It was supposed to be a regular hunt. But of course Winchester Luck would not allow that. Dean was starting to think that all those mirrors they had broken awhile ago were going to be affecting future generations. He'd apologise if he could.
It was those damned witches. They used a spell of some kind to "unlock the potential of their DNA." Why did witches have to do creepy shit?
Apparently that potential in their DNA was the X gene. Which meant that they were now mutants. Which was just great!
"Dean stop thinking so loudly!" Sam called from the other bed.
"Sorry Sammy," Dean returned, trying to keep his thoughts under control. That's right Sam was telepathic. He wasn't to happy about it either. Every person's thoughts within a mile radius were not on Sam's need to knows, or even want to knows.
"Dean maid service is on the way," Sam said after a minute or so.
"What am I supposed to do about it?" Dean retorted. A fire flickered over Dean's body as he got frustrated with Sam. Dean was pyrokinetic. This would be cool if he could control it, which he can't.
"Calm down hot head!" Sam said.
" Whatever Radar brain!" Dean shot back. These two insults would never replace the customary bitch/jerk exchange but they became a strong part of their lives.
"How about you heat the door knob up?" Sam suggested.
"Dude, don't do that!" Dean cried.
"I can't help it!" Sam shot back. "You keep thinking loudly! I'm not sure which thoughts are mine and which are yours."
Dean's response was to yell 'Stupid Sammy!' As loudly as he could in his head.
"Just heat the door knob Dean," Sam sighed.
"Bitch."
"Jerk."
Dean flipped off the bed and walked over to the door knob. He pressed his hand to it and took a deep breath.
A yelp was heard on the other side of the door. "Sirs!" A worried voice called. The knob rattled.
" My sentiments exactly Dean," Sam said.
"I didn't say anything."
"No but you thought it," Sam pointed out.
" Yeah well screw you bitch."
"Back at you jerk."
" Sirs are you alright in there?" The woman cried again.
"Just fine!" Dean said.
" Chill out, hot head," Sam said as fire flickered over Dean again.
"Not gonna happen radar brain!"
The door burst open and what the maid saw was not what was actually happening.
Sam was now stood watching Dean try and get himself back under control. Dean, well Dean was a raging inferno. But the maid saw a pair of teenage boys snuggled up in one of the beds whilst an older man watched in concern, he turned to the maid and put a finger to his lips.
"Sorry," she mouthed before backing out.
Dean, finally, had got himself back under control and turned to Sam as soon as the door shut. "How did you do that?"
Sam just tapped his temple.
"Oh, what did you show her?"
Sam smiled. " You remember back when I was twelve and how I had a nightmare that you and dad would die on a hunt and I'd be on my own?"
"Yeah?" Dean said and he did remember it. Dean had walked out of the bathroom and been tackled by a crying ball of twelve year old Sammy. After calming Sam down he, as the awesome 16 year old brother he was, had climbed into Sammy's bed with him. Dad had come home not long after, and thinking the boys were asleep tucked them in and just sat there for a while.
"That is exactly what I showed her!" Sam cried. "Did I ever thank you for that?" He paused. "I didn't think so. So thanks Dean!"
"Um.. no problem.." Dean replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable with how 'chick flick'-y the moment had become. To rectify this, Dean lifted his hand and lit his fingers on fire. " Dude, do you have any idea how cool this is?"
"Yes Dean, " Sam said. " I can read your mind, remember?"
Dean rolled his eyes and walked back over to his bed. The two lay in silence for awhile just listening to each other's breathing and occasionally cringing at the sounds permeating the thin motel walls. Dean had become lost in thought, an admittedly rare occurrence, and Sam was privy to every thought.
"Dude," Sam exclaimed. " You've got it bad for Cas!"
"No I don't Bitch!" There was venom in this exclamation and Sam decided to drop it.
Not without a muttered "Jerk" though.
Dean had slowly worked himself up into a seething pool of self hatred soon after Sam had dropped out. Unfortunately, this seething pool of self hatred became a raging inferno, for the second time that night, and Dean ended up lying in a burning bed.