Sam opened his eyes. He had been so afraid that he would be meeting Dean's frozen, anguished gaze, that it took a few moments for the sight of the empty ceiling to register. As soon as it did, Sam threw himself off the bed and ran into the bathroom. He made it to the toilet in time to puke up everything but his guts and then dry heaved for a minute or two. He flushed the toilet and slumped back against the bathtub. He turned a bit so he could rest his head against the cool porcelain. Sam was very aware of the absence of a comforting touch on his back and a concerned murmur in his ear. Dean was gone, but he wasn't dead.
Dean wasn't dead. The thought galvanized Sam. He stood up on shaky
legs and washed his face. He quickly rinsed his mouth with some of the
lukewarm, slightly metallic tasting water from the tap and spit it into
the chipped sink. Sam frowned at his reflection in the tarnished
mirror. Where the hell was his brother? Dean hadn't been taken from
the room. There was no way in hell Sam would have slept through a
fight and Dean would have fought. Dean had left the room voluntarily,
but why? Had something lured him out? It wasn't like Dean to fall
into a trap like that, but then Dean was hurt - physically and
emotionally - and that made him vulnerable. Sam winced. He had made
his brother vulnerable.
But now was not the time to wallow in his guilt - he could do that tomorrow in the car - right now he needed to find Dean. If Dean was hurt or in trouble and he needed him, Sam was going to be there. He wasn't going to let his brother down this time. Resolutely, Sam left the bathroom and got dressed. He had no idea where he was going, but he would search every room in this motel until he found his brother. Dean wasn't dead and that was the only important thing.
Walking outside was like getting cold water splashed on his face on a blistering hot day. Shock and relief. The Impala was gone. Dean must have gone for a drive to clear his head. Except that Dean was wiped and hurting, he wouldn't drive around aimlessly. Sam's gaze was drawn to the lights of the office. Maybe Dean had asked the desk clerk if there was a bar further up the road and he was there working through his issues with a bottle of beer and a game of pool. Sharking people always relaxed Dean.
Convinced that his errant older brother was in some roadside dive, completely captivating all the females and pissing off the other male patrons while relieving them of their hard earned cash. Sam jogged over to the office, once he knew for sure where Dean was, he would be able to relax and wait for Dean to return. Then he and his brother were going to talk about everything. He knew it was the last thing Dean wanted to do, but it was going to happen. They were going to tell each other how they felt about Dad missing, about what happened in the asylum and everything that pissed them off about each other. And when they were done that, Sam was going to hug Dean and tell the big lug that he loved him and when Dean called him a pussy he would know that his brother loved him too.
"Uh, excuse me," Sam said to get the desk clerk's attention as he walked into the office. The man was sitting behind the desk watching a small black and white television with more snow than picture. The man looked up with that disturbing over-friendly smile, so Sam continued, "I was wondering if maybe you had talked to my brother tonight? He was feeling restless and now he seems to have disappeared on me. Did he ask about any bars nearby?"
"Oh, there's nothing nearby." The desk clerk's voice was pleasant, his expression affable, but there was still something about him that made Sam uncomfortable. "I didn't talk to your brother, Sam, but I did see him."
Sam bit back a testy rebuke at the use of his first name. He really didn't like how this man too casually referred to him as 'Sam' like he knew him. He didn't want to offend the guy though, especially if he had any information about Dean, so instead he just smiled tightly and tried to keep his tone polite. "Really? When did you see him?"
"About half an hour ago. He was packing up his car and then he drove off. It looked like he was leaving."
"Leaving?" Sam frowned in confusion. That didn't make sense. "You made a mistake, you must have seen it wrong."
"No, Sam. Your brother left you, but don't worry, you can stay here as long as you like."
Sam didn't bother to tell the man where he could shove his offer to stay because he was already walking out the door. He would only be staying long enough to find his brother and then there were showing this godforsaken place the Impala's taillights.
-----
By four in the morning there was still no Dean and Sam was pacing around their room. There was something wrong with this place. Except for the creepy clerk, Sam had neither saw nor heard anyone else. There was no dial tone on the phone, just bursts of static, and there was no reception for his cell phone. These were all things Sam was currently kicking himself about for not noticing them earlier. If he had paid more attention to his uneasiness over the clerk then Dean would be safe. They would be together.
Sam sat in the chair by the window and let his breath out in a frustrated huff. The glass fogged briefly and disappeared. Sam stared out at the empty parking lot and wished for the sweeping headlights of the Impala to wash over him. That car had been home more than anyplace else. When they were younger, Dean had always created a comfortable, safe place for them in the backseat of the Impala. While their father had drove and muttered about the evils of the world in the front seat, Dean and Sam had played games or Dean had told Sam stories about the great new place they were going to and how it was going to be a fun new adventure. One of Sam's favorite memories from that time happened when he was four. They had been driving for a long time and Sam had started to get whiney and restless so Dean had distracted him by teaching him how to spell his name in the fogged up window. Their Dad had given Dean hell for smudging up the windows, but Dean hadn't cared. He had just ruffled Sam's hair and told how proud he was that Sam had learned so quickly.
On impulse, Sam leaned close to the window and breathed on it. In the patch of fog, he carefully drew S-A-M with his finger. He didn't know what the hell this place was, but its goal was obviously to separate him from his brother. The clerk had made a mistake though - never in a million years would Sam believe that Dean would just walk out on him in the middle of the night without saying anything. No matter how mad he was, Dean would never abandon him. Sam raised a hand to wipe his name off the glass when another patch of fog appeared beside it. As he watched M-Y was added. S-A-M-M-Y.
To be continued...