Previously...
"How did no one hear what just happened?" Sam asked, clearly bothered by this discord in logic. Dean licked his lips and blinked a few times, trying to grasp how Sam could possibly be held up on that question. Of all the questions they currently needed answers to, Sam was asking this question.
Sam stopped looking up and down the hallway and faced Dean expectantly.
"I-" Dean started, then stopped. "Sam- Just. Get in the car."
Clean Slate
Ch 7
"Uh yeah can I get four sausage mcmuffins, two hash browns, two extra large coffees, and, I don't know…" Dean trailed off, turning to Sam in the passenger seat.
"Get a juice, just to sound healthy," Sam murmured distractedly.
"Apple or orange?"
"Orange," Sam offered. Dean nodded and turned back to the drive-through radio.
"Uh yeah and an orange juice?" He called out.
"Anything else?" The voice crackled.
"No that's it."
"Okay just drive up to the cashier and we'll be with you in a minute."
Dean shifted and the Impala sidled up next to the window. The two of them waited in silence, neither of them wanting to break the moratorium on speech since they'd gotten into the car.
Dean had driven around for awhile until he spotted the McDonald's and recalled that they could treat themselves to the elusive breakfast menu.
Dean paid at the window and received the bag of food, passing it over to Sam before looking back up, waiting to pick up the piping hot coffee. He heard Sam mutter behind him as he made rustling sounds in his seat with the bag.
"If there's anything I want to do less than eat right now, I don't know what it is…"
Dean noticed the staff was taking their time with the coffee and leaned back against the driver's seat. He turned to Sam and gave him a judgmental expression.
"Don't be a smart ass," he said with no real venom in his words.
Sam sighed, closed his eyes, and laid his head back against the seat. Dean started when he realized the cashier was waiting for him to take the coffee. He grabbed them and handed the one in his right hand to Sam without looking.
"Orange juice?" Sam questioned tiredly, taking his coffee from Dean. Dean looked up to Sam, expression open.
"Oh yeah," he said, his memory jogging, and turned to the window.
"Hey did we get the orange juice?"
The cashier nodded and pointed to the bag in Sam's lap.
"S'in the bag," she said glibly.
"Great thanks." Dean shifted the car.
The Impala rolled out of the drive-through and continued down an unknown highway Dean had chosen on a whim about twenty minutes prior. The silence was on again, but for the crinkling sounds of the bag while Sam was surveying their order. Inwardly, he was trying elicit his appetite by smelling the contents, but all the scent did was cause his stomach to turn in disgust.
"You should maybe try to eat something in there. A hash brown or something..." Dean suggested innocently. Sam winced in response, wrapping the bag closed and setting it aside between them.
"I know; I just can't…" He trailed off, then turned to look out the window. He covered his mouth with his hand in thought, disturbed. Dean tipped his head, acknowledging Sam's difficulty. A few more moments passed. Dean readied to launch into the conversation they needed to have.
"For all your weirdness for noticing, we caught a break that no one heard us."
Sam didn't move; he just huffed at the window and gave a small head shake.
"I'm serious, though," Dean pressed. "There's a dead body in our motel room back there. The cops would be crawling all over us right now if anything had been reported."
Dean glanced over to gauge Sam's expression as he turned to face the windshield. Sam's lips were pursed with stress, but he was nodding. He raised his hands, at a loss.
"So what should we do?" He asked, his voice small but not unsteady. He sounded defeated; depressed. Dean squinted his eyes and smacked his lips as he stared through the windshield.
"I think we need to go back, get our stuff, and get out 'a dodge," he said quickly, simply, inferring that there was no other option. Sam's expression was the essence of worried as he raised his fist to his mouth in contemplation. He shook his head as he thought out loud:
"I agree there's no way we could ever hope to hide the body," Sam sighed.
"Okay, so I'm turning around," Dean replied in kind, slowing the Impala down and angling it into a u-turn. As they switched directions, Sam's anxiety fluxed into motion, but he played it down. They had passed a mile with another bout of silence when Sam spoke up.
"What do we do after?"
"After skipping town?"
"Yeah. How're we going to, you know, live?" Sam said hesitantly, unsure of the answer himself. In reaction, Dean made a series of rhythmic ticks with his mouth as he thought, obviously at a loss for what to say. Finally, when both of them had had enough of his ticks, Dean stopped.
"You know what, Sam?" He asked, sounding slightly peeved, "One thing at a time, all right? Let's just… Do this… Step by step," he said, struggling to put into words his clear inability to conceive of what would happen to them afterwards.
"Okay," Sam replied heavily, willing to drop the matter for now. He looked back towards the windshield as he chewed his lip, his brows furrowed, thinking about his question. Dean glanced at Sam and gave him a double-take.
"Hey, man, it'll be okay," Dean said, lightly clapping his brother on the shoulder. When Sam shook his head in doubt, Dean gently pushed him sideways and back in his seat. "C'mon, it'll be okay."
Sam finally responded with a quick swipe to get Dean's hand off of him.
"Stop it," Sam asked more than demanded. Dean stopped, disappointed he hadn't lifted Sam's spirits, and placed his hands back at ten and two.
"Will it make you feel better that I believe that monsters are real, now?" Dean tried, a hint of apology in his tone.
Sam snorted and shook his head. Dean noted with satisfaction that Sam was failing to hold back a smile.
"I'm, um," Sam frowned and shook his head, trying to find the words as he stared into space, "Pretty… Unhappy… That I was right about that," he finally managed. Sam bent his head down and grimaced as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Dean glanced over and, seeing Sam's posture, turned back to look at the road. He accidentally gave a fast exhale of laughter, and then another. He looked at Sam again, who was looking at him like he was crazy, and Dean's smile grew wider.
"I'm sorry," Dean laughed, "I just…" Dean cracked a vocal laugh, "It's just so absurd, Sam, look-" Dean tried to explain the humor, "We wake up with amnesia, we're brothers, and monsters are real. It's like the ultimate nightmare, man!" Dean continued laughing, partially in denial, partially at the truths they had, so far, established in the past twenty-four hours of knowing each other.
Sam watched his brother, having difficulty finding the comedy, but tolerated it as he continued to think about the implications of what Dean was saying. The fact that he had visions was an additional element to this, 'ultimate nightmare,' that they were in, but Sam was reluctant to volunteer that detail if Dean wasn't going to mention it.
Dean's laughter died down.
"It's just… It's just like a cheesy b-list horror movie, you know?"
"Yeah, Dean. I get it," Sam shot back, unwilling to deal with Dean's one-liners about their circumstances any further. Unfortunately, Sam's annoyance bolstered another bout of silent laughter from Dean as they drove back to the dead body in their motel room.
Dean relaxed, eventually, and Sam raised his eyebrows as he spoke to Dean.
"You done?"
"Shut up."
…
The Impala pulled into the motel parking lot; its occupants now flooded with dread as the headlights hit the door of their room. Both of them felt sick to their stomachs and tried to stay as silent and quiet as possible when they opened and closed the car's doors.
They had agreed that they needed to be careful: even if the cops weren't yet a concern, the whole monsters-are-real deal was, and they didn't yet know enough to rule any location safe. Dean took the, "cool-lookin'," knife from the weapons bag in the back; Sam took a handgun.
As they climbed out of the Impala, it was Sam, this time, that was surprised by how soundless they could be – acutely aware of his surroundings, he literally felt his senses turn, 'on,' to pay attention to any potential noise he could incur in order to avoid it. He was impressed – they were tall guys to be so adept in stealth.
Dean got to the landing first and held up a fist as he placed his ear to the door, listening. At the sight of the signal, Sam stopped moving and waited. He tilted his head in surprise, realizing that he had unconsciously followed the signal, even though he couldn't put its meaning into words. He waited for Dean, and soon after watched Dean's fist slowly open into a widespread hand. Sam took the signal, recognizing Dean was meaning to say that the coast wasn't yet clear, but there was no obvious signs of danger. Sam started moving forward again, pulling the handgun out as he did so.
Sam brought himself up behind Dean. Dean twisted around to look at Sam as he pointed to him and put up two fingers. Sam shook his head, nodded to Dean's knife, then his own handgun. Using the same signals as Dean had, Sam pointed to Dean and put up two fingers. Dean squinted with disapproval, then put his fist out between them. Again, on automatic, the boys, 'rock, paper, scissor'-ed who would go in first. Sam won, and Dean stepped away, inwardly a little conflicted by the innate sense of frustration he felt as Sam took the lead.
Without looking at Dean, Sam extended his hand out and Dean placed the room key in Sam's hand. Sam took a breath and carefully slipped the key into the door and twisted the knob. He gave the door a slight shove with perfect pressure: causing it to swing open widely without banging the wall. Sam licked his lips as he entered, and Dean followed warily.
The room was as they had left it, the body of the man still in the center of the floor. The two of them waited on full alert for anything to happen. About twenty seconds passed, at which point Dean quickly closed the motel room door without so much as a whisper.
The sight of the dead man was making both of their hearts thump loudly in their ears, and they used their adrenaline to start packing their things together. They had to step over the dead man a few times each, and both Sam and Dean had to clamp down on their nerves so they wouldn't jump over him in a panic. They were both trying hard not to entertain thoughts that he might wake up, black eyes gleaming, intent on killing them once and for all (which, Dean tried not to think, would totally happen in a cheesy b-list horror flick).
Once they had finished, they both looked up at one another expectantly. Sam gave an A-Okay sign with his hand and Dean nodded vaguely, returning it. They pulled their gear into their arms and left the motel room noiselessly towards the Impala to throw everything into the back seat.
Landing in the front seat together, Dean keyed the ignition, his hands trembling with anxiety. The headlights lit up the door again and they both stared at it with wide eyes for a second.
"We got everything, right?" Dean asked.
"Yes. Everything," Sam gave Dean the answered he needed before Dean pushed his arm against Sam's chest when he jammed on the accelerator to reverse out of the spot. Dean started humming AC/DC's Thunderstruck in his head as Sam lurched forward against Dean's arm, slammed back into the car seat when Dean broke and switched gears to drive, and nearly hit his head on the passenger seat window as Dean took a sharp turn out of the parking lot and onto the road.
"Jesus, Dean…" Sam gasped, out of breath. He turned to look at Dean, who'd removed his arm and was now gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Dean stopped humming and exaggerated a shiver.
"Ah, I'm sorry, man-"
"No it's okay," Sam interrupted, granting Dean his short-lived freak out. He understood. Now that they were back on the road, he felt like he could breathe again. Dean must have been feeling the same way.
"Where are we headed?"
"I was thinking about that while we were packing. I think we should cross state lines as soon as possible."
"Okay. So… That means…" Sam thought about it for a second, "Maryland?"
Dean nodded thoughtfully, then tilted his head in amusement.
"I think I really like that state."
"What? Maryland?" Sam asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Yeah," Dean chuckled, nodding. "I don't know what it is," he said offhandedly.
"What are you, like, remembering something?" Sam sat up, interested now. Dean gave a vague flinch and shook his head.
"Nah… Not remembering anything," he said, disappointed. He started rubbing his eyes. "Sorry," he grunted vaguely.
"S'okay," Sam murmured, settling back down. Their nerves were still frayed, and the two of them continued on the road in silence, trying to relax.
…
Two hours later, Sam and Dean crossed the border into Maryland.
"All right awesome," Dean murmured as he spotted the sign that said, 'Maryland Welcomes You. Enjoy Your Visit.' Sam looked up.
"Yup, we have now-" Sam paused for the sign to pass them, "-officially qualified as an FBI investigation." Sam quipped as he looked back down to continue shuffling through the glove compartment's items. Dean gave a hearty laugh.
"High five!"
"No."
Dean set his hand back down on the wheel.
"You know what? You're no fun," Dean observed with a relatively playful tone. Sam sighed and leaned his back up against the seat.
"All right, listen. We should stop somewhere and talk about where to go from here."
Dean frowned and bobbed his head in thought.
"Okay. Why do we have to stop driving, though?"
"Because I want to take another look at the car," Sam replied openly.
"What do you mean? You're in the car," Dean pointed out, confused, "So can't you just… Look at it right now?"
Sam actually gave a small chortle to Dean's response.
"No I mean look at it, look at it," Sam said meaningfully. Dean squinted in thought.
"No I'm not getting you."
"Okay, this car is pretty much the thing we seem to live in, right now, right? I mean, it looks like it, right?"
"Yeah," Dean said slowly, willing to go with Sam on that logic. The Impala certainly looked lived-in.
"Right and so, well, I don't know. Maybe this car holds some secrets, too. Hopefully our wallets are in here somewhere."
"What, like under the seat cushions?"
Sam shrugged.
"Sure?"
Sam waited on Dean to confirm this was a good idea. Dean bit his lip and nodded.
"Okay. I'll stop at the next rest stop."
"We should make sure it's empty."
"Yeah," Dean agreed lightly.
…
About twenty minutes later, Dean walked out of the minimart with packages of chips and beef jerky in hand. As he approached the Impala, parked in the farthest, emptiest corner of the rest stop's parking lot, he saw Sam crouching near the open backseat door reaching for something.
Dean gave a long sigh.
"Sam, I swear to god you asked us to stop so you could just organize the damn car. Have you found anything yet?"
Sam jerked up, surprised by Dean's voice, and turned around, peeved.
"Not yet," he said, and determinedly turned back to continue feeling around under the seats. Dean lightened up after he threw their provisions into the front seat and came back around to Sam.
"You want help?"
"Nah, not here," Sam sighed in frustration. He looked up at Dean for a second. "Oh actually, I did find one thing-"
Dean's eyebrows lifted.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's not that helpful or anything, but here, look…" Sam leaned over and pulled a torn piece of leather on the back of the front seat down a little further.
"Hey, Sam, c'mon, man-" Dean called automatically as he leaned in next to Sam to look. "The car cries when you do tha-" Dean stopped speaking when he saw the messily etched initials: D.W. and S.W.
Sam looked up at him with one eyebrow raised and a smile playing across his face. Dean squinted at it to look more closely.
"Huh," Dean frowned, raising his eyebrows, "Okay," he said lightly.
Sam laughed at Dean's reaction.
"What? No, I mean, that's kinda cute," Dean admitted, causing Sam to start laughing again, "But- Hey, Sam – But, I don't get how it's useful."
Still smiling, Sam gave him the run-down.
"Well, like I said, it's not that useful, but it tells us a couple of things."
Dean leaned against the Impala, listening.
"One, it tells us that we were in this car as kids," Sam said reasonably and Dean nodded in agreement, able to buy that explanation. Only kids would deface this beautiful car - and it was reasonably unlikely that a different pair of kids with the same initials as them could have spent time in the car.
"Two, it kind of explains the army man stuck in the side door ashtray," Sam said, blinking at the irrelevance of this, 'discovery.' Dean was all over it, though.
"Oh thank God. I'm so happy we know, now, why there's an army man stuck in the ashtray-"
"Yeah, shut up," Sam interrupted his brother's sarcasm with his own drawl as he leaned into the backseat again.
"It was probably you, you know," Dean said, taking a stab at humor.
"Hey, check out the trunk, will you?" Sam called out, ignoring Dean, his voice muffled from inside but still audible.
"Yeah got it," Dean replied loudly so Sam could hear. He grabbed his coffee from the front seat and casually walked to the back of the car. He took a sip as he opened the trunk. He stared at the empty compartment, gestured to the empty space, and took another sip blandly. He remained there for awhile, just enjoying his coffee when he heard Sam call out.
"D'you finding anything?" Sam yelled, losing grammatical structure in his words as he grunted around in the back seat. Dean screwed his face up with impatience.
"No. It's an empty trunk. I don't really know what you want me to do," Dean called back. He heard Sam stop rummaging around in the backseat.
"Just do what I'm doing," he yelled irritably.
"I don't even know what you're doing back there," Dean shot back. Sam poked his head out from the backseat and into Dean's line of sight. His face flushed, he spoke with an exasperated tone of voice.
"Feel around, check to see if there's any stuff under or around the crevices or the trunk floor, okay?" Sam added pointedly, staring Dean down. Dean rolled his eyes and set his coffee down on the ground near the back wheel.
"Okay," Dean groaned, and Sam turned back inside the car.
"I don't know," Dean started mumbling to himself as he, 'felt,' the floor of the trunk, starting at the back, "Why you think this car is going to have a treasure hunt inside of it," he grunted, "We're not in Narnia; the car isn't going to open-" Dean moved his hands to the center area of the trunk's floor, "- a portal to a magic fantasy-land full of-" Dean stopped short, feeling the edges of the trunk board give around the front side edges.
Dean's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Huh." Dean gave the board a slightly heavier push and felt it bounce back against his hands as if on a spring. He pushed again, hard, and the board flew up, making him jump back in surprise. He caught a glimpse of what was underneath before the floorboard flopped back down again, covering its contents.
Dean stared at the trunk, a few steps away from it, now, in shock.
"SAM!" Dean boomed, his tone accidentally sounding furious. He saw Sam jump in recognition and bang his head on the roof inside the car. It would've been funny if Dean hadn't been so alarmed by the trunk's contents. Sam stepped out of the backseat sorely, rubbing his head and making his hair stand up in weird places as he nodded to Dean.
"What? What is it?" He asked, sidling up to Dean. The hit on his head had knocked him of his regularly spot-on intuition. He took a second to register Dean's mood.
"Dean?" Sam prompted, then quirked an eyebrow up as he stared at the empty trunk, then back to Dean.
"You okay, man?" He asked hesitantly, wondering what was wrong with his brother. Dean looked at Sam.
"I found something," he said weakly.
Sam looked skeptical and approached the trunk space, feeling around.
"Dean, I don't know what you found, man, but I think you're just-"
Dean walked up to next to Sam, batted Sam's hands out of the way, and jammed his palm against the trunk floor board. It sprung up, revealing an arsenal of weapons. Sam gasped and stepping away as Dean deftly caught it with his hand before it could fall back down.
"Holy shit!" Sam yelled in shock as Dean lifted the whole board up and searched the trunk's contents for something to keep it propped up. He pulled a small, sawed-off shotgun out and examined it. Shoving away an odd sense of nostalgia, he wedged it between the platform and the real trunk floor.
By then, Sam had tentatively stepped back into place next to Dean to study the interior of the secret compartment.
They both stood in silence, staring at all of the weapons, charms, weird religious items and symbols.
Dean broke the silence with a clicking sound.
"Well. I'll tell you one thing," Dean offered, "If that demon hadn't come into our room last night, I'd seriously be reconsidering my conviction that we're not murderous occultists."
Sam ducked into the trunk space, scrutinizing a few articles. He pulled a beat-up, worn leather-bound book out and held it out to Dean.
"Hold this," he murmured, then moved in further.
"A book," Dean grabbed it from Sam, "Obviously only you would go for the book first and not the ninja stars-?"
"Shut up," Sam whispered as Dean reached over Sam's back to pull one of the ninja stars out from their spot.
"These are so cool," Dean said in awe as he inspected them, the book he was holding forgotten in their wake.
"Ah A-ha!" Sam called. Dean looked down at Sam again.
"What?"
"Found our wallets," Sam grunted as he stood back up. He held in his hands two, nearly identical, worn leather wallets. Dean noticed and gave a huff.
"God, what are we, twins?"
Sam smirked for a split-second, looked inside the first one, and silently handed it to Dean. He turned around to lean against the open trunk edge to take a few minutes studying his. They studied their real identities in silence.
"Eh," Dean finally murmured with distaste, "This is only slightly helpful," he ruled.
"I am…twenty-two," Sam said pointedly. He looked up at Dean expectantly. "You?"
"I'm… Oh, holy shit!" Dean exclaimed, looking at his license.
"What? What is it?" Sam asked, concerned. He got up from his perch on the trunk. Dean looked up for a second, then back down at the license.
"No, no, it's nothing. Sorry," Dean added, not having meant to worry Sam. "No, it's just my birthday today."
Sam jerked his head back in surprise.
"Oh. Wow," he said, slightly stunned. He waved a hand in Dean's direction. "Happy… Uh… Happy birthday, man," Sam said as he broke into a smile, seeing Dean's innocently delighted expression at the revelation.
"Thanks," Dean replied nicely, nodding with satisfaction.
"So what does that make you?"
"Um… Twenty… Twenty-seven," Dean answered, surprised. He looked up at his brother. Sam shrugged. "Four years apart."
"Five. Twenty-two to twenty-seven-?" Dean corrected. Sam nodded.
"Yeah no but I turn twenty-three in four months."
"Ah okay," Dean nodded.
"C'mon," Sam murmured, and turned back to the trunk. Sam ducked under again and Dean kept look-out as Sam pried and searched for any additional clues inside.
Writer's Note: Yay the Impala-Arsenal-Discovery scene! Planning for the boys to meet someone they know in the next chapter in order to move things along. Thank you for reading! Please review – your feedback always, seriously, helps me out so much. Cheers! ~ Alex Kerr
