Day Two

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It was four in the morning when Elsa first woke up. She checked her watch and groaned. She was beyond tired and her waking made no sense.

Reaching out to her nightstand, she turned on the lamp, which threw a dim light across the room. The knife was exactly where she'd left it: on the nightstand, its cover still secure and its handle facing the bed. 

Just in case. 

She hated that.

Though she knew exactly how to use it, she could never think of a time when the knife would actually be needed. Keeping it felt as though she was letting John, or her potential paranoia, win.

Slipping out of bed, she pulled a denim jacket over her slightly too large pyjamas and wandered along the landing, taking the ending stairs down into the living room where, through the window, she could see the relentless rain beating down from the dark expanse of the sky. 

She reached up and opened the smallest window a crack, just so she could hear it too.

~~

Dean wasn't a light sleeper by nature but, over the years, he had developed an alertness that woke him at even the smallest of sounds.

It was some time in the early morning, when everything was still cloaked in darkness, that he heard something moving along the landing. Past experiences gave him a good idea of the source, but he was reluctant to investigate without some form of defence.

Just in case.

Dean did not want to be caught off guard if there was even a slight chance that they were being robbed or, perhaps, if something more sinister was happening.

Following the noise from a safe distance, Dean made his way downstairs. On entering the living room, he allowed himself to relax: a familiar shape sat in the darkness, watching raindrops travel down the windowpane.

"Can't sleep?" He asked, making sure Elsa heard him before going any closer.

He was able to pick out the movement of her head as she nodded. "I woke you again, didn't I?" She smiled apologetically.

"It's fine," Dean waved it off, taking a seat beside her.  "I'm a light sleeper anyway."

"Still."

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds as the pair sat quietly in the blackness.

"If we could see them better, we could have a race." Dean motioned to the windowpane. The droplets all seemed to merge into one mass of dampness in the black of the night.

After several more minutes, Dean stood up, offering his sister a hand.  "Come on. You need to sleep."

Elsa allowed herself to be helped up without protest, quietly turning to shut the window as Dean led the way to the stairs, pausing to wait for her before ascending. 

Privately, Elsa highly doubted that she'd manage sleep anytime soon.

~~

Sam was already up and eating breakfast, a mixture of granola and colourful berries, when Elsa arrived in the kitchen at a more acceptable hour of the morning.

"Hey." He smiled, mid-way through a mouthful.

"Heya."

"Looking forward to today?"

"I have double maths."

Sam laughed sympathetically. "Yep, that just about tells me all I need to know."

"What do you have?"

"P.E," Sam sighed. It was his least favourite subject.

"You're good at that though," Elsa pointed out, picking up an apple from the fruit bowl and biting into it.

"Not as good as Dean."

"No one's as good as me at anything," Dean boasted, entering the room.  "I mean how can they be? I am Batman after all."

"Yeah, you're Batman," Sam scoffed.

"Jealous?" Dean teased, ruffling his hair.

Sam wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused as he tried to put his hair back into some form of order. "Anyway," he continued, getting back to the point, "The P.E teacher is supposed to be really weird."

"Maybe it's a good kind of weird," Elsa suggested.

"We need to go," Dean announced abruptly.

The others exchanged confused glances.

"But it's only just gone seven," Sam pointed out. "And you haven't eaten yet."

"I know. That's why we have to leave early.  I need pie." Dean looked incredibly pleased with himself as he left to collect his jacket and keys, as if pie for breakfast was the greatest idea in the world.

He returned about a minute later, twirling the Impala keys around his forefinger.

His Impala.

That made him smile every time.

"Just don't make yourself sick," Bobby advised, watching as Dean pulled on his boots.

Dean shrugged.  "It's pie."

"Right," Bobby nodded, unconvinced.  "Well anyways, have fun at school today. And don't give me that look, either," he added.

"I've got my back to you," Dean protested.  "How can you possibly know what look I was giving you?"

"'Cos I know my kids, that's how."

Dean found himself smiling as he called through to his siblings, still residing leisurely in the kitchen, and told them to get a move on. On cue, they appeared at the stairs, both still eating, Sam reaching for his trainers and Elsa for her boots.

"Bags," Bobby reminded.

All three of them had to dart back up the stairs.

"Idjits."

"Later, Bobby." Dean ushered his younger siblings outside, the door falling closed behind them.

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