Hello everyone! Sorry it seems to take so long to get an update done on this story. Thank you for coming back for this next chapter and as always I hope you will find some enjoyment in it. I love seeing what others think so please, feel free to send a review my way. Thanks again and happy reading! :)
Sam drives by the colourful 'Welcome to Paradise' sign and notes that the town has a population of about thirty five hundred. So, armed with that fact, Sam feels genuine surprise as he pulls into the motel situated on the outskirts of the town and discovers the lot contains over a dozen cars. It's just weird. Sam finds an empty space and silently hopes that there is still room at the Inn for the Winchester brothers. After the night they just had he absolutely dreads the thought of trying to find somewhere else to stay. As he scopes out the area and leans back in his seat he can sense it. There is definitely something off with this place and he fears that the two brothers have once again stumbled onto something worthy of a hunt. He can't suppress the slight shiver that runs through him, as if a stream of coldness has decided to lodge itself in his spine and climb all the way up. Damn it.
As he turns off the car and wipes his eyes to try and ease the burn present from the strain of driving all night, he detects a slight movement from his right side. Sam turns towards it to see Dean slowly but surely blink his way back into the waking world. Sam can see the grimace flash across his brother's face as he tries to stretch out the kinks and knots and strained muscles he must feel after being out to the world and huddled in the seat beside him for the past few hours. Sam himself can not wait to lay his body down on an actual bed and stretch away all the soreness from muscles he didn't even know existed. He figures it's just another consequence to the sort of lives the brothers lead. Another effect of sardines-stuck-in-a-can syndrome.
Sam reaches out a hand to Dean's shoulder. "Hey man, we're here. Welcome to Paradise dude."
"S'my? Hey. Huh, I thought Paradise would have palm trees and sandy beaches and scantily clad women. Figures."
"Yeah, well, that would definitely be your idea of Paradise dude."
Sam takes a good look at his brother and is pleased to see that at least his older sibling seems to have gained back some of the colour to his face. He no longer wears the death warmed over blanket from the night before. His eyes still hold that eerily haunted look that has become a permanent fixture since his return, but at least they seem to be alert and awake. Not like the night before. He quickly scans Dean while the older of the two runs a hand through his hair and that is when Sam notices it. Notices the trembles. The shakes. The twitches that seem to have taken hold of Dean's hands. And Sam now also notices Dean's leg. It bounces like he is nervous or...crap...like he needs a fix.
"How you doing Dean? You must have been pretty exhausted, you slept almost the whole way here."
"I'm fine, couldn't be better." Dean turns to his brother and Sam can see the fight that rages inside. The clenched jaw is always a tell tale sign. His brother is barely holding it together.
"How's your head bro? Headache gone?"
"Yeah, gone. I'm rested up and fresh as a daisy." The bounce in his leg doesn't quit but Sam can tell his brother is actively trying to keep his hands occupied. They run through his hair, across his face, move to adjust the clothing he wears. And it all points to the fact that his older brother is aware of what is happening and as always is trying to hide it from the younger man. "You on the other hand dude look like you are ready to keel over. How long were we on the road? You should of woke me up to drive."
"No worries man, I'm good. Plus, you looked so cute and cuddly over there. Did you know you drool in your sleep?"
Dean snorts in response. "Hardy har har. You are hilarious bro." Dean takes a look out the window of the car and Sam can see the same question mark flash across his face as Sam had felt moments ago. "What the hell Sam? Is there some kinda Shriner's convention in town or something? I know, maybe it's a clown convention Sammy, that'd be great huh?"
"Whatever man, enough with the clown jokes already okay?"
"Sorry, I know how much those painted faces scare you Sam, I'm sure they scare lots of other kids too. So, probably not clowns then. Whatever it is, Mr. Motel dude must be loving this! Most business he's gotten for years I bet."
"Yeah, I noticed that too. I'm not sure what's going on but the sign coming in said the population is not even four thousand. I can't imagine this place gets too many tourists. Oh well, first thing's first. Just stay here and take another minute to wake up, I better see if we can get a room."
"Okay man, I'll get our gear out of the trunk."
Sam freezes. The trunk. God. He sure as hell hopes that his brother is not thinking about the stash that was in there. Sam swallows out of nervousness and silently pleads to anyone who will listen to have Dean of totally forgotten about the incident the night before. He is too tired and sore and weary to have a big blowout fight with his older brother in the middle of this damn parking lot. He just needs to play it cool. For now.
"Sounds good. Be right back bro."
"Yeah, sure Sammy. No rush, take your time."
Dean watches his brother head towards the motel office and as soon as he ducks into the building, the older brother grabs the keys from the ignition, leaps out of the passenger side door and rushes his way to the back of the Impala as quickly as his unsteady legs will carry him. The trembles have now totally overtaken him and it takes at least three tries to get the damn trunk open. He can't remember another time when he felt such a surge of happiness like the one he experiences when the latch is finally released and the guts of the trunk are exposed and displayed in front of his hungry eyes. He rummages through the contents in a frenzy, hampered only by the shaking digits of his hands.
It is right then, as he scours and dives and moves around every single item confined in the space, that he is hit by the mother of all dejavu moments. Wait. The trunk. The bottle. The side of the highway. The panic he felt when his brother took it away from him. It's the same. The same panic he feels well up inside him again. Right now. Shit. Wait. Relax. Okay. Don't forget the back-up dude. Dean reaches for his duffel bag and chuckles out loud when he finds the prize. He loves the feel of the cool glass against his skin. He wonders briefly if that is normal. If he knows what the hell he is doing. If he is still in control. As he twists the bottle open and breathes in the odour of the contents within, the thought that he may not be in total control of the situation disappears immediately. He takes a long, thirst quenching swig and any doubt that he is doing the right thing is permanently removed from his mind. This right here. He needs this. He wants this.
Dean has to suppress a moan of pure delight as he relishes the burn that slides down his throat. It leaves behind a trail of warmth that seems to flood his entire body from head to toe. He closes his eyes at the enjoyment of the sensation. It just makes everything seem so much better and will help keep the monsters at bay, cover them up in a fog which they will find hard to escape from. And after everything, Dean feels justified in his actions. Doesn't he deserve to feel better, to feel good if only for a short time? He feels a wave of calmness lap over his mind and body as he takes another long swig.
As the third swig travels from the bottle and into him, the shakiness he felt slowly dissipates and is replaced by a slight sense of euphoria. He reluctantly places the bottle back into its hiding spot, drops the bags on the ground and closes the trunk. Dean leans against the side of the car and his face breaks out into a huge grin as his brother emerges from the office, motel key in hand.
"Yo! Sammy! Welcome to Paradise dude!"
Sam stops for the briefest of moments and examines his brother with his well trained Dean mood-detector eyeballs. Hmm. Gone are the shakes. Present is the high voltage grin and bubbly demeanor. Shit. It means one thing. Dean. He got his fix. And Sam? Well, Sam just got pissed off.
TBC.. Thanks for reading!
