Chapter 10

His walk took longer than my drive, which was a good thing really. It gave me more time with more opportunity and some space I could take advantage of. My only idea was complete but yet to be seen, my plan was underway but the result not yet determined. I had no idea how this would go down. He was going to be pissed, that was a given, but I wasn't worried about that as much as the outcome. If this didn't work, if I couldn't get through to him this way, I had nothing. Game over. And I didn't know how I could ever accept that as an option.

The motel door opened just as I called his name for about the fortieth time.

'I'm here.' He frowned as he stepped in. 'You thought I wouldn't come back?' His eyes met mine and then dropped along with his face. 'Oh. You weren't calling for me were you?'

No I wasn't, but how could I admit that to him? Even if the guy couldn't feel offended, I didn't have the heart to tell him I was calling for the other half of him; the half I desperately missed and needed. The guilt was automatic as was my need not to answer. My mouth shut and I waited for him to look at his bed.

He didn't.

'Where's the car?' He asked me instead.

'Somewhere else.' I hated feeling this way around my own brother; the awkwardness, the lack of sync and the apprehension of the reaction I was about to receive in approximately 3.5 seconds. Nothing about our relationship was any good anymore.

'What do you mean?' Finally his line of sight landed on the very thing I was waiting for him to see. 'What the hell?' His head darted to me before snapping back to take in the disemboweled laptop sitting dead on the bed. Suddenly I almost regretted displaying the messy mass of cords and split metal on top of the screen. Maybe that was a bit over the top and cruel. 'What did you do?' He asked rushing over to it, still wondering if any of it was salvageable.

It wasn't.

'It's broken.' I told him plainly.

'Oh my God! You and your stupid analogy! Seriously?'

'Seriously.'

'You killed my computer! We need this Dean!'

'That's not the only thing we need.' I said to his profile.

'This is not the same thing and you know it!' Tangled and cut threads slipped through his fingers until it finally sunk in just how irreparable it all was. After standing back on his feet, burning eyes glared at me and I noticed his clenched fists.

'Is to me. Look-' I wished we didn't have to fight about this, but I figured if we did, I had to follow through. 'The outside is exactly how it was. You're just missing the inside of it.'

Much to my disappointed calm swept over his face and that distant, evasive expression I despised so much took over. His hands unclenched and his body loosened. 'So we buy another one.'

Lucky I anticipated this. 'You left your wallet here. It's now empty.'

'Okay.' He said sitting back down on his bed and taking a deep breath. 'What else?'

He could find that out on his own. The second he got the hint I wasn't going to help him with any kind of response, he scanned the room. The next thing he found was the spot where his pillows used to lie.

'The pillowcases are still here.' I told him as I remembered explaining to the Manager that I wasn't actually stealing all of his pillows; just trying to prove a point to my idiot brother. Lucky the fifty dollars I handed him convinced him of this.

'Very funny. Hilarious Dean, really.'

'Not to me.'

The little shit checked my bed in case I kept mine. When he realized I hadn't, he stepped over to the closet where not more than two hours ago two spare pillows sat innocently on the top shelf. Now in their place were their own flat, white covers. The back seat of the impala contained exactly ten uncovered pillows in total. I was going to miss my four tonight.

The empty rack under the shelf grabbed his attention. Before yelling anything at me, he raced over to the drawers and checked every one of them.

All empty.

I waited.

'Where the hell are all my clothes?'

'You have nothing Sam. Nothing. There is nothing here.'

'I need my damn clothes!'

'You need your damn soul too but that doesn't seem to worry you!'

Just for curiosity sake, I was sure; he moved over to the fridge and opened it. 'Oh my God. You really cleared everything out didn't you?'

'Yep.'

No food, drink, crockery, cutlery, appliances, nothing. Everything that wasn't bolted down and could fit in the car, I took and parked –in the middle of nowhere – not far away but far enough from him.

'These things,' He turned to me and said, 'are things I need.'

'You have your wallet, the pillowcases, the closet, the fridge and the cupboards. All these things work without anything inside them. They do the job. Isn't that all you need? Didn't you say so yourself?'

'And the computer? Or was that just a revenge thing?'

'It opens, it closes. Like I said, it looks the same. Same body, missing interior. Just broken.'

'Dean! Why don't you get this?' Some passion sparked his tone. His anger was back. This didn't scare me. It helped. So much easier dealing with a person rather than a robotic machine.

'I do! I do Sam, I get it. I get why you don't want your soul back but listen to me. You need it. Even though you think you don't, you do.'

'No, I don't. I'm doing fine without it.'

'You know that's not true.'

'You know what?' He said as he stepped around the kitchen bench and over to me. 'I don't even get why you want it back. If you just think about it properly for one damn minute you will realize I am much better like this. I might not be a whole person like everyone else but remembering who I was; this should make you happy.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'All the crap I put you through, every move I made; look at what happened. Me with a soul equals bad news. No one knows that more than you yet here you are with someone who won't make those same mistakes and you still aren't happy.'

Of all the ridiculous, stupid things to say. 'You are making worse mistakes now Sam.'

This reeled him back. 'No, I'm not. Like what?'

'If I have to tell you, then we really do have a problem.'

At least this made him think. At least he took the time to consider even if the next thing out of his mouth was completely unrelated. 'I want all my stuff back. You don't want to push me on this.'

'Why?'

'Why do I want my stuff back or why don't you want to push me on this?' He asked menacingly.

'It's just stuff Sam.' I shrugged, feeling the desire to take a step back from him but forcing myself to stand strong. He couldn't intimidate me, I wouldn't let him.

'I need it!' He screamed.

'And I need you! You need you!' I bellowed back in his face. 'You aren't you without your soul Sam. You are just like everything else in this room: an empty, useless piece of furniture.'

'Wow.' It was him who took the step back. 'Lucky I don't have a soul when you say things like that Dean.'

'Don't pretend you care. You don't care about anything.'

'And in this job that is a good thing!'

'This job is based on caring Sam! For the safety of others, for your own safety, for my safety. You take that away and you are nothing more than a killing machine. Nothing more than the things you are hunting in the first place.'

He gave a sarcastic laugh. 'The old Sam would cry at hearing that.'

'Will you listen to me?'

'Will you give me my stuff back?'

'If you hear me out; no taking off, no shutting down. Come in with an open mind, play it out and you will get it all back.' When he didn't move a single muscle, I continued. 'Let's just sit down and discuss it okay?'

'Fine whatever.' He had no intention of doing anything except doing what he had to do to get his things back I knew that. But as long as he started off going through the motions, I had something.

I had hit him with the only thing he could feel; the loss of his physical items which in turn affected his physical comfort. It was a risky move, leaving him with nothing, but because I was still standing and because I was still alive, I felt like I was getting through at least a little bit. Call me stupid and naïve, call me hopeful and delusional. I was all of those probably, but if there was one thing for certain, I was going to clutch onto the only thing I had.

So we sat at the dining table opposite each other. He sat back with attitude while I sat forward with vigor. He was here. That to me indicated I was almost a quarter of the way there. If I could believe he was willing to listen, maybe I could convince him of the same.

And so I began.

'The old Sam was the best person I'd ever known…'

(To be continued…)

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