It was about three hours from South Dakota, around three hundred miles from the security of Bobby's charms and demon traps. Sam was already fast asleep next to Dean, his floppy brown bangs over his eyes as his head lolled with the sway of the impala. And for once Dean's driving nice and slow, enjoying the speed limit and the sound of Blue Oyster Cult playing softly on the radio. Somehow he managed to push everything that happened behind him, the possession, the assault in the motel room, even that goddamn aching bullet wound Sam inflicted on him. Dean knew better, he knew better than to blame Sam for it, even if this was the second time he's shot him. All he cared about was that Sam was safe and sleeping in the passenger seat. Everything else they could figure out on their own.
Feeling the pull of drowsiness himself, Dean pulled up to a hotel for the night. He sighed and looked over at his sleeping brother, a small small playing on his features as he admired how small he looked from that angle, kind of reminding Dean of a time his brother was actually shorter than him. He stuck his hand in Sam's jacket pocket, fishing for his wallet. Perfect, he thought as he pulled out a credit card and twenty bucks, figuring he'd only pay his brother back if he actually notices that it's missing. Dean opened the car door and headed inside, booked a room, and grabbed all of their stuff before opening the passenger side to throw it on his brother's lap. "Sammy, Wake up." He said in a weary voice, yawning and rubbing at the side of his face. "You're not droolin' in my car."
Sam started to come around, opening his eyes slowly as he began to recognize the feel of the cold night air around him. His eyes closed again though, drifting back into the darkness he had become accustomed to. He groaned and opened his eyes again when Dean tugged on his arm, willing him to get off his ass. "Just give'm a minute." He mumbled incoherently, and then let out an irritated huff as Dean's persistent tugging become more aggressive.
"Dude, I don't have time for this." His older brother groused, tugging at Sam's jacket without any sign of stopping. He opened his eyes again and sighed, turning his head ever so slightly to look at the person who's disrupting his peace. "How far off are we?" He asked, attempting to blink the sleep away.
Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. "A good three hundred miles," He told his sleepy brother before hitting him on the arm and yawning again. "Now get up and bring the stuff inside the room, Sammy. I'm gonna grab us some food and a newspaper to look for anything to do in this side of bumfuck, America." Sam grabbed at the duffle bag on his lap clumsily, then nodded for his brother to go ahead as he found the bag handle and got out of the car. Dean threw Sam the room key and smirked. "I'll be back in an hour, kiddo." He told him, and was about to make his way to the drivers side of the car when Sam's words stopped him.
"Dean," He started, and continued once his brother turned to face him. "It's just…"
Dean Blinked. "What?"
"Well, your arm." He said, waving to it a bit while letting the statement hang in the air.
Dean was surprised. The kid actually remembered putting a bullet in him. "Yeah, my arm." He repeated, cutting off further conversation about it. He walked to his side of the car and opened the door. "Want anything from the store?"
Sam's shoulder slumped slightly. "No, I'm okay." He said, his eyebrows furrowed in subtle frustration.
Dean paused for a minute before nodding. "Fine then uh, I'll see you in a few, Sam." He shook his head and got into his car, closing the door and starting the engine as Sam walked away, defeated. It took Dean a few more minutes bring himself to leave the parking lot after Sam disappeared behind room eleven's door, his head still swimming with the results of tonight's events. When he returned he knew he'd have to ask Sam what he remembered and find out exactly what kind of damage that bitch did while she was rampaging in his body, but honestly Dean just wanted to forget what a bad week he was having.
He pulled up to a small store a few streets down from the motel that, to his pleasant surprise, was still opened. He climbed out of the drivers seat and headed in, vaguely taking in his surroundings and the two officers idly conversing outside of the door. He gave them a good-natured smile and a greeting before heading through the door, receiving a raised eyebrow and two hesitant hello's back.
It was your average corner store, generic plexiglass counter display cases with a galore of candy behind the register counter. Dean grinned at the teenager working behind the counter before taking up a couple of candy bars and walking around the back of the store to the fridges, grabbing a six pack and a local newspaper. The cops that were standing outside just a few moments ago were now inside of the store, watching him. Dean walked up to the counter and placed his items down without paying them any mind, hell if he's gonna bring more attention to himself than needed.
"What's your name?" The older, gruff looking officer said, causing Dean to momentarily tense up at the question.
Dean let that same honest smile return to his lips as he glanced over to the cop. "Nick." He told him. "How about you, sir?"
"You look pretty familiar, Nick." The cop folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow at Dean, ignoring his friendly inquiry. "Fed database familiar. Ever heard of a…" he trailed off, glancing behind him at a wanted poster with Dean's face on it. "a Dean Winchester?"
He froze. They still put up wanted posters? "Yeah, cousin of mine," he said with a shrug. "Poor kid, no one really ever understood him. Matter of fact I heard he passed away a few months ago, really wish I got to…" The younger officer had already began to place Dean's arms behind his back, cuffing him, and pushing Dean against the counter, the other one giving Dean his rights.
"You're going away for a long time, kid." He said, pulling a device out of his pocket to call for assistance. Dean grimaced when the other cop pulled Dean upright, pushing him out of the store door and towards their vehicle.
"I want a lawyer!" he yelled, simultaneously working the cuffs to slip his hand through. The cop then pushed him against the passenger side of the car and threatened him to stay still. Dean winced and kept tugging to free his hand, but he really wasn't making any improvements. "Look," he offered, trying to glance over his shoulder at the cop manhandling him. The cop looked like a bit of a pushover, so Dean tried desperation. "I need you to listen to me. I can explain, I swear."
The man just shook his head. "Sick people like you," he started, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "We put them out of commission, for good." He yanked Dean from the side of the car and opened it, then shoved him inside and locked the door.
----
Sam sighed and shut off the TV. It wasn't helping him sort out what happened and it did nothing to ease the thought of killing that hunter. It wasn't you. He thought, then winced and wiped a hand down his face. Christ, what if that's what I'll be like when I turn? He grimaced and stood from the bed, pacing the room. Sam didn't know what to do with himself, and suddenly he felt a tinge of panic.
Dean should've been back by now.
He paused and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in, then shook his head. No, he was just being irrational. Dean had to come back. He had to.
But he couldn't, not after all this, not after what I did.
Sam opened the room door and glanced at the parking lot. Nothing, no impala and no Dean. He closed his eyes, "Get it together, of course he will." Sam muttered to himself, pulling his gaze away from the lot and turning to head back into his room. He wasn't being rational. It's only been what, thirty minutes? Dean's a tough guy, he's handled himself pretty well with worst injuries.
"Everything alright, sir?"
Sam whirled around to the sight of a man, probably closer to Dean's age if not older, who had a friendly smile and soft eyes that seemed friendly. He held out a hand for to the younger hunter, his smile never faltering. "I'm Joseph, manager of the hotel. It seems your buddy left his credit card at the desk after booking the room." He explained, and raised an eyebrow playfully. "I can trust you to get this to him, right?"
Sam nodded and took the card."Thanks," He said, taking Joseph's hand and shaking it. The man seemed to be waiting for Sam to say his name as well, so he obliged. "My name's Sam." He told him, then looked on with a beamused face when the man grinned widely.