Disclaimer: Buffy and crew belong to Joss and the Supernatural world belongs to Eric. Not me.
Dean opened the door to the motel room not bothering to hide any noise he was making. Dad had never hid his noise coming into a room. If someone was making noise, it implied they belonged there, had nothing to hide. Over the years, their senses had adjusted to listen for the sounds one was trying to hide, that was the enemy. Noise meant family.
There was only one bed in the room and that bed was occupied by a sleeping woman with long brunette hair strewn across the pillows and pink flannel pajamas. More often than not, they still shared a room. On a hunt, getting two rooms was out of the question, they all slept in the same room, no questions asked. In between hunts, however, they sometimes got a room just to themselves. Having that Slayer & Watcher Council credit card came in handy sometimes.
Didn’t stop Dean from hustling pool, though.
“Dean?” a soft voice came floating through the room.
“Yeah, Dawnie, it’s me,” he replied in a low voice shedding his jacket, shirt and jeans before padding to the bathroom in just his undershirt and boxers.
“Make anything?” she asked sounding half awake and amused. Dean just shook his head. He would have the same conversation with her tomorrow when she woke up. She wouldn’t remember a thing he told her tonight.
“Two-fifty. That’ll keep us in gas for a bit,” Dean replied and frowned at Dawn’s soft snort, “Go to sleep.”
“I made three the last time at the Roadhouse,” she muttered.
Now it was Dean’s turn to snort, “Yeah, but that was you and Jo double teaming, so you only came out with one-fifty.”
“Ummm,” came lazily from the bed and a slender hand flapped inelegantly in the air before sliding under her cheek.
Dean smiled and shook his head again as he closed the door to the bathroom before turning on the light. Just because he made noise didn’t make him inconsiderate. He smelled the stale smoke on him from the bar that he had been playing and he opted for a quick shower noticing that Dawn had left clean clothes on the sink next to his shaving kit.
They had all gone to the local bar earlier, to grab something to eat, but Sammy and Dawn returned to the motel to do some research on some strange goings on in Kentucky somewhere. Dean had opted to have a couple more beers and make a few bucks. Even though his pretty girl had practically unlimited funds if they needed something heavy duty, old habits died hard, and a lifetime of living in what they just could afford, and sometimes not even that, stuck with both Dean and Sam.
* * * * *
It had been an odd relationship from the start. They met at Harvelle’s. The boys had driven in with some info for Ash and had walked through the front doors of the seemingly empty of customers bar. They had been shocked to see a vampire sitting pretty as you please playing pool with Jo and a laughing brunette.
The drawing and cocking of weapons alerted the trio to the two men standing in the doorway, “Jo,” Dean said sighting the man over the barrel of his gun, “You want to take your pretty friend to your momma?”
“You want to put those away?” the brunette said moving directly into the line of fire with nothing but a pool cue in her hands. Granted she was in a loose fighting stance and her hands gripped around the piece of polished wood like she might know what she was doing, but hello, vampire.
In a move almost too fast for the human eye, the blond man in the black trench coat had pulled the two girls behind him and was glaring at the Winchester boys across the room. “Now, mates,” he said in a bad English accent, “you don’t want to be doing anything rash.”
Then to the complete and utter bafflement of the boys, the brunette rapped the blond on the head with her cue stick. “Ow! Bit!” And while the blond grabbed his head, she neatly stepped in front of him and again into the line of fire.
“I said you want to put those away.” That was a statement, not a question.
Dean blinked and put the safety back on his gun before slowly lowering it slightly so that it wasn’t aimed at the girl and nodded to Sam to do the same. “You want to tell me what kind of spell you got this little girl under?” Dean said to the blond who was muttering about being unappreciated and calling some girl called Buffy and how he should have never had agreed and something about love and bitches.
“Why don’t you ask the little girl with the pool cue? She’s clearly the one in charge. When your sister stakes me over you getting shot, what am I supposed to tell her?” The vampire asked before throwing his arms up in the air and dramatically falling into a chair behind Dawn where he continued to mutter, now it seemed he was having some two sided conversation as he would occasionally mutter in a high pitched girlie voice.
“Is that right? You’re in charge?” Dean asked noticing that the girl hadn’t shifted an inch and while he and Sam had been focused completely on the vampire, the girl hadn’t taken her eyes off of them.
She just snorted, “Yeah, I would be if my babysitter would stop acting like a total ass hat.” This insult was clearly aimed at the vampire who just lazily flipped the girl off making her huff in annoyance.
Jo took that moment to step in, “Sam, Dean,” she said a little coolly, “this is Dawn Summers and William the Bloody. They are my new employers. Dawn, Spike, Sam and Dean Winchester.”
“Hunters?” Dawn asked with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“They are worse babysitters that Spike,” she said with a toss of her head.
“Huh,” Sam said to Dean, “Seems like Jo’s still a mite upset.”
“You figure?” Dean said before turning his attention back to the three people and lowering his gun a little more. “And just what are you getting into missy?”
* * * * *
Slayers, watchers, vampires, demons. Sam and Dean may have been hunters, but they had never been on a global scale. Seems like this group was. It also seemed like the pretty brunette was ready to shed her vampire babysitter and go on a road trip.
He was surprised at first, how quickly and easily Dawn fit into their sparse nomadic lifestyle. She never complained, she never whined. When asked, she just laughed and said one bathroom for just the three of them was heavenly. As was doing laundry for just three, and only clothing at that. No sheets, no towels. She had spent every year since sixteen living with a horde of females and a one-eyed carpenter and a vampire and some stuffy old English guy and Andrew. Now she was out having a real life.
Dean didn’t know how much of a real life they did have. Certainly he and Sammy had shaken their heads when she declared that, and Sam in his calm reasonable way asked what about going to college or dating a guy that had a house, a car, a 9 to 5 and a dog. Dawn had looked at him like he was nuts. At least traveling with them, she said, would get her kidnapped less. Sam still had some reservations, but Dean wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She mixed up some pretty strange things at times at the laundry mat, but damn if it didn’t get all the demon spooge (her words) out.
He got out of the shower and slid into the clean clothes, tucking the dirty ones in the dirty laundry bag that she insisted they use before turning off the light. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness before opening the door to walk across the room to where Dawn lay sleeping. She was sprawled on an angle on the queen sized bed and Dean would have to move her around so he would have some room.
She fussed a bit, as he knew she would and he just managed to get himself settled, when in a move that would have made an octopus proud, she turned over and was draped all over him. “Ah, Dawnie, what would I do without you?” he questioned quietly kissing her forehead.
In a tired annoyed voice, she replied, “Sleep alone.”