Memoirs of the Supernatural - Phase 2 [COMPLETED]

Sigil 5

Hello again.

Where was I?

As they were discussing who should stay with me for the rest of the night my head started to hurt like crazy. The worst moment possible. Never had migraines before and was too young to suffer from that condition. Sam and Dean jumped next to me and they asked question about how I'm feeling and more though I couldn't hear a word. I became a silent moderator of an esoteric discussion, again. I'd like to advise you to get used to this 'cause that's gonna be a reoccurring theme. Same old song apart from the warning. For the 2nd time in history the voices intended to lead me out of harm's way.

"You gotta go! They are coming with weapons and fire in their hands."

I repeated every word and put the Winchesters in a moment of shock. They were looking at me and each other with uncertainty in their eyes; faltered, like rookies.

Nobody should have known where we were, no way. Before the panic started to rage on I jumped out of the bed and ran to the nearest corner to check a hidden hex bag. Have I missed something? Is it properly made? I needed to see it for myself to answer these questions.

Dean stopped me as I was opening the sack and looked me in the eye accusingly. He was about to interrogate me about what I was doing when I quickly stated how "everything seems fine" accompanied by a simple smile. And it was perfectly alright. I told the brothers that I placed those bags to make ourselves invisible. If a demon or a psychic is tracking us the sacks should hide our trails. Still, Dean wasn't pleased about the whole witchcraft thing. Prejudiced by a previous experience perhaps?

"Whatever you did gave away our location. Pack up, we need to leave. Now!"

Even if I wished to argue I was cornered, good thing that the voices in my head are never wrong so naturally I had no intentions to make their lives harder. I wanted to leave just like how Dean ordered us.

And with that being said Sam grabbed the sports bag he carried around filled with his stuff and was ready to go. Me on the other hand intended to placed everything carefully in my luggage in an orderly fashion and put on trousers before leaving because I was wearing nothing on my bottom half but nickers. Sam's shirt was big enough to cover basically everything and its length was perfect too (with almost reaching my knees) but it was definitely not suitable for traveling or touring at night.

Of course it's hard to explain to someone who already wrenched out the suitcase of my hand. I had no time to react. Dean just grasped it, busted out of the door and locked it in the back of the car. I was on the verge of raising my voice when Sam opened the vehicle's door and Dean pushed me on the backseat. The whole scene was ridiculous and dreadfully insolent.

(🎶James Brown - Night Train)

Dean drove the car like a madman, Sam was riding shotgun lost in his thoughts and with little angry me in the back we were like one majorly dysfunctional family. Obviously I got the hump beyond measure and I expressed my deepest irritation by giving them both the silent treatment whenever Sam or Dean tried to apologize. In those hours I really could've used a wall to punch. The boys explained that we are going to go to a friend's place called Bobby. He's a sort of an uncle to them, an elderly guy who lives 2 states over from Idaho in South-Dakota. What I didn't know at that time was that they were planning to leave me in his care.

Bobby Singer was your average redneck with an attitude, a heart of gold, minus the accent. He used to have a serious drinking problem which started as a result of his wife's death. This was also the initial point of his hunting career. Few years later he met John Winchester and took care of the boys when they were little. He now owns a junkyard which functions as a cemetery for both old and newer vehicles and it's in a rather isolated location on the edge of a town called Sioux Falls. A perfect place for hiding and training alike. Bobby was the go-to guy when you needed assistance in any way. He had both field experience and a library filled with knowledge of anything and everything otherworldly. When you find yourself on a sticky situation you ring Bobby. When you don't know what are you up against you give Bobby a call. When you have a problem with the authorities you phone Bobby. When you have a monster in your trunk that needs to be disposed you drive to Bobby's. Long story short he was everybody's nanny, including mine.

We only stopped 2 times for bathroom breaks and to grab some nosh. I spent the whole trip wearing the shirt because each time we stopped there were people around us and it was hazardous to open the truck in front of many. This is what Dean said, but I have a gut feeling that he played this cards because he simply enjoyed getting back at me this way. He just couldn't let go of the idea what he planted in his head. Namely how the hex bags were the cause of our downfall and I'm the one to blame. Rude.

I tried to make the best of the situation. You're forcing me to wear a shirt all day? Fine, I'll fold it to make it look like a dress (with more or less success). Anyhow, only a few women and men looked at me funny as if I was the only person on earth with an extravagant taste in fashion. Nonetheless I looked fine. Sleepless, and tired with a fuzzy hairstyle but fine. Nobody was calling out me on that so it was nice.

We arrived at Bobby's the next afternoon after an over 15-hour ride. Unsavoury, non the less. The old guy greeted the boys and me with such weird compassion in an inimical way. I had a hunch that he has been in this particular situation before and he didn't want to experience it again. He said that having the Winchesters around was fine but "don't bring the work home". I never felt so unwanted ever before even so when he expressed that he has no problem with me personally. Yet, there was nothing to be done.