Sugar Me Sweet Chapter 10
Introducing the one and only gorgeous Salma Hayek as Maria...
"Sam!" Dean wrenched open the motel room door and scanned the street, eyes searching desperately for any sign of his lanky, mop headed little brother. Slumped against the doorframe, Dean sighed. Sam was long gone, crept out whilst he was asleep, even after he'd promised Dean he'd give him more time. He turned back to the room and slammed the door behind him, and that was when he spotted it. Sam's duffle bag and laptop, stuffed under the desk.
So he hadn't taken off.
"Thank God!" Dean groaned and sunk down onto his bed. His brother had probably just gone for a walk, to clear his head maybe.
And Dean couldn't in all honesty blame him. After the demonic plague that had caused the entire occupants of Rivergrove to turn Norman Bates and kill each other, a demonic plague that Sam had been fully exposed yet immune to, Dean had finally dropped the bombshell on Sam.
Dad told me that I had to save you. And if I couldn't save you, I'd have to kill you.
Yeah. That went down well. Like Sam hadn't come damn close enough to death a few too many times since he was diagnosed with diabetes, that now he needed a full on invitation?
Predictably, Sam had been shocked. He'd stared at Dean, eyes wide and scared, and if Dean wasn't mistaken, more than a little hurt.
Then the shouting started.
"What does that mean? Why did you didn't tell me before?" Sam's voice had started low and hurt but soon rose to booming levels of white hot anger. "Huh Dean? I once asked you outright if Dad said anything to you before he died. You were the last one to see him alive, and I...I had to f...find him..." voice breaking with grief, Sam had abruptly turned away at that point, hand already over his eyes, swiping at the tears in despair.
And the penny finally dropped for Dean. He really hadn't understood until now what was going on in his brother's head, but then that was pretty much pot calling kettle black.
"So what does it mean?" Sam repeated softly.
"Sam..."
"What does it mean?" Sam was back to shouting again, and Dean tried not to flinch at the raw fury and panic his heard in his brother's voice. "Am I supposed to go dark side or what? Tell me!"
"I just don't know Sammy." His own voice shaking a little with desperation, Dean had grabbed his shoulders and forced Sam to look at him. "He never said any more than that, but I swear to you we'll figure this out. Just promise me you'll give me more time."
Sam had stared at him for a few seconds, blue-green eyes awash with pain. Dean could feel him trembling violently in his grip. "Sam? Please...promise me?"
Sam knew what he was asking; Dean could see it in his eyes that he understood.
Don't leave me. You're all I've got left that matters.
Now Dean was staring sadly at the manky motel carpet, idly wondering if he should go looking for his little brother. He felt torn between wanting to give him space and watching
his back; knowing that Sam was out there somewhere, alone and hurting, just didn't sit well with Dean.
He decided to risk his brother's anger and at least try to track him down discreetly, maybe just hang back and keep an eye on him. Hurriedly throwing on a pair of jeans, lacing up his boots and grabbing his leather jacket, Dean strode out into the dark.
After briskly walking a few blocks he glanced at his watch. Hmm. Two am. The sound of breaking glass and loud laughter caught his attention, and he turned in the street to face the only bar in town. Dean's eyes narrowed. Surely Sam wouldn't be stupid enough to go back there after Dean had quite blatantly hustled a lot of money out of a lot of people?
And said people had been pretty pissed about it if the small dent on the rear fender of the Impala – someone's boot – and the small chip in the windshield – angrily thrown rock – were anything to go by.
Going inside was definitely the least sensible option and would only lead to another bar fight. Definitely not top of Dean's growing list of priorities for once; he needed to find his brother. Now.
He squinted at the building, circled to the left then the right and nodded to himself. There was a small entrance at the side where one of the barmaids was tucked away, leaning against the door smoking a cigarette. Dean recognised her; petite frame, pretty face, long dark hair, Hispanic origins. Sweet. He sauntered over and turned on the charm, but in a protective older brother way that had her swooning over him within seconds.
"Aw, that's so sweet that you look out for your little brother!" Maria stated in a low, sexy Hispanic voice that made Dean think of chocolate covered strawberries, and in particular the act of sucking them up out of her belly button. "What's he look like?"
Dean leaned in close, green eyes flashing seductively. "Freakishly tall, shaggy brown hair..."
Maria immediately drew back in shock. "He's your brother? The tall guy with the dog T-shirt?"
Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He hated that stupid shirt and one of these days the damn thing was gonna mysteriously disappear. "Yeah that sounds like Sam."
"Then you better hurry and find him before its too late." Maria was no longer playing the seduction game. In fact she looked frightened as she stared up and down the street, checking to see if anyone was watching them. Her voice lowered. "Your brother was in the bar a couple hours ago, had a few beers on his own in a quiet corner booth, but one of Frankie's guys got real drunk and started making trouble, pushing him around. Sam tried to leave but the guy wouldn't let him. So Sam took him out with a single punch to the jaw."
Dean smirked a little. He didn't like hearing Sam being mistreated but he'd been on the receiving end of a Sammy-right-hook before – Sam hated Dean calling it that - and knew that it was like being hit by a high speed brick.
Maria chewed on her lip worriedly, and it was sexy as hell, and Dean wanted to die. "Everyone in the bar cheered except Frankie and his guys, and Sam who ordered a bottle of tequila and sat back in the booth, alone. He didn't move again until that bottle was empty." She lit another cigarette and blew the smoke out into the chilly night air. "After he left I noticed that three of Frankie's men had also left, and then another two followed."
Dean frowned. "That could be just a coincidence," but he knew it wasn't. And what the hell did Sam think he was doing downing a whole bottle of Jose! "This Frankie...he one of the guys I played pool with this afternoon?"
"Yeah, and he's real trouble." Maria nervously tapped the gathering ash from her cigarette, "He's the local businessman..." she said it such a way, and a lift of her shoulders, that made Dean grit his teeth, "...dabbles in anything illegal from drugs, firearms, auto theft...you name it. And he would kill me if he knew I was telling you all this. So you didn't hear it from me." Another furtive glance back down the road and she gave Dean a gentle push "now go. Find your brother, he won't be far. Frankie has no problem with crapping on his own doorstep."
"What do you mean?" Dean could already hazard a guess but he needed to hear it.
Maria stared up at him, sympathy shining in her almond brown eyes "The last person that crossed Frankie was brutally murdered." Her gaze became sad, and Dean believed her when she said "He was my brother. And he was found in a trash can."
And Dean started his frantic search.