Supernatural - Chapter 5: A Little Mishap (Patreon)

Murphy was about to climb back into Dean's precious Chevrolet Impala with the brothers when Bobby called her over.

“Hey, little troublemaker. You're riding with me.”

Murphy froze. She glanced toward Sam and Dean, who had already gotten into the car, feeling strangely at a loss. But she didn't dwell on it. She shut the Impala's door, which she'd already opened, and went to Bobby's car instead.

Bobby drove with Ellen in the passenger seat. Neither of them spoke when Murphy climbed into the back, and for a while, they rode in silence.

Only once both cars were on their way home did Bobby speak. “I'm sick of asking you the same question over and over, so this is the last time.”

“Mm-hmm?” Murphy knew he was talking to her.

“How do you know all this?” Bobby watched her in the rearview mirror, searching her face for signs of a lie. “I heard what you were saying when we were closing the gate. Why wouldn't you shut it? How did you know John would appear?”

“I...” For the first time, Murphy understood just how badly her behavior might have been misunderstood.

She couldn't come up with a convincing explanation. After all, according to the identity she'd given Bobby and the others, there was no way she should know so many details.

“Of course I know about John. He's John Winchester. But... I didn't keep the gate open because I wanted to hurt any of you.” Even to her own ears, the explanation sounded weak.

She couldn't exactly tell him that she knew John was supposed to appear at that moment.

“Could've fooled me. You were actually stopping me from closing it.” Bobby gave a contemptuous snort. “So what were you trying to do?”

Ellen watched Murphy open and close her mouth without managing an answer. “Listen, sweetheart. We're grateful you didn't shut the gate too soon. That's what gave John time to get out of Hell. And I saw you trying to go help Dean.”

“But,” Ellen continued after a pause, “I hope you understand why we're asking. We're trying to protect those boys. When somebody appears out of nowhere and seems to know everything, we can't exactly take that as a good sign.”

“I'm not a prophet,” Murphy said, deliberately steering the conversation elsewhere.

She didn't want to keep secrets from them. But she came from another world, perhaps even one on a higher plane than theirs. Telling these people that they were all characters in a television show would surely hurt them.

She didn't want them to see her as a freak they needed to watch out for, though things weren't much better as they stood.

“Nobody asked if you were a prophet,” Bobby said, refusing to be sidetracked. “I asked how you knew. And you claim you're a hunter from the future? I don't buy it. If you won't tell us, I'll put you out of this car right now. You can go anywhere you like, as long as you stay away from us.”

“Bobby.” Ellen gave him a disapproving look.

He huffed stubbornly. “What, I can't even say it?”

Murphy let out a tired sigh. “Why do you have to dig into every little thing? I thought knowing I'm useful and won't hurt you would be enough.”

“No,” Ellen said gently. “What we really want to know is who you are.”

Murphy met Ellen's kind gaze, and a wave of sadness rose in her chest. “I... I've honestly told you everything I'm able to tell you. I know I showed up at a strange time and that I've acted strangely, too. I learned about all of you in the future. I know your story, and I really do like you.”

Seeing how lost the young woman looked, Ellen decided to let the matter rest for now. Bobby, however, had latched on to something else.

“Story?” He frowned. “That's creepy as hell. Don't tell me some idiot in the future wrote a biography about us.”

He shuddered, apparently disgusted by the very idea.

Murphy went quiet. It was as though the last of her strength had drained away, leaving her staring blankly ahead.

Bobby and Ellen exchanged a look when they saw her sitting motionless and silent. Neither pressed her any further.

The Impala and Bobby's car pulled up outside the house one after the other. Everyone got out and headed inside.

“Murphy?” Sam thought she looked unusually pale and weak. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” She came back to herself and managed a faint smile. “I'm fine. I think I'm just exhausted.”

Dean studied her for a moment. “Don't push yourself.”

Murphy had a vague sense that something in the brothers' attitude toward her had shifted, if only slightly. But she wanted nothing more than to sleep and didn't have the energy to think about it. “Thanks. I won't.”

Everyone gathered in the living room. The dim, warm light showed just how battered and disheveled they all were. Murphy was the only one who could still be called clean.

When it seemed the others were about to go over everything that had happened that night, she asked hazily, “Can I go to bed? Where am I sleeping?”

“Suit yourself. There's a guest room upstairs.” Bobby waved vaguely toward the second floor.

Murphy nodded and made her way unsteadily to the bathroom. She had a habit of taking a shower before bed, preferring to fall asleep feeling clean and refreshed.

Sam watched her go, still a little worried by the state she was in.

Murphy washed herself first. The hot water running over her skin made her feel much better, almost as though she'd come back to life.

Then she glanced at the bathtub and felt tempted. Nobody else would need it for a while, probably. Why not soak for a few minutes and relax?

Ten minutes. Ten at the most.

She filled the tub with hot water, climbed in, and sank beneath the surface until only her head remained above it. A contented sigh escaped her. A hot bath felt incredible. Why hadn't she ever tried this before?

So... comfortable...

Her thoughts grew hazy. Just before she slipped fully into unconsciousness, she even had time for one last thought: At least I remembered to lock the door this time.

Dean and the others talked for a little longer in the living room before realizing they were all worn out.

Bobby collapsed onto the sofa, and Ellen looked especially tired.

Before long, Bobby and Ellen got up one after the other and went off to rest.

“Well, guess we'd better leave the rest of this conversation until tomorrow.” Dean acted as if nothing had happened, despite the blow to his head and the assorted minor injuries he'd picked up.

Sam looked at his brother forcing himself to stay lively and sighed. “You shower first. Once you're done, I'll take care of that wound on your head.”

“Isn't Murphy still in there? Man, girls.” Dean heaved an exaggerated sigh.

Then the room fell silent.

Much too silent.

Sam sensed something was wrong. Murphy had been in the bathroom for nearly half an hour, and he hadn't seen her come out.

He stood, went to the bathroom door, and listened for any sound inside.

“What are you doing?” Dean made a disgusted face at the sight of his brother pressing his ear to the door. “That's a little pervy, don't you think, Sammy?”

“No. I think something's wrong.” Sam straightened and began knocking. “Murphy? Murphy, are you in there?”

There was no answer. He turned toward Dean, his expression serious. “Dean.”

“Maybe she went to bed already.” Dean immediately sobered. He ran upstairs and searched the second floor, but Murphy was nowhere to be found.

On his way back down, he called, “She's not upstairs. I couldn't find her.”

Sam stopped knocking and tried the handle. The bathroom door was locked from the inside.

“Oh, God...” he groaned.

Dean didn't waste another second. “Move!”

BANG!

The forceful kick that shattered the door lock startled the two middle-aged people upstairs, who had only just closed their eyes to sleep.

Dean and Sam rushed into the bathroom one after the other. Through the billowing steam, they saw Murphy slumped sideways in the bathtub, nearly half her face submerged. Her wet hair floated through the water like spilled ink, and her face was unnaturally pale.

“Quick!” Dean lifted her straight out of the tub.

Sam had already grabbed a bath towel and handed it over. Dean wrapped her from head to toe and laid her flat on the floor.

Sam checked the pulse at her neck, then leaned down to feel her faint breathing. “She's alive.”

“Oh my God! You boys, out! I'll take care of her.” Ellen had come downstairs and, seeing the scene, promptly shooed both brothers out of the bathroom.

She quickly examined Murphy and concluded that she'd passed out after inhaling some water and becoming severely exhausted. At least for the moment, her life didn't seem to be in immediate danger.

Everyone waiting outside the bathroom breathed a sigh of relief.

Bobby, as the owner of the house, was almost speechless. “Would somebody please teach this girl how to take a bath without killing herself?”

Dean and Sam exchanged a shaken look. Only then did it truly sink in that no matter how much Murphy knew, she was still an ordinary person. She could get tired, lose consciousness, and even die because of a bathtub full of hot water.

“Murphy? Wake up.” Ellen gently patted her cheek, trying to rouse her.

Murphy didn't stir.

Ellen looked at her with pity. “Poor thing. She's completely worn out after everything that's happened today.”

She adjusted the towel the brothers had clumsily wrapped around Murphy and called toward the door. “Sam, come help me carry her upstairs.”

“Okay.” Sam cleared his throat.

Dean folded his arms and said nothing. Ellen moved aside, giving Sam enough room to pick Murphy up.

But the moment Sam lifted her, Murphy jerked violently and turned her head, coughing hard. Water spilled from the corner of her mouth, mingling with her wet hair as it fell onto the towel. Her eyes weren't focused yet, and she had no idea what was happening.

Sam stopped and tilted her upper body a little to one side. Only when the coughing had eased did he start upstairs again.

Murphy stirred faintly in his arms, her voice so hoarse it was barely audible. “What... happened...?”

“Hey, hey. Don't move.” Sam tightened his hold to keep her from slipping as he continued upstairs. “You passed out. We need to make sure you're all right, okay? I'm going to get you into bed first.”

“Oh.” Murphy still had no idea what had happened. Her vision remained blurry. “Thank you. I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble.”

Meanwhile, Bobby was dealing with the mess left by the broken bathroom lock.

Ellen and Dean, following behind Sam, nearly laughed in exasperation when they heard her. Who thanked people that politely under circumstances like these?

Sam was surprised, too, but he said nothing. He carried Murphy into the empty guest room and laid her on the bed.

“All right, that's enough. Everyone go do what you need to do. Sam, close the door behind you.” Ellen bustled into the room carrying two clean, dry towels.

Sam shut the door. Dean glanced at him. “She almost got taken out by a bathtub. That's insane.”

“Yeah.” Sam shook his head helplessly. “She really doesn't seem like the kind of person who'd do something like that.”

Dean looked back at the closed door but said nothing more. He and Sam headed downstairs together to clean up and tend to their injuries.

By the time they'd finished treating their wounds, Ellen had come back down.

“The girl's awake,” she told them. “Nothing too serious. She's just exhausted, so she's gone to sleep.”

Both brothers nodded, neither knowing what the other was thinking.