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The motel room was small, furniture littering the place. June was sure the crack on the ceiling had increased since they had arrived. Dean deposits both his and June’s bags on the floor, the canvas making a thud as it hits the dust-covered carpet. Sam had already made himself comfortable at the table in the room, a textbook open in front of him. June cranes her neck to try and see what he was reading about, but the words were upside down to her and the font too small for her to even try and decipher. John hadn’t even entered the motel room with them, instead handing his son the key and immediately getting back in the car to scout out more information on the current hunt. Dean’s hand lands on the top of her head and June’s attention snaps to her eldest brother. He flops back onto one of the three beds, his coat and boots long gone and resting by the door.
“C’mon,” he says to June, gesturing for her to come closer and then patting the space next to him on the bed. He grabs the TV remote that rests on the bedside table between the beds, turning it on and resting back against the headboard of the bed. “I’m sure there’s a cartoon you like on.”
June should be grateful that this motel even had a TV - there had been plenty where the most entertaining thing was the complimentary notepad and pencil for her to draw with. Some didn’t even have that, leaving her with solely her imagination. Dean flicks through the channels, landing on some random episode of Rugrats that she’d seen one too many times before.
Around halfway through the episode June began to get restless. She began fidgeting with the zip of her jacket, and Dean wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to his side, trying to direct her attention back to the TV. She manages to sit still for another couple of minutes, before she wiggles out of Dean’s hold and over to where Sam sits, his head still buried in the textbook. She stands on her tiptoes, trying her best to see what Sam is reading, but his head remains blocking her view of the words. Sam twists in his seat to face her, offering her a tight smile.
“Go sit back with Dean,” Sam requests, rubbing his eyes with one hand. June just frowns, seeing the dark bags under her brother’s eyes.
“Okay,” she says, her voice quiet. She doesn’t want to annoy Sam, but after being sat in the Impala for hours she has too much energy to just be sitting around watching TV. She wanders over to the small kitchenette the motel room has - something that is also a luxury, as this one even has an oven. June thinks she can count the number of times on one hand where they’ve stayed somewhere with their own stove. She decides to get a glass of water, making the most of the amenities she has at her disposal, as even a mundane activity like that is more exciting than just sitting and watching cartoons to her.
The cupboard that holds some basic glasses is out of June’s reach, even if she stands up tall or jumps. There’s a short kitchen island with stools and an idea pops into her head, and June really thinks that people should appreciate her genius more. She pulls the stool across the floor, climbing on top of the seat so that she’s standing on it, finally being tall enough to reach the handle on the cupboard door. The grating noise of the stool against the tiles of the kitchen brings Dean’s attention away from the TV, and his eyebrows raise in confusion on seeing June balancing precariously atop of a bar stool.
“June,” he says, his tone exasperated. “Don’t climb on that.”
June turns her head around at her brother’s voice, and at the sudden movement the stool wobbles underneath her and she loses her balance, slipping off the stool and down to the floor, but not without hitting her chin against the marble countertop. Dean is by her side in an instant, Sam hovering with uncertainty by the table. Tears well up in June’s eyes as she clutches her chin, a trail of blood trickling down her neck and staining her shirt.
“Sweetheart,” Dean says, gently tugging her hand away from her chin to examine the extent of her injury. “You okay?”
June shakily nods despite the stray tear that falls down her face and Dean is quick to wipe it away, tilting her head to the side to determine whether or not the wound is bad enough to need stitches.
“Sammy,” Dean calls, barely taking his eyes off of June as he glances at the younger brother. “Can you get the kit out of the bathroom?”
Sam nods, disappearing from sight as he hurries to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. It doesn’t take long for Sam to reappear with a small red box, and Dean takes the kit from him with a nod of gratitude. He wads up some gauze, pressing the quickly staining bandage against June’s chin. She’d gotten the tears under control, only occasionally sniffling, and she lets Dean stop the bleeding. Her grip tightens on the bottom of his shirt as he applies more pressure, and she lets out a hiss of pain.
“Sorry,” Dean comments, getting a clean pad of gauze and some tape, securing it over June’s chin. “You got off lucky. No stitches. And,” a small smile appears on Dean’s face. “A cool scar.”
June’s face brightens as she brings a hand to touch the bandage on her face.
“Really?” She asks, already getting to her feet and bounding towards Sam. “Sammy, did you hear? I’m gonna have such a cool scar.”
Sam just shakes his head, a fond smile on his face, ruffling June’s hair. “I’m sure.”
June just nods, reaching for the TV remote that Dean had left on the table, the glass of water long forgotten. She frowns when she sees credits rolling on the screen. “You think there’ll be another episode?”