Dead in the Water

My bare feet tapped on the inside of the Impala's door to the sound of "Round and Round" by Ratt, blasting from the radio. I lay on the backseat, my arms stretched out over my head. They still throbbed with pain and as soon as I moved them, a stabbing sensation would consume me, but I did it nevertheless. I had to get back to my former self soon, I wasn't any good in my current state. As I slowly lifted my arms in the air, to lay them down again next to my body even slower, as I had done several times this past 30 minutes, I heard Dean from the front seat: "Stop exercising back there, you're driving me crazy!" As I turned my head in his direction, Sams face popped up over the front seats and a smile formed around his lips. "Are you ok back there?" I nodded. "Sure..." "Ok..", he grinned and turned to the front again. I still couldn't quite believe we were back on the road again, actually all four... three. All three of us. The thought of John not being here gave me a hollow feeling in my gut, as it always would when he was in trouble or hurt. Only this time was worse... we didn't know squat. I closed my eyes again as I felt a certain dizziness coming back to me and tried to go back to sleep. 

"Emily? Wake up... we're here!" I opened my eyes and blinked several times, looking directly into Sams. He was leaning over me, touching my arm with his fingertips. I nodded and propped myself up on my elbow, or at least I tried to. As soon as I moved my arm, the stabbing pain was back and I clenched my teeth. "Wait... Let me help you!" Resting one knee on the backseat he leaned in closer, slipping one arm under my shoulders and onto my back, ever so gentle, and the other under my knees, picking me up like a doll. He stood up awkwardly, careful to bump neither his head nor mine on the frame of the Impala. As he stretched his back I was waiting for him to put me down, but he didn't move until Dean showed up a few moments later. He opened the trunk, packed some stuff into his dufflebag and quickly closed the second lid, which hid the arsenal of guns, knifes, salt, holy water and other hunter equipment, before slamming the trunk shut. Dean then shouldered the dufflebag, winked at me and Sam and walked right past us towards a building that read "Lakeview Inn" on the front. When Sam followed him and it became clear that he wouldn't let me down again, I leaned my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. While walking towards the front door, my bare feet dangling mid-air, I had to smile. "Sam, when did you get that tall?" I heard him chuckle as he entered the Motel right after Dean. Although I was a couple of years older than him, Sam managed to tower over me several years back, which wasn't too hard either, being only 5 feet tall. We got some awkward stares from the owner as we walked past the front desk. Since we were leaving Denver in quite a hurry I didn't had any opportunity yet to see how bashed up I looked. But judging by the stares, I looked rather aweful. Without another word Dean led the way to a room some way down the corridor, opened the door for Sam and after he had entered as well, he closed it behind him. Sam sat me down on one of the beds before leaving the room once more. Dean sat down on a chair nearby, placed the dufflebag on the table and began untying his shoelaces. That was always the first thing he did when we arrived in a new Motel: Taking off his shoes was his first step of getting comfortable. As his right shoe came flying off I sat up rather slowly, swung my legs over the rim of the bed and placed my feet firmly on the floor. The carpet felt surprisingly soft to my bare feet. As I stood up fully and took a careful step foward I saw Dean in the corner of my eye: He sprang to his feet and closed the gap between us in three big steps. Before he could reach me, I stopped him with a motion of my hand. "I might not be able to hold a gun yet, but I'm still able to walk!", I insisted. "And what do you think you're doing?", he asked. "Taking a shower, if you don't mind! I feel filthy!" He seemed satisfied with that, he relaxed a bit and got back to taking off his shoes. As I made my way to the bathroom he called towards me: "Leave the door unlocked, just in case you collapse, alright?" When I turned, I saw this deep wrinkles of worry on his brow again. Meaning that he was serious. I nodded and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind me, not locking it. As I turned towards the mirror, I sucked in the air sharply. I would have loved to say that I've looked worse, but that would have been a lie. Now I understood why Dean had been so upset at first - calling me "half-alive" earlier had actually been quite a compliment. My eye-sockets as well as my cheeks were hollow and had a deep shade of purple, my blonde hair was in a lazy bun, a few greasy strands dangling in front of my face, my skin even paler than usual, even my lips were dry and cracked. With a sigh I sat down on the rim of the bathtub and started to take off my shirt. The process was slow and painful, sliding out first one and then the other arm, pulling the shirt over my head and finally tossing it on the floor, but the feeling of success was worth all the struggle. Taking off my trousers and underwear was easier after that and sooner than later I stood inside the shower, warm water trickling over my naked body. Most people would define my figure as chuby, whilst I prefered to declare that I was simply too small for my weight! Didn't matter though - I felt comfortable the way I looked and luckily model-size wasn't required for our line of work anyway. I contently closed my eyes as the warm liquid ran over my head and face and remained like this for about 10 minutes. After that I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, checking once again that the door was properly closed. After wrapping myself into a rather scratchy towel I started washing my hair in the sink. A bit unusual, I admit, but this way I didn't have to lift my arms higher then my shoulders.

When I was done, I opened the bathroom door just a little bit, clutching the towel tight with my left hand. "Dean...?" Of course I forgot to bring any spare clothes in with me and the towel covered my breast and my bum just like that. "Dean... Could you be a dear and bring me something to wear?", I called through the crack in the door. I waited some time, then I heard some rustling and soft steps, before a hand emerged from behind the door, holding a bag - my backpack to be precise. I took it and the hand disappeared again. "Thanks!", I said, closing the door again. I opened my backpack, where I usually kept some spare clothes and other things that might come in handy and after some time I found what I was looking for. A fresh pair of underwear with a matching bra, some light jeans I had for ages and a red shirt. After putting on the jeans I neglected the idea of putting on the bra again, guessing that it would be hell of a struggle to actually get into it. So I just put on the shirt, again with some effort involved and after collecting my stuff I left the bathroom. When I came out, Sam was back and was looking very concentrated at his laptop, as Dean had an opened newspaper in front of him. I put my backpack down next to the bed, I was previously lying in, sat down on the same and said: "So... what's the news?"