A/N: This was supposed to start off as a Oneshot, but I figured out I can't do those. So...I was watching Dead in the Water and decided to write a fic. But Im sorta burned out on action ones, so don't expect that in this one. Im dealing more with the two's emotions and physcological stuff. Just a forewarning.

Why'd places have to get so cold? I mean, I didn't mind chilliness, I preffered it actually. But God I hated the snow.

So when we drove through Colorado, in the middle of January, I should have guessed a snowstorm would come through and stop us.

"Hey, Dean, I think we should stop someplace, it looks like its getting pretty nasty out," Sam said from the passenger seat. The sky outside was dark, thick gray clouds preventing any sunlight from shining through. Although it was only two in the afternoon, it felt like eight.

"Dean, I'm serious," insisted Sam when I failed to answer.

Taking a better glance at the sky, my brows knitted. "Eh...we got some time. Lets get another thirty miles in."

"We still have to find a hotel."

"Listen, Mom, I got it." My voice raising, I gripped the steering wheel harder. The previous night's hunting trip was still weighing heavy on my mind. After three hours of playing cat and mouse with two potergiests, both Sam and I had managed to disperse them. But not without some lasting scars.

As though my brother were reading my thoughts, his hand ran over his ribs, where an old oak desk had been shoved at him. He was still watching the wheather, doing the whole brooding lover who's life's been turned upside down act. I hated when he did that.

My trained eyes skimmed the roadsign on the side of the road. Subconsciously, I knew little Sammy was right, the storm was coming fast, and if there was one thing I learned from Dad, it was to not play games with the wheather. But I was sure as hell not about to tell him that. It said there was only ten miles 'till Barbank. Sounded like a tiny town, but at that point I'd take anything to stop Sam's whining.

Turning off the interstate, I drove the Chevy on into the town. It was larger than I suspected, actually. There were modern department stores, plenty of franchised-owned restaraunts, even a mall.

"Check it out, we got civilization."

"For once."

"Just shut up and keep your eyes peeled for a hotel.And don't find the most expensive one, either."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Sam chided. "I forgot, I let you go into Bath and Body Works a couple days ago and you spent all your poker earnings in there."

"Hey! The cashier said that vanilla lotion smelled good on me!"

"Whatever-" He was cut off. They had just driven by a vast empty lot. The remains of what seemed to be a large building laid in ashes on the ground. Reading the sign, I cursed.

"Motel 8 apologizes for the inconvience. We understand that this is the only hotel chain in Barbank and our people are working diligintly to re-build. Until then, there is Frank's Motel, which has a half-off deal to tourists. Thank you for your patience." Sam read.

"Frank's motel? That sounds...inviting." I ventured. It was always my luck. Because I was a Winchester, the odds were constantly against me.

"Let's go check it out," Sam sighed, running his hand through his long hair. I could tell he wanted to make a smart-ass comment, but was too worried about the storm.

-----

"Every room! Sixteen rooms and not one is available?" I yelled. Ten minutes had passed and we'd made our way to Frank's. It was off a dirt road, settled in the back of a herd of trees, looking no larger than a trailer.

"Sorry," a guy in an opened flannel shirt and too short jeans replied. He was smoking a cigerette, breathing so close to me I smelt every scent of the man. His five o'clock shadow and grimy hands finalized my suspicion that he hadn't showered in days. "We're all booked. That skiing convention being held in Willows County out there, caused everyone to get a room."

"Can't they share a room or something. We only need one for tonight," Sam cut in. I knew he was the better talker so I stepped out of the way, allowing him to deal with stinky.

"Listen, man. I ain't got any rooms! How else do I have to get that across to you?"

"But there's a storm about to come, and we need someplace to keep safe..." he was cut short by the other guy reaching under his desk and returning with a rifle.

My eyes widened. We weren't getting a room, that I saw. But getting a gun involved was alittle above and beyond.

"You put that rifle down before I come over there and slap it outta your hand!" a strong female voice projected behind us. Turning around I saw a middle aged woman, with short blonde hair and a expansive body standing in the doorway. Her arms and legs were short, and she was wearing clothes that looked like a Florida tourist's dream, the orange flowered dress rustling in the hardening wind.

"You stay out of it, Cassandra. I'm trying to teach these boys the meaning ah no!" the man behind the desk yelled, spitting his light unto the floor. I noticed, though, that his hands had moved to the desk, where he put the gun down.

Flicking the man off, she turned her attention to us. "Trust me, kids, you don't wanna stay here. Otis has lice in the sheets."

I stole a glance at Sam. He was attempting to keep an even expression, but it was a struggle. Knowing he wouldn't be able to say anything worth value, I jumped in.

"And where do you suppose we stay...Cassandra?"

The woman looked at me harder. Up close I could see the wrinkles beginning to form around the sides of her eyes. She would seem threatening to some, but I saw her in a different light. She reminded me of an over-worked mother whose main goal in life was to keep her family happy.

Her ruby red lips turned upwards a notch. "You two can stay in one of my extra rooms. Lord knows my house is big enough to run a hotel system. And probably a lot cleaner than most places too." the woman's dark blue-gray eyes seared into me. It felt as if she was looking into my heart, seeing every little secret of mine.

I didn't like it. I thought for a moment to take another chance at Frank's, but Sam was already reeling the lady in. Asking her how much, if we'd be putting anybody out, blah blah blah.

"Not at all. Like I said, my house is huge. I only share it to my two daughters, so no need to worry about being bugged on. And all you have to pay for is the groceries you eat. Cuz I can't afford to feed two full grown men...just isn't in my budget!"

Sam laughed. He could be a real suck up at times. I imagined him in college, asking the teacher for help, and telling him he'd go make copies of something for him. Whatever college boys did to win over the proffesor. I sure as hell didn't know. Even more, I didn't care.

Before I knew it Sam was pulling on my jacket, leading me to my baby, away from the infamous "Otis" and out into the brewing storm.

The woman told me to follow her Civic, that she'd lead the way.

"...and if you so much as think about her daughters I'll wring you. We found a place and I don't wanna get kicked out." Sam droaned on. Sometimes I wished there was a mute button on him. Thankfully that day my "mmhmms" and "sures" and "got its" were enough to pacify him.

----

The first drops of rain began to fall as Dean and I were unloading our bags. Cassandra was right. Her place was huge. The structure was built off of wood, with pained glass windows spread about, and a long gravel driveway leading all the way to the back of the house. There was a hint of elegance to the home. I felt it didn't belong in a small Colorado town, but someplace in the Northeast.

Dean didn't like Cassandra. I could tell. Back at the motel lobby, when she had looked him dead in the eyes, he was strewn up about it. At first I guessed it was how the woman had approached us, but once we were in the car he still hadn't shaken it off.

I liked the lady. It was still too soon to pinpoint why, exactly, but she let of a good vibe. I supposed it was her just inviting us into her home like she did. I just prayed Dean wouldn't screw it up for us.

"Hey, you want lavender or magenta?"

I came out of my thoughts. Focusing, I saw Dean standing between two doors, pointing to both.

"Uh, magenta, I guess?" Confused, I waited for Dean to explain.

"You sure, the flowers are prettier in lavender."

Stepping forward I peeked a glance in one of the doors. It was painted a light purple, with a cream colored carpet. The furniture was tasteful. A white iron bed with matching nightstands. The comforter and sheets matched the walls, with purple rose prints.

"Yeah...you're more of a pink-ish, purple-ish guy anyways," I replied, walking into the other room.

It was apperent only females occupied the house. The dark pink paint stopped alittle more than halfway up, replaced by white. Instead of white, the bed and dressers were a dark brown. But the bedsrpead was just as bad. It was white, with large leaves and carnations for design.

Dropping my bag on the queen sized bed I cringed slighty as a clap of thunder shaked the sky. I'd never liked storms. They scared me, even at twenty two. When I was younger, and had shared a room with Dean, I used to crawl into his bed until the worst of the storm had passed, him wrapping an arm around my shoulders and convincing me everything would be alright.

The memory shook me worse than the thunder. Childhood had seemed like an eternity ago. So much had happened since then. Primarily...Jess. I'd arrived at Stanford completely clueless. She'd taken me in, became my friend. Then, over time, our friendship grew, and I realized just how much I needed her in my life.

Just for that short amount of time, I had believed she'd replaced Dean.

A/N: Don't worry, my chapters aren't usually this short, at least this story's won't be, I just wanted to test it out and see of people like it.