Sometimes the sun is so hot it makes your skin tighten like stretched saran wrap. Sometimes the heat hits the long paved highways at noon and you can see the waves rising off the ground like you're driving through an oven. Sometimes I run along dirt and sand in pursuit of something villainous and I can feel my hair sticking to my forehead and the holy water vial shifting in my pocket begging to be used for better purpose.
Sometimes, it's just fucking hot.
When Dean asks me what weather I'd prefer, my response depends on the day and it always makes him laugh. On days like this though, when the summer seems to follow us, I don't really have a preference.
"Anywhere is better than here, huh?" Dean grins because he's always taken to the sunshine better than me. His hands are tight on the wheel and they're colored red with sunburn. I watch the leather slide gently beneath his palm and find myself thankful that Dean doesn't prefer me to drive. His forehead is dabbled with sweat drops and I imagine mine is too.
"Alaska might be nice," I say and glance over to see his response.
"Oh, I don't know Sammy, I'm thinking we could go another few hundred miles to Cali. Girls, beaches, apple pie, it sounds good right?"
I can't help but smile because sometimes things are rough, but Dean is always reliable. "Like a vacation? I think I'd prefer someplace cool, like Canada."
Dean lifted an eyebrow and shook his head. "Mounties, snow, and maple syrup. Shows your priorities. Tell you what, I'll drop you off at the border and pick you up next week, how about that?"
"Sounds great."
Sometimes even the nights are too hot. The moon is high and the picture brings a chill to your soul that only makes you feel more off balance against the choking weight of the heated air. Sometimes the temperature makes everything feel more real. The blade's hilt feels too warm against my hand and the scent of demon blood when I strike down only makes me nauseous. I feel heavy and grounded, the high of the chase and even the rush of familiarity are buried deep beneath the drudgery of it all. Sometimes, when things feel right or someone gets saved, I can make myself forget what kind of life I live. Sometimes though, I just can't.
When we're driving in the car again, Dean keeps glancing over. "You okay Sam? You've been spacing out for a while."
"Just having one of those days. Sorry."
He shrugs, but doesn't look at me. "Hey, you're entitled."
It's silent for a moment, but I can tell he wants me to get it out. He's never been a big talker, but he's not a bad listener. "Do you ever feel like it's just too much? Like you think, wouldn't it be great if we could take a vacation, and then you remember we can't?"
He licks his lips, rolls his shoulders, his voice is gruff. "Think you'd be used to it by now." Good listener, bad talker.
"I am, I mean as much as I can be. Just, sometimes it feels…"
"Look Sammy," He looks at me this time, glancing between my eyes and the road. "We do what we have to do. You do it well. Try to remember that."
I can't help but get upset. He just can't seem to care right. I know he's worried about me, but that's the problem, no concern for anyone else. "But Dean," I think I sound more pained than I meant to but I can't worry about that. "Don't you ever think about who it is we're killing? Those are people. Living, breathing ,normal people. What about them?"
"Can't save everyone Sammy," he says and his jaw is tight. His eyes are averted, back on the road.
"I know." I let the air out of my lungs but it doesn't lift the weight in my chest. "But don't you ever wish we could?"
He's quiet a moment longer, then he reaches toward the knob on the radio. I know the conversation is over, but just before Kansas is rushing through the speakers I hear him mumble, "Sometimes."
Just a little something to get me out of my slump. For the Dog Days of Summer contest on Gaia's ffnet group.
Please let me know what you think. :)