A sliver of early morning sunlight reaches across a dark blue carpet from curtains that hadn't been fully drawn over the south-facing plate glass door. Sam is sprawled in his bed, long hair in disarray above his white v-neck t-shirt. His blanket covers him to his waist aside from one bare foot sticking out. Ssshink! Dean opens the curtains with a grand motion and settles his hands on his hips as he takes in the scenery. His black t-shirt clashes with the green swimming trunks splashed with large, white hibiscus flowers.
The widening of the curtains spreads the sunlight across Sam's face, waking him. He throws the back of his left hand to his eyes, shielding them from the sudden onslaught of light, and lifts his head, squinting at Dean's silhouette at the window. He drops back with a slight groan.
"Dean, what the hell? Since when are you ever up before me?"
Dean doesn't answer. It takes a moment for this to register to Sam. He lowers his arm and blinks at Dean's back. After a minute, he sweeps the blanket back and swings his feet to the floor. His black sleeping pants, which had ridden up almost to his knees as he slept, shift back down to his ankles as he stands up and quietly pads across the lush carpet to join his brother at the window. The sun hasn't finished rising. A blush of pink and orange fans across the sky from the east, spreading fingers of color through wisps of clouds until darkening to the edge of blue to the west. Under it all is an undisturbed view of sugar white sand and lines of emerald and turquoise water. The surf is gentle this morning, small waves of foam lapping the sand as the tide rises.
"So..." Dean's voice is hushed. "This is it."
Sam nods silently. He, too, is taken by the beauty of the coast. They stand at the door for several more minutes before Dean breaks the spell with a clap of his hands. "Alright!" He turns to Sam with a sparkle in his light green eyes and a pleased grin. "We need breakfast and supplies. Towels, sunscreen, maybe a frisbee. I'll go pick that up while you get dressed." As he talks, he walks across to the other side of the room, grabbing his keys from the tv stand, and opens the north-facing front door. He stops in his tracks, the smile fading from his face. "Sammy?"
Sam, who had turned back to face the beach, looks over his shoulder. "What?"
"Where the hell is my car?"
"What?"
"Where. The hell. Is my car? I parked right here in front of this door!" Dean steps out to the walkway that separates the rooms from the parking lot, casting his eyes from one end of the lot to the other and coming back to the empty space before him. "No. NO! Dammit!"
"Good mornin', Dean." A deep voice whips Dean around to face the bench next to his hotel room door. There sits a very large, physically imposing man. His chocolatey skin bulges with muscles. Slightly squinted dark brown eyes regard him over a broad nose and friendly smile. There doesn't appear to be any hair on him aside from his eyebrows and lashes, though with the fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, it is hard to be certain. The stranger gestures to a large wagon sitting next to the bench and speaks again with his bass timbre. "I got us some things I thought you'd want. Cooler o' beer. Towels. Foldin' beach chairs. Doughnuts and coffee for breakfast." He leans forward, pressing his forearms to the towel across his thighs, to get a better look at Sam, who has appeared in the doorway. "Even got a green smoothie for our healthy boy over there."
Defensive and angry, Dean flexes his hands. "Who the hell are you?"
The stranger's smile deepens as he straightens back up to look again at Dean. "I don't s'ppose I really have a name. You've just always called me Baby."
