Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't be here writing fic… D
Doomed
"Dude, I'm telling you, we're totally screwed." Dean said tightly, his eyes shifting around, trying to assess the danger around them. Sam gave him a long, amused look, which just grated on Dean's nerves. "What, you think I'm kidding with you?"
"I don't know, Dean. I just think you're overreacting." Sam said simply.
"Overreacting my ass." Dean snapped, looking at his younger brother, "Just look at the facts." He said, narrowing his eyes at Sam's blank look. "Don't give me that look, Sammy. We're screwed to hell." He insisted.
"All right," Sam said, raising his hands placately, "fine, whatever."
"Don't whatever me." Dean snapped, "We gotta do something, and quick, or we're ghost food!" Sam, who was looking out the passenger side window, turned, brow raised.
"Ghost food?" he asked, amused. Dean glared at him. "Do ghost even eat?" Sam asked with a smile.
"So not the point here, Sammy." Dean said, and Sam's smile grew wider.
"Just look at the facts!" Dean repeated, looking warily around and slowing the Impala to a stop. Sam frowned.
"Why are you stopping?" Sam asked, seeing as they were the only car on the road, and the light was green. Dean looked at him as if Sam had asked him why demons hated Holy water.
"Dude, red light." He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sam looked again. Still green.
"No, it's green. Yellow." Sam quickly amended.
"Red, see?" Dean asked, pointing at the now red light. Sam gave him a long look.
"You could have made it." He said at last.
"With our luck? Hell no!" Dean cried, "I ain't taking that chance with my baby. You got any idea how difficult it was to get the parts the first time? It's like someone bought all the '67 Impalas in America for a TV show or something!" Dean said, and then smirked, "Must be one hell of a TV show if they needed an Impala though." He added, patting the dashboard lovingly. Sam smiled, shaking his head, and went back to looking out the passenger side window. A moment later the light changed back to green. Dean counted to five before he started driving again, and even then, it was only after he looked both ways to make sure no semi came out of nowhere. Sam shook his head again, rolling his eyes, and turned to his brother.
"Dean,"
"Look at the motel room." Dean cut him off, "Just look at the room they gave us!" Sam frowned, then shrugged.
"It's a great room, Dean." he said.
"Exactly!" Dean said triumphantly, "We stop at a crappy motel at three in the morning, and there's this stupid convention in town, so the place should be booked solid. And it is, except for this suit they just finished building the day we get there. A freaking honeymoon suit, with a fully stocked bar and cable TV. There's a freakin' Jacuzzi in the room!" Sam shrugged again.
"So?" he asked. Dean looked at him like he was insane. Or really really slow.
"So?" Dean repeated (slowly), "So I found a parking space right in front of the room." He said, "So they gave us the room for no extra charge, even though it costs twice as much. So I found a freakin' hundred dollar bill on my pillow instead of a mint, and when I called the desk to tell them, they gave us a freakin' muffin basket!" Dean cried. "And the good kind, too! Didn't even take the money back." Sam had to cover his mouth and work pretty hard not to laugh out loud at the way his brother was getting worked up over this.
"It was kinda nice of them, though." Sam noted, "Though, staying in the honeymoon suit isn't really helping us prove we're not gay. And seriously, the way you flirted with that maid, I have no idea how the desk clerk could think that." He said. Dean glared at him again.
"That's what you're worried about?" Sam shrugged, bobbing his head in a yes-no motion. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Dude, you're sick." Sam laughed, but covered it with a cough at the deadly glare Dean was sending his way. "What about the job?" Dean pushed.
"What about the job?" Sam asked.
"People called us. They invited us." Dean noted. Sam tilted his head to the side.
"Well, technically, they called Dad. There's still that voicemail saying to call you." he noted.
"Man, are you seriously trying to pretend it's not messed up?" Dean asked irritably, "They called us. Told us what we're dealing with. Gave us the freaking keys to their house!" Dean said, his voice getting louder and louder, "And, let's not forget, they're paying us!"
"That's a nice change of pace." Sam admitted.
"Twenty five hundred bucks, Sam. Plus expenses." Dean muttered through gritted teeth.
"And those twin girls they had, gotta admit, they were hot." Sam said, and Dean nearly lost control of the car.
"We are so totally, completely screwed." He muttered, and Sam worked hard to hide his smile.
"Dude, you gotta chill. Lighten up." Sam said. Dean gave him a long look.
"See? That's what I'm saying!" he said. Sam frowned, raising his brows, having no idea what Dean was talking about.
"You, saying chicks are hot. You, telling me to lighten up. It's 'the end of the world' material, Sammy. We're doomed." At that, Sam did laugh out loud.
"Dean, seriously man, you're insane."
"Oh, yeah? Let's see you say that after we get hit by a meteorite or something." Dean muttered under his breath, slowing down as they got closer to traffic. And by traffic, I mean one other car on the deserted road.
"Well, the hunt went well." Sam noted. Dean huffed. "What?" Sam asked, "It did." Dean glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
"Sure it did." He said. Sam turned to look at him.
"Dean, it was the simplest salt and burn in the history of salt and burns." He said.
"Exactly." Dean snapped, "You didn't get choked, I didn't get hit by a wall or six. I mean, the worst thing that happened tonight was that there wasn't enough milk for the cookies they left us!" he said heatedly. Sam just stared at him for a moment, before laughing again.
"Man, you're weird." He said dismissively.
"Laugh it up, Vision Boy, but I'm not taking any chances. We're heading out to Bobby's first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe he'll know what to do."
"About what, Dean? For once in our lives, we're having some good luck." Sam said, "If anything, I think it's way overdue."
"Exactly!" Dean said triumphantly. Sam glanced at him. "We're Winchesters! We don't have luck." Dean said, then cocked his head to the side, "Or if we do, it's bad luck." He added, and then glanced at his brother. "We don't have good luck, Sammy, we just… don't."
"Would you stop it?" Sam said, "Stop looking a gift horse in the mouth."
"Yeah, I bet that's what the Trojans said, too." Dean shot back. "First thing we do once we get back in the room is a cleansing ritual." Sam shook his head.
"You do whatever you want to do, I'm gonna go to bed."
"Sam, you really should be taking this more seriously, man, or you'll end up waking up with antlers or something." Dean said, and Sam couldn't help but laugh.
"Antler?" he asked, "Seriously?"
"What?"
"That the best you could do?" Dean glowered at Sam again.
"Whatever." He said.
"Dean, you need to relax, okay? Nothing bad is going…"
"Not listening!" Dean shouted, cutting Sam off, and turning the radio on.
"Dean," Sam tried again.
"Can't hear you, Sammy. Music's too loud." Dean said.
"Dude, what are you, seven?" Sam asked. Dean ignored him.
"All I know is, I ain't taking no risks." He said a moment later.
"Yeah, you're insane, that's what you are. Knocked your head against one closet too many." Sam said with a smirk. Dean glowered at him.
"Whatever. You'll see. All this? This is just the eye of the storm. This is just lulling us to a false sense of security before we spontaneously combust or something." He said. Sam laughed and Dean turned the car, slowing to a stop just in front of their motel room. He gave Sam a look that said, 'see? I was right.'
"What?" Sam asked.
"We've been gone for five hours." Dean said, "Five hours, Sam. There're cars jamming the street, parking on the sidewalk. The parking lot's packed, and still no one parked in this spot? Right in front of our room?"
"Maybe someone just left." Sam shrugged.
"At three in the morning?" Dean asked dryly.
"Could happen." Sam said, unfolding himself as he got out of the car and stretched. "We do it." He added a moment later as the brothers made their way to their room. Dean ignored him, muttering something to himself. Sam ignored it at first, until he realized what Dean was saying.
"Dude, are you reciting Latin?" Sam said, sounding a little more shocked than he'd meant. Dean just glared at him and kept on muttering. Sam had to work hard to suppress his smile.
They climbed the steps leading to their room, Dean holding onto the rail and treading carefully on each step. Sam just rolled his eyes, going past him. Until he reached the door.
The unlocked door.
The previously not unlocked door.
Stiffening, Sam motioned to Dean, reaching for his weapon. Dean gave him an 'I told you so' look, as he, too, reached for his gun. Sam covered the door, nodding to Dean, who jerked it open.
"Oh, Mister Travis," the startled elderly night manager blinked at Dean, who quickly hid his gun, taking a quick look of the room.
The flooded room.
"Oh, man!" Or at least, Sam's side of the room was flooded.
"I'm so sorry," the manager looked sheepish. "It seemed there was this little electric thingy earlier and the mini fridge got busted. Looks like it defrosted." The manager smiled stupidly.
"You think?" Sam grunted, pushing around Dean and over to his side of the room. His wet side of the room. His duffle bag was totally soaked. Plus, it looked… emptier than it did a few hours ago. A lot emptier. "What the…?"
"Oh," the night manager smiled again, blushing. "Well, we felt so sorry about the mess here, that we decided to make it up for you." he said. Sam frowned.
"Make it up, how?" Sam asked suspiciously as Dean searched around the room. The manager started tweaking around with his tie.
"Well, uh, you see, we… uh… we have this special service, for uh… for our uh… special guests." He muttered, and Sam's blood pressure went up a notch.
"A special service? As in…?" he motioned with his hand, and then Dean snorted and started laughing. Sam turned to look at him.
"Told you you should've taken it more seriously." Dean said, still laughing, and pointed at his own bed. His messy bed, but that wasn't anything new. What was new, was the two piles of clothes. The two large piles of clothes, that contained pretty much everything the boys owned.
"Well, we have this laundry service." The manager said, "Now, usually we charge for it, but we thought, seeing as how your room got all messy…"
"What did you do!" Sam cried as he finally realized why his brother was laughing. The manager wiped his brow with a folded handkerchief.
"Well, it seemed someone uh… someone forgot a certain article of clothing in the washer…" the old man flushed to the tips of his ears. Dean was picking at Sam's pile of clothes – at Sam's thoroughly pink pile of clothes, and then started laughing even harder.
"Hey, since when do you wear these, little brother?" he asked, laughing so hard he was crying, "Anything you want to tell me?" Dean asked, waving around a bright red pushup bra.
"Ah, yes. We were looking for that," the manager said, flush deepening as he took the undergarment from Dean.
"All my clothes are pink!" Sam cried.
"Well, yes." The manager said, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry about that. We'll make it up to you…"
"No!" Sam said quickly, and then smiled uncomfortably, "No, that won't be necessary. We're leaving." Sam said, giving Dean a pointed look.
"We are?" Dean said.
"Yes, we are." Sam said, just as the lights went out. And then there was the unmistakable sound of metal hitting metal. Dean cursed, running out of the room.
"Oops, sorry, man." Dean's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he started running.
"Son of a bitch!" he cried.
"Hey, no harm done, it's just a little scratch!"
"Sam! Get your pink stuff packed right now!" Dean said, kneeling down to examine the scratch on the Impala.
"Damn it!" Sam yelped. "Ouch!"
Fifteen minutes later, the brothers were on the road, heading for Bobby's place, with Sam reciting a protection spell in the passenger seat.
"What the hell are you grinning about Dean?" Sam snapped.
"Told you we're doomed." Dean said, smirking.
The End
A/N: Hope that made you smile. It's just a little something I wrote till the alerts go back up and I can post what I really want to post... Reviews? Oh, that'll be great, thanks.