Disclaimer: I own a computer and a cat with no brain. Kripke et al own Supernatural.

Wrong Century

"That'll teach you to throw furniture at me you friggin' bitch." Dean muttered as he dropped a blazing match into the gaping hole at his feet. Flames sprang to life, illuminating both Dean's face and the face of Sam who was standing on the opposite side of the newly dug up grave. Dean had a black eye and bruising to his jaw not to mention the cuts and a whole new world of bruising on the rest of his body.

"Don't tell me you were leading her on Sammy. Look at you, you're not even crying!" Ever since he'd realised three days ago that the spirit they were pursuing directed all her attacks at him while leaving Sam alone Dean had been implying that she had the hots for Sam and wanted him all to himself.

"Oh, shut up Dean. It's not my fault she preferred using you for target practice!"

Dean chuckled; it was so easy to get a rise out of his brother. He stopped when he saw the glare Sam was directing at him. Sam was sweaty, covered in dirt and, if the way Dean was feeling was any indication, he was exhausted. Probably best to just drop the subject.

The fire eventually burned itself out and the boys filled in the hole as quickly as they could. It had started to rain by the time their current motel came into view, illuminated by the Impala's headlights and the tacky sign that appeared to read 'P NE O D MO L'. Dean scowled at it. They'd spent the better part of a week here and it was far and away the crappiest motel they'd stayed in, which was saying something. If there had been another motel anywhere near Dean would have moved there in a heartbeat. Unfortunately there wasn't so they'd had to just put up with the filthy, insect infested room. Just that morning Dean had found what he was sure was rat shit on the table. He hadn't actually seen any rats but if he had he probably would have bought all the rat traps he could get his hands on despite the fact they were leaving tomorrow. Rats were right up there on Dean's list of hates along with Yellow Eyes and anyone who messed with Sam.

On the upside there was hot water in the shower, which was about the only thing Dean was looking forward to as he eased the Impala into the parking space outside. He would have been looking forward to the bed as well if it wasn't for the fact that the sagging mattress forced his body into something approaching a V shape which was uncomfortable and led to him waking up several times a night. He'd contemplated sleeping on the floor but the questionable cleanliness of the carpet put him off. Apart from the number of insect droppings that were probably in there the mottled colouring suggested that it hadn't always been brown and God only knew what had made it that colour.

"I call first shower!"

"You wanna bet?" They hadn't even reached the door and Sam was already trying to get his paws on the shower. Dean didn't blame him but the fact remained that he was at least as dirty and sticky as his brother and just as eager wash it off.

No sooner had Dean unlocked the door than Sam bolted inside. Dean switched on the light just in time to see his brother disappearing into the bathroom.

"You'd better not use all the hot water in there!" Privately Dean was impressed that Sam had managed to find his clothes at such speed in the dark. He sat down at the table and opened the laptop. He would have had a look at some of the news websites in search of their next case but why on earth would this dump have a wireless internet connection? They'd driven around for ages to find an unsecured wireless network to use just so they could research the case they'd just closed. So Dean settled for playing cards instead. He was up to what must have been something like his millionth game of Hearts; man, that computer was stupid, when Sam emerged from the bathroom.

"Did you get a connection?" he asked hopefully.

"No, but your computer is about as good at cards as you are." There was a click as the bathroom door closed.

"AHH! SHIT!"

"What happened? You ok Sam?" Dean came running out of the bathroom half dressed in response to his brother's yells. There didn't appear to be anything amiss but that didn't mean much. Sam was staring at something directly in front of him and as Dean didn't have x-ray vision he wasn't able to see what it was through Sam's back.

"I just got into bed with a damn rat!" Sam yelped "And the bastard bit me!"

"Where is it now?"

"I don't know, it ran off under the wardrobe when I yelled."

"Where'd it bite you?"

"On my arm." Sam indicated a spot on his left arm.

"I'll go get the first aid kit; we should get that cleaned up."

"Dude, it's just a rat bite."

"Yeah, and God only knows what it might have been doing with its mouth before it got to you. Damn thing was probably licking its own ass. You don't need an infected arm Sam." Dean headed for the door.

"Well at least put some clothes on before you go out there, its freezing. In fact, why don't you shower first and then you can fix my arm?"

Dean considered this for a moment. "Fine, but you'd better still be awake when I finish because we are doing this and I will wake you up if I have to."

***

Dean was up early the next morning. Not only was he eager to be shot of this shithole masquerading as a motel but he'd had an even more restless night than usual. After patching Sam up he'd inspected his own bed very carefully, but knowing that it was a rat free zone at the time he got into it was not enough to stop him imagining that the foul little things had come to call during the night and were crawling all over him. Dean hadn't been intending to say anything, certain that he wouldn't be listened to, but when the manager mentioned that he was glad the room had been to Dean's liking all thoughts of a civil departure went out the window.

"I hope you haven't charged me more than about a dollar for it because that's all I should owe once the rats and cockroaches have put in their share!"

The manager looked deeply offended. Clearly the man was either a very good actor or he had never set foot in any of the rooms he rented out.

"Get out! This is a quality establishment and I won't have you speaking about it like that!"

"You've got an interesting definition of quality old man! This place could make a cardboard box under a bridge look clean!"

"Get out or I'm calling the police!"

Dean opened his mouth to retort but Sam intervened. "We're going, we're going." He grabbed Dean's arm and gently steered his brother out the door.

"What was that for?" Dean demanded as soon as they left the building. It wasn't as if the man hadn't deserved it and everything Dean had said was the truth, even if he had framed his observations in the most derogatory terms he could think of.

"Dean, do you really want to meet the local law enforcement? Why not just call Hendrickson and tell him where we are?"

Dean had to admit that Sam had a very good point. He got into the Impala and started the engine before sparing the motel one last disdainful look.

"Quality establishment my ass!"