Rain, Rain
I
"God, Dean. Can this town get any creepier?" Sam muttered under his breath, peering out of the window with unease. He rolled his tongue over the roof of his mouth, finding it dry from not talking. Dean had pissed him off, sending Sam into an immediate period of 'no talking'.
"I win!" Dean threw his fist in the air, gaped at Sam and laughed. Sam simply rolled his eyes, waiting for an explanation that was sure to come.
"What, Dean?"
"The quiet game!" Dean's eyes were wild with excitement.
Sam stared at Dean, mouth ajar, finally crying out, "What are you, five?"
Dean became serious once more, eyeing Sam up with mock disgust. "Did you put your underwear on the wrong way again?"
Sam sighed gently, the breeze from the open window ruffling his hair. This was going to be fun.
II
He was standing outside, wearily pitying himself over how crappy his day was going. This was not the first time Dean had gotten pissed and left him to find his own way to their newest destination. On foot.
The Impala had sent a billow of dusty smoke his way, making him cough lightly, patting it away with his free hand. He was pretty ticked off. Dean had done this numerous times. He checked his cell phone. It had been an hour. Dean had neither picked up his calls, nor called Sam himself. Apparently, he was more pissed than Sam thought.
He supposed that somewhere, in the way, way, far back corner, desolate and secluded, he could understand. He had been kind of pissy lately. He was a little on-edge and irritated. But, it wasn't Dean's fault. Maybe he could have made it a tad more obvious that there were other reasons for Sam's behavior.
But Dean would not care that Sam had been thinking lately of throwing in the towel. He was not one to give up, but maybe Dean and Sam had deserved to live normal lives. It wasn't even the prospect of quitting completely, because he knew that demons would follow them anywhere, now that they had been exposed to this other life, but they didn't have to chase after the demons, didn't have to research until a strange case came up.
Sure, he wanted to help people. But this hunting crap was starting to get to him. He had other worries, though. How was he supposed to get home? How was he even going to figure out where Dean was? God. Why couldn't Dean just suck it up, take him to the motel, and then ditch him for the rest of the night. He didn't have to leave him here. Nightfall was coming.
He picked up his duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and trudged down the highway, tripping over his own two feet.
III
"Dean?" Sam called into the receiver, shouting his name several times. It was the third voicemail he had left, and there was still no answer. He was starting to get very very agitated.
He sighed and gave up, closing the cell phone and slipping it into his pocket. A small car rolled up next to him, and Sam took a step back, feeling awkward.
"Need a lift?" A man called over the passenger seat. He was creepy looking. Dark hair, thin lips curled greedily into a faint smile, cigarette dangling, eyes shooting poison through the pupils.
"Nah, I'm good." Sam smiled weakly. "Thanks, though." He added.
The man seemed hesitant to leave. Before he drove off, he saw a faint flicker of fire dance through the honey brown color of his eyes. Something was not right with that man.
He shook it off. It was nothing. There were tons of creeps all over the world. He didn't have to wig out every time he saw something that wasn't quite perfect. The vibrating caught his attention.
"'Bout time you called, jerk." He practically whined into the phone.
"Shut up, bitch. You're lucky I didn't leave your ass back in Florida." Dean barked. Sam flinched, practically feeling Dean's watchful gaze on him.
"Where are you, Dean?" Sam sighed lightly, eager to get to the motel.
"Oh, quite your whining, Samantha. I'm coming to pick you up now. Haven't walked much, have you?" Dean mimicked.
Sam shook his head, clenching his teeth at the phone. He looked back, finding that Dean was right. He hadn't walked much.
He closed the phone without saying bye. He better hurry. He wasn't sitting here for another hour. It was getting a little chilly. He shivered as more cars drove past him, sending the cool wind in a spiral around his body.
IV
Sam sat down on the side of the road, crossing his legs and cradling his duffel to his chest. He had been waiting for twenty minutes, still as anxious as he was...well, an hour and twenty minutes ago.
Shouting interrupted his train of thought.
He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide with mixed emotions. A man was standing there, gun in his hand. He had parked his car a few hundred yards from Sam. He shook the gun, mumbling strange things to himself. Sam could not hear him from this distance. Another man entered the picture. He also had a gun. Sam's stomach churned with recognition. The man who had offered him a ride. Surely, criminals had better things to do than pick up hitchhikers.
"Hey! Did I say you could talk!?" The ride guy screamed. He shook his head back and forth. The other man dropped his gun in an instant. Sam was shocked that no cars had stopped. He tried to picture himself in the Impala with Dean. What would they have done?
The gunman stood his ground. The screaming and arguing went on for several more minutes and Sam turned his back to the scene. For a few moments, all was quiet. But Sam flinched quite severely when a gunshot rang through the highway silence. He killed him. Sam muttered silently. He was afraid to turn.
His brain stopped working when he did.
The man was hovering above him. While Sam had been discussing this occurence with himself, the man had made his way over to Sam. And now he was too afraid to do anything. He weighed his options.
There was no use in calling Dean. He was on his way as it is. If he called the police, they would arrive no faster than Dean would. If he ran, well, he would surely get shot. But, where else was he supposed to go?
He saw the glorious Impala cruise up to Sam, but stop suddenly when Dean noted the gunman, very close to Sam's body. Too close. Dean stared wide-eyed at the scene.
For a split second, Sam wanted to turn and try to knock the gun out of the man's hand. But, he simply could not do that. He had to just...walk away. Maybe if he did not say anything to the man, he would do nothing in return.
But as Sam went to turn, the man had assumed he was running away. So, he shot him.
That split second changed everything.
V
Sam felt the heat before he felt the pain. It was an odd sensation, feeling the heated metal ripple through his body, tearing through muscle, bone, and raw flesh. It grazed him just below his kidneys, soaring through the abdominal and lower back tissue. Dean forced his way out of the Impala almost in slow motion, the event splaying out in reverse. Time stopped.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Sam fell almost elegantly on the asphalt. The gunman ran. He did what anybody else would do.
He did not feel the intense pain that he had been expecting he would. Dean's hands were on the side of Sam's. He hovered above him, glowing slightly from the lights along the highway.
"D..ean..." Sam croaked out. He sounded much weaker than he felt. Of course, the gunshot wound stung like a bitch, and he was sure he'd feel the full effect of it tomorrow morning, but he really just wanted to sleep. The bullet had went right through him. It was kind of gross.
"No...h-hospitals." Dean chomped down on his bottom lip. He had to take Sam to a hospital. There was no way he was going to...
"Please." Ah, but how could he ignore that honeysuckle voice? He knew Sam would be even more pissed at Dean than vice-versa just hours before.
"Hey. I'll take you to the motel. But, if I feel like you need to go to the hospital, that's exactly where you'll be heading. Okay, Sasquatch?" Dean forced a smile, lifting Sam up gently.
It was harder than he made it seem. Sam was not cooperating in the 'distribute your weight' department, and Dean found it to be quite the struggle to carry Sam while he was breathing heavily and clamping his hand down on his wound.
"Wanna help me here, tubby?" Dean groaned. "Not as easy as it looks." He moaned through a husky voice.
Sam cried out with relief as Dean eased him into the passenger side of the Impala. Dean immediately gave Sam his jacket, wrapping it gingerly around his lower torso before Sam leaned against the back of the seat. He winked at him.
"Sorry, no blood on my interior."
TBC...