THIS IS PART 2 OF CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, LEAVE REVIEWS. I LOVE TO WRITE, AND I CAN CHANGE WHAT NEEDS TO BE CHANGED IN MY STYLE. I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT EVERYONE WANTS TO READ. LEAVE ME ANY IDEAS, LIKES, DISLIKES ETC. ENJOY ADVENTURING INTO SAM'S BRAIN!

CARRY ON WAYWARD ROAD

THE ROAD CONTINUES

CHAPTER 1

Once again, we have found our way back on the road. The road that leads to nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The past few weeks, hell, the past few months, have been hard on the both of us. I'm just glad to get out of that rat hole of a motel we had been staying in, not that the next place we stay will be much better.

I knew Dean was having a rough time so I chose not to complain about the filth, and the fact the ceiling and walls were literally caving in around us. I was secretly glad we were leaving that place. I knew Dean, nor myself, was ready for another hunt, but I was fine with us just getting away, driving the roads that have become like home to us.

I've become comfortable, safe, sitting shotgun in the passenger seat of the impala. The radio blaring, some crazy classic rock music. The same stuff that Dad used to listen to, I should be used to it by now, but a change is always good sometimes too. My annoying big brother singing along, I'm not sure if he thinks he can carry a tune in a bucket or if, maybe, he just doesn't care, maybe he just sings to annoy me. If so, it works!

After the past couple weeks, I wouldn't dare complain about his music, or his singing. I was just glad to see a glimpse of my big brother showing through again. I settled down in my seat. Unsure of where we were going, or why. There I sat, with my brother's notebook in my hands. Afraid to open it. Afraid to read what was rolling around in that brain of his. That's a scary place, I chuckled to myself.

He has always filled himself with so much self-doubt, so much self-hate. I never understood why. Except, maybe, the fact that Dad made him feel that way. I've tried everything to make him see that wasn't true, but it's like he wouldn't listen to me, like Dad's words rang louder than anyone else's. I was pulled from my thoughts about the past few weeks as I heard the purr of the engine turn off.

"Gotta fill up Baby and ourselves," Dean said, slapping a playful slap on my knee before he stepped out of the car to fuel her up.

The love affair my brother has with his car is a little creepy, and weird. I laid the notebook down in my seat as I stepped out of the car. And walked into the small, convenience store to gather fuel for myself. Once Dean had finished fueling Baby, he joined me inside, grabbing his normal unhealthy food. I don't know how that boy eats the way he does. After we were both satisfied with the road trip snacks we gathered we exited the store and returned to our assigned seats in the impala. The purr of the engine restarting, as we pulled out of the parking lot.

I waited until we had made it down the road a few miles before breaking the silence, "Let's go to the beach."

Dean glanced my way with a slight smile. "My little brother wants to visit the beach, then we'll visit the beach." He said, without an argument.

I noticed he glanced down at my hands, noticing the notebook still tightly closed. I was sure I could sense a sigh of relief coming from him, knowing he was probably a little afraid, or nervous, about me reading it. After just the few things he had admitted to lately, I could understand why.

I sat, staring out the window for a little while, knowing we were in for a long drive, and day light was limited. I sat in thought for a few moments. Thinking of the way Dean had been acting. The pain he was obviously in, the fact he was unable to hide his weakness was enough to make anyone concerned. And the gun. What was his obsession with his gun? Did he really want to end his own life that badly? Or was he just in so much pain he didn't know what else to do? God, please don't let my brother leave me, not like that, not the coward's way out.

How could I possibly think that? How could I think that my brother was a coward? Even if he did choose that way out, he still wasn't a coward. He was my hero! He was the strongest person I knew. He was brave. But, even the strong and the brave break sometimes, even they have a moment of weakness. This was Dean's. This was Dean's moment of weakness. I just needed to be there for him. Make sure he made it through. But how?

How could I do that when he wouldn't let me in? I then remembered I was holding his notebook. The one that contained his very thoughts, and I realized, for the first time since he threw it to me, that he was allowing me in! He was allowing me to see what was inside of him, what captivated his thoughts, his soul, finally. But, that wasn't like Dean. I wasn't sure what to do. I wasn't sure if I should take advantage of the moment while he was weak to gather some intel on my brother. I knew I probably wouldn't have another chance, not in a long time anyhow.

Realizing the day was almost half over I had decided to take advantage of what day light I had left, after all, he did agree to allow me the biggest chick flick moment I wanted. And he agreed to even interact with me. He told me I could talk, get my feelings out, the entire way if I wanted, but here I sat, staring out the window, in complete silence.

Looking down into my lap I had made the decision to take advantage of this rare occasion. As we headed down the road, to visit the beach as I requested, I opened the notebook, my hands a little shaky, I wasn't completely sure why. I turned to page one and began to read my brother's thoughts. I began the journey of entering his head, of feeling his pain, of finally knowing exactly the way he felt about life, and some insight to the beginning of my life that where shady, that I couldn't quiet remember.