"Checking in?" The motel clerk ran her eyes over them - clothes covered with goo, mud and blood, Dean hanging onto Sam like he'd fall on his face if he let go.
"Yeah." Sam threw a couple bills at her. "Got a room in back?"
"Sure."
He handed her another bill. "We're not here."
She didn't blink. "Sure."
He took the key and hauled Dean to their room, not relaxing 'til the door clicked shut behind them.
Dean settled in bed, he checked the place out, smiling when he saw the coffee pot on the counter.
Maybe he'd survive after all.
