"Damn it!" Dean slammed the door.
"What's wrong?"
"Sam! Seriously?" Dean gritted his teeth, counted to ten, then counted on to twenty. "Just look!"
Sam looked around the motel room, saw nothing out of the ordinary. Yeah, the elephant-patterned bedspreads were a little weird and the walls a color that made him want to puke, but nothing that should set Dean off like this.
"Despicable!" Dean seethed. "I'm gonna take that desk clerk's head off with a chainsaw!"
"Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Eyes bright with fatigue, Dean pointed at the beds. "Pillows, Sam! No freaking pillows!"
