~20~ Every Beginning Has an End

I became aware of three things all at once. My ears were ringing, my chest really hurt, and I was being jostled all around.

"Are you okay?" came a voice from my left.

"First aid kit's in the upstairs hallway bathroom."

"What the hell, Sammy? Here, I'll take her. I'm the one that shot her after all."

After that last bit, I felt myself being picked up off the ground and carried. I open my eyes to see the profile of who I can only assume to be Dean. At least, he looks like the guy pictured in the fake ID's from the trunk of the car and he has short hair. "I think I can walk." I say, suddenly feeling intensely embarrassed.

"S'ok, we're already there." He says and sets me down on what happens to be a bathroom counter. He crouches down and starts pawing through the cabinet below, eventually coming up with a large first aid kit. He pops it open on the other side of the sink and starts digging through it, looking for whatever it is he thinks he needs. I can only imagine what Bobby will say when he sees the mess Dean has made of his first aid kit.

While he's engrossed in his first aid prep, I look down and take stock of why I hurt so much. My t-shirt is ruined. It has several small holes all over the front of it, some of which are already stained with blood. "Holy crap. What happened?"

Dean stands up from his digging and looks at me with a sheepish grin on his face. "I, uh, I shot you."

"You shot me?"

"Yeah, see, you were possessed by a ghost named Chuck and he wasn't playing very nice. Sorry about the t-shirt." As he says this he steps between my knees and reaches for my shirt, making as if to lift it off over my head. My eyes get huge and I grab his hands to stop him. This so isn't happening! This was not how I pictured finally meeting the guys. "Hey." He says. "It's only first aid. Anyway, there ain't nothing there I haven't seen before, sweetheart." He proceeds to bat my hands away, pull off my tee, and toss it into the corner, all with a smarmy grin and a wink.

I look anywhere but at him and what he's doing, turning, I'm sure, three shades of pink. "Now it was just rock salt I hit ya with, but I was pretty close so a few of the rounds broke your skin. Most of them will clean up nice..." His voice trails off as he studies my wounds, crouching down a few times for a closer look. Oh God, this isn't happening. "Looks like a few of these are pretty big chunks. I'll dig those ones out." He says it like it's no big deal.

He got some gauze and some alcohol and started wiping some of the smaller wounds, applying band-aids as he went. "So, you stole my car. Where all have you been in her?" I could see what he was doing, small talk to ease the tension of an embarrassing situation, and I mentally thanked him for it.

"It was my cousin Nicky who had it stolen. The one you beat the crap out of, and, before you defend yourself, he had it coming and I don't hold you accountable in any way. Honestly, though, we didn't know it was stolen. Well, not until much later." I sucked in a breath as he hit a particularly tender spot on my side with the alcohol.

"Sorry. So where'd you go? How did you even know where to go?"

"Well, we've read all the books and..."

"Dammit Chuck." Dean grunts under his breath and I couldn't help but smile. I started telling him all about our trip. When I'm nervous, I tend to babble and babble I did. My voice trailed off after a moment and I became acutely aware of him standing between my knees. I cleared my throat nervously. I went on to tell him about our visit with Missouri and that we had a few stops before Bobby's.

"Huh." Dean set down the gauze and picked up the tweezers. "Ok, now it gets a bit more uncomfortable." Understatement! He got a fresh gauze and dabbed at a spot on my right collar bone. I tipped my head away to give him a better view without my hair being in the way and as I do so, I feel him slip my bra strap off my shoulder. It was his turn for the uncomfortable throat clearing. "It was, uh, covering up part of the wound."

I bite my bottom lip and try not to cry, as I so easily do when I'm in pain. He digs out a chunk of salt and I hear it tap into the sink. He dabs at it a bit more with the gauze and then tapes on a clean piece of gauze over the wound. He pulls my bra strap back up and gently slides it over the bandage. He pauses and looks at me, making sure it's okay. His eyes are the most stunning hazel I've ever seen. I mean, I have hazel eyes, but they are mostly brown and dull. His, though, are mostly green and they catch the light above the sink and literally glow. "You okay?" he asks.

I close my mouth and give a shaky nod of my head, unable to speak. He proceeds to dig a chunk out of my abdomen and bandages it up neatly. My mind is overflowing with thoughts. This man has saved the world and hundreds of people on the side. He faces death on an almost daily basis. What's he get for his trouble? A bunch of rowdy girls stealing his car, his home.

He moves on to the last nasty wound. It happens to be on my left breast, thankfully just above the bra-line. Although, in my mind, that doesn't make it any easier to sit there while he's digging around in my breast with a pair of tweezers. Again I have my head tipped to the side. I turn, though, and study his face that is just inches from my own, as he concentrates on his work. He looks rough and gruff, but his eyes are tender. His eyes tell a different story from what he portrays.

I suddenly have an over whelming desire to kiss his cheek. Not in any romantic way, although that wouldn't be bad. I mean, hell, look at him! But, I just...I lean in to give him a quick peck on the cheek and he must have noticed the movement or whatever, because he turns his head at the last moment and I end up kissing him on the lips. What the hell. I grab the sides of his face and really kiss him.

He stops what he's doing with the tweezers and I suddenly stop and look down, embarrassed. He smirks and goes back to his digging. "What was that for?" he asks.

"Just, uh, an impromptu thank you." I stammer.

"I think you have that backwards. I'm the one that shot you...remember?" He chuckles. It's deep and laced with gravel.

"It's just...you and Sam are real! The stories...they're all real."

"Yeah, don't remind me."

"It's...well...I suddenly have an overwhelming appreciation for my life, such as it is. I mean, the apocalypse was real! Dean, you saved us all! There's a whole world full of people out there, living their lives, completely unaware of how close it all was to being snuffed out and I...I just... Thank you, Dean. Thank you." I snapped my mouth shut, realizing I was babbling on again and tears had come from some hidden well to tumble down my face.

"Wow. Um...You're welcome, I guess. We don't, ah, we don't get a lot of thank you's." He seemed uncomfortable. He wiped the tears from my face with his thumbs and went immediately back to his task. I almost forgot. Dean isn't into the 'chick flick moments'.

"I know you don't." I said and he smirked. "And my one thank you can't even begin to cover it all. OW!"

He holds up his tweezers with a large chunk of salt in them triumphantly. "Got it!" He says with a lopsided grin. Chick flick moment over. He tosses it into the sink and works at putting some antibiotic and a bandage on it. He finishes and steps back, staring at my chest, admiring his handiwork. In the process, making me feel very naked.

"Oh, um..." He bends down and grabs my t-shirt, his fingers going right through it in a few spots. "Your shirt is toast." He shrugs out of his jacket. He's wearing the Winchester standard three layers of clothing and pulls off his plaid button up shirt, bringing himself down to just a black tee. He swings the shirt around my back. "Here put this on...seeing as how Sammy burned all your stuff."

"He what?!"

"Yeah. We'll fill you in." He says, as he starts buttoning up the shirt after I've hauled my arms through the too-long sleeves. I roll the sleeves up so my hands show as he finishes with the buttons. "There. No one will ever notice." I give him my best Sammy bitch face and he laughs.

He backs up a step and I hop down off the counter. I quickly pull him into a hug and whisper another heartfelt thank you into his chest. I love a good hug and Dean doesn't disappoint. I could have stood there all day hugging him, but we both pull away and he leads me out to the living room where a round of laughter pours out. As we enter, I see everyone is seated in random chairs, the couch or on the floor, and they are all holding beers or glasses of water.

"You actually winked at him?" Sam asks incredulously.

Charlie nods at him. "She did." They all laugh again and Cat looks a bit proud of herself.

Dean pulls a chair in from the kitchen for me and then sits down on the floor beside me. Sammi hands me a glass of water with a silly grin on her face, El raises an eyebrow at me, and my blush deepens. "So, I hear some feminine charm got these ladies out of getting busted..." Dean says and they start all over, regaling the boys and Bobby with our many adventures.

xxxxx

AN: Who knows what further adventures the Flannel Five will find themselves in...I want to thank my IFIE ho's for all their encouragement and support! Without you guys, I may have stopped writing after my first fic and The Flannel Five would never have seen the light of day! If any of you are interested, I listen to music while I write. If you want to hear/see the playlist I used for this 'trip'...go to you tube and search 'michelle auch' and under her playlists tab, select 'supernatural writing music'. Hope you all enjoyed this crazy trip, please drop a review and let me know what you thought! In the immortal words of Charlie Bradbury "Peace out, Bitches!"

A Poem From Cat:

And here's to the first road trip
of the flannel five
we made it to Bobby's
all in one piece and mostly alive!

We followed our boys path
from town to town
Eating at diners
and poking all around

We cried, we laughed
and drove a stolen car
truth be told
We made it pretty far.

And here we sit
With Sam and Dean
Spinning yarns
And wishing it never Fin