As Sam packed, Dean only asked two more questions: where she lived and how far away were they.
Sam wasn't sure how he felt about his brother at the moment. Fear and pity and outright need, knowing he was his brother's lifeline, Dean's only hope at getting his sight back fought with outrage, not just at Marcia, but at Dean, too. His brother was being way too stubborn and way too… Dean. Sam understood. He really did understand his brother's actions, but he couldn't help being pissed at him.
"For once in your life, Dean, will you let me help you? Jesus!" he swore, watching as Dean purposely strode away from him, feeling his way along the outside wall of the resort.
"I know where I parked the damn car, Sammy. My eyes are gone, not my fucking legs!"
"Fine." And Sam bit his tongue and held himself back and yet couldn't help warning, "Watch out for the curb, though, I'd hate for you to put a dent in the car when you fall face first onto the hood."
Sam looked over at Dean, his older brother slumped down in the passenger seat of the Impala. He tried not to feel guilty about the small bruise on the side of Dean's head. Tried not to continue to fuss about it. It was bad enough when Dean was resisting his help, trying to find his own way to the car, shrugging off and away from him, only to trip on the curbing in the parking lot and fall against the car, just like he'd warned.
Dean refused his help then and was still refusing to talk to Sam. Hell, the only thing Dean had said to him since, other than "keep your hands off me" was to ask him if he could drive any faster.
"Goddamn stubborn sonofabitch," Sam muttered.
He reached over and shoved AC/DC into the tape player and turned the volume up, just to have some noise in the car.
It would take them another three hours to get to the address they got for Marcia. If that was where she was even going. Sam had thought about calling her, but figured that she'd surely know they'd be following her then, and go somewhere else. So they'd go to her hometown and look for her there. And if she wasn't there, he'd find someone who might know where she was.
He pushed down on the accelerator.
Dean knew he shouldn't be mad at Sam. He was only trying to help. Only trying to help him. He who didn't need anyone else's help. Until now.
Who are you kidding, Dean? You went to Stanford looking for his help, asking for his help, practically begging for his help.
But that was for Dad. Not me.
Why is it so hard?
He reached up and gently touched his temple, feeling the bruise and bump. He couldn't complain. Sam had warned him.
Sam. Who had AC/DC blaring in the car. Dean knew Sam was pissed then, if he was listening to the tape by choice.
Dean reached forward, felt his way to the radio controls and turned the volume down.
He felt the bump on his head again. "So, did I dent her?" he asked.
Sam took his eyes off the road to look at Dean. Heard the apology in his voice. "No, you got the worst of it," he replied softly.
Dean nodded his head.
"You want some Tylenol or something? Maybe put something cold on it?"
"Yeah, sure." Dean didn't either would do anything for the pain he was feeling, as it wasn't the physical pain that hurt more. But if it would make Sam feel better, make Sam feel helpful, he'd take them.
Sam pulled the car off the road and put it in Park. As he was reaching for his backpack, Dean asked, "What time is it?"
"Around six. Sun's up," Sam replied. "You hungry? I think I saw a sign for a Denny's at the next exit."
"No, I'm good."
Sam nodded his head, cursed himself when he realized again that Dean wouldn't see it, but didn't say anything. He shook a couple of Tylenol out and put them in Dean's hand, before handing him a bottle of water.
Dean tossed back the pills and opened the bottle of water. After taking a swig to wash down the Tylenol, he recapped the water and put the cold bottle against his temple.
"We're gonna get her, Dean," Sam told him, pulling the car back onto the highway. "We'll figure it out, get your sight back."
"I know you will, Sammy."
"We're gonna do it, Dean," Sam insisted. "And you're gonna start by telling me everything you can about her. Beginning with how she lost her sight. Did she tell you?"
"There was an explosion or something at the local community college," Dean began. "She said she was taking photojournalism classes. Some asshole mixed the wrong chemicals together in the dark room, added his cigarette to the mix and she got hit with the fallout."
"So her career is over," Sam concluded.
"Doctors tell her that she won't see again. The scar tissue is too extensive."
"Seems to me that the asshole in class should have been the first pick on her revenge list, to get her sight back. Why go so far away to pull this on you?"
"Asshole number one died in the explosion," Dean replied. "I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Still… why now?"
It was around ten in the morning when they passed the "Entering the Town of Greene" sign. Sam looked again at his laptop, sitting on the seat between he and Dean. The Mapquest site on his computer, which he'd bookmarked before leaving the resort, was still up. They were about five miles from her house. He pulled into a convenience store parking lot.
"We there?" Dean asked, sitting up straight.
"No, about five more miles."
"Why we stopping then?"
There was irritation and impatience in Dean's voice. Sam had expected it.
"Because I want to do a little more research, first. We really haven't had too much time to do any. I'd like to know if we can get into her house without her pinning both of us to the floor, first." Seeing the stubborn look on Dean's face, he continued, "Dean, more than ever, we gotta be careful here. I don't want to go in shooting first and asking questions later, only to find out that we need her alive to reverse this thing."
He reached over and put a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean flinched at the unexpected contact, but Sam kept his hand there, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We gotta do this right, Dean. No room for revenge here," he said.
"Yeah," Dean whispered, but Sam knew Dean wasn't about to let it go at that. Sam wasn't sure he would, either.
"We're at a convenience store. I'm gonna get us some coffee. We've both been up all night, and after driving all this way, I know I could use some."
"Sounds good."
Sam got into the driver's seat and handed Dean a cup of coffee. "You want me to open the lid?" he asked automatically, and waited for the explosion.
But Dean surprised him. "Nah, I got it," he said quietly, and felt around the rim of the lid for the little tab to pull back. He took a sip, if only to prove to Sam that he could, and said, "Thanks."
"There's a bed and breakfast in the village. I figure we can get a room there and start doing some research," Sam began. "Maybe there's some local lore or coven or something around here. Maybe even find someone there that knows Marcia."
"Everyone should know her, at least by what she told me," Dean said. "I get the feeling that this is a small town. Am I right?"
"Aren't they all?" Sam replied, starting the car back up.
The elderly woman that owned the Riverside Bed and Breakfast couldn't have been more helpful. Or more annoying. Sam wondered if they were her first, if not only, customers.
"Oh, but you boys will just have to come out to the back porch. The breeze there is just so wonderful. I could tell you all about the Town, and describe every little thing for you," she went on, leading the brothers to their room. She hadn't specifically mentioned or asked about Dean's obvious blindness, but the way she had mentioned describing the Town, meant that she hadn't missed it, either.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Watkins," Sam told her. "My brother and I have been driving all day, we just want to crash for a little bit. I promise I'll come out and talk to you later."
"Is that apple pie baking?" Dean suddenly asked, smiling. Sam turned him slightly so that he faced the woman. "I wouldn't want it to burn while we're taking up your time, as I'm sure I'd love to taste it later on," he continued, flashing her one of his brilliant smiles.
"Oh! Yes!" she cried and turned to scurry down the hall toward the kitchen.
Dean slumped against the wall when he knew she was gone and then gratefully allowed Sam to lead him into the room. He'd hated having to be near the woman; even knowing she wasn't a threat. But he truly felt scared by her, being in a strange place, with someone unknown to him nearby, and he wondered about how she was looking at him, pitying him, seeing him as the helpless person he currently was.
"She's just a lonely old lady," Sam told him, reading his thoughts. "She'd probably treat anybody that came in here like this."
Sam led Dean over to a rocker/recliner in the corner of the room and didn't miss the way Dean collapsed onto it, letting out a tired, pain-filled groan.
"You okay? Your head still hurting?" Sam wondered if the trip onto the hood of the car hurt worse than it looked.
"Behind my eyes," Dean replied. He shoved his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and pushed the palms of his hands against his eyes.
Sam looked around their small room. It had a king sized bed, the rocker/recliner, an antique highboy dresser and a small writing desk with chair. The bathroom was down the hall, shared by any other second floor guests there might be.
Mrs. Watkins had asked if they wanted separate rooms, since as brothers they weren't the normal honeymoon couple or vacationing couple that usually went for the B&Bs, but Sam had said they'd be fine sharing. At least she hadn't given him one of those skeptical looks they often got, when checking into hotels together. Brothers. Riiiight…
"You wanna lie down for a little while?" Sam asked. "You look beat. Maybe it'll help."
Dean thought about protesting, giving Sam his stoic, "I'm fine," but thought better of it. Sam was right. They needed to do this right. Which meant Sam had to do it right. And if Sam was too busy worrying about him, then, mistakes would be made. And they'd both be blaming themselves for it. Sam would be blaming himself for it.
"Yeah, sounds good," he said and rose from the rocker/recliner. He let Sam lead him to the bed, but cut him off at that. "I think I can undress myself. Been doing that in the dark for quite a while now," he said.
"I'll be here," Sam said.
And that was enough for Dean.
