The Hunter's House.
Just a small intro chapter. Not sure if I'm going to continue with it, or where I'll go with it. What do you think? Yes, or no?
1991
The self defence class was stupid. It was a waste of money. But, it was a school thing, and her dad was adamant that she would participate in school things. Even when she didn’t want to. Especially when she didn’t want to. What a waste of a perfectly good Saturday morning, Alexis sighed to herself as she resettled the straps of her backpack across her shoulders. She was on her way to being a black belt. She could kick the ass of anyone who tried to hurt her, or mug her, or anything else. At least, within reason, she thought to herself. She was still on the shorter side of the fence at the moment. And regardless of the skill she possessed, the lack of muscle mass she had was going to be a point to any attackers. The instructor of the day knew nothing. He was some college kid who was more interested in taking their money and ogling the cheerleaders who’d shown up in skin tight outfits than actually teaching them anything worthwhile.
She scuffed the soles of her sneakers on the asphalt as she made her way over to the parking lot where her dad was supposed to pick her up. He was late; she’d known that the second she stepped out of the air conditioned gym. Probably some emergency at the hospital and she’d be left sitting there waiting for him for another hour. She swung her backpack around so she could dig around in it for a book. When she found it she settled the bag on the ground as she sat on the top of a railing, hooking her feet on the lower rung, facing the empty parking lot. She opened the book to her place and let herself get carried away to a world a lot different to hers.
She was so engrossed in the book that she never noticed the car until a heavy door slammed shut. She looked up as a man exited the shiny, classic black car parked across the road from the parking lot. Her eyes, hidden as they were behind her sunglasses, watched the man stalk over to the kid sulking in the shade of a tree, his back to her. She watched as the kid shook his head forcefully, dark shaggy hair flying all over the place as he disagreed with whatever the man was saying to him.
The kid stalked off, away from the man and toward the road as the man threw his hands in the air in exasperation. The kid stopped at the curb when he heard his name yelled. Alexis turned her attention to the other kid. A boy about the same age as her. The sun glinted off something metallic that dangled from his neck and he stopped at the curb, a hand coming up to rest on the back of the younger one’s neck. Brothers Alexis thought as she watched the way they moved around each other.
Finally the youngest nodded and made his way back to the car. Alexis was about to go back to her book when the older one looked up. Directly at her. She knew he wouldn’t be able to see too much, the sun was shining from behind her making her just a silhouette, but it was like he was looking into her, his gaze holding hers. It wasn’t until his name was yelled by the man that he seemed to come out of the trance they were in. He shook his head, giving one last glance in her direction before heading to the car and getting in the passenger’s seat. The man gave her a quick look before also heading to the car. She heard the creak as the heavy car door swung open, and the solid thud it gave as it swung shut. The throaty growl as the engine started up would follow her around in her memory for the next 10 years.
2001
Dean blamed lack of sleep. It was the easiest place to put the blame. If he didn't he'd have to accept that he screwed up. Plain and simple human error. Human error against an enemy that wasn't human wasn't a good thing. He wasn't sure where he had screwed up, but he was sure he must have, otherwise they wouldn't be in the situation they were now in. Sam's leaving had put a big hole in their effectiveness at the research. As the werewolf swiped long claws at John again, Dean's brain kicked in to gear. He heard his dad yell in pain as the wolf's claws connected with human flesh and Dean trained his .45 on the animal, person, thing! He just had to wait for it to stand up again. There. In a few seconds it was over. The werewolf was dead, another body to call in, but, hopefully this was the last. Hopefully, after tonight, this sleepy little Californian town would be werewolf free.
Dean and John had been in town for almost 2 weeks, researching the latest case, waiting for the right time in the lunar cycle. It had taken 2 nights before they found it, and thankfully it hadn't killed anyone in that time. As Dean limped over to his father, his hands covering the hole over his left hip bone, he couldn't help but notice the blood flowing from his father's side. Dean knelt on the ground, tearing his over shirt into strips, making a bandage and using the strips to hold the makeshift padding in place. Then, gently, Dean grabbed his father, and pulled him upright. Grabbing the rest of their gear they hobbled towards the two waiting vehicles. As John got into the cab of his truck he spoke to Dean. “Follow me; I know a place we can hole up for a while. It's a few hours out, but it's safe for hunters.”
“What? Dad, what are you talking about? You can't drive for a few hours! You need to get that wound looked at. We should just hole up for the day and go later if you want to, after you've been patched up and gotten some sleep.” Did John really think that he could drive for a few hours? He was hurt, didn't he notice?
“There's a place called the Hunter's House; it's run by a hunter, he's a doctor, we'll be fine. Bobby sent me the address years ago. I guess now I've got an excuse to use it.” And with that John shut the driver's door, Dean's protests bouncing off the metal. John had never even noticed his son bleeding as well.
Stunned Dean got into the Impala. That was the first time in months that John had mentioned Bobby. He turned the engine over, following his dad out of the town. I guess now I've got an excuse to use it. John's words rolled around and around in Dean's head as he kept his eyes on his dad's taillights. What were we, just an inconvenience for you to patch up? Just something to be swept under the rug? Dean had lost count of the number of times they had needed real medical help and John had just brushed it off. Dean didn't care too much if his dad was bleeding to death and didn't want to deal with it. Ok, maybe he did, but his dad was a big boy. But there were numerous occasions when it had been Dean or Sam that had been severely hurt and John had just told them to suck it up, that he could patch them up. Dean shook his head, trying to clear his vision. He wasn't sure if it was blood loss, the rain coming as a mist, his complete exhaustion, or a combination of all three that was making his vision blurry. He really hoped that this place wasn't that far away as he swerved before correcting the car, and really concentrated on the road in front of him.
********
A few hours my ass, Dean thought as his father's truck turned off onto a dirt road that turned out to be a long, long driveway. It was barely 6am and it had taken an excruciating 8 hours to get to where they currently were. Dean was praying for someone with medical training to be there because he could barely keep his eyes open. He knew he'd make a mess if he tried to patch his dad up now. John shut off the truck's engine as Dean did the same with the Impala, and Dean couldn't help but stare at the 2 story house in front of him. It was huge. It had at least 5 huge windows on the top level that looked out over the front of the house, and Dean could only imagine how many rooms it had. A man about John's age ran out through the front door of the house, the blue robe hanging from his frame following behind him. Dean felt the chill of the early morning fall wind as he opened the driver's side door. The familiar creaking was a comfort as he took in his surroundings, pulling his leather jacket tighter around him, although it did nothing to help the dampness of his clothes from last night's hunt.
Dean noticed, as the man helped John down from the truck, that the makeshift bandages he'd made were soaked through with his father's blood. The man sat John in one of the chairs on the front porch and before Dean realized it, he was standing in front of him.
“Dean, are you hurt son?” Dean blankly shook his head at the stranger, not really taking in the meaning behind the words. The man kept speaking to him, but the words made no sense. Something about housing the shed in the Impala, or shedding the house in the Impala, or something, and using the house on the right side of the shed, or the shed inside the house. Whatever it was, Dean was sure it was supposed to make more sense than it actually did.
Dean mutely nodded his head and got back into the Impala, housing her in the shed on autopilot. He was sitting in the swinging hammock on the back porch before he realized that he was no longer at the front of the house. He stayed where he was, sure that someone would eventually remember that they'd said they'd come and get him. Or something like that. He wasn't sure if they had actually said they would come and look for him. He looked at the mountains in the distance, trying to work out exactly where he was. They hadn't spent a lot of time in California, so he didn't really know the lay of the land as well as he did for other states. Probably why Sam chose Stanford rather than any of the other colleges he got in to. Dean thought as he gingerly laid himself back onto the hammock, his vision swimming slightly as the hammock moved under his weight. It was peaceful, quiet, with very little movement, and very little sound and Dean let himself close his eyes and just drift for a moment. Someone would be back for him soon.
********
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was startled awake by something. He glanced at his surroundings. He was still lying on the swinging hammock on the back porch of the humongous house, his vision swimming slightly as the hammock moved under his shifting weight as he sat up. He cursed himself for leaving his gun in the Impala as he heard the sounds of an approaching horse. He guessed he'd been out of it for an hour or 2, judging by the position of the sun. After a minute or 2 a woman on a horse came galloping into the paddock behind the house, and she slowed the dark stallion down as she approached the house and saw Dean sitting on the hammock on the back porch. Gracefully she slipped from the saddle and led the horse to the stable next to the car shed. Dean couldn't help but follow her in.
Dean just stared at her. Her riding attire of dark, loose jeans and a black tank top, covered by a long sleeved over-shirt, did nothing to hide her tall, slim, toned figure. Her long dark hair was out, hanging about half way down her back, and when she turned to him he noticed she had the bluest, clearest eyes he had ever seen. He was mesmerized by her; her grace, her beauty, and the innocence that radiated from her. He automatically dismissed the idea that she was allowed around hunters. There was something so pure about her, something so innocent that would have been extinguished if she was around the hunting life. She watched him silently the whole time she untacked and brushed down the horse. While she was putting away the grooming bucket, the horse came to stand directly in front of Dean, looking at him as if he was sizing him up. Dean automatically took a step backwards when the horse lowered its muzzle to chew on the hem of his over-shirt.
“Lightning,” the woman admonished. The horse in question raised his head and, with what sounded like a sigh, turned and walked into his stall. The woman bolted the stall and gave him a few carrots and a couple of sugar cubes before turning to face Dean again. “He won’t hurt you. He likes you, thinks you've got a good character.”
“Ah ha,” Dean said dumbly. His brain was still trying to catch up from where he was in the hammock. He was trying to reconcile that with how he found himself in a stable with a strange, beautiful yes, but strange woman.
“You're Dean Winchester aren't you?” She waited for his nod of confirmation before continuing. “I'm Alexis Matthews, but you can call me Ali,” she said as she walked past him towards the house, stopping at the door to the stable. She smiled when she saw that he hadn’t moved. “Well come on then, unless you don't want to eat.”
Dean followed her back to the house, delighted when he saw the spread in the kitchen. His stomach rumbled in appreciation. When they'd filled their plates, they headed back out to the porch and sat on the swinging chairs, quietly eating their breakfast. “Where are you hurt?” she asked him almost conversationally.
That took him by surprise. “What? I'm not hurt.” That was partially true. His right side had pretty much gone numb, so it didn't hurt anymore, but he knew that wasn't what she was asking. Although, now that he acknowledged it, there was a slight throbbing at his hipbone.
She laughed, and it was like music. “Oh good, so you can talk. I was worried for a minute that you were a mute hunter. But don't lie to me Dean, I can see straight through it. You're limping slightly and you’re cautious when you move. First signs that something's wrong.”
Dean squirmed under gaze. She picked at her fruit, and then her bacon before she sighed again. “Don't be a baby, Dean. We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way, but either way, you need to be patched up.”
Resigned to the fact that she knew he gingerly stood, and gently lifted up his shirt and lowered his jeans and boxers down over his left hip to show the hole that had been taken out of him just above the bone. His jeans had stuck to his skin as the blood had dried, and pulling at them had made it start to bleed again. There was also an impressive amount of dried blood around it, and a mass of bruising. His jeans were also stiff where blood had caked into them. No wonder he felt a little light headed. Ali stood up, grabbing his hand. “Come on then, let’s get this seen to. My father has a one track mind and he's going to want to give John a whole medical check-up while he's got him pretty incoherent.”
Dean didn't even try to work out how she knew John was there and in bad shape at that. He just followed Ali into the house, pausing to set their breakfast dishes on the kitchen counter, and up a set of stairs leading to the second story. She led him past many rooms, before pushing him through a bedroom he barely got a glance at, and into a bathroom where she made him take off his shoes, shirts and jeans, leaving him standing in only his boxers and a pair of socks. That made him suddenly nervous and he didn't know why. She was gone and back before he knew she'd left, a small first aid kit in her hands.
“Let me see,” she said quietly, dropping to her knees in front of him, pulling his boxers down enough to get the wound, before gently probing and cleaning it, then carefully and quickly stitching him up. Normally he would have had a smart ass remark about having a beautiful woman on her knees for him, but he couldn't find in himself. He hissed a little at the sting of the needle, but other than that, she was very gentle with him. Normally he would have berated her for treating him like a kid, but he couldn't find the energy. “Why didn't you say anything?” she asked as she glanced up at him through long, dark eyelashes. She rolled her eyes after looking at him for a few seconds, and he figured she knew why. ”Done,” she said as she tied up the last stitch and wiped the area over once again with some antiseptic. She covered the wound with a clean piece of gauze before gently taping it down. “Come on, you need to sleep. I would suggest a shower, but you look dead on your feet.” she said as she led him back into the room just off the bathroom and pushed him onto the bed. She had bought his boots in from the bathroom, sitting them beside the dresser, before pushing him under the covers. He heard her murmur something as he let himself sink into the soft pillows, drawing the comforter up to his chin. He was asleep in seconds.
********
Hours later when he woke, he thought he'd dreamed it all. He was in the most comfortable bed he could ever remember being in and the sheets were soft and clean. He could still smell the faint smell of laundry detergent on them. He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. His memories of the last day were fragmented, but he felt safe and that was the most important thing. He noticed a set of towels sitting on the dresser. He gratefully climbed out of the bed, reluctant as he was to leave its warm, comfortable confines, and grabbed a towel, noticing a photo of the woman who'd patched him up earlier. He made his way into the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom, grateful when he saw the first aid kit still on the counter, a waterproof covering available for him to use to cover the freshly stitched wound. He nearly tripped over his duffel bag as he set the towel on the sink and set about undressing. He glared at the offending object before realizing that he'd left that in the Impala. He would normally be furious with someone going through his belongings, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel that for the young woman who'd so kindly helped him earlier. At least she hadn't gone through his bag, he thought as he dug through it for his toiletries. He set out the necessary items on the sink, next to the now clean clothes he'd worn before, and turned on the water, stepping under the spray.
20 minutes later, after a relaxing shower, and a much needed shave, he walked downstairs. He followed the sound of rock music to a room at the back of the house, finding Ali in what could only be a sparring room, giving hell to a punching bag. “You know, it works better if you have a partner to spar with.” he said, leaning against the door jam.
She wiped sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her shirt, giving him a nice view of her flat, toned stomach. “You offering?” Dean just grinned.
So. I have a few chapters written, and it is definitely Dean centric. Not sure how much of an appearance Sam will make at this point in time. So... continue or not?
1991
The self defence class was stupid. It was a waste of money. But, it was a school thing, and her dad was adamant that she would participate in school things. Even when she didn’t want to. Especially when she didn’t want to. What a waste of a perfectly good Saturday morning, Alexis sighed to herself as she resettled the straps of her backpack across her shoulders. She was on her way to being a black belt. She could kick the ass of anyone who tried to hurt her, or mug her, or anything else. At least, within reason, she thought to herself. She was still on the shorter side of the fence at the moment. And regardless of the skill she possessed, the lack of muscle mass she had was going to be a point to any attackers. The instructor of the day knew nothing. He was some college kid who was more interested in taking their money and ogling the cheerleaders who’d shown up in skin tight outfits than actually teaching them anything worthwhile.
She scuffed the soles of her sneakers on the asphalt as she made her way over to the parking lot where her dad was supposed to pick her up. He was late; she’d known that the second she stepped out of the air conditioned gym. Probably some emergency at the hospital and she’d be left sitting there waiting for him for another hour. She swung her backpack around so she could dig around in it for a book. When she found it she settled the bag on the ground as she sat on the top of a railing, hooking her feet on the lower rung, facing the empty parking lot. She opened the book to her place and let herself get carried away to a world a lot different to hers.
She was so engrossed in the book that she never noticed the car until a heavy door slammed shut. She looked up as a man exited the shiny, classic black car parked across the road from the parking lot. Her eyes, hidden as they were behind her sunglasses, watched the man stalk over to the kid sulking in the shade of a tree, his back to her. She watched as the kid shook his head forcefully, dark shaggy hair flying all over the place as he disagreed with whatever the man was saying to him.
The kid stalked off, away from the man and toward the road as the man threw his hands in the air in exasperation. The kid stopped at the curb when he heard his name yelled. Alexis turned her attention to the other kid. A boy about the same age as her. The sun glinted off something metallic that dangled from his neck and he stopped at the curb, a hand coming up to rest on the back of the younger one’s neck. Brothers Alexis thought as she watched the way they moved around each other.
Finally the youngest nodded and made his way back to the car. Alexis was about to go back to her book when the older one looked up. Directly at her. She knew he wouldn’t be able to see too much, the sun was shining from behind her making her just a silhouette, but it was like he was looking into her, his gaze holding hers. It wasn’t until his name was yelled by the man that he seemed to come out of the trance they were in. He shook his head, giving one last glance in her direction before heading to the car and getting in the passenger’s seat. The man gave her a quick look before also heading to the car. She heard the creak as the heavy car door swung open, and the solid thud it gave as it swung shut. The throaty growl as the engine started up would follow her around in her memory for the next 10 years.
2001
Dean blamed lack of sleep. It was the easiest place to put the blame. If he didn't he'd have to accept that he screwed up. Plain and simple human error. Human error against an enemy that wasn't human wasn't a good thing. He wasn't sure where he had screwed up, but he was sure he must have, otherwise they wouldn't be in the situation they were now in. Sam's leaving had put a big hole in their effectiveness at the research. As the werewolf swiped long claws at John again, Dean's brain kicked in to gear. He heard his dad yell in pain as the wolf's claws connected with human flesh and Dean trained his .45 on the animal, person, thing! He just had to wait for it to stand up again. There. In a few seconds it was over. The werewolf was dead, another body to call in, but, hopefully this was the last. Hopefully, after tonight, this sleepy little Californian town would be werewolf free.
Dean and John had been in town for almost 2 weeks, researching the latest case, waiting for the right time in the lunar cycle. It had taken 2 nights before they found it, and thankfully it hadn't killed anyone in that time. As Dean limped over to his father, his hands covering the hole over his left hip bone, he couldn't help but notice the blood flowing from his father's side. Dean knelt on the ground, tearing his over shirt into strips, making a bandage and using the strips to hold the makeshift padding in place. Then, gently, Dean grabbed his father, and pulled him upright. Grabbing the rest of their gear they hobbled towards the two waiting vehicles. As John got into the cab of his truck he spoke to Dean. “Follow me; I know a place we can hole up for a while. It's a few hours out, but it's safe for hunters.”
“What? Dad, what are you talking about? You can't drive for a few hours! You need to get that wound looked at. We should just hole up for the day and go later if you want to, after you've been patched up and gotten some sleep.” Did John really think that he could drive for a few hours? He was hurt, didn't he notice?
“There's a place called the Hunter's House; it's run by a hunter, he's a doctor, we'll be fine. Bobby sent me the address years ago. I guess now I've got an excuse to use it.” And with that John shut the driver's door, Dean's protests bouncing off the metal. John had never even noticed his son bleeding as well.
Stunned Dean got into the Impala. That was the first time in months that John had mentioned Bobby. He turned the engine over, following his dad out of the town. I guess now I've got an excuse to use it. John's words rolled around and around in Dean's head as he kept his eyes on his dad's taillights. What were we, just an inconvenience for you to patch up? Just something to be swept under the rug? Dean had lost count of the number of times they had needed real medical help and John had just brushed it off. Dean didn't care too much if his dad was bleeding to death and didn't want to deal with it. Ok, maybe he did, but his dad was a big boy. But there were numerous occasions when it had been Dean or Sam that had been severely hurt and John had just told them to suck it up, that he could patch them up. Dean shook his head, trying to clear his vision. He wasn't sure if it was blood loss, the rain coming as a mist, his complete exhaustion, or a combination of all three that was making his vision blurry. He really hoped that this place wasn't that far away as he swerved before correcting the car, and really concentrated on the road in front of him.
********
A few hours my ass, Dean thought as his father's truck turned off onto a dirt road that turned out to be a long, long driveway. It was barely 6am and it had taken an excruciating 8 hours to get to where they currently were. Dean was praying for someone with medical training to be there because he could barely keep his eyes open. He knew he'd make a mess if he tried to patch his dad up now. John shut off the truck's engine as Dean did the same with the Impala, and Dean couldn't help but stare at the 2 story house in front of him. It was huge. It had at least 5 huge windows on the top level that looked out over the front of the house, and Dean could only imagine how many rooms it had. A man about John's age ran out through the front door of the house, the blue robe hanging from his frame following behind him. Dean felt the chill of the early morning fall wind as he opened the driver's side door. The familiar creaking was a comfort as he took in his surroundings, pulling his leather jacket tighter around him, although it did nothing to help the dampness of his clothes from last night's hunt.
Dean noticed, as the man helped John down from the truck, that the makeshift bandages he'd made were soaked through with his father's blood. The man sat John in one of the chairs on the front porch and before Dean realized it, he was standing in front of him.
“Dean, are you hurt son?” Dean blankly shook his head at the stranger, not really taking in the meaning behind the words. The man kept speaking to him, but the words made no sense. Something about housing the shed in the Impala, or shedding the house in the Impala, or something, and using the house on the right side of the shed, or the shed inside the house. Whatever it was, Dean was sure it was supposed to make more sense than it actually did.
Dean mutely nodded his head and got back into the Impala, housing her in the shed on autopilot. He was sitting in the swinging hammock on the back porch before he realized that he was no longer at the front of the house. He stayed where he was, sure that someone would eventually remember that they'd said they'd come and get him. Or something like that. He wasn't sure if they had actually said they would come and look for him. He looked at the mountains in the distance, trying to work out exactly where he was. They hadn't spent a lot of time in California, so he didn't really know the lay of the land as well as he did for other states. Probably why Sam chose Stanford rather than any of the other colleges he got in to. Dean thought as he gingerly laid himself back onto the hammock, his vision swimming slightly as the hammock moved under his weight. It was peaceful, quiet, with very little movement, and very little sound and Dean let himself close his eyes and just drift for a moment. Someone would be back for him soon.
********
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was startled awake by something. He glanced at his surroundings. He was still lying on the swinging hammock on the back porch of the humongous house, his vision swimming slightly as the hammock moved under his shifting weight as he sat up. He cursed himself for leaving his gun in the Impala as he heard the sounds of an approaching horse. He guessed he'd been out of it for an hour or 2, judging by the position of the sun. After a minute or 2 a woman on a horse came galloping into the paddock behind the house, and she slowed the dark stallion down as she approached the house and saw Dean sitting on the hammock on the back porch. Gracefully she slipped from the saddle and led the horse to the stable next to the car shed. Dean couldn't help but follow her in.
Dean just stared at her. Her riding attire of dark, loose jeans and a black tank top, covered by a long sleeved over-shirt, did nothing to hide her tall, slim, toned figure. Her long dark hair was out, hanging about half way down her back, and when she turned to him he noticed she had the bluest, clearest eyes he had ever seen. He was mesmerized by her; her grace, her beauty, and the innocence that radiated from her. He automatically dismissed the idea that she was allowed around hunters. There was something so pure about her, something so innocent that would have been extinguished if she was around the hunting life. She watched him silently the whole time she untacked and brushed down the horse. While she was putting away the grooming bucket, the horse came to stand directly in front of Dean, looking at him as if he was sizing him up. Dean automatically took a step backwards when the horse lowered its muzzle to chew on the hem of his over-shirt.
“Lightning,” the woman admonished. The horse in question raised his head and, with what sounded like a sigh, turned and walked into his stall. The woman bolted the stall and gave him a few carrots and a couple of sugar cubes before turning to face Dean again. “He won’t hurt you. He likes you, thinks you've got a good character.”
“Ah ha,” Dean said dumbly. His brain was still trying to catch up from where he was in the hammock. He was trying to reconcile that with how he found himself in a stable with a strange, beautiful yes, but strange woman.
“You're Dean Winchester aren't you?” She waited for his nod of confirmation before continuing. “I'm Alexis Matthews, but you can call me Ali,” she said as she walked past him towards the house, stopping at the door to the stable. She smiled when she saw that he hadn’t moved. “Well come on then, unless you don't want to eat.”
Dean followed her back to the house, delighted when he saw the spread in the kitchen. His stomach rumbled in appreciation. When they'd filled their plates, they headed back out to the porch and sat on the swinging chairs, quietly eating their breakfast. “Where are you hurt?” she asked him almost conversationally.
That took him by surprise. “What? I'm not hurt.” That was partially true. His right side had pretty much gone numb, so it didn't hurt anymore, but he knew that wasn't what she was asking. Although, now that he acknowledged it, there was a slight throbbing at his hipbone.
She laughed, and it was like music. “Oh good, so you can talk. I was worried for a minute that you were a mute hunter. But don't lie to me Dean, I can see straight through it. You're limping slightly and you’re cautious when you move. First signs that something's wrong.”
Dean squirmed under gaze. She picked at her fruit, and then her bacon before she sighed again. “Don't be a baby, Dean. We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way, but either way, you need to be patched up.”
Resigned to the fact that she knew he gingerly stood, and gently lifted up his shirt and lowered his jeans and boxers down over his left hip to show the hole that had been taken out of him just above the bone. His jeans had stuck to his skin as the blood had dried, and pulling at them had made it start to bleed again. There was also an impressive amount of dried blood around it, and a mass of bruising. His jeans were also stiff where blood had caked into them. No wonder he felt a little light headed. Ali stood up, grabbing his hand. “Come on then, let’s get this seen to. My father has a one track mind and he's going to want to give John a whole medical check-up while he's got him pretty incoherent.”
Dean didn't even try to work out how she knew John was there and in bad shape at that. He just followed Ali into the house, pausing to set their breakfast dishes on the kitchen counter, and up a set of stairs leading to the second story. She led him past many rooms, before pushing him through a bedroom he barely got a glance at, and into a bathroom where she made him take off his shoes, shirts and jeans, leaving him standing in only his boxers and a pair of socks. That made him suddenly nervous and he didn't know why. She was gone and back before he knew she'd left, a small first aid kit in her hands.
“Let me see,” she said quietly, dropping to her knees in front of him, pulling his boxers down enough to get the wound, before gently probing and cleaning it, then carefully and quickly stitching him up. Normally he would have had a smart ass remark about having a beautiful woman on her knees for him, but he couldn't find in himself. He hissed a little at the sting of the needle, but other than that, she was very gentle with him. Normally he would have berated her for treating him like a kid, but he couldn't find the energy. “Why didn't you say anything?” she asked as she glanced up at him through long, dark eyelashes. She rolled her eyes after looking at him for a few seconds, and he figured she knew why. ”Done,” she said as she tied up the last stitch and wiped the area over once again with some antiseptic. She covered the wound with a clean piece of gauze before gently taping it down. “Come on, you need to sleep. I would suggest a shower, but you look dead on your feet.” she said as she led him back into the room just off the bathroom and pushed him onto the bed. She had bought his boots in from the bathroom, sitting them beside the dresser, before pushing him under the covers. He heard her murmur something as he let himself sink into the soft pillows, drawing the comforter up to his chin. He was asleep in seconds.
********
Hours later when he woke, he thought he'd dreamed it all. He was in the most comfortable bed he could ever remember being in and the sheets were soft and clean. He could still smell the faint smell of laundry detergent on them. He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. His memories of the last day were fragmented, but he felt safe and that was the most important thing. He noticed a set of towels sitting on the dresser. He gratefully climbed out of the bed, reluctant as he was to leave its warm, comfortable confines, and grabbed a towel, noticing a photo of the woman who'd patched him up earlier. He made his way into the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom, grateful when he saw the first aid kit still on the counter, a waterproof covering available for him to use to cover the freshly stitched wound. He nearly tripped over his duffel bag as he set the towel on the sink and set about undressing. He glared at the offending object before realizing that he'd left that in the Impala. He would normally be furious with someone going through his belongings, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel that for the young woman who'd so kindly helped him earlier. At least she hadn't gone through his bag, he thought as he dug through it for his toiletries. He set out the necessary items on the sink, next to the now clean clothes he'd worn before, and turned on the water, stepping under the spray.
20 minutes later, after a relaxing shower, and a much needed shave, he walked downstairs. He followed the sound of rock music to a room at the back of the house, finding Ali in what could only be a sparring room, giving hell to a punching bag. “You know, it works better if you have a partner to spar with.” he said, leaning against the door jam.
She wiped sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her shirt, giving him a nice view of her flat, toned stomach. “You offering?” Dean just grinned.
So. I have a few chapters written, and it is definitely Dean centric. Not sure how much of an appearance Sam will make at this point in time. So... continue or not?