"Dean! C'mon, man, get in!" Sam urged strongly at the open passenger door, fumbling with the keys and willing his shaking hands to cooperate. But Dean made no effort to get in. Instead, he merely stood still; his only movement made was the turning of his head as he gazed back at the worn cabin hidden a few miles back, then to his brother, and finally his watch. The words of his former teacher played themselves back in his mind. 32 hours.
"Give me the keys, Sam." Dean spoke, bending over so his head was visible through the opening and extending his hand. His voice held a far-off detached quality to it, and Sam shuddered at the sound.
"Why?" Sam spat defiantly, already fearing Dean's reply.
"Because we're not leaving, Sam. Now, give me the keys." Dean commanded curling his hand into a fist and then unfurling it open palmed to Sam once again.
"No." Sam refuted, sliding back out of the car. He knew if he trapped himself inside the car, it would take nothing for Dean to snatch the keys from him, at least outside he could make a run for it. If he felt he needed to, that is.
"Come again?" Dean maneuvered his upper half out of the door space and straightened himself and met his brother's stubborn stare.
"You heard me. What the hell is wrong with you Dean? Why can't we just leave? We've abandoned jobs before." Sam argued, trying to sound forceful.
"Because Sam, it won't make a difference." Dean said gently, he had heard the hidden plea in Sam's voice—the same one he'd always responded to. It was his little brother's signature move to get the elder to comply with his wishes, to console his fears, and to save the day yet again. Sam always had hope, faith, or whatever you want to call the tenacity one possesses to fight a losing battle with fate and still hold on to the confidence to return victorious when all else screams defeat. Dean had always marveled at that, and took pride in his brother's determination, but he was a realist and being a realist knew that this was something they couldn't simply outrun.
"You don't know that!" Sam yelled, slamming his fist against the Impala's hood, earning him a sharp look from Dean. But Sam didn't care. He was angry. Angry at Fate, God, and every other being claimed to hold life, destiny, and time. He'd lost his mom, Jess, and even his father to a lesser extent and he wasn't going to lose Dean. He wasn't. There was no way that was ever going to happen, not on his watch. If Dean felt he had the right to protect him even to the point of risking his life, then Sam was going to return the favor.
"The deaths are tied to the date that they—I picked, Sam. The location has nothing to do with it. You saw all those papers, man. If Kingston can get to those students in the surrounding states, what makes you think he can't get to me if I'm only a few hours away?" Dean inquired as he circled the front of the car, reaching out to grab his brother's shoulders in a comforting yet assertive manner, but Sam spotted the gesture and stepped back. Dean sighed and leaned against the driver's door, bringing his outstretched arm to his head and running his fingers through his short hair, watching Sam begin to pace before him.
"I never read anything about the students in surrounding states, Dean." Sam stated slowly, as he came to halt.
"I know, Sammy. But I have." Dean confessed, suddenly enthralled with the way his shoelaces intertwined their way up his brown boots and then suddenly felt the need to prove his statement. Taking a deep breath, he began to rattle off the deceased, his eyes rolling back in his head as if they were written on the back of eyelids, "Terry Collins, Mary Stark, Peter Williams, Sarah Craft."
He could've kept going. There were tons of names, all former students, all dead due to Kingston. The research hadn't been too difficult, old school records, a few phone calls, and an Internet search engine was all Dean had needed to know with absolute certainty that no imaginary state line could stop Kingston. He refocused his eyes on Sam, his heart aching as he stared into his little brother's pale face, racked with the pain of being shut out by the elder once again.
"It'll be different this time. Dean, please." There it was, that incessant plea again, calling for him to run away, to allow Sam to attempt to save him, knowing his efforts were futile. Dean resigned that he wouldn't, couldn't cave this time if he wanted to protect the fragile existence of the one that was begging him to do just that.
"Sam, listen to me." Dean ordered, approaching his brother and reaching out once again, relieved that Sam didn't pull back this time, "If I'm going to die I'm gonna face it, head on and fight it until I can't anymore. I refuse to run and hide, Sam. I'm not a coward."
"Why can't you just let me save you?" Sam asked, his words tinged with frustration.
"Making me run isn't going to save me, Sam. It's going to get me killed." The minute the words left his mouth, Dean regretted them. But he couldn't deny the fact that his little brother needed to hear them. Sam shook his head repeatedly at the statement, jerking away from his brother, circling the car and taking his seat in the passenger, silently handing the elder the keys as Dean sank down next to him.
Sam kept the silence throughout the entire hour and a half drive back to the hotel. His attention fixated on the illuminated digital numbers that clicked upward counting down Dean's remaining time. As much as he wanted to, he resisted the urge to stare at Dean. For one, the elder would get seriously annoyed and the last thing Sam wanted was for his possible final hours with Dean to be spent in a fighting match. Sam smirked slightly when Dean would make comments about the chick flick moment they'd had back at the cabin or how bad it must suck to be cursed to live in Suburbia, USA for life as the older Winchester tried to alleviate some of the tension in the car.
He couldn't hold the small hint of a smile for long though, and couldn't stand to be confined to the car either. Sam wanted to run away, just get out and kill the thing that was trying to take out his brother. Dean had told him that Kingston had promised him 32 hours and nothing would happen until then, but that served only to anger him more. What gave Kingston the right to decide that? Sam readily embraced his growing hatred, for it was the only thing that kept him from breaking down completely, and he wouldn't do that to Dean. Not ever. Dean was doing the best to be strong for him and laugh in the face of Death as it were, and he would too. Well, maybe not laugh, but he'd give his best attempt.
The Impala came to a stop in front of their room and Dean mentioned he needed to cover the room for the night and exited the car to do so. Sam remained seated for a while, until he couldn't take the eerie silence any longer and bolted into the room, heading directly for the bathroom and locked himself in. He needed sanctuary, refuge, and a place to gather his thoughts, to prepare himself for the battle to come.
Dean reentered the room about ten minutes later, gear in tow, and more than slightly irritated that he'd been the one left to do all the work. He noticed the closed bathroom door and the absence of pounding water and realized Sam was probably deep in thought; finding some way to blame himself for everything as he always did. Dean was mad at the fact he'd have to deal with a brooding Sam during his last few hours on the planet. He wanted to go out and have some fun, but knew if he left Sam alone he'd have serious hell to pay. His only option was to convince Sam to loosen up and go with him. Dean shot a glance over at the clock, and settled down on the edge of the bed, his knees bouncing impatiently as he waited for his brother to exit.
Sam abandoned his temporary refuge moments later. A new look of purpose and resolve upon his face as he stepped back into the room. He walked over to the opposite bed and dropped down into it, making sure to gain eye contact with his brother before he spoke.
"Okay. So here's the game plan. I am going to exorcise the demon and you are going to salt and burn Kingston's bones." Sam stated authoritatively, leaving Dean slightly stunned for a moment.
"Wait a minute. I'm digging? Again? I thought we agreed to switch it up, man!" Dean whined.
"Yeah, well, we didn't know you'd have a psycho teacher trying to barbecue you then, did we?" Sam shot back, a small smile creeping onto his face.
"I guess not." Dean muttered "But I still don't think it's fair."
"I really don't care what you think. I'm not letting you anywhere near that cabin." Sam said firmly, causing Dean to laugh.
"You really think you could stop me? Seriously, Sammy…" Dean's eyes shone playfully and he shook his head at his little brother's insistence that he could actually take him out.
"I think we should go around midnight. I mean that'll give us a lot of extra time if we need it. Not to mention the cover of darkness." Sam was in complete hunter mode and his brow was furrowed in concentration as he continued, "We probably will. If this doesn't work, Dean, I don't know what else there is."
"It'll work, Sam. Trust me." Dean replied, shooting Sam a mischievous look, smirk on his face, "Well, enough of the business, college boy. I vote we go out, find some really hot girls and have some fun, if you know what I mean."
"Don't you think we should, you know, get ready for the hunt? And I really don't think I want you plastered for this job." Sam suggested, but didn't even know why he bothered.
"Uh, gee, Sam, let me think…. NO!" Dean laughed, "Ah, c'mon, Mr. Rogers. You can't be serious. I think it's only fair seeing as how I might die tomorrow and well, my lazy brother is making me dig up the grave. Again!"
"Fine, ok, but no more than 4 beers. I mean it. And you are only going to play me in pool tonight, cause I don't need you getting killed by some random trucker before Kingston gets a chance." Sam listed his "rules" through Dean's continuous ribbing, but he didn't care. Truth of the matter was, Sam was selfish always had been and well, he really didn't think that would ever change. He wanted his and Dean's last moment together, if that's what it came down to, to be the most coherent and overall best experience they'd have in a bar in a long time. He wanted to remember everything, and not waste a single minute of the dwindling hours.
"Okay, okay," Dean conceded, arms raised in mock surrender, "Get your coat, geek boy. And try to look somewhat cool here. Remember, this could be my last night alive and I don't want my nerdy lil' bro scaring the chics away with his goofy smile and dorky glasses."
Sam feigned hurt by his brother's comments. That earned him a mock punch to the shoulder and sent Dean into another bout of laughter when he stumbled back from the blow. Sam slipped on his jacket following his brother into the chilly night air. Smiling at Dean's quick step and overall light demeanor considering the current situation, Sam couldn't help but think of what tomorrow night, much less life, would be without Dean and his sarcastic, upbeat, twisted personality. Sam did know that he wouldn't want to live to see it.
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Okay so here you go...and i will hopefully have the nextchapter up by saturday at the latest. If i set deadlines, you knows i might actually meetthem..haha--i think. I ended up cutting this chapter in half cause 1. it was really long and 2.i thought it was a good stopping point for now--you are free to comment on that decision if you want to...alright click on the box lemme know what you thought and thanx for reading