A/N: This is a sort of sequel to my last story. You don't have to read the first on to understand this though. Please review if you like this or have some constructive criticism!
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The aged engine of the dark '67 Chevy Impala hummed in the summer wind. Behind the wheel of the vehicle was a rare sight to people who knew the brothers: Sam, the younger one of the siblings, was driving, and the said familiarized people all knew that Dean only allowed Sam to drive on the rarest of cases. In this instance, Dean had just had his leg badly injured by a certain demented dog not two weeks ago, causing him to have intense leg pains every time he pressed on the pedal of his beloved car.
The older brother sat in the passenger side, looking through a large map. He unfolded it once more to its actual size (enough to start hitting Sam in his face with the corners) and started studying it further.
Sam was getting irritated with the paper that was hindering his road view and forcing him to taste the dust that had collected on the map, when his brother let out a sudden "Ah-ha!"
"Please tell me that's the noise that you've found something and that you're going to remove this atlas out of my face." Sam said, turning to face Dean with an exaggerated hopeful expression on his face.
"Hey, you're the one who said you wanted to go on this vacation." Dean pointed out.
"I didn't want to; I thought it would be necessary to give your leg some time to heal. You can't exactly exorcise flying demons with a tender appendage, Dean." Sam counter pointed.
"Oh… Whatever." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's indifferent attitude. "Anyway, I found where our next vacation is going to be."
Sam snatched the map out of his brother's hands, crumpled it up (while still keeping a steady hand on the wheel), and threw it in the back.
"Where?" Sam said in a sarcastic eager tone.
"You could have gotten us in an accident." Dean said, frowning disapprovingly at his brother's latest action. "This is why I don't let you drive my beloved car. You don't comprehend just how precious my baby is."
Sam rolled his eyes. Dean could be such a drama queen, especially when they were dealing with his car.
"Dean, can you please get over your moaning long enough to tell me where I'm supposed to go?" Sam asked.
Dean scowled at him.
"You have no soul…" Sam let out an exasperated sigh at Dean's word. "Fine, you big baby... We're heading towards Montana!"
"What?" Sam asked, turning his head.
"Big Sky Country!" Dean finished, proud of his state knowledge
"I know what it is," Sam said, receiving another glare from a certain brother. "I'm wondering why?"
"Because I'm in the mood for cowboy-ee stuff and that's the closest thing right now." Dean exclaimed.
"Cowboy-ee stuff? You really know how to stereotype a state, Dean."
"Thank you."
"It's not a good thing." Sam said. "Why would you go to a place just to see some cowboys?"
"Well, Montana also has horses. And if there is one form of transportation in the world better than my car, it's a horse."
Sam smiled, the way his older brother rationalized amused him sometimes.
"Have you ever even ridden a horse before, Dean?" Sam asked.
"Sure I have, do you think I got this awesome cowboy walk from riding in this gorgeous car all day?" Dean asked pointedly. "What about you? Have any midnight rides away in college?"
In all truth, Sam was a bit afraid of horses. The younger man knew that confessing that would only cause more critical remarks from Dean's end about his "hate for all things furry," but it was the truth. Another thing about that particular animal was that it was dirty and smelly. Sam didn't think he could bear getting on the back of something that had stepped in its own crap all day.
"No, I haven't." Sam confessed.
"Well, you're going to have a great time this week, Sammy, because riding a horse is a refreshing and fun experience even for super boring computer geeks like yourself."
"You sound like a cruel television commercial." Sam said, with a snort.
Dean glared.
"You're going to ride one and you're going to like it." Dean said firmly.
"Okay, now you sound like one of those overly-controlling Nazis." Sam replied good-naturedly.
"Would you just tell me that you'll ride one with me?" Dean said, beginning to get annoyed at Sam's string of geeky, dry humor.
"I don't know, Dean. Horses are just so… Big." Sam finally admitted.
"Ah-ha! I knew you had a burning hate of all things furry!" Dean said, pointing a patronizing finger at his younger brother. "You're practically confessing your hate by saying that."
Sam glanced at Dean as if he were crazy.
"Dean, I do not hate animals. You just happen to always be there on my worst of days with them." The younger hunter defended.
"Riight, that's what an animal hater slash killer would like me to think."
"Oh great, we're going to bring up the 'You killed my dog' thing again, Dean? How many time do I have to tell you that I didn't murder your stupid puppy!"
"Now it's stupid, eh?" Dean shook his head sadly. "My deceased puppy is only to be remembered as stupid?"
Sam rolled his eyes. His brother should really have looked into the law like him, because he was doing a really fine job of making him feel guilty. Law or the acting biz, because his brother was also being a major drama queen!
"Dean, stop being such a prima donna…" Sam sighed.
"I'll be as sensitive as I want, animal hater!" Dean protested. "In fact, I'm just going to ignore you before you try to feed me your creature detestation lies."
"What! I-" Sam started.
"Hut-tut," Dean interrupted. "Just drive us to Montana." With that, the older brother closed his eyes to rest.
Sam just growled aggravated, clenching the steering wheel hard. Dean smiled secretively at his brother's frustration. It was definitely a sibling thing to want to annoy your brother.
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Sam pulled into the desolate gas station of a Circle-K. He parked next to a gas tank and killed the engine.
Dean awoke from his slumber. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but he guessed he must have dozed off. He lifted his head from its uncomfortable spot on the side window and studied where they were.
Sam was searching the backseat of the car, looking for his wallet which he had carelessly tossed back there. He returned with a slight triumphant look on his, brown wallet in hand. He looked up from his feat to stare at Dean. His brother had a long pink crease from his forehead to his chin on his face. Sam tried to stifle a laugh, but it was to no use.
"What?" Dean asked a bit groggily after he figured out where they were.
"You have something on your face," Sam said with a smile, illustrating on his own face where it was.
Dean felt at his face then immediately flipped open the car's passenger mirror. He saw the pink line and let out a groan. Stupid uncomfortable sleeping position.
"Well, I'm not going inside the store." Dean said, falling back into his seat.
"What, why not?" Sam asked. It was just a line; it wasn't like he had an untreatable, face-deforming gash.
"I don't expect a nerd like you to understand, Sammy, but there might be a chick in there." Dean explained slowly.
"So?" Sam said, he still didn't see the problem. The pink line was fading anyway.
Dean sighed and shook his head superiorly (he'd been doing that a lot to Sam lately).
"You really are a dork." Dean mumbled. His younger brother scowled. "Just go in the store, Sam. I'm not hungry anyway."
"Fine." Sam said. "Then you can pump the gas."
Sam exited the car and walked into the convenient store. It was completely deserted excluding the strange-looking clerk behind the counter. The man was a mixture of trailer trash and cowboy in Sam's perspective, but he chose to ignore the clerk, who was currently reading a newspaper and chewing loudly on some gum, and walked over to the snack aisle.
Sam looked through the aisles twice but didn't find anything that looked very appetizing. He thought he was hungry in the car, he still was actually, but chips and candy could only be eaten so many times. The young man made his way over to the "real food" section of the store, the part of the store that's supposed to hold dinner-replaceable items but actually contains worse processed junk than the chips.
It was either this or chips though and Sam was hankering a hot dog now. He found the wieners on the rolling cooker. They looked a little discolored, almost as if they had been there for some time.
Food is food though, Sam simplified, taking up the plastic tongs and seizing a dog that didn't look too badly tarnished. He placed it on a nearby bun and added the newly made hot dog onto a cardboard carton. He picked up some various condiments from the drink stand and dispensed himself a Dr. Pepper while he was there.
Sam walked over to the clerk, placing the carton of "real food" on the counter to fish for his wallet in his back pocket. The man grudgingly left his newspaper and charged up all of the young man's items.
"Five bucks," the man said plainly. Sam raised an eyebrow. The register that was facing him blared in green, digital numbers "$3.56."
"What! You expect to cheat me into paying you five bucks for this crusty, old hotdog?" Sam asked incredulously, motioning at the, if possible, staler looking wiener.
The man had a weird glint in his eye that made Sam uneasy.
Sam slowly pulled out his wallet and handed a five-dollar bill to the clerk. To his utter surprise, the man gave him change. The young man went to grab for the bill and coins but was stopped by the man's firmness of grip.
"This is only because you called me a cheater." The clerk said in a slight western accent. "Jerry Sanders ain't a cheater."
Sam slowly grabbed the change and pushed it into his front pocket. Why'd he try to take my money than? He thought curiously, making his way out the glass doors with his carton of chow.
Dean watched Sam from the car, carrying a cardboard tray. He switched his view to the gas pump that was inserted in his Impala and pressed the trigger a few more times. He let out an irritated sigh and rounded on his brother.
"Ever think about putting the money for the gas in while you were getting your snacks?" Dean asked, staring daggers at Sam's food.
Sam gulped a little. Oops. The young man had been so weirded out by the man at the counter he had forgotten to ask for the gas money.
"If it makes you feel any better, there isn't a hot chick in there like you were dreading." Sam said, a little smile on his face.
Dean shook his head and stared quizzically at his brother.
"God, you're… an idiot." Dean said. "I'll do it myself." He said quickly, taking Sam's wallet out of his front jeans pocket since his brother's hands were full. "Using your cash, by the way." Dean said, waving the brown wallet behind him and limping towards the door.
"Thanks for asking," Sam said quietly, shaking his head as he got into the drivers side.
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Dean walked into the abandoned-looking store and made his way towards the counter. He picked up a pack of peanut M&M's on his way and slapped them on the counter.
"30 on number…" He looked back at where his car was parked. His beloved possession sat next to the single, lone pump on the grounds. "…One."
The man glared at the handsome looking man. So, the young man from before sent in his brother to take care of me, eh? The man thought snidely, noticing the similar features (A/N: I know Jensen and Jared look nothing alike, but let's just assume, for the sake of the story, they do.) This guy doesn't look so tough. I can take care oh him, oh yes…
The man took the proffered money from Dean, a small, nasty smile forming on his face. Dean gave him a sort of awkward look before accepting the change from his fifty.
"The second animal you see, will be like a bee, when its hive has been knocked from a tree." The man recited in a mystical tone.
The little rhyme really freaked Dean out. Not only was it horribly stupid but it was also extremely vague. What was this guy's deal? What did gas have any thing to do with bees? Dean nodded slowly.
"Okaay, thank you for that interesting poem, Mr…" he read the man's nametag, "Jerry."
Dean hurriedly left the store, sending uncertain glances at the strange man.
The older brother arrived back at the car, pumped the gas in the car at a speed that a racer's pit stop worker could boast of, and hopped into the vehicle.
In the car, he found Sam eating a gross excuse for a hot dog. He ignored the bizarre food item and started discussing the man in the store.
"I think we should start driving far away from this place right now. That crazy redneck could send some of his trailer buddies and what would we do then, Sammy, huh? Who in all of history has ever escaped a trailer shark-circling? Nobody, that's who," Dean said quickly. He wasn't one to get hyped up over trifling things such as crazy convenient store crackpots but this guy was different somehow… Crackpottier.
"Let me just finish my hot dog then I can start driving," Sam said, wiping his hand on his crumpled napkin.
"How can you eat such a thing anyway (with your eyes open, for that matter)?" Dean asked, staring skeptically at what was left of Sam's hotdog. "It looks like some one took their barf and wrapped it up in a pig skin so mindless weirdos like you would eat it and die."
Sam just shook his head and ate the rest of the food.
"Food is food, my friend." Sam said simply.
"That's a stupid way to reason." Dean pointed out. "I'm food to certain people but you don't see me griping that stupid motto and chewing on my foot."
Sam smiled at that. Okay, maybe it was a little stupid, especially for some one that wasn't all that hungry, but he liked the hot dog (for the most part, until Dean gave him the grotesque visual).
The younger man started up the car and peeled out of the still barren gas station. It was night now and Dean could see all of the stars from his position by the passenger window. That was one thing that the young man could never get tired of in his car, staring at the stars. Well, there was that and giving Sam a heart attack by pulling on the steering wheel.
Dean suddenly tugged on the steering wheel that Sam was gripping loosely. The car jerked off the road a little, causing Sam to yelp. He made it straight once again and let out heavy breaths.
"Dean," He roared, staring fiercely at his brother for a moment before putting them back untrustingly on the highway. "I told you to never do that again! It gives me a heart attack."
"That's why I do it." Dean said as if it was common sense. "Once you stop having the heart attacks that's when I will stop pulling the steering wheel."
"I thought you said you loved this car." Sam mumbled.
Dean gasped loudly.
"Never question the love." The young man replied slowly.
Sam rolled his eyes but found that was a bad move right away. The sudden jerk of the car caused his stomach to do a 360, which wasn't a good thing when his stomach was already feeling like crap the moment they pulled out of the gas station. The younger brother clutched at his stomach as it let out another tremor of pain.
"Agh," Sam wheezed.
Dean looked back suddenly from his gazing at the stars.
"What is it man?" Dean asked, brotherly mode kicking in as he saw that his sibling was in pain.
"My stomach…" Sam breathed. His abdomen was aching now, like it had grown too big for its space and was moving its way up his throat. Acid tasting vomit could already be tasted in Sam's mouth at this point.
"Look, let's pull over at the next motel. We're already in Montana so we can just keep moving tomorrow." Dean planned.
Sam nodded, still gripping his stomach as well as the steering wheel. Two of the longest minutes of Sam's life passed until they found an inn on the side of the road. It was dark so neither of the brothers could make out the actual description of the place. The 'V' in the vacancy sign was flashing its close death and the front porch light was on. A few cars sprinkled the small, gravel parking lot and a barn-looking silhouette could be seen in the moon light.
"Maybe if we're lucky they'll have horses we can ride here!" Dean said, a smile had grown on his face since the sight of the barn became clear.
Sam just grunted and parked the car next to a rusty blue pickup.
"Ew, I can't believe my car's beauty is going to be shadowed by this hick's truck," Dean complained, staring at the broken down vehicle in repulsion. "Park it somewhere else, Sammy."
Sam speared Dean with a death glare and the young man changed his mind suddenly.
"Fine, then get out so I can get us a room."
Sam exited the vehicle and made his way with a slowly towards the door. He was almost there before he stopped at the steps leading to the door and emptied his stomachs contents.
Dean stared in disgust with a small mixture of concern at his heaving brother.
Sam opened his eyes in relief. His stomach felt a million times better. When he opened his eyes he was met with the site of a raccoon with barf all over it. The animal had a crazy look in its eye as it started hissing menacingly at Sam.
"What's that noise?" Dean wondered, looking around.
"Nothing," Sam said, turning around suddenly, a supposedly innocent look on his face.
Dean followed the hissing to where Sam was and, after a little pushing, found the angry, throw up-covered raccoon. He stifled a laugh and played shock.
"I can't believe you would hate an innocent animal so greatly that you would plot to vomit on it, Sam." Dean shook his head ashamed.
"I didn't plan it, Dean, you know that." Sam said.
"I don't know anything anymore. My brother has adopted a heart of darkness towards animals. It's a shame his brain couldn't come up with anything more creative then barfing on his enemy though…" Dean mumbled loud enough for Sam to hear.
The door of the inn creaked open, causing both boys to look up from their banter. A hefty lady in a pink robe and matching slippers stepped out. She had an ugly face but it had a kind look to it.
"Did you two need anything?" She asked sweetly, a confused expression on her face.
Sam suddenly started barfing in the bush again, answering her question.
"A room please," Dean said after staring at Sam's tall form hauling up more junk. The lady nodded.
"What's wrong with him?" she asked, referring to Sam who was still barfing in her trimmed bushes.
"Oh he's just sick of all his evil intentions," Dean said, receiving a quizzical expression from the lady. "He'll be fine though, don't worry."
The woman nodded uncertainly and walked back into the building.
Sam finished moments later and wiped his mouth of some excess spit.
"I am never trusting convenient store food again," Sam said, rubbing his eyes of their tiredness.
"Especially ones with spell casting freaks," Dean mumbled. He wouldn't admit he still had a squint of worry from the man at the gas station.
"What?" Sam asked, looking at his brother.
"Nothing." Dean said simply, walking into the motel.
A/N: I seriously won't have the incentive to continue without a few reviews. Please drop me one! Thank you!