Hey guys... how are you...?
Wow... I'm writing again... It's been a while.
Okay... the story sets in the 2. Season, right after Bloodlust... yeaaaaaaaaaaah good old times. :)
So... have fun.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Horrifying Vacation
"Sam... I'm waiting..." Dean snorted, drumming against the wheel with impatient fingers.
For once there was no music blaring in the car... Nothing, but silence.
"Yeah... wait a second longer." Sam murmured, not really daring to say it out loud, but loud enough to be heard. He eyed his brother briefly, who just tightened his jaw. "Okay... we're... damn it..." He cursed, running his hand through his hair and turned around to watch the missed street pass by. Yeah... goodbye, street... hello, new reason to argue.
"What?" Dean asked sharply. "We've already gone too far?"
"NO..." Sam defended himself, turning the map on his lap around. It felt like walking on eggs just talking to his older brother. "No... we just could have taken the 'Julia Tuttle Causeway' on our right..."
"RIGHT?" Dean snapped.
"No... left... damn it... now look for the 'Mac Arthur Causeway' and then turn left." Sam turned the map again and followed the street with his fingers. A full week on the road with his brother had already taking its toll on the younger man. Driving through the whole country, when Dean behaved like that, was bad, but also eating and sleeping in the Impala was torture. But they had achieved to literally cross the whole country... from Montana to Florida... More specific: Their destination was the Art Deco in Miami Beach... South Beach.
And all that without a single normal conversation... not to mention the things Sam really wanted to talk about. Nothing, besides the usual What-do-you-want-to-eat-tonight-crap or the You-want-me-to-drive-for-a-while-shit.
Last time he had tried to talk to his big brother, Sam ended up with a nice bruise on his cheekbone. Okay... that had been his fault, too... He had been the one who accused Dean to replace their dad with Gordon.
"Okay... now?" Dean asked, unconsciously touching his swollen lip, where Gordon had hit him.
"Just go straight." Sam responded, taking a deep breath. "Okay... you want to go to the hotel first, right?" Taking the lack of an answer as a 'yes', Sam just went on. "Collins Avenue then left. Then... hold on a second." He swallowed hard. "We need a parking lot... or a parking block first."
"Yeah well... I already figured that I can't take the Impala into the hotel room with us." Dean grumbled.
"No Dean... there is no... parking lot at the hotel." Sam braced himself for another anger fest.
After a while of uncomfortable silence Sam looked at his boiling brother. "Washington Avenue... turn left." And Dean did, tires squeaking Sam winced. "16th street left... there is a parking block. We can walk from there."
"Yeah... we could have picked a motel and could have driven right there." Dean mocked.
Sam looked over at his brother again. the first half of this week Dean had been all nice and friendly, still enjoying his car, playing his music... and probably still sorry for that punch. But three days ago he just fell back into his bad-mood-nobody-is-save-around-me-pattern.
It had been the hardest time in the last weeks, since their father's death. Fighting with his brother... or not talking for that matter, had always been hard on Sam, but forced to stay with him 24/7 in one small car, one week long, unable to grieve, had kept him from falling asleep, scared of nightmares.
God... he wanted to cry every time he thought about his dad. But he couldn't, not knowing how Dean would deal with it.
He felt so alone.
And he was so tired of all this... he just wanted to be in a hotel room, laying in a bed, turning on the air-conditioning, so his brother wouldn't hear him, when he had a nightmare. He just hoped that Dean wouldn't want to visit the Ocean Drive tonight.
"Okay... so..." Dean patted the hood of the Impala, passing it. "What's going on around here?"
Sam glared at him for a moment, stretching his sore limbs. The older Winchester was so nice to that damn car. "I don't know... people are dying around here. Sixteen deaths in the last three weeks. Maybe more. All of them were found at the beach of the... Ocean Drive..." Sam bit his lip.
"Who says that it's no human, who's killing the people?" Dean wondered, looking around. It was a nice place, though it was hot like hell, both of the brothers just wearing thin T-Shirts.
"Don't know... Ellen did." Sam shrugged, his right hand in his jeans pocket, where his father's dog tag was hidden safely. Dean had wanted to burn it along with their father. Sam couldn't. He didn't know what to do with it yet, but he rescued it.
"Okay... when that's enough for you... it's enough for me." Dean nodded, offering peace. Sam glanced over, surprised, searching for any signs of sarcasm. But there were none. "Thanks."
After a few minutes of walking in more comfortable silence, they entered their yellow, nice looking hotel and checked in. Uh... look... late guests, we've already thought you'd stand us up.
"You've already reserved rooms, Sam?" Dean asked, when they were in the elevator. "You're sure we're here for a hunt, or are you gonna go to the beach with your new bikini?"
"Damn it Dean... cut me some slack, will ya?" Sam stomped his foot, looking at his brother. He was already tired, sad and miserable, he didn't want to give up the little harmony.
When the older brother turned around to enter the seventh floor, heading to room 711, Sam could hear his brother snicker. "What?" He asked softly, passing the expensive looking mirror and the flowers in front of it. He looked terrible... tired and simply screwed.
He wondered how Dean managed to hide his own lack of sleep. They both knew that they slept equally... nothing.
Opening the room, Dean smiled at his little brother. "You really stomped your foot, Sam..."
The younger man rolled with his eyes. "C'mon Dean" But a ghost of a smile played around his lips, too.
"Very cute Sam..." Dean chuckled. "Very cute. I think you did it the last time when you were three years old."
Watching Dean, Sam let himself fall on the bed next to the window, knowing that Dean wanted the bed on the door.
Dean set his duffle on the bed, after closing the door. "You want to take a nap, before we leave?"
"Dean... no... please... not tonight... okay?" Sam didn't even bother to move a muscle.
"Okay... I'll taking a shower..." Dean nodded, heading for the bathroom. "Then I'll go alone."
Rolling over, Sam laid down on his stomach, his face buried in his arms, holding back tears of frustration, sadness, loneliness and lack of sleep.
He wished his father was alive, yet alone to get his brother back.
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
To be continued. (What a surprise.)
Reviews please :)
