitiful eyes-as Henry continues to vomit. Once we're assured that it's safe to approach, the three of us go to Henry.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yes, I will be," Henry tells me. Him spewing vomit again tells me another story. At least he's decent enough to wipe his mouth with a handkerchief. "It's just all the adventures I enjoy are usually of the literary nature."

"Yeah, well, now that you're done blowing chunks, you want to tell us who Betty Crocker was?" Dean asks.

"Abaddon. She's a demon."

Demon. The word resonates with me. Henry says it so casually, like it's no big deal, like demons are a natural thing where he's from. Where is he from? That question has yet to be asked. I'm stuck in shock from hearing the woman that we just escaped from is a demon. Well, it explains how she threw Sam and Dean around without lifting a finger. I knew she wasn't human, but I didn't think she'd be that.

"No kidding," says Sam. "Where'd she come from?"

"Where'd you come from?" Dean asks the critical question.