Ironic

“Not get shot,” Sam said under his breath, he must have seen Dean’s that’s it? look because he scoffed. “That’s all I have, do you have any other ideas?”

“Well,” Dean paused to think then seconds later he frantically shook his head. “Hell no, I don’t.”

“I’m a little scared,” I stated trying to see where the big scary clown went but he wasn’t anywhere I could see. “Where is he—oh shit.”

“What—“Dean asked and slowly turned to where I was staring wide eyed. There at the end of the booth was Bozo holding a shotgun pointed at Dean’s ass. “Oh hell no!”

“Get up,” his voice was creepy and dark sounding as he spoke to Dean. “Now before I blow your ass away.”

“Listen Chuckles,” Dean flinched listening to the clown growl and shout that Chuckles was not his name. “Okay, Bozo or whatever the hell your name is, why don’t you just sit the gun down.”

“Are you kidding me, Fonze?” the clown laughed and pushed Dean down beside me.

“Why do they always call me that?” Dean snapped looking at Sam; I held in a giggle and watched as Sam shrugged helplessly.

“You do have a certain Fonze quality,” I admitted with a smile when he turned to me and winked.

“Come here!” Bozo growled and jerked me up; I squeaked with surprise and grabbed at his arm that was choking me. “That should shut her up.”

“If you don’t let her go right now, I will break a limb,” Dean slowly rose from the booth seat. I watched as he and Sam exchanged looks.

“Just try it, buddy,” Bozo laughed shrilly. I surveyed the café and nearly sighed seeing that there were only two people present. Everyone else had slipped out, saved themselves and left us. Bastards.

“You have three seconds, Bozo,” Dean warned stepping hesitantly forward. He glanced down into my eyes and once again winked. But this time he nudged his head to the side faintly. I understood though, so seconds after the hint I dropped to my knees and let Dean launch forwards, tackling Bozo to the ground. They wrestled for a few minutes before a snap and scream rose through the air. “I warned you that I’d break something, bitch.”

“You broke his arm,” I stood beside Sam and stared wide eyed at Bozo lying on the ground, clutching at his arm. Dean glanced away from his doings to me, his grin fading. “You literally broke it.”

“I warned him,” he repeated with a shrug so careless it seemed funny. “I totally saved your butt.”

“Thanks,” I stepped over Bozo’s legs and grabbed hold of Dean’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Good idea,” he nodded slowly and put his arm over my shoulder as we strolled from the place with Sam on our tail. “So…Georgia here we come.”

“Trade with me, please?” Sam asked me, putting on the puppy dog face I found out shortly after meeting them that I couldn’t say no too.

“Tired?” I asked letting Sam get in the back. He nodded without speaking and lay back in the seat, his eyes closing instantly. “Wow, he was tired. He’s already out.”

“Watch this,” Dean nearly giggled with delight as he reached back, while driving with one hand and slapped Sam in the crotch with the other. “That was great!”

I rolled my eyes at the hysterical laughter flowing from Dean and turned in my seat to check on poor Sam. As figured, he was groaning while holding himself, he cursed under his breath every now and then for about five minutes. “Nice Dean, very mature.”

“What?” he stopped laughing abruptly and turned to me with a look on his face that mirrored betrayal in the sincerest sense. “You didn’t think it was funny?”

“Well, yeah but you hurt your little brother, don’t you want nieces and nephews later on in life?” I asked with a wry smile. “You keep hitting him there and either he’ll never reproduce or I’ll start punching you in the nuts.”

“I’ll let you do anything but bodily harm to them, hitting and kicking is a very big no-no,” Dean told me in a scolding tone that had me struggling not to smile. “You are just like Sammy, such a killjoy.”

“But we love you,” Sam had apparently recovered and was trying once again to get some rest, though he sounded haggard and sarcastic, he was looking a lot less pale. “That’s all that matters, brother dear.”

“I don’t love him,” I mumbled giving Sam a look. “He probably has herpesyhiligonaritis.”

“Herpes—what?” Dean squished his face up in confusion as he looked over at me, wide eyed and amused.

“Four different venereal diseases combined, Dean,” Sam chuckled and crossed his arms. I giggled and nodded towards Dean at Sam’s response. “She means you have cooties, in Lame-Man terms.”

“I like that,” I pointed at Sam, smiling at his insulting new word. “Lame Man terms, that’s good.”

“You’re so lucky,” Dean grunted glaring at me. “So very lucky.”

“Why am I lucky? Because I’m a vampire, maybeish or that Sam has my back?” I tested him with a growing smirk.

“No because you’re hot,” he winked and turned up the radio. He started singing to some Foreigner song so there wasn’t anything I could say to that, even if I had something to say besides what, that seemed just stupid.

Within the time spent in over a week with the Winchester boys, they have been nothing but annoying, over protective, sarcastic and sweet. I enjoyed it, even though I wished the stops at every hotel would quit happening. In one week they stopped five times to solve a case. I was always stuck in the car or hotel room. In one week I grew to hate hotels, Metallica (even though I was a fan prior to Dean’s constant repeating CD) and sadly fast food. Though often eight hours a day is hell on the ass after a days drive but most times the rides are fun and quite entertaining. Except when Dean starts being controlling over his car (or Metallicar as he calls it) which annoys the crap out of me. “Listen,” I ripped the AC/DC CD from Dean’s hand and glared back into his shocked still olive green eyes. “I understand that the driver, which is you, gets to pick the tunes for the ride but for a week, eight hours a day I have had to listen to the same things. As the passenger of this car, at this moment, I take over the stereo so hands off.”