A/N I don't own Sam, Dean, Supernatural . . . I couldn't resist adding another chapter. Oh, and thanks, reviewers!
Dean froze.
If he wasn't desperate, Dean would have known better. He would have leapt forward and stuck, weapon or no weapon. But Dean was desperate, and for this reason, he froze.
The man laughed. "Where is he?" Dean screamed. Very slowly, the man placed the wallet down.
"I don't want your money," he said in reply. He walked over and peered at Dean. Dean used all self control not to leap and attack. This man was a lead. To Dean's dislike, he needed that man.
"Then what do you want?" Dean grunted. Dean was getting pissed--that man let out another long chucked.
"Your life, perhaps?" hissed the man. He's a liar, Dean realized. Using mind games. Dean jumped forward, swinging a fist into the man's stomach. Dean shoved him to ground, pinning him with one hand. With the other, he pulled away the long hood.
If Dean was a normal person, he'd later say, "There were the scariest eyes I've ever seen!" But Dean was far from normal, and this wasn't true.
But the eyes were scary.
Horrifying, even.
The man--demon--had black eyes. Around the pupil was black. The pupil was black. The eyes were black and deep and empty. Seeing those eyes made Dean's blood run cold, it was a blackness that sent shivers down one's spine. The demon began to laugh once more.
Suddenly, the demon was on his feet. He didn't fade away; he seemed to flicker before vanishing. It was over so fast; Dean had no time to react. He just picked up his wallet--he hadn't even realized it was in his pocket--and checked it over. Forty dollars some fake ID cards, and some fake credit cards. Good enough.
Suddenly, another memory hit him, a memory that took place after the phone call . . .
Dean was wild. He had no car to drive so he ran, arms pumping, feet pounding on the ground. He ran and ran until he reached Jessica's graveyard. After all, her grave was in town. This was the town it had all started in--college and death for Sam.
It was dark. Night. Dean leapt out with a gun tucked in his pocket. "Dean!" screamed Sam. Dean spun around, searching for Sam. Finally he spotted his figure in the distance.
"I'm here!" Dean hollered back as he rushed forward-
Dean blinked several times. So, he didn't remember the phone call. At least he had this. But this didn't answer any questions, this-
-this gave him a location. Dean would visit the motel there, maybe even check Jessica's graveyard. Find something to jog his memory. Dean grinned. He knew what he had to do.
But before Dean could drive there, he had a stop to make. And the place was a small apartment. It was where he and his Dad met up, where they used to stay between hunts. It held all the extra gear, and Dean was sure to need some guns and knives.
Dean drove for a few hours, until exhaustion won. He pulled into a half empty parking lot. The sign read VACANCY, and what Dean needed was to sleep. As he climbed out of the car, his left leg hurt more than ever.
"I need a room, on queen," Dean muttered as he approached the front desk. The woman sitting at the desk peered at him.
"Name, please?" she asked. Her nametag read Kelly. Kelly was on the older side, nearing retirement but not there yet. Her light brown hair--dyed or real?--was kept short in attempt to make her round face seem younger. She had flushed checks, pursed lips, and very large blue eyes.
"Dean Winchester," he responded, leaning slightly on the desk. Kelly stared at him for another minute.
Very slowly, she asked, "You mean Marry's boy?" Dean stood up straighter in surprise.
"Uh, yeah," he stuttered. Dean did not stutter. What was wrong with him lately?
Kelly got a soft look in her eyes. It made her look like a young child. She didn't need short hair, Dean thought; she just needs to keep that innocent look in her eyes. "My you've grown! I'm--well, I was friends with your mother. Though I'm a great deal older than she--than she'd be right now. She was a fine person, Dean."
"I'm sure she was," Dean added. "Look, I'm exhausted, can I have a room?"
"Of course, honey! The room's free," Kelly exclaimed, placing a card in his hand. Dean mumbled thanks and headed to his room. This is what he hated--running into people he used to know. People who used to know his family. Dean tried not to think about those people. Why couldn't they leave him alone?
When Dean left the next morning, he missed the man by about 45 minutes. When the man arrived, he presented himself to the front desk and asked Kelly, "Have you seen a boy named Dean Winchester? I was told he mighta come to this motel." Kelly searched him with her wise, Grandma eyes.
"It's important, ma'am," the man said. The lightbolb keeping the lobby lit flickered and turned off. It was stormy and raining like crazy. The man took off his raincoat and hood, revealing his face. Kelly judged people by the look in their eyes, but Kelly couldn't see his eyes in the dark.
"How so?" she asked.
"Mr. Winchester has gotten into trouble. I need to deal with him."
There was something Kelly didn't like about this man. She was busy typing at her computer, and unknown to the man, she quietly deleted the record of Dean coming here.
"No," she replied slowly. The man looked slightly unconvinced." I haven't seen the boy in years. Whoever told you he stopped by was wrong."