Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Thanks to Kripke who does for the loan of his toys.
A/N: I'm going crazy waiting for tomorrow (really -- ask my hubby) and this just popped into my head. I have no reason to believe this is the direction the episode will take, it's just the direction my mind took me in. There are spoilers (very, very slight), so if you don't want to know anything -- wait until Thursday night or Friday to read this. Of course, by then the episode will have aired and you can laugh yourself silly at how wrong I was! I'll shut up now.
Dean's mind was still whirling as they came back to the motel. He was still a little overwhelmed by all his senses. His skin felt a bit like it was pulled too tight. Things were a bit too bright. A bit too loud. It was getting better, but it was just so much to process.
He hadn't lied when he told Sam he didn't remember anything. Not really. A feeling wasn't a memory after all. Nope. There was nothing past seeing the hell hounds and then the inside of that damn box.
Dean's breathing momentarily sped up and he felt the sweat pop out on his forehead. That memory he could do without, and he shoved it as far down as it would go.
He followed his brother into the room, drawing comfort from the familiar spread of his shoulders. Dean couldn't help but grin. He'd been pretty worried about what Sam had been up to. It was true; there was no denying that the kid was different. That their relationship was different. That Sammy was hiding things from him. But now he was back and Dean would fix things. Big brother was back.
He'd been a little surprised at some of the changes. He was glad that Sam hadn't just been pining or on a self destructive rampage. Whatever Sam had done, it wasn't bad enough to have gotten Dean out of Hell apparently, so it shouldn't be a problem. Right?
Sam moved into the room ahead of his brother. He uncharacteristically hesitated at the bed nearest to the door. Dean's bed. Always.
Dean hesitated too and one eyebrow went up. But then Sam was moving to the next bed and Dean was wondering if he'd imagined it.
Dean placed his own duffle on a chair by the wall. It wasn't refilled yet, but he grabbed out a change of clothes and his kit.
"Dibs on the first shower," Dean broke the silence.
"Uh. Sure. Um. Dean?" Sam was distracted. Playing with his duffle's zipper and avoiding looking in his brother's eyes.
"Yeah?" Dean frowned slightly.
"See, the thing is…. I kinda told… promised really… Kristy… that I'd … umm…well… stop in when we got back," Sam stammered out, having the decency to look at least a little embarrassed.
"Oh. Sure man. Guys gotta do what a guy's gotta do… or who," Dean forced his voice to be light and teasing. Inside though was a different matter.
"Sure you don't mind?" Sam looked up at his brother, judging his state of mind. Dean was smirking at his brother. Trust Dean to find a way to make everything sound dirty. Course, in this case….
"No. Course not. Go ahead. You be back before morning?" Dean's voice was a little rough, and he gave himself a small shake.
"Heh," it was Sam's turn to huff out half a laugh, "doubt it."
"Ok. Well give me a ring when you're ready for breakfast," Dean managed to keep the smile from slipping.
"Sure. If I can get away sooner, I will," Sam promised as he slipped back out the door.
The smile slid from Dean's face as the door clicked shut. If anyone had told him that Sam would be hooked up with some girl within 6 months of his death, Dean would have laughed himself silly. Sam? Broody, pissy, bitch-face, puppy-eyed Sammy? No way. And yet, he'd barely been gone four months and here Sam was, fully involved.
Dean sank onto the side of the bed, staring at the closed door. Suddenly, he didn't have the energy for a shower. The silence of the motel room beat against his skin and he flinched.
He'd told Sam he was stronger. He'd told him that he wanted him to live. To keep on fighting the good fight. Dean knew that Sam could do it, but it felt like the hell hounds all over again to realize how quickly Sam had been able to go on with his life. A life without Dean. With everything that had happened in the last few days, Dean wasn't at all sure where their place was in each other's lives now. Where they fit.
Dean stood and moving almost in slow motion, secured the room for the night, laying the salt lines. He made a quick trip to the bathroom and peeled off his borrowed clothes. Sam's clothes.
Dean crawled under the covers and reached over to turn off the light. The room was pitch black. Suddenly it felt like a huge weight was pressing on Dean's chest. The darkness pressed into his eyes, trying to leak into his very bones. He lunged for the light and turned it back on.
Light flooded the room. Dean's breath came in ragged pants and sweat slicked down his body.
Ok. So that wasn't a really good idea. As his breathing evened out, Dean sank back into the pillows and lumpy mattress. He was exhausted. He really did want to sleep, but just couldn't seem to get there. He stared at the ceiling. He'd decided to just leave the light on.
Dean finally concluded that Sam really wasn't coming back to the room. Even with the light on, exhaustion finally caught up with him and Dean slid toward sleep. Just before finally going all the way under, Dean was sure he heard the beating of wings outside his window….
A/N: A little dark perhaps…? I just felt like Sam had moved on too quickly… but we really don't know anything yet. Any other thoughts on where we might be going this season??