A/N : Okay, this chapter is absolute crap. I'm telling you. It's just a bigger filler chapter, but I PROMISE there's loads of schmoop in the next one. I just had to insert a couple of things that will maybe give trouble to the boys in the future. But I might also change my mind and not do anything about it at all. They're like storylines scattered across in the most un-obvious ways. Lol. Sorry. It just depends on my mood. After all, the Winchesters should have loads of unexpected whump.
Okay, I should stop rambling.
Also, kudos to anyone who notices the significance of the room number. Maybe a bit lame and obvious, but hey! I'm not good at remembering dates.
Thank you to all those who liked, followed and reviewed so far. I love y'all!
And don't forget to let me know what you think about this chapter 3
Dean heaved a sigh of relief when a sign for a motel appeared ahead. He had been driving for the better part of an hour, Sam frighteningly still but no worse, since his small sign of coherency a while back.
He pulled up in front of the motel, quickly shutting off the engine and pocketing the keys, before turning to Sam.
His fever didn't seem worse, but was certainly higher than Dean liked. He felt for Sam's pulse, half for reassurance and half to actually check the rate of it.
A bit too fast but expected when a fever was burning through a body. Dean pushed open the door, the creak terribly loud in the silence but comforting, all the same.
"Hey, Sammy? Rise and shine, buddy. You can sleep in motel Winchester. Warm beds and cold cloths. How does that sound, huh?" Dean kept talking, hoping but not expecting a response, as he wrangled Sam half off his lap before sliding out from under him.
"Let's get you lying down, bro. You stay right there while I go get us a room, alright?" He managed to get Sam's upper body to rest on the seat, hair haloed around him on the leather seat.
Dean reached towards the back seat again, one knee balanced near Sam's head, trying to come across Sam's or his' wallet. He snagged his duffel that he had thrown in the back seat while he had been loading Sam in the passenger seat. A minute of digging inside revealed his wallet and he withdrew it before letting the bag drop with a thud onto the floor of the car.
He winced.
Sam didn't stir.
Dean gave one last look at his brother, before jumping out and closing the door as softly as he could. He cast a quick look around them, a habit that still couldn't be helped. The motel grounds seemed empty except a red truck parked a few feet away and an SUV that was even now pulling out of the lot and onto the road.
He trotted towards the reception, casting a last glance towards the car.
The counter remained empty as he pushed open the door and hurried in.
"Hello!" Dean almost yelled, trying to lower his volume as urgency pressed within him.
A couple moments later, the beaded curtain behind the counter was pushed aside as a man in his late thirties, a good head shorter than Dean, walked in. He sported a bored expression and watched lazily as Dean gravitated towards him.
"I need a room. Two queens." Dean grunted, slapping a few bills on the counter.
He struggled to contain his temper as the manager took his time bringing out the registry. He snatched it and quickly signed his name 'Dean Michaelides' before pushing it back towards the other man.
"How long?" The man drawled, not even looking up from riffling through a bunch of keys, before extricating one.
"About a week." Dean snapped, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the surface of the counter.
He watched with a growing scowl as the man slowly counted the bills that Dean had given him.
"Look, if you could hurry it up - I've got - " Dean huffed and stopped himself before he could reveal more than he wanted to.
And he needn't have bothered, because the man barely spared him a glance before going back to the counting.
Dean sighed harshly, casting a glance back at his car.
"You're twenty three dollars short, man." The manager said in the same slow tone, capturing Dean's attention.
Dean's eyes snapped back to him, a full on scowl now gracing his features and he dug into his wallet, and pulled out a few more Franklins and thrust it at the man's face.
"Can I have the keys now?" He asked, tone sharp, flashing a smile saccharine sweet, eyes flashing. It usually had an impact on people.
Because it was a look reserved for the monsters and the people who got between him and his brother.
If the manager had looked up, he might have flinched or maybe even taken a few steps back, hands raised in supplication.
Fortunately for him, the man didn't look up and Dean snatched the keys the man extended towards him and turned to leave.
"You guys be safe out there."
For the first time, the man's voice held an emotion other than boredom. Dean turned back, a sudden chill making its way down his spine. He wanted to get a read on the man but he had already disappeared behind the curtains.
Resisting the urge to pursue him, Dean shook himself and stepped up his pace towards the more important worry.
Always the more important worry.
The sleek black skin of the Impala quelled his worry a little and he relaxed as he reached the driver's door. He wrenched it open, a hand in his pocket as he searched for the Impala's keys.
"Hey, Sammy. You 'bout ready to crash in - Sam?" Dean's rambling came to a stop as he looked up with the keys in his hand.
The seat was empty.
Dean's breathing stuttered on a gasp and he felt his heart start pounding faster.
Because no.
This wasn't happening. He couldn't have been gone for more than five minutes.
Just - no.
Only then did he notice the passenger side door standing open. Choking in a deep breath, he steeled himself and scanned the lot. Sam couldn't have gone far. Not in his state.
Except - he could have. He was a Winchester. More than that, he was Sam. A stubborn, hard headed, strong mule.
He looked towards the doors lining the motel, hoping to see some kind of movement.
There wasn't any.
He can't have gone far. There was no place to hide. There was no one here. There wasn't many vehicles. There weren't any -
"Stupid. Stupid! Dean, you are an idiot." He was a fool, was what he was. Because he had forgotten an important Winchester rule.
Sometimes the hardest puzzle to solve has its answers right in front of you.
With more than a little hope, he went around to the other side of the car.
"Sammy!"
The huddled, shivering bundle near the rear door of the car drove a painful wedge into Dean's heart as he fell to his knees near his brother.
"Sam! Hey, hey! Sammy … open your eyes, dude. You with me?" Dean cried, lifting Sam's limp face and trying to get the half open eyes to focus on him.
A sudden cough from the younger man startled Dean, before he lugged the kid upright as chest wracking coughs tore through his already wrecked body.
Dean kept up a litany of nonsensical, soothing words as he rubbed a hand up and down Sam's back.
The eyes that met him held no recognition before they rolled up into a state of semi-consciousness.
Dean swallowed thickly, before taking a hold of Sam's arms and pulling him up. Like before the long legs almost gave out and Dean caught him before Sam met up with the hard ground.
He debated for a second between stuffing Sam back into the car and driving to their room and carrying him to it. He made his decision as his eyes caught sight of their room, a couple doors away from the reception.
Cursing little brothers and fevers and fevers that brought forth confusion, Dean hoisted Sam into his arms and kicked the door shut. Making his way the few feet towards their room door, Dean still couldn't help casting wary glances around them. Motels were not places that Dean trusted, let alone seedy ones in the middle of nowhere.
224 came into view and Dean hastily unlocked the door, pushed it open and beelined for the bed farthest from the door. He gently deposited Sam on the mattress adjusting the long legs so that Sam was laying flat.
The fever radiating from Sam was starting to make Dean sweat and he winced as he thought of the havoc they must be causing inside his little brother's brain.
Making a mental note of the necessary stuff, he whispered a quiet 'be right back, Sammy' before legging it back to the Impala. He set about gathering the first aid kit and a few blankets, before shrugging and adding the duffel bags to his load too. He dumped them all on his bed, pretty sure that he wouldn't be sleeping on it.
Dean paused for a moment in thought, as he went through the meds and painkillers they had in the first aid kit. It was running awfully low and his heart gave a painful twang again, as he visualized a hurt Sam and even worse, a hurt Sam with nothing to reduce the pain.
He wondered if Sam had failed to refill it after the last hunt or if he had been running on whiskey all this time. He shook the thoughts away.
Not now.
He jogged back to the car to grab the ice box, before securely locking the doors and checking the windows. He closed the drapes, switching on the bedside lamps, before rapidly laying down the salt on all possible entryways.
The few minutes that had passed saw no change in Sam and Dean didn't know whether to be grateful for it or not.
He dropped ass on the edge of Sam's bed, smiling sadly at his little brother and palmed his forehead for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. It was a way of reassurance that strangely worried Dean more than it comforted him. He brushed off a few sweat soaked strands from eyes that remained stubbornly shut.
"I'm gonna take care of you, Sam. I am here and 'm not gonna leave you." He whispered, hoping for a response.
Winchesters almost never got what they hoped for. But Dean would make sure that he would.
He would.
A/N : Hey, don't say I didn't warn you! But review anyways? :))))) Pwease?! *Sam's puppy dog eyes*