Title: Moonstar

Ch. 3: Inventory

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Only get pleasure no money. Welcome to the world thru my eyes.

Summary: Dean is crashing after a string of bad jobs. One last, terrible incident pushes him over the edge. He's on a downhill slide and the Moonstar is the last place he needs to be.

A/N: Well, I guess emotional trauma must be as good as action based on the reviews, so I won't apologize for the depths I sink into Dean's mind anymore. I'll just wallow in it and hope everyone enjoys it. This is the rest of the bridge chapter. God bless everyone who reads but especially reviewers, you make it all worthwhile!

The Pines Motel, was indeed about 10 minutes away from Earl's. Sam could see the crooked vacancy sign coming up on the left and sure enough, a stunted pine tree graced the entrance to the motel. Weary and relieved, he pulled into the parking lot and stopped by the office. It was 2:15 in the morning but there was a clerk on duty, watching late night TV and smoking, with his feet up on a desk. He barely gave Sam a second glance.

Sam got a room and snagged the keys, thank God. He hated those card things. Moving the Impala down to the end of the run of cabins, he carried both their bags in and went back to rouse Dean. How he got both of them stumbling into the room he'd never know, by then Dean was so out of it he could barely walk.

Once he had Dean settled in a bed, boots and belt off, Sam had staggered into the bathroom and taken a fast shower to sluice off as much of the day as he could. He quickly checked the gash on his leg but other than being sore it looked good. He had popped a stitch but it wasn't worth bothering with. What was one more scar? He needed to shave but feared he would slice open his throat if he tried. He made a stab at brushing his teeth and then slid into some sweats and a t-shirt and collapsed onto his own bed, reveling in being able to stretch out his lanky frame and burrow his head in a pillow instead of his arm folded on a hard car seat.

The unmistakable sounds of sickness Sam snapped out of a dead sleep. He sat up, blinking in the dimly lit room, rubbing his eyes, automatically checking Dean's bed. Empty. It felt like he had just gone to sleep, collecting his thought was almost impossible. He focused on the orange clock dial. It was 5:38 am.

The retching sound came again. Sam got to his feet and went over to the bathroom. He leaned close and listened. More coughing and throat clearing, followed by a soft groan.

Sam tapped on the bathroom door. "Dean? Are you okay?" Thinking what a stupid question that was, Sam tried the door and found it locked. He knocked again, "Dean?"

Dean was crouched over the toilet, gasping. He spit out another mouthful of saliva and bile and fought his convulsing stomach for control. He couldn't answer Sam, just dropped his head on his arm, balanced on the edge of the bowl.

"Dean!" Sam barked through the door. "Answer me, man!" He knocked louder and rattled the knob. In another minute he'd be breaking it in.

Dean cleared his throat again and spit, forcing his voice to work. "I'm ok, Sam," he finally choked out. "I'm just sick." He lurched forward as he vomited again, painful dry heaves now.

"DEAN!" Sam banged the door.

Dean groaned, stretched out a shaking hand and flipped the lock on the knob. Sam blundered in, pissed as hell. "What the hell, Dean?" he snapped. He took one look at Dean sitting on the floor, pale, head in his hands and stopped being mad, switching to concern.

Dean had sat back against the wall, hands clawed into his eyes to keep them from blowing out of his skull. His skin was greased with sweat and he was breathing heavily through his mouth, knees drawn up, rocking slightly.

Sam started to close the toilet lid and sit there but Dean waved him away impatiently. Sam grabbed a washcloth and soaked it, handing it to Dean and lowered himself onto the edge of the tub instead.

Dean held the wet cloth over his eyes. "Thanks," he rasped, coughing.

"Jeez, Dean, you look awful!" Sam exclaimed. "Can I do anything for you?" Sam felt terrible. Dean had done this to himself so they could sleep in a bed for a change.

Dean kept swallowing, not sure he wasn't going to be sick again. "I don't know." He finally said, voice gravelly. "Bring me a gun?"

Sam's mouth twisted. "I told you, you should have eaten something."

Dean snorted. "And I told you I did." Had he? "It made a sudden guest appearance about ten minutes ago." He groaned again and shifted his body uncomfortably.

"Do you want some aspirin?"

Dean's eyes popped open, watchful. "Save time…" he grunted, "throw 'em in the toilet…shit…" He lurched forward again. There was nothing left for his stomach to rid itself of but that didn't stop it from trying.

Sam grimaced, listening to him, feeling a little ill himself.

Dean finally fell back, exhausted. He used the washcloth to wipe his face. He was shivering. Sam got him some water to rinse his mouth out.

When he handed the glass back to Sam, his hand was shaking. Sam set the glass on the counter and watched Dean rub his eyes.

"Feeling any better?" Sam ventured, unsure where to go from here. Normally a lecture about drinking too much would have followed but this was definitely not one of those times.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. "Yeah, Sam," he drawled, "I'm just peachy." He rubbed a hand across his stomach and made a face. He relaxed his legs until his feet hit the cabinet.

Sam studied his fingernails. "I was thinking—"

Dean banged his head against the wall. "Oh, God…"

Sam frowned. "I'm serious, Dean. I think we oughta take a few days off and get our heads on straight. These last few weeks have been kinda rough. We need a break." He glanced at Dean to see what kind of effect this statement would have on him.

"My head is on straight and I don't need a break." Dean replied, pretty much as Sam figured he would.

"Dammnit, Dean!" Sam put more emotion into his voice and tried again. "You've been saying that for weeks. Have you taken a look at yourself?" He gestured at Dean, sprawled on the floor.

Dean deliberately took a long, slow look at himself and then resettled his eyes on Sam. "Inventory says everything seems to be here." He blinked slowly.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he stared at Dean. Dean recognized the look with a sinking feeling.

This look meant, "I'll sit here until hell freezes over if that's what it's gonna take to make you do what I want." And he would too. Dean recognized the expression from Sam's source book of 'Looks Sam Uses Too Manipulate Dean' article seven, subsection b. What Dean found amazing was that Sam seemed to know when this look, rather than his standard sad puppy look, would be the most effective.

If Dean hadn't felt like shit he probably wouldn't have acted this way but Sam was trying his patience and Dean knew where this was going. He wasn't up for it mentally or emotionally and though he'd have rather burned in hell than admitted it, Sam was right. They were both beat to the socks. Somehow, making it sound like something Sam needed made it more acceptable to Dean. He realized this wasn't an argument worth having.

He covered his face with his hands and moaned. "Fine. Whatever. We'll take a few days off if that's what you want. Just get off my back, okay?"

Sam smiled, relieved. "Great!" He caught sight of the bloody bandage on Dean's hand. "Dean we need to redress your hand."

Dean glanced at his hand and grimaced. "Shit. I forgot about it. Now it hurts." He floundered about for a moment trying to get on his feet and finally, looked at Sam. "Give me a hand up." He grasped Sam's hand and Sam hauled him to his feet. Dean swayed precariously and sank down on the closed toilet, head swimming.

"Okay?" Sam asked, leaning over him.

"Yeah, I'm fine! Let's just do this so I can go back to sleep, my head's killing me." Sam left to get the first aid kit out of the car. Dean put his arm on the counter and rested his head on it. Normally when he was hung over he still had some pleasant memories to lessen the pain. There was nothing in the last twenty four hours he wanted to remember, if only the instant replay in his mind would cooperate. He was starting to feel nauseous again and wished Sam would get back. God, I gotta lie down….

Sam came back with the first aid kit and set it down on the counter. Luckily, the arm Dean was using as a pillow was the injured one and he already had it stretched out. Sam stripped off the old bloody bandage as quickly as he could. Dean hissed but lay still. Sam made a face at the gash as he gently washed the blood and old ointment off. It still gaped open and looked nasty. His lips tightened and he studied Dean's pale face for a moment. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of Dean's face and slid down his throat where the pulse jumped lightly under his skin.

"Dean, I hate to say it," Sam's voice was reluctant, "but you really need stitches, this looks like hell and it's never gone heal like this."

Dean shrugged one shoulder, didn't open his eyes. "Fine, just do it." He replied listlessly. "Put the trash can over here in case I puke again." He heard Sam do as he requested, putting it where Dean could keep his hand on it.

Sam quickly laid out the alcohol, curved needle, thread, tiny scissors and fresh bandages. He dragged the chair in from the front room to he could sit to work more steadily. He threaded the needle and wiped everything down with alcohol. Dean jerked but said nothing. Sam carefully held Dean's hand down with his own and started working as quickly as he could. He could feel Dean's muscles pull with every dig of the needle. Sam was quite proficient at stitching wounds but he hated doing it, especially when there was nothing to dull the pain of the stitches themselves as they drew through torn flesh. He murmured words of comfort as he worked, not sure if Dean was even listening.

Ten small stitches later and he was done. He packed the wound with fresh antibiotic ointment and gently laid fresh bandages over it.

"All done," he said softly. When Dean didn't respond, Sam shook him lightly.

Dean started and pulled away. "…y'finished?" he stare at his hand, which hurt worse than before.

"Yeah, let's get you back to bed." He stood and caught Dean under the arms to help him up. It was an obvious struggle for Dean to regain his feet.

Once he was up, he brushed off Sam's assistance. "Dude, I puked. I'm not dying. I can make it on my own" He cradled his hurt hand against his stomach and walked slowly to his bed, practically falling on it. Sam followed closely enough to help if needed but far enough away not to hover.

"You want to take your clothes off? It'll be more comfortable." Sam offered.

Dean shook his head. "I just wanta sleep." He crawled under the covers and dropped wearily onto the pillow, rolling onto his side.

Sam snapped his fingers and went over to his bag. Dean heard water running and then Sam was back, shaking him again.

"What the fuck, Sam?"

"Take these." Sam held out three pills, two Dean recognized as aspirin, the third was small and red.

"What is that?" Dean pushed himself slowly upright, he'd welcome the aspirins.

"It's one of the antibiotics the doctor gave me the other day. I think you need to take 'em. I'm afraid your hand may get infected."

"Sam, you're supposed to be taking those!" Dean growled.

"Dean my leg is fine, it has a refill, we can get more. Please." Sam held out the water in his other hand.

Dean was too tired to argue anymore. He grabbed the three pills and took then with a quick gulp of water, hoping they stayed down. He fell back on the pillow. "Can I sleep now?" He rolled back onto his side and closed his eyes.

He felt Sam pull the covers up higher on him and then the creak of the mattress on Sam's bed as Sam settled back onto it.

After a moment Dean said. "Thanks, for fixing my hand."

"No problem," Sam replied. "You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, Sam. I'm okay."

"Will you let me know if you need anything?"

"I need to sleep, Sam."

"Sorry."

Dean listened as Sam shifted on his bed, trying to get comfortable. He moved his throbbing hand up higher on the pillow and fell into the darkness.

This is the rest of yesterday's chapter so it's just to move them along. I'll try and get the next chapter up by next weekend. I thought I'd go ahead with this rather than make everyone wait.

Thanks for any input. There will be more happening, I just gotta get there. Bear with me please!