Sam slammed the door behind him, running his hand through his hair, he stared at the room in front of him. The rooms always seemed the same to him. They were in personal, the same drab decor, the lack of personality, and no personal touches. Actually come to think of it there was nothing to say that anyone had stayed in this room before them. As a child he had hated them and now as an adult he felt at home somewhat in them. Not as much as Dean but then that was Dean he could call any where home, even the back of the Impala.

Sitting on the bed he pushed the notes, books and other various literature to the bottom of the bed then pushed himself up so he could lean on the wall behind. Shit the last thing he had wanted was to cause a fight, why did it feel that no matter what he did it always went wrong. Every time, had he ever done anything right. Thinking now he wasn't sure he had, even running away to Stanford. All he ever seemed to do was hurt people close to him, his dad, his brother and Jess, it was all his fault. His head fell back against the wall and he focussed his eyes on the ceiling hoping to silence the voices that were shouting at him from the back of his mind. Finally he closed his eyes and hoped that the blackness that engluffed him would silence his head.

'You ok there buddy.' It wasn't Sams voice, Dean raised his head, thankfull that his eyes hadn't betrayed him like he thought they would. A young man looked down at him.

'Yeh, sorry rough night was er looking for my room.'

The young man smiled at him, don't think its down there buddy he laughed and carried on his way. Takeing it as a hint Dean got up and headed back for the room. Shit he must have left his keys in the room, he hated knocking. Still he did it.

It didn't take long for a rather surprised looking Sam to answer, he stood in the door way for a couple of seconds staring blankly at Dean. The first thought to run through Deans head was, do I look like that when I black out?. Sam moved for him so he could get through the door.

'Dean. Look I didn't.' He didn't need Sam to finish what he was saying so he lifted his hand, this was the best tactic he had discovered for shutting Sam up and one he regularly used. Plsu Sam shouldn't really be saying anything if anyone had to apologise it was him, but deep down he didn't want to, god he sounded like a brat.

He sat on the end of his bed and looked up at his younger brother. When did he get so old. It only seemed like weeks since he was a scrawny teenager who was haveing problems fitting in, the little kid who looked up to him, the little kid he could always open up ot. When did it all change. He couldn't pin point it, but somewhere down the line things had changed and so far they hadn't gpne back. deep down inside him he knew they never would, after all you cant go back.

Sam seemed somewhat lost in his own thoughts to, he wore his typical 'I'm thinking face.' Dean kept his eyes on him for a further five minuetes before lying down and closing his eyes.

Sam had thought it would take a while for Dean to lye down, but was relieved to find his estimations wrong. He waited thirty minuetes until he quietly got up and left the room, pulling the door shut as quietly as he could. He opened the Impala and turned the key. His mind was awash with thoughts. He knew he should have stayed and that this was if anything only gonna make Dean madder at him but at the same time they had a job to do, and Dean was in no fit state to be hunting tonight. All he wanted was for his bog brother to rest up was that really to hard a thing to ask for.

He hadn't realised just how far he had driven and was quite shocked to find himself on the outskirts of the town going in the opposite direction to where the house was. Checking the mirror he pulled a U tunr in the road and headed off in the other direction.

He had heard the front door open, well actually he had heard the mattress on Sams bed creak as his brother had got up and then snuck out. He had felt his heart sink but wasn't really that shocked at his little brothers actions. Maybe if the table were turned he would have done the same, still it hurt. Pushing himself up he wandered round the room, pacing as he tried to think of his next move. One thing was for sure he wasn't going to be staying here waiting for Sam to get back. Getting to the door he realised he didn't have a clue where Sam had gone to, he had mentioned the house but not where about it was. Shit he rushed over to Sams bed and started riffling threw the papers on Sams bed. He came across the small paper booklet and checked in it, all it said was that the house was still there today, well that was usefull. No address anywhere, shit. He didn't want to phone Sam, no doubt he would only be told to rest and that he would be back soon. Right now is the time for decisive action he thought as he closed the door behind him heading for the reception.

The bell jangles as he pushed open the reception door. As receptions for motels went this wasn't that bad, it wasn't that good though either trying to place it Dean settled on the indifferent pile. It was small and kitch, stale smoke loitered the air and the once white patterned wall paper now had a nicotine tint to it. The front desk was smart enough a lamp that had seen better days stood at the far side while a nice little faux gold plaque took center stage. A thought that a bell wouldn't be amiss in this setting ran through his head and he stiffeled a giggle. Behind the desk was another door which he guessed would lead to the living room of the owners. Standing at the desk he found himself watching a major flashback that exploded in his head and played for his eyes only.

The room was small and badly lit, the walls were yellow and the heavy stink of smoke filled the air. He looked up at his dad, he smiled down at him.

'Its only for one night.'

John stood at the grimy reception desk and hit the small desktop bell, that seemed to be about the only thing that was clean, he smiled to himself. A gruff voice shouted something intelligible from behind the closed door, slowly it opened and a rather frail look old man popped his head out, a half smoked cigarette protruded from his wrinkled mouth.

'Yes Sir, what can I do you for.' He shuffled behind the desk, Dean was rather shocked that the old man was the same height as his dad. He was such a shell of a man where as his dad was everything he wanted to be when he grew up.

'I'm from room 218 and was just wondering if you could recommend a babysitter in the area, see I have a meeting first thing tomorrow morning upstate and I don't want to have to drag my kids out with me.'

The old man looked John up and down, he shuffled to the left somewhat bent down and pulled out an old phone book. He rifled through the pages until he finally stopped. Pushing the book round he pointed at a number.

'That's Janey Shrivers number she's good, give her a call.'

'I don't want to be a pain but could I use your phone.'

'Hello. Sir. Hello.' Dean shook his head, it had gone a young rather good looking woman was behind the desk, she looked at him with a slight hint of worry.

'You ok?'

'Yeh, am fine sorry. Erm, was wondering if you could help me with something.' Shit how long had he been stood there.

'Well I'll try my best.'

'Am looking for the, now this is gonna sound corny but the haunted house.' He offered up his best smile and cheekiest eyes it seemed to work she was smiling back at him.

'You mean Elizabeth Perry's house, yeh basically turn left out of here and continue down Elm till you reach the turn for Cedar take that and it's the last house on the left, you can't miss it.'

'Thank you.' She slipped him a piece of paper smiled again and went back behind the door. Opening the paper he wasn't shocked when it was her phone number and the time she got off. smiling he placed it in his back pocket. He might be done by eleven.

I hope you'r liking it so far :)