28. Downtime

I didn't let Dean's warning get the better of me after that night. I buried it deep in the back of my head and kept it that way. Unfortunately, that plan didn't turn out as well as I had hoped. Since Bobby was stuck playing babysitter to me, I was cooped up in the house, with the only place to go being outside. With nothing to do, and with research making my head pound after a while, it left my brain to wander back to the conversation.

Dean couldn't be right about Sam, he couldn't. What did Dean know about that kind of thing anyway? He didn't seem like the settle-down-for-months-kind of guy, he seemed more like a two-week-fling-kind of person. That was just an impression he gave me, I could be one-hundred percent wrong.

I did get updates though, thanks to having my new phone I'd had since my birthday back in September. It had few numbers in it, the important ones should things go wrong. The only number that dared to call my phone was Sam. Even though Dean and I were adamantly against calling me (I wanted them to be entirely focused on their cases), I secretly enjoyed whenever the phone rang.

The first case I didn't know much about, as when it had gotten done with, Sam didn't say much. Whatever it had been had to have rattled them both pretty badly. I didn't look too deep into it. If the case disturbed them that much, then I wouldn't dare ask them to recall any details for their sanity.

Unfortunately, they weren't anywhere close by enough to stop back at Bobby's to rest for a few days. Not that I didn't mind being around Bobby, but without the brothers here, the place felt more empty than full. Bobby was a good babysitter, as he did more research for the boys than he did watching over me. Still, my learning didn't stop just because I couldn't go wrestling a demon or a monster.

The second time the boys were away on their road trip, Sam had called again. He'd sounded...strange. It was hard to understand why, until I found out later, when he called again, that that hadn't really been him on the phone. Some punk kid decided it would be fun to delve into dark magic and switch bodies with Sam, so instead I had a young kid calling me. Let me tell you, I didn't get over that quickly. I was sort of glad I hadn't attended that case, though—it had involved kids who had been after the bounty the demons placed on Dean's head.

Nothing said being a teenager like trying to collect bounty from a demon.

After the whole kids issue with demon bounty and dark magic, there was a drought in which I had heard nothing from Sam. Bobby had kept telling me that everything was fine, but something told me things weren't. But I had to have a little faith in Bobby's words, he knew the boys the best.

It wasn't until sometime later that I didn't get a phone call, but instead heard the door open. I dropped the book I was skimming through and limped until I saw them both. I visibly relaxed at seeing them both safe.

"You miss us that much?" Dean asked.

"It's no fun when you're not here. I can't pick on you," I teased, smiling wryly. "The 'fun' I've had is research. I haven't been able to do squat since this." I rolled my right shoulder.

"You'll get back out on the field soon enough," Sam assured me.

"Who's hungry?"

"You cook?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

I stared at him pointedly. "Okay, so maybe the best thing I've had to do here is cook. That's what happens when knowledge isn't enough to keep you busy." I strolled into the kitchen. "Bobby can vouch for me when I say my food doesn't kill."

"That doesn't sound too reassuring, Dak."

"I can't gloat and say I'm an expert chef." I rummaged around in the fridge. "Both of you take a load off and I'll call you for dinner."

"She's lost it," I heard Dean mutter. I rolled my eyes and got to work.

It took about a half hour, as I made more than enough food for an army. It took some burns on my arms and almost burning down the kitchen, but I managed to conjure up something decent. I called the men into the kitchen, and we all had a proper sit-down type of dinner.

I insistently took care of everything, cleanup included. I looked down at my arms, seeing pink burns. I pursed my lips. Got to get some ointment on these before they scar. I headed upstairs to the bathroom and dug around the medicine cabinet. I saw pill bottles, some empty and some not, before I found what I was looking for. I dabbed the ointment on the spots that really needed it. I still got hurt even within the confines of the house. It didn't take something supernatural for me to get hurt.

I rubbed my healing shoulder. I didn't need any bandages on it anymore, and the same could be said for my leg. I'd be ready to get back into cases with the Winchesters. I smiled grimly to myself. I never thought I'd see myself say something like that.

There were a lot of things I didn't expect to hear myself say: that I would stick by these guys until this issue with Lucifer got solved; that I would actually get back out and hunt monsters with them. My past brought me to this, not fate or destiny or whatever people liked to called it. I called it chance.

I went back downstairs and back into the kitchen, draining the sink before grabbing a rag and cleaning the dishes. This felt oddly therapeutic, something for me to do. Since I couldn't be productive out in the hunting world, I could be productive here at Bobby's.

What was I now? Was I technically a hunter? It felt like I was but I wasn't at the same time. I was somehow herded into this, it all led back to demons. They were the reason my life took this path.

"Need any help?"

I dropped the fork back into the sink in surprise. I leaned over the sink, breathing heavily. I spun around.

"Christ, Sam," I scolded. "Can we not do that again?"

"Sorry. I thought you heard me coming?"

"You'd think I would," I said, half turning to grab the fork again. "But I'm good, thanks for offering. How're you doing?"

"Oh, you know, we're living in an apocalyptic world."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

"The whole thing with Lucifer. Any luck in that department?"

"No, but we met his brother in a case."

"You met Michael?"

"Yeah." He supported himself against the table. I set the fork down and picked up a plate. "It's a good thing you weren't around, Kota. Some of the things we've been through lately..."

"I won't pry," I said thoughtfully. "You tell me on your own terms, like I told you my story." I looked at the disorganized mess of silverware on the counter. "Tell you what, help me sort the silverware while I finish drying?"

A busy silence fell over us for a few minutes before I finished completely. I stacked all the plates and slid them across the counter before opening the cabinet above my head. Sam was putting the silverware back as I turned around and leapt up, placing my butt on the counter. Sam picked his head up.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Putting these back up." I carefully handled the plates and put them to rest. "It's the only way I can reach."

"You could have just asked me."

"Nah." I put away the last of the plates and closed the cabinet door. Our eyes met as he stood before me. My eyes cast downward when his coarse fingers trailed on my arms.

"Burn yourself?"

"Yeah. Leave it to me to do something like that. They don't hurt, if that's what you're going to ask."

By the time I picked my eyes up, it happened: the very thing that confirmed Dean's suspicion and made my heart plummet.

I didn't help the issue, I reacted naturally. My face heated up from his hands alone. My fingers found purchase in his shirt and tightened their grip. An instant fog rolled into my mind. His mouth was asking a response from me. He was tender and cautious but expecting a response. Expecting me to return the favor.

I could picture Dean watching us right now, telling me "I told you so." I could picture the disapproving scowl on his face. He was the number one opponent to this happening. He was also right in his assumption. I guess he could see a lovesick puppy from a mile away.

Even as Sam took my mouth a second time, I refused to react. I kept still. I couldn't give in even though a part of me wanted to. Dean's annoying, nagging voice kept speaking in my head. Look, I'm no expert, but I can see a lovesick puppy from a mile away. It's the little things that will lead to something big. You need to keep the target on you as small as possible.

Bottom line: don't get too attached.

But I couldn't help the tingles spreading in my body even if they were barely existent.

Sam finally picked up on my message. Our faces were still pretty close, but his hazel eyes searched mine for some sort of answer. I could only watch him with sympathetic eyes.

His hands slowly dropped from my face and came to rest at his sides. I released his shirt and kept my hands in my lap.

"What...what did I do wrong?" he asked.

I shouldn't have let this happen. I should have seen this outcome. "You did nothing wrong, Sam."

"But I did something."

"I-I should really get some sleep." I jumped off the counter nimbly and wormed my way past him.

"Hold on, Kota." He stopped me by grabbing one of my arms. "What's going on?"

"This can't happen," I choked. "It shouldn't, Sam." I turned to him.

"Tell me why it shouldn't then, since you strongly believe that."

"I'll give you a name: Lucifer. I'll give you another word: apocalypse. I could list a hundred words, probably more, that can tell you why that was a bad idea." I sighed. "The thing is, Sam, this mess with Lucifer...this world we're in, there's no room for any light to creep its way in. I get it, you want to escape this. I do, too, I really do, but, this isn't the way to do it."

"Y-you think this is an escape?" he sputtered. "You think I did that to forget everything that's going on right now? Dakota, this has nothing to do with running from this. Don't make it sound like something it's not."

"Just let me go, Sam, I'm done talking about this." I wiggled my arm.

"I'm not." He said this gently.

I held back the tears. He was making this worse, making this harder than it had to be. He was pushing and hoping for something that could happen but would be doomed from the start.

I didn't let the conversation get anywhere. The next time I asked for my arm back, Sam let me go. I guess he realized I wasn't going to talk about it anymore.

Damn you, Dean, for being right. I hope I never have to hear you say "I told you so."

**[throws confetti--sorry, throws a parade] Yes, yes, I know, I know, 'why did it take so freaking long, Prim, for them to kiss? I've been wanting them to since, like, chapter 2.' (I know nobody has ever uttered those words, but I know you all have been dying for the moment.)

However, you understand why what happened happened, right?

Believe me, I am an avid Sakota shipper, but I'm also a realistic writer. Keep that in mind for any future books you read from me if this is the first one for you.

P.S. On another note, this chapter marks the end of Part 1 ' Zero to Sixty.' 

P.P.S. Congrats to who is just now reading this! You didn't have to endure the short hellatus this book had to take! You can stroll right on through to Part 2!