This is a crack tag to Simon Said. Dean kept Moby Dick's Bong and yes, Jo is a ho. You will think I was smoking the bong after this one. Lots of Dean angst. Why? I wouldn't have it any other way.
"That offer is still open," Ellen said to Sam as she ran the rag across the surface of the bar, motioning with her free hand behind her. "There are fresh sheets on the cots and I can have Jo rustle you up a few blankets." She eyed a very exhausted looking Sam up.
Sam sat slouched at a bar stool, his elbows propped up on the bar, one hand extending up to support the weight of his head. He leaned up and rubbed at his half closed eyes, wishing like hell the throbbing in his head would seize. The visions were no doubtfully taking their toll on the young man.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat, "I appreciate the offer, Ellen, but I'm sure Dean would rather head back to the motel in town." He squinted a few times looking around the smoky roadhouse for said brother.
"I really do insist," the pushy older woman replied, "you look like you'd fall asleep at the wheel anyway and I've served Dean far too many whiskey shots tonight to allow him to drive out of here."
Sam weakly smiled at her. "Yeah, okay, well thanks for the offer. I'm just going to leave it up to Dean." He looked around again, "Speaking of Dean, have you seen him?"
Ellen smiled at Sam, "I think he's in back with Ash."
Sam looked at her a bit surprised. Was Dean bonding with Ash? He had done nothing but crack fun at the mullet haired hippie. Perhaps all that whiskey running through Dean's system had him bonding with Dr. Bad Ass...
"You know what, maybe I will take you up on that offer," Sam lazily stood from the bar and stretched his tired muscles.
"Good," Ellen was pleased. "Just head straight back, it's the last door on the right. I cook a mean breakfast."
"Appreciate it," Sam nodded at her, picking up his glass he finished off the rest of the beer he had been nursing the past hour, setting the glass back down he reached for his back pocket.
"Your money is no good here," Ellen smiled at him. "Get some rest, Sam."
He nodded at her again with thanks and headed for the back room. Sleep sounded oh so good. He would sleep for 24 hours straight if no one interrupted him.
As he walked down the narrow hallway towards the back room, he could already hear his brother's big mouth. He could already tell by the way Dean was talking he was buzzing high on the booze. "Freaking great," he mumbled, "so much for a good peaceful night's rest." He noted the last door in the hallway was only two down from Ash's room and wondered how long his brother would be carrying on tonight. He stopped at the door when a funny smell hit his nostrils. He took a few big whiffs then looked down at the steady stream of smoke coming from the crack at the bottom of the door. "Is that?"
"Come on, man, I wanna suck on Moby's Dick again," he heard Ash say, Dean's hysterical laughter following after.
"What the hell?" He pounded a few times on the door.
"Oh shit man, Ellen will kick my ass if she knows I'm smoking back here," Ash whispered, not so quietly. "Here man, you gotta hide it!"
Dean began laughing hysterically again. "Hide it where? In my pants? You know how hard it was to get that thing in here?"
Sam shook his head in disbelief. He pounded on the door again, this time as hard as he could. "Dean? Are you in there?"
Like he didn't already know.
"Um... no, no I'm not," Dean replied back, snorting out loud.
"Dean, open the door, damn it," he said, feeling anger rise in him. He twisted the knob to find it was unlocked and helped himself, opening the door wide. "Dean? What the hell are you doing?" Sam looked at his brother in astonishment. Dean was sitting on Ash's floor with a big glass bong between his legs, the biggest most shit eating grin he'd ever seen Dean wear plastered across his face.
"Hey Sammmmy," Dean slurred. He didn't even try to hide what he was doing.
"Dean," Sam pointed his casted hand at his brother, "is that Andy's bong? You STOLE Andy's bong?" Sam was at loss for words. Not to mention Dean was smoking something toxic out of it!
"No, dude, it's Moby Dick's bong," Dean laughed, lighting up the bong again.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, DEAN?"
Dean held his finger out motioning just a minute, holding in the smoke for a few moments he then released, a gravely cough following. "That shit burns," Dean choked on the strong thick smoke.
"DEAN!"
"He stole my baby, Sam, it's only right!"
"You know what, forget that you STOLE the bong, I can't believe YOU are smoking weed," Sam accused. "I know what this is!"
Dean rolled his blood shot eyes. "Oh God, here we go again."
"I know you are upset about dad's death. Don't think I haven't noticed you hitting the bottle pretty hard lately, now you are doing drugs? Dean this isn't going to bring dad back! This isn't going to help matters!"
Dean smirked at Sam as he passed Moby Dick's bong back to Ash.
"Oh this isn't just weed. This shit is laced," Ash laughed, taking a big hit off the bong, the cherry still a fire from Dean's inhale. "Couple more hits of this Dean may just see John, hell he'll be floating high in the clouds with Jesus himself," Ash laughed.
Oddly, Dean laughed at the comment... hysterically.
"That shit isn't funny!" Sam growled at Ash giving his brother a dirty look.
"Sorry," Ash said cooly, "I'm a bit wasted."
Dean's laughter instantly seized, "Oh come Sam, don't go after school spezal on me."
"Whatever, Dean, I'm so pissed off at you right now, I can't even hear you!"
"Sammy..." Dean said, attempting to stand up he swayed a bit. "Whoa... that shit hits hard and fast."
"This is your first time, man? Shit I didn't know... you really should never mix with alcohol, gets you good!" Ash said with sympathy.
Dean's vision started to double, then triple, two Sams, three Sams, four Sams... back down to three...
"Sammmm?"
"Save it Dean! You will get no sympathy from me. Give me your car keys!" He demanded, holding his good hand out.
"Sam I..."
"You are such a freaking jerk, you know that?" Sam advanced on him, leaning down he helped himself to Dean's jacket pocket, Dean not even protesting he held his hands up in surrender, stumbling back a couple steps.
"Chill out buzzkill," Dean said, a look of puzzlement on his face, or was that a look of guilt?
"You chill out, Dean!" Sam yelled, retrieving the keys he tucked them away into his own pocket. "I'm passing out on one of the cots in the back room... if you don't mind toning it down a little, I could use a good night's rest!"
"Ohhhhhh Kkkkkkkk," Dean replied, closing his eyes at the wave of nausea that now hit him like a truck.
Sam slammed the door on his way out, knocking Ash's Dr. Bad Ass sign off the door. He didn't care. He was super pissed off now and doubted he would be able to sleep. He entered the back room, the light already on, noting there were already neatly folded blankets on the end of each cot. He slammed the door closed with his foot, ripping his coat off in frustration, he tossed it carelessly to the floor, eased down on the nearest cot he began to one by one remove his shoes.
That's when it hit him... another vision. "Not... again," Sam hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose he began to moan in pain.
Jo bent over a keg of beer in the roadhouse storage room. Jo taking it up the ass by a well built, hick looking truck driver. His pants down to his ankles... pumping hard and fast.
"You know I'm charging you an extra $5.00 for this, right?" Jo said in her whiny voice.
"Yeah, sure bitch, just say it, I'm about ready to release... come on bitch, say it!"
"Oh Daddy... you are so big! Yes... yes yes..."
The man cried out in orgasm.
Sam's eyes shot wide open, the vision halting.
"Damn... Dean should probably know that Jo is a Ho," he whispered, shaking his head with major disgust. It was no secret Sam didn't like the girl. He only had death visions though... what an odd vision. Or perhaps he had a contact buzz from his annoying older brother.
"I'd warn Dean if he wasn't a freaking jerk," he mumbled, standing he stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, took two steps over to the light switch and turned it off.
He stretched out on the squeaky cot finding a comfortable position. All the noise seemed to drowned out and he had just drifted into sleep when the door flew wide open. "Sam? You in here?" Dean stumbled into the small room, not bothering to turn on the light. Sam could hear him slam into the wall a few times, mumbling sonuvoabitch a couple times along with some other slurred garble.
Sam let out a huff of frustration. "DEAN! I'm not in the mood! Can't you find some other room to sleep it off?"
Dean swayed towards the voice, catching his foot on the leg of Sam's cot, he found himself falling forward, tipping the entire cot over both Winchester men found themselves on the hardwood floor.
Sam felt his body land on top of Dean's twisted arm, even heard a slight snap. Dean didn't cry out in pain. Perhaps he was too high and drunk for it to register.
"DEAN!"
"Sorry... don't feel good..." Dean tried a couple times to get off his brother, finally Sam pushed him back and off of him. Dean fell back on his ass with a grunt.
"I'm not dealing with your crap tonight, Dean. Go sleep it off in your car," the younger man ordered.
"Sammm... cold out..." Dean complained, staggering back up.
"GOOD! Maybe you'll sober up a little!" Sam stood, paced back over to the door and flipped the switch back on. He looked at his brother for one second then turned his head to the side. His brother looked way too pale. Hopefully he'd make it outside before he blew chunks. Better yet, hopefully he'd blow them in his precious car. It would serve him right.
"Sammmm?"
"OUT!"
Dean could hardly think straight. His world was spinning on him hard and fast. He didn't even know what he did to anger Sam. "K," was all he could muster, he wasn't in the mood to fight, hell, he just wanted somewhere to rest his head. His baby would do just fine.
He managed to stumble his way down the hall and out the back exit into the cold night.
Fresh air... he needed fresh air...
He stumbled right into the back of an enormous man who was smoking a cigarette. "Watch it you little punk," the man growled, turning to look at Dean.
"Sooorrry," Dean slurred, looking around disoriented. He had never used the back exit and was confused thinking he went out the front. He was scanning the area for his baby. Her leather seats would do him some good about now.
"You," the man growled, "trying to start some shit?" The man dropped his cigarette and stepped on it with his massive boot.
"Me?" Dean looked back at the man, "Nah..."
"Don't think I didn't notice you eyeing up my piece tonight, boy. Anyone ever tell you it's not nice to eye up another man's property?" The man got in Dean's face, pushing him back against the roadhouse door.
"Huh? No..." Dean had no idea what this man was talking about. He did know one thing. He was about to throw up.
"Don't play dumb, it's insulting! I'm talking about Jo... she's my bitch you hear me?" His breath so fowl in Dean's face, he lost it right there. Bending over he threw up all over the man's boots.
"What the? Oh you just sealed your fate tonight, boy," the man stepped back in anger, allowing Dean to fall forward to his hands and knees. He was still heaving when a hard object slammed into the side of his face.
500500500500500
Dean fell on his side still heaving, swallowing some of his own vomit he began to gag. He was too disoriented to ever even defend himself. The much larger man didn't seem to mind kicking him while he was down.
The assault continued with another violent kick to Dean's face. The force of the kick sent him rolling onto his back where he was then kicked hard in the side. "Dumb prick bitch," the man growled, kicking him in the ribs.
Dean groaned and coughed harshly, this time a little vomit mixed with blood from his busted lip trickled down the side of his mouth. Dirt from the ground was caking to his bleeding and vomit soaked face.
"You'll never come back to this bar again, you hear me?" The man shouted, picking Dean up by the lapels of his jacket he slammed him against the side of the building.
Dean was so out of it he couldn't respond. At this point breathing was a task in itself. His eyes just rolled around glossy, pissing the man off even more.
"Do you hear me?" He screamed again, shaking Dean hard, slamming his head against the wall a few times.
A low moan escaped Dean's lips before his eyes rolled into their sockets, his head falling limp, his body lax.
"I hate pretty boys like you, always catching Jo's attention. She's mine she just doesn't realize it yet," he growled, releasing Dean and side stepping, Dean fell forward, contacting the ground with a thud.
"I see you around here again, I will kill you," the man promised, kicking him once more for added emphasis. Dean's body arched up from the kick then fell lax again.
The man lit up another cigarette, took a few drags while staring down at Dean with disgust, then bent down, extinguishing it on the back of Dean's hand. His flesh sizzled and smoked as it was burnt yet Dean didn't even flinch.
The man smirked when an idea formed in his head. He slowly unzipped, pulled out, and pissed all over Dean. He shook it back and forth, soaking Dean's hair, jacket, and jeans. "Ahhhhhh," the man sighed, zipping it back in he wandered away to his semi truck that was in the roadhouse parking lot.
He'd sleep for a while and get up for Ellen's breakfast before venturing out over the road. He was also going to make sure the pretty boy was gone by morning, or his job wasn't finished yet.
Sam winced in his sleep. He rolled over to his back on the uncomfortable cot, wincing again.
Ellen behind the counter of the bar, pouring coffee for some regulars. Ellen's worried eyes trailing over to a corner table.
Jo behind her at the ice machine, dumping excessive amounts of ice cubes into a clean rag, folding it up and hastily walking over to the table.
Ash standing over the table, the hippie looking pissed off for once. "Who would do this?"
"Dean talk to me man," Sam hears his own worried voice.
Jo walking over to the table, Ash moving out of the way for a clear view of Dean.
DEAN
He's beaten. Bad. Real bad.
Jo trying to ease the ice over his swollen face.
Dean hissing and moaning in pain, holding his arm protectively against his soiled leather jacket.
A strange voice out of view. "I told you to never come back, pretty boy."
Jo looks horrified. "You did this?"
A gun comes into view.
"I don't appreciate other men looking at you, bitch!"
It fires. Blood sprays the walls of the roadhouse.
Sam screams, "NOOOOOOOO!"
Sam instantly woke up, sitting straight up on the cot. He was drenched with sweat and gasping for oxygen. There was a pulsing agony in his head. One that usually accompanies a vision. He wiped the sweat off his face. Was it a vision? Or just a nightmare? He's was so prone to both.
"Dean?" He calls out into the darkness of the room.
No answer.
"Dean you in here?"
Of course he isn't. Sam told him to get out and sleep elsewhere. He would have heard Dean stumble back in wouldn't he? He jumps off the cot and heads over in the direction of the door, finding the light switch he flicks in on. It takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust.
He looks down at his watch that he never bothered to take off. It's now 5:30 am. Concerned for Dean, he quickly grabs his pants and begins to dress. Dean is surely sound asleep in the Impala, but he has to go check. There is no way he can fall asleep again after that nightmare or vision. He's hoping nightmare but the throbbing in his skull and the feeling in his gut is screaming otherwise.
He walks passed Ash's room and hears nothing. The door is now closed, the Dr. Bad Ass sign already rehung to it. He pauses and hesitates on knocking at this time in the morning. Maybe Dean went back to Ash's room and indulged himself with more booze and drugs. He doesn't hear any voices. Maybe Dr. Feel Good and Dr. Bad Ass passed out?
He'll check out the Impala first.
He's trying to be discrete and decides to take the back exit door. This is their first time being guests overnight and he has no idea what time Ellen and Jo wake up.
Jo. Maybe he spent the night with Jo? For Dean's sake, he better not have. For starters, Jo is a Ho. His vision made that pretty damn clear. Also, if Ellen caught Dean with Jo, Dean would surely be dead.
He opens the back door as quietly as possible, wishing like hell he had his jacket on now. The morning air is nippy. He holds the door open with his foot reaching out for a stick with his long arms. He wedges the stick at the bottom of the door, preventing the door from locking him out.
The second he turns around the sick feeling in his stomach spreads all the way up his throat. "Dean?"
His brother is laying face down in the dirt, looking dead to the world. "Oh God, Dean?" He rushes to his side and bends down, the stench of urine and vomit making him want to gag. For one brief second he curses Dean for being a total idiot. His brother got himself so trashed he puked and pissed himself, passing out outside. The feeling is quickly gone when he notices a huge burn mark on Dean's outstretched hand. Dean's outstretched hand attached to his outstretched arm that is at an odd angle, so odd that even through his beloved leather coat it is clearly broken.
He feels like he's going to vomit now. He heard the snap when Dean knocked him off his cot and he fell on his arm. He should have said something then! He shouldn't have over reacted when his older brother decided he wanted to let loose and experiment. He couldn't help it. Dean was all he had and sometimes he just really torked him.
He then notices blood and dirt caked to the side of his head. "Dean? I swear to you, no more after school specials, no more chick flick moments, no more acting like a girl, just be okay?"
The door behind Sam was kicked open loudly, startling him. He stood and turned fast.
"Hey, whatz with all the ruckus out here?" Ash stepped out, naked, holding Moby Dick's bong tightly in his grasp.