Hey, no reviews. I'm sad now. The only reason I kept going was because I saw a couple of you put this on your alerts list…please review?

Also, be sure to catch my now seven chapter story Save The Day.

I heart reviews. It hurts me that you are reading this and you didn't review.

-Sadness-

Ah, well. On with the show.

Chapter Two

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Sam was tired. And he was cramped.

Not to mention tired. But he already mentioned that…

How did I let him drag me along for this, Sam wondered for the twentieth time. He was holed up in the passenger seat of the Impala, downing nasty, lukewarm coffee while Dean took a bathroom break in the nuclear-waste-looking gas station.

They had been traveling for not even an hour, and Sam was already restless. Why does Dean always get to choose the gig, he thought to himself sourly, sounding like a grumpy twelve-year-old even in his head. At least it's only a few hours away. Could be worse. Wouldn't put it past Dean to drive to Alaska when he's inone of those moods,said the rational adult in him.

Dean hadn't said a word to him on why this job was so urgent that it couldn't wait until the next morning. However, Sam sensed some kind of a tension radiating from Dean's body that was, customarily, not supposed to be there. Sam was left to fish for information on his own, so he had looked up the article that Dean had seen and read about the murder in Salt Lake City.

It could be our kind of thing, he had argued with his brother while Dean was throwing his bag into the backseat back at the motel. But why can't we wait until it's light out?

Because I said so. And that was Dean's final answer. Knowing that Sam would follow with his items, Dean had headed to the check-out desk of the motel, his strides lengthy and purposeful.

Sam sighed, pushing away the thoughts. He swirled the coffee in his hand, his stomach churning along with the splotchy streaks of black and brown. Feeling slightly nauseous, Sam upended the cup on the pavement outside the window and chucked the trash into a nearby trashcan already overflowing with waste.

He missed the trash can. I'm not picking that up. Sorry, Mother Earth.

Still apologizing to the ground upon which he littered, Sam jumped at the suddenness of Dean's reentrance into the car. In one smooth move, the older brother dumped himself on the car seat and threw a bag of what smelled like stale doughnuts onto Sam's lap.

"It's like, two in the morning," Sam yawned, pushing the bag away. Dean took that as an offer, and ripped thepaper apart getting to the food. Chewing on the days-old doughnut, he replied in a slightly snotty tone.

"These middle-class doughnuts too poor quality for you, Princess?"

"Aren't you tired?" Sam abruptly changed the subject. "Can we stop somewhere and keep going in the morning? Because if you crash our asses into a tree, Dad's gonna have to pay for the funeral,"

Dean snorted. "The car's safe, dude. Crashing into one tree won't hurt,"

Sam gaped, open mouthed. Shaking his head, he decided against a response and instead stared blankly into the cloudy, starless night.

"So why are we rushing headlong into this shit anyway, Dean?"

"Because it's our job,"

"Stop evading me, Dean. Just tell me what's up!" Sam replied through gritted teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean swallow the last of the doughnut.

"Nothing's—"

"If you tell me nothing's wrong, so help me God, I will beat your face into the dirty asphalt," Sam was deadly serious, and he turned towards Dean with a glint in his eye. "We are brothers. And we work together. Us. Not just you,"

Eh, Dean thought. He has a point. Damn it.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Sam was surprised. Dean knew an empty threat when heheard one, but something must have hit a nerve.

"You want to know why this job is important to me? Here goes…"

………………………..

Okay, so next chapter, they're in town…I know it's a little slow…if it's too slow, flame me about it! Just review, please, I die from lack of reviews.