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Purple Nurples
Cuz we're practicing to keep that liqour down.
Soulsisters Part IV 
21st-May-2007 07:13 pm
Cute - Annoyed Kitty
Title: Soulsisters 4/?
Author: burningsunset
Rating: G? PG? I dunno.
Category: Supernatural, Original
Word Count: 2.095 / 4.449
Disclaimer: We dont own it, we're just fangirls! Kripke is the one to worship, DAMNIT!
Summary: The trip is long. Too much time to think and a sister that is caught up in her own world. And then there is this guy, in a diner, and he loves his brother, but right now? Whoa, man. Anyway, Dean's in this!
Spoilers: 2x22 spoilers.
Note: midnightshadows    made me do it!


Continuation from Part III

Kirsten listened. She listened to the words El made and she nodded, she registered, she stored the information - safely tucking it away in a place where the level of weirdness was not screaming at her in bright colours. She’d pull them out again later. If she had to.

And as always, she hoped she won’t.

Denial is an awesome place.

Snatching a bag of chips from the dashboard, Kirsten popped it open with one hand and poured some of the contents into her mouth.

“Why did I get that vision if we can’t save them? Why? So we can see another die?” And like the whisper of a breath, Elena added an apology to it that almost sounded as if she was admitting defeat. Kirsten didn’t like that tone in her sister’s voice. She had never liked it, and would never like it. That was not the annoying little kid sister she had grown up with. This was someone a far cry from her. Elena had developed this trait of personality lately, and it worried Kirsten.

Still chewing on her chips, Kirsten dumped the bag into her lap as she pulled onto the highway. Out of Reno! That was good. To possibly go watch some people she had never heard or seen in her life die. Ok, that kind of sucked. But, well, she wouldn’t let her sister go alone. Not that two people watching others die makes any difference to one person not being able to do jack. But Kirsten wouldn’t tell her that. She’d tell Elena that they’d try. Like always, they’d try. And then … well, then they’d move on. Like always.

Who needed a normal life anyway? What did a nice apartment and a half-decent job really have against living out of a duffel bag in cheap motel rooms? Nothing! And this … this life had the car. Kirsten smiled. She could pretend it was hers. Shiny little red new Beamer. Well, not new, but new enough.

“Sorry for what?” There was a teasing tone in Kirsten’s voice; a tone that Elena would know. Kirsten was not up for moping. It was way too early in the morning to be moping. Moping was reserved for drunken nights, not headachy and sleep-deprived mornings when the most decent food you could get your hands on was chips, a few Mars bars and a can of Pepsi.

Kirsten wrinkled her nose. She hated Pepsi.

“That delicious little breakfast a la On The Road or the fact that you used up all the hot water this morning again?!”

They had a long drive ahead of them. Kirsten refused to spend it with a sad little puppy for a sister in the passenger’s seat. No friggin way! Popping more chips into her mouth, Kirsten grinned at her sister. “But nothing like a cold shower in the morning to wake up after 3 hours of sleep.”

A drive of 14 hours away.

Dean could see it. He could see it on Sam’s face, on Bobby’s, hell he had seen it on Ellen’s face when they had seen her a few days ago. He wondered when she’d show up again. For the rescue, you know? Something told him she would. Seriously, not like Bobby or his brother had let him out of sight at all. It was starting to become unsettling. Try having not just one but almost half a dozen babysitters constantly attached to your left calf.

Unsettling, actually, doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Taking a bite from the sandwich that would be his breakfast, Dean’s eyes instinctively went to the left. His brother was sitting a few steps over, tucked away behind a table and hammering on his laptop with such focused determination that Dean wondered if he’d actually notice if Dean simply left.

Then again, would that help? He was sure someone else probably had very awake and unoccupied eyes set on him somewhere. The only question was whether that someone was a human or the thing that would be coming for him in two days.

The taste in his mouth went stale almost immediately and he dropped the sandwich onto the plate. The woman behind the counter looked up from the cup of coffee she was currently pouring for a man who sat a few seats down. She quirked both eyebrows at him and abandoned the refill to walk over. “Not good, dear?”

Dean mirrored her expression until something in the back of his mind, that was not occupied with the huge clock that was ticking for him, shoved the fact that she was talking about the food into his conscience. He shot her a smile. Half-hearted, probably. One that didn’t reach his eyes. Yeah, you try smiling teeth and all when you know that that mother of a demon would come for you in not even two days while you had your little brother losing sleep about trying to get you out of the deal you made to save his life. Oh and add half an army of people he recruited to keep you safe on top of that. And the fact that privacy is a fucking non-existent luxury these days? Oh yeah, definitely.

“No. It’s fine. Just not … in the mood for eating.”

The woman nodded, and … looked like she had expected that.

Right! Fucking great. Now Dean actually saw things on top of everything else? Wasn’t Sammy the one with that gift in the family? Dean sneered. Too much. This was too much. He needed air. He pushed up from his seat and turned to the diner’s entrance. Only with a fleeting glance did he notice how the woman’s gaze went over to Sammy.

Dean pressed the air out of his lungs in a huff. Her? Sammy, you gotta be fucking kidding me. “I’m not going anywhere. Just gonna be outside.” The woman blushed and that was all Dean needed to confirm his suspicion. He’d have to kill his little brother for this later. Ellen, Bobby, hell, even Jo … he got that. They knew! They were hunters. But what Sam was putting up lately was just going into verses of crazy that were too much even for the younger Winchester.

First that guy at the front desk at the motel in Jacksonville. Then the guy from the library in Slaughterville. As always, the thought of that town would make Dean grin. Slaughterville. What a name for a town? And how fucking fitting it had been. Fitting in a way that was … well, not really as funny. But still, it amused him. Then the girl from Stillwater. Yeah, they had saved her, so Dean had not thought it to be weird at first. Well, at first. At the point where she’d hardly leave him alone to take a fucking leak, Dean had suddenly realised that her attachment to him didn’t really have that much to do with his great looks or the good sex. No, not at all.

And now a waitress in a friggin Diner?

Dean needed air. NOW! And probably a little GPS thingy. You know? So Sam could bug him and watch his every step on his laptop.

As Dean pushed the door open, he wondered how much these things would cost. Nothing one of his credit cards couldn’t buy, right? Sam was his brother. He got that. He got what that made you do. Hell, Dean had gone and sold his fucking soul for him. Back then, it had seemed like a really good idea. Well, the only idea. Still a good one! A year had sounded long. Sammy had been back and he had allowed himself to become affected by the pure and absolute faith Sam had in getting Dean out of this deal.

Right now? The best option they had was to kill the crossroad demon. Whether that would put off the black dogs? Well, normally, your last shot is hope, right?

Dean sneered. Nothing about their lives was normal. You either know, or you don’t. And if you don’t know, you better make sure you got all the rocksalt you can get your hands on. Oh, and silver bullets. Without noticing, Dean pulled his jacket down, as if to make sure that the gun he had always tucked into the back of his jeans was hidden.

He had pulled Sammy back into this. Three years ago he had pulled his brother away from a full ride at Stanford. And now? Now they were on a run from something he doubted you could run from. Well, ok, they were also running from things you apparently could run from. Things like the cops, the feds. Those things. Then again, they weren’t after Sam.

Yes, Sam had emptied his gun into that little psychic sucker. What was his name again? Dean kept forgetting it these days. Jason? Jack? Jake? Yeah, Jake that was it. But, some little cop on crack down in good old Wyoming had solved that case by declaring that the two men at the cemetery had shot each other. And w00t, the idiot had apparently made sheriff. Good for him. Halle-fucking-lujah.

So what if the demon or her dogs came for him? What if they took him?

Hell. Well, yeah, literally.

Bloody-damned seriously.

But his dad had clawed himself out of hell, right? Maybe eventually, Dean could do that, too. Pretty much everything he knew, he had learned from his dad. Maybe finding a way out of hell was the last one of many lessons. Yes, Dean knew he could do it, if he just put enough determination to it. And the eldest Winchester did have determination. He had raised his kid brother from the dead! Clawing your way out of hell? Stroll in the park.

And if they got him, Dean mused, well, maybe Sammy could go back to Stanford. Find some girl, be a lawyer, have 2.5 kids and drive a friggin Volvo. Very safe cars apparently.

Yes.

Safe.

Who needs a sibling that gets you killed, anyway?

Like, really?!

Somehere just past Carson City

The drive was mostly a quiet one. And Kirsten got that. She understood when El just pulled back into her world. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to like it, but she got it. Elena knew so much more about all this. Kirsten was, well, along for the ride. Pretty much. El was the brains. Kirsten? Well, she could handle a gun. She even had a permit. That came in handy when some greenhorn cop caught you with one tucked into your jeans waistband. Because, and no kidding here, those greenhorns? They get that “WINNING THE LOTTERY!” look when they think they found someone to book. All caps, too.

Her aim? Well, Elena thought it was good. Kirsten thought it sucked. Royally. She hadn’t made it as a cop. They turned her down, so security guard had been her job until … well, when El went all psychic on her ass. Kirsten, even as a guard,still got to carry a gun, practice firing one, being officially permitted to have one. But her aim? Could be better. But don’t tell El, she probably won’t agree. So Kirsten doesn’t touch the subject. But seriously, how could you have a good aim if you don’t make it at the fucking academy?

While focussing on the road ahead of her, Kirsten still noticed the occasional look that her sister threw her.

Eventually, the dark haired woman gave in.

“What you doing?”

“Nothing?”

“Right. What is it, El?”

“Nothing, really.”

Kirsten could barely resist the urge to roll her eyes. She hated when El did this. It seemed like someone had failed to give her sister the ability to just straight out say what was on her mind. It was annoying. Something would be on her mind, and usually - and here Kirsten was kind of psychic too – she wouldn’t say it until you guessed it.

Right now? There really was only one probable option of what it was that was cooking behind that forehead of her sister.

“So, those guys. You said two, right? Anything besides the dogs? Who are they?”

And a fleeting frown crossed her face. A thought she would not share with her kid sister.

No, they hadn’t ever buried any of the people from Elena’s visions. The ones they couldn’t save, you know? But Kirsten nurtured that weird thought that for once she’d like to know what she’d put onto these people’s tombstones.

If she could make them tombstones that is.


To Be continued in Part V
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