SEVEN MONTHS without his car ( without BABY ) meant alternative transportation.
Something that felt like his car, something that felt like home but wasn’t quite right.
Vehicles had been taken and left behind every so often, so as not to be tracked so
easily, skin itching to get behind the wheel of his own car. That, however, had been
impossible since Baby had ceased being a car and had become a person. He had
looked for her, of course. Tried to track her down following the patterns they used,
but it seemed that she used those same patterns ( completely AVOIDING them to
throw the Winchesters off her tail ).
Seven months is a long time and a lot had happened. It isn’t
unusual that the brothers SPLIT UP, each going their own way
for whatever reason, and this time it was another disagreement.
Lately, it seemed that was
all they had been doing.
Papers are a mess on the table in the small kitchenette of the motel room, a calloused
hand scrubbed over his face in frustration. Sleep is something that has seemed to elude
him once again ( though he had never been one for much sleep ), and working a case alone
is, to say the least, frustrating. A glance is thrown at the empty second bed in the room ( why
he’d gotten it, he wasn’t sure —— out of habit, he’d told himself ), and he wondered what it
was Sam was up to.
At the knock at his door, his hand fell away from his face and dropped to the ivory pistol
on the table, fingers curling around the grip. As much as he had been wishing for Sam
to show up, he knew his brother well enough to know that that hadn’t been him. Quietly
pushing his chair back, he stood and made his way to the door, looking out the peep
hole to see——
”————-Baby?” The door is swung open, disbelief dancing across his features, pistol
still held tightly in one hand. Carefully, his gaze flickered around behind her to see
there was no one else there. Lips pressing together, his gaze turned back to her,
sizing her up. “How—- what’re you doing here? How’d you find me?”
Dean. The surprise displayed across his visage was predicted
by her, gun and all. Gaze DRIFTS to the weapon positioned in
the embrace of his fingers. Resistance is found as lips twitch
to grin, but exhaustion is overpowering. No strength to smile
despite the joy coursing through her body at having found
the Winchester. Weight shifts from one leg to the other, hand
moving to reposition the travel bag hanging from narrow
shoulders. Tongue snakes out to caress drying lips. Evident
signs of being nervous. Such a human thing of her. A year of
still being human and she had yet to GROW accustomed to it.
❝Typical, Winchester. Though I’m surprised you didn’t
shoot first and ask questions later. You’ve gone soft.❞
It was then she finally managed a smile, no matter how weak
it proved to be. Seeing him now, standing before her and on
edge to her sudden appearance, was a painful reminder of
those seven agonizing months she was incognito. No call, no
note. No sign of her being okay. Being alive. Kept in the dark
far too long and no one was to BLAME except for Baby. Be it
her decision, perhaps Dean and Sam deserved to know the
reason behind her leaving without a trace. But as dark eyes
moved to peer behind the eldest Winchester, it’s S O O N
realized that Sam is not here. Concern flashes across tanned
physiognomy, heart sinking at the idea of their dysfunctional
family remaining separated. Hopefully, it was only temporary.
❝It’s kind of a long story. Can I come IN or are
you going to keep standing there all night with
that same bewildered expression on your face?❞
