Chapter 3 - Bad Judgment And Wrong Decisions

Dean checked them into the motel with the usual strange looks. He was muttering about how straight he was, not that there was anything wrong with being homosexual, but he was straight and besides, Sammy looked like a girl any way. They put their bags down on the table and Sam laid out the map.

"We've traveled nine and a half hours, Dean, and this is where we got to," Sam didn't know exactly where they'd got to but they were here and their Dad wasn't. Dean sat on the edge of the bed. Sam wrestled with his conscience as his brother flipped through their Dad's journal- which he had left behind- for the millionth time looking for something, clues, nothing in particular. He knew they should have gone right in Boston, but he wasn't sure if he should tell Dean.

The trail would be Elld; maybe he should have just took the right. He remembered the conversation he had in his head last night after John had gone, the one about Dean needing John and how he was going to make this better. He sighed again making Dean lift his head, "What?" Dean looked concerned, "You okay?"

Sam shook his head and Dean got up and walked over to the table Sam was sitting at, "Sam, what is it? Tell me," he said, managing to sound authoritative but gentle at the same time.

"I want to make this better for you Dean, make some of this pain go away," Sam spoke gently, a guilty look appeared in his blue eyes.

Dean looked confused, "What the hell are you talking about Sam?"

"Back in Boston, you know at the motel."

"What? Last night?"

"No, this morning."

"Okay, what?"

"I told you to turn left."

"Sam where's this heading--"

"--We should have gone right--"

"-- how'd you work that out?"

"Everything in my body and head screamed to go right," Sam said after a long time.

"But you actually said turn left?" Dean cocked his head to the side.

Sam didn't answer; he just simply sat there not wanting to look at Dean. After some time Sam looked up, Dean had his usual don't have a clue look on his face.

"Okay," he said after another long silence, "What the hell pain are you talking about, and what was the whole body and head thing about? No wait, what the hell are you talking about period?" Dean raised his hands as if to surrender to him.

"Dean, I knew we should have went right and selfishly said to go left because truth be told Dean, I don't want to find that man. But he's your dad too and you need him Dean. You're scary when you get like this," Sam looked exhausted but Dean was starting to understand.

"I get it," Dean said and walked back over to the bed and sat down. His voice sounded flat and it echoed slightly. Sam tried not to cry. Dean was bothered by this, Sam knew instantly he should have kept quiet. He thought maybe Dean would go nuts and tear into him for being selfish, but when Dean Winchester goes quiet its worse.

Sam knew that Dean was hiding all this pain and hurt deep inside himself, so he wouldn't need to think about it. He did this all the time; he hid his emotions from Sam, John and even himself. Dean wouldn't let anyone in and when he did it was scary, but when he didn't it was worse.

The older brothers' head was spinning; he knew that Sam would have said left for another reason. He didn't want to admit it but maybe they were here for a reason. Sam always brought them to places for a reason. He looked at his brother who he knew was fighting back tears of frustration, desperation and maybe even guilt. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and got up and went to Sam. He placed his hand on his brothers shoulders and used his self-assured Devil-may-care charm to attempt to conceal his emotions from his brother, "Hey, it doesn't matter really, we're here now. We may as well find ourselves something to hunt," he laughed rustling Sam's too-long hair.

Dean knew he shouldn't have forced that laugh, maybe he even took it too far he wasn't sure if Sam had believed him, but when his brothers blue eyes gazed up full of relief he knew he'd bought it. "Aha!" Dean exclaimed, "I told you you'd always have to look up to me," he smirked as he put more weight onto the reassuring hand on his brothers shoulder to make sure he stayed on the seat.

Sam shook his head and laughed, opening his laptop, "Okay, Mr. Jackass," he said with a playful grin on his face. The moment was nice while it lasted, although both boys knew that they'd be fighting before the night was out.

They were wrong. In fact, they were so wrong the boys didn't fight for the next week as they researched and looked for worthwhile cases. Dean went out and got drunk and laid every night, Sam occasionally joining him before things got heavy. (As in before Dean got drunk and hit on everything in a five mile radius). Nothing worth hunting came up for about five days, then all of a sudden something came up; something big, something, the last thing, that any of the two Winchester boys wanted, needed in their lives.

"Kansas? Lawrence, Kansas? Our old house, Lawrence Kansas? The place we used to live?" Sam sounded like a five year old and looked as though someone had just punched him hard on the solar plexus.

Dean turned away and looked at the wall praying Sam wouldn't notice the tears building up in his hazel/green eyes. He had to keep his game face on for Sam, for himself, for coping reasons, "Yes, Sam," Dean said closing the laptop. He noticed his little brother was trying to copy him and stay cool- something the younger Winchester had done his whole life.

Copying Dean was what Sam did until he wanted to get out and go to Stanford. He missed Dean, not so much his dad when he was gone, but God he missed Dean and his so-laid-back-almost-horizontal approach on life. But he also missed his brothers' protection. Not that he would ever admit that of course, it was the most obvious trait he shared with his brother, stubbornness. Dean walked over to the bed and started to put his stuff in his duffle bag quickly and quietly, Sam, once again copying his older brother, obediently picked up his own bag and started to throw things in to it.