Chapter 2
I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly, do what it takes until I touch the sky and I'll make a wish, Take a chance, Make a change - Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway
One thing they can never tell you enough, Cas thought miserably to himself as the mid-morning sun beat down incessantly through the windshield of the car, is just how uncomfortable it is driving south in the middle of summer, and yet still you never quite grasp it until you've lived and sweated through it yourself. His phone buzzed unhappily behind him, buried deep in the mass of boxes and suitcases piled on the backseat of the tiny and over-stuffed car, likely beyond all hope of retrieval for the time being. A beat-up sign loomed above the car suddenly, the first one that wasn't a road sign that he'd seen in the last hour or so, proclaiming to the world in shabby red and white lettering that was beginning to peel:
WINCHESTER GAS
PREMIUM UNLEADED $3.80
DRINKS SNACKS
NO ATM
NEXT LEFT
A quick glance at the empty water bottle he had bought that morning languishing sadly on the seat next to him, and the decision was a fairly easy one to make. Besides, Cas thought, cheering up a little at the idea, maybe he could make sure he was actually headed in the right direction. The thought of actually speaking to another human being alone seemed to make the heat of the sweltering car a little more bearable as the car swung around the tight left turn into a tiny lane, which led straight up to the forecourt of the rather worse-for-wear looking filling station.
Swinging his legs out of the car, Cas ran his hand through his sticky hair, and spotting a man sitting idly at the counter through the large glass window on the front of the white building in front of him, made his way inside. The man barely looked up as the door swung open and Cas made his way over to the cooler and grabbed two more bottles of water, only looking up to raise an eyebrow at him when the dark-haired man put them down on the counter. He sighed at the halfhearted smile Cas was attempting, and glanced down at the items.
"That's $4.10." he muttered, opening the old looking cash register with a reluctant clanking sound as he glanced up at the clock on the wall behind him. Cas cleared his throat nervously as he handed over the money.
"Am I, er, am I on the right road for Jericho?" he stammered, slightly abashed by the surliness of the man in front of him. "My name is Cas, I'm headed-"
"You're on the interstate, aren't you? I'm sure you can read a map, it's right ahead." Dean snapped back, tossing the change onto the counter and standing up to walk over to the phone on the opposite wall. "What, you want anything else?" he asked, noticing the man was still staring at him. Cas shook his head quickly, dropping his gaze and taking the bottles from the counter. He sidled out back to the car, and sat down heavily in the seat. Pulling out of the court, he looked back in the rear-view at the man in the gas station, who now stood against the wall holding an old wall-mounted phone to his ear and shaking his head animatedly. What on earth was he getting himself into, he wondered, not the first time such a thought had crossed his tired mind in the last 48 hours of traveling.
After finally driving through the tiny high-street that made up the bulk of the 'town' (which Cas was seriously starting to think was a title awarded out of pity by some country town planner to the despondent little place), spending two hours lugging boxes from the car to his Aunt's house up on the hill, calling his aunt to say he'd arrived and forcing some kind of food found in the tiny kitchen down his throat, Cas finally collapsed on the double bed that took up the majority of the bedroom which was not covered in boxes. The heat was not much depleted by the approaching of late afternoon, although thankfully the humidity had eased up a little. He tossed his phone up and down in his hand as he lay, too exhausted to consider returning the three missed calls he had from two of his brothers, and one from his father that he was certainly not in a hurry to return at all if he could help it. Ignoring the loud grandfather clock that ticked annoyingly in the corner of the room, Cas closed his eyes against the slowly dimming light filtering in through the cheap curtains and succumbed to sleep almost immediately, plagued by thoughts of polyester bed sheets and rude, freckled men who glared harshly in the equally harsh sunlight.
This didn't get a lot of views when first published, but i'm enjoying writing it so i'm going to keep on keeping on :) if you did happen to read this, thank you! Please review if you enjoyed it as well, or if you didn't for that matter. Hope you're having a great day.