The moment the shed is unlocked and the door open, Dean is ready to make a break for the front of the house where that infuriating woman is waiting, but Zach's hands gripping his shoulders hold him back. "Where is she? Is she okay? She is so dead for this!"

"Dean, she's fine – for the most part. Just go easy on her, okay? She doesn't need you getting mad at her right now, so cool it," Zach explains, keeping his hold on his brother firm.

"Like Hell I'll go easy on her. She can't do that kind of shit. She knows the consequences!" Dean grumbles and sends a small glare towards his younger brother.

"Dean." The warning laced in Zach's tone stops Dean from struggling, a sigh leaving him.

"Fine, I won't give her shit. Happy?" He lets the tension roll of his frame, hoping it will be enough to convince his brother of his innocent motives. Zach stares at him, distrust evident in his eyes. Another sigh escapes Dean's lips at the lack of faith his brother is showing in his skill of restraint. "I promise, all right? Can you please let me go so I can see her?"

Zach's face twists with hesitation, but he nods nonetheless and removes his hands so Dean can push past.

When Dean rounds the corner of the house, the first thing his sees is Laine.

Her arms are propped out behind her, supporting the rest of her body, as she rests on the steps of the front porch with her gaze trained intently down the road. All his previous anger about her locking him in the shed and going in by herself vanishes as relief spreads through him upon seeing her in one piece.

She catches sight of him and pushes off the steps in an attempt to stand, legs wobbling as she tries to gain proper balance. Dean reacts without pause and darts forward to catch her, arms wrapping around her body before she has time to fall over. He feels her hands rest on his back, gripping tight in the folds of his jacket as she buries her face against his chest.

"I'm sorry," Laine murmurs, the words muffled by his jacket.

Dean shakes his head, dismissing her apology, and instead enjoys the feel of her warm and very much alive body in his arms. When he steps back, his hold on her shoulder doesn't lessen as his support is helping her to stand, but it also serves as reassurance for him that she isn't going anywhere.

"Don't do that again. Ever," Dean warns, not letting her gaze stray from his.

Laine cracks a smile and lets out a laugh, her eyes sparkling with humour at his blatant concern for her well-being. "Not planning on it. Don't really fancy the whole getting stabbed in the leg thing."

All sense of joking is lost the moment the words are out of her mouth. Anger returns to Dean's face, his jaw tensing and mouth flattening into a line.

"You were stabbed?" His voice is steady, but he knows she can see the hostility hidden underneath his calm tone. He had been so relieved to see her alive he hadn't noticed the injury she is sporting on her thigh and the cuts on her cheek, which he sees now that he is paying attention.

"Dean, it's over. He's dead. There's nothing to get worked up over, and you can't change what's already happened," she says, nipping the conflict in the butt.

Dean sighs and instead of arguing with her, he lets the conversation drop and pulls her into his arms again, resting his chin on top of her head.

"I'm glad you're okay," Dean mumbles into her hair, silently hoping she won't hear him, but also wanting her to.

"Me too." She looks up at him with a dazzling smile that brightens every inch of her face when they step apart, and he can't help the grin that begins to crack through the stony façade on his face.

He will deny this later, but it is instinctive when his hand travels up from her shoulder and past her neck, brushing a strand of curly hair away from her face before cupping her jaw and running his thumb across her cheekbone. She flinches on contact when he brushes the nail marks and the budding bruise there, but she soon leans into the touch, her eyes closing as a content sigh ripples through her. When she reopens her eyes, the warm feeling in his chest starts to expand as she cocks her head to the side, the corners of her eyes crinkling with the grin that is plastered on her pale lips.

Dean begins to open his mouth to say something, but the sound of footsteps forces him to take a step back, his hand dropping back to his side as the moment is broken.

"Told you she's fine – for the most part." Zach slaps his hand on Dean's shoulder as he passes them, his voice holding no hint as to whether he is aware of what was just occurring between Laine and his brother.

"'Course I'm fine. Do you think I'd keel over just by getting stabbed in the leg?" she questions, staring over at Zach with a challenging quirk to her right eyebrow as she puts most of her weight on her left leg.

Zach halts mid-stride and looks back to her, freezing in place, but the teasing grin that breaks out on her face seconds later has them both laughing.

"You ready to ditch this place?" Dean asks as he searches his pockets for his car keys.

Laine nods glumly and glances over her shoulder at her house, a look of sadness washing over her features. It isn't there for more than a moment before it disappears, the content look coming back.

He and Zach turn and begin to walk away from the estate, agreeing that it's time to get the Hell out of here. They both halt in their tracks when they hear a loud clearing of a throat. When they turn around, Laine is still standing where she has been for the last few minutes, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Really, guys? Just gonna leave me here? I sort of have a problem walking, but whatever." She shrugs, the underlying threat in her words obvious.

Dean flashes her a nervous grin and jogs back to where she stands. Placing his hands on her back and behind her legs, he hoists her up into his arms.

"My knight in shining armour," Laine mutters with a sarcastic quirk to her lips as she wraps her arms around his neck for added support.

"I'll drop you," he threatens, which only earns him a chuckle before Laine quiets down.

She shifts a bit and rests her head on his shoulder, fingers toying with the ends of his hair as they make their way towards the car. "Sure you will."

**********

"Seriously? You just went when we stopped to grab a bite to eat. I'm sure you can wait 'til we stop for gas next." It takes all Dean's restraint to resist the urge to turn around in his seat and duct tape the woman's mouth shut so she can't spew anymore complaints. Instead, he focuses on his driving, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

He used to think Zach was a bad travel companion, but boy was he mistaken – women are much worse.

"That was two hours ago! I'm gonna piss myself back here. I just downed a whole litre of orange juice, and their place is still another four hours away," Laine huffs in an exasperated tone and he can see her shifting uncomfortably in the back. He accidently catches her gaze in the rear view mirror and she pins him with a deadly look full of promised threats which sends shivers through him from the intensity.

"Not my fault you did that."

Laine opens her mouth to say something, but Zach turns in his seat and flashes her a look before tossing one to Dean.

"Iowa City is only fifteen minutes away, we can stop there. Maybe find a place to spend the night." Zach's words shut up the other two occupants in the vehicle, stopping the fight that was sure to ensue before it can begin.

Dean frowns at the idea. He doesn't see the need to stop since they still have plenty of gas to drive another couple hundred miles and they will probably make it to Blair before midnight, but he nods his head anyway. He doesn't feel up to getting into an argument with his brother or the aggravatingly stubborn woman in the backseat.

"Iowa City it is."

**********

Laine emerges from the bathroom, feeling light and content after finally relieving herself before her bladder could explode. Zach sits at the small kitchen table in his and Dean's motel room, but the older Harrison brother is nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Dean?" Laine asks as she grabs a chocolate bar out of the plastic bag on the counter before hobbling her way towards the bed, taking a seat on the one closest to the door.

"Went to get food," he says when he looks up from his laptop, ending the conversation before it has the chance to even begin. She accepts his answer and unwraps the candy bar, biting off a large piece and getting to work chewing the chocolatey goodness. "Speaking of Dean, what's going on between you two?"

Laine's eyes flick up to stare at Zach with confusion the second the question is out of his mouth. Her chewing slows as she thinks of an answer, soon deciding to go with the oblivious approach – which won't be too hard, considering she feels quite oblivious anyways. "What do you mean?"

Zach raises his gaze from his laptop screen again, sending her a disbelieving look. "I think you know what I mean."

Her brows scrunch together for a moment as she attempts to decipher his words, realization soon hitting her. Brushing it off, Laine shrugs in response. "Whatever Dean and I had ended a long time ago. We're back to just friends, now, and he's like a brother to me."

There are questions swimming in his eyes and a hint of disbelief aimed at the words that came from her. "You don't really think that, do you? Yeah, we're like family, but you don't look at me like that. Hell, you don't even look at other guys that way. I've only ever seen you look at Dean like that."

Laine opens her mouth to argue with him about his accusations, but he cuts her off with a sharp look before she can get a word out.

"I may suck in the relationship department, but I'm not blind. I can see the looks going between you two, and I know you notice as well. Hell, Dean probably does, too. And by God, the sexual tension between you two is damn near suffocating. Every time I walk into the room, it always looks like you're about to rip each other's clothes off."

"Yeah, right. You're definitely imagining things." Laine laughs at the thought, but it comes out nervous and slightly broken, and Zach raises his eyebrows. "I'm serious, Zach. There's nothing going on between us – there hasn't been for a long time."

"Time doesn't mean a thing when it comes to you two," Zach mumbles under his breath with a shake of his head, but Laine hears him perfectly and watches as he goes back to typing away at the keys of his laptop. The two fall into silence, neither speaking for a few minutes until Zach breaks it again. "How's your leg feeling?"

"Still hurts like a bitch, but I'll be fine. It'll be healed before you know it." She shrugs and absently places her hand over the bandaged wound, sending him a reassuring smile which does nothing but elicit a soft sigh from Zach.

The younger male stands and moves over to his bag on the other bed. He rummages around in it for a moment before walking over to Laine with gauze, a needle and thread, and what looks to be a bottle of whiskey in his hands.

"Unwrap it for me," he orders and sets the objects down on the bed before going into the bathroom. He comes back moments later with a wet wash cloth in his grasp and sits down on the bed.

Laine removes the hastily applied gauze from her leg with careful tugs, wincing when the open wound comes into contact with the air. Zach grabs her leg and drapes it across his lap, beginning to gently dab the cloth on the gash to wipe away the fresh and dried blood gathered there.

"I can do this myself, y'know," she grumbles, wincing every time he swipes the cloth over the irritated flesh. He shrugs and continues going about the task he has set himself.

"I know, but I want to do it." His answer is soft and simple, the words falling from his mouth with a tone of responsibility – as if it is his job to take care of Laine when she is injured, even though he is younger than her by two years.

As Zach starts sterilizing the needle, Laine rests back on her hands and watches him in a studious way, similar to the way she used to when he would work on school projects or assignments when they were growing up. He is precise in his movements, each action as flawless as the last from years of practice. Watching him causes a question to pop into her head, one she had forgotten to ask him when he had carried her out of the house.

"Zach?" He gives a grunt in reply, attention focused on threading the needle. "When did you leave the bunker?"

This gets her a brief look and a shrug before he returns to working. Laine sucks in a sharp breath when he pours a bit of whiskey on her wound, feeling every inch of the needle that pierces her skin seconds later.

"You guys said ten minutes, so when you didn't show, I got worried. Especially since you and Dean can get into a lot of shit in ten minutes or less."

She laughs at his statement, shrugging nonchalantly because she can't deny his words.

"What did you do?" Laine asks, the muscles in her body tensing with each pass of the needle through her tender skin.

"I went outside and saw bodies everywhere, so I started looking for you guys. No one was in the car, so I called Dean and he said you locked him in a shed. He told me to go find you and you know the rest," Zach explains as he ties off the end of the thread, grabbing a pocket knife out of his bag to cut off the excess.

"Thank you." Laine means for saving her and stitching her up, but Zach knows that without her having to say it.

He nods as he grabs the bottle again, unscrewing the cap. Holding the bottle close to her thigh, he pours whiskey over the wound, letting the cloth catch the falling liquid that has sterilized the wound again just for safe measure.

She lets out a hiss at the unpleasant sensation, but clamps her lips shut and endures it. Zach waits a couple seconds before dabbing around the gash to absorb any excess liquid and then he gets to work on wrapping the wound with gauze. The process goes by quickly, Zach's experienced hands circling her thigh with the white fabric in neat and careful movements.

He grabs the supplies and stands once he is finished, shooting Laine a soft smile as he stands to put the supplies away. "You're welcome."

The exhaustion of the day starts to set in and Laine allows herself to fall back onto the bed, eyes staring up at the white ceiling. She traces the designs on the ceiling tiles as fatigue overtakes her body, her lids soon drooping shut and her mind slipping into an unconscious state. She falls asleep to the sound of the fan whirring above her head and Zach's fingers darting across the keyboard.