Two days later, Dean groaned softly as discomfort prodded him from a sound sleep. He slowly pried his eyes open, blinking at the daylight filtering through the window. His chest ached and his throat had to be raw, judging from the pain. He blinked to clear the sleep out of his eyes, vaguely realizing that he was in an unknown room.
"Here. Drink," a deep male voice ordered abruptly.
Dean frowned up at it then slowly recognized the person behind it. "Derek. Still bossy, huh?" Dean sat up carefully but did as he was ordered. He felt much better after a couple of swallows of the bottled water. He sighed in relief and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. He could tell that he was still wearing boxers but that seemed to be all.
"What happened?" he asked as he lazily scratched an itch on his bare chest.
Derek arched an eyebrow then announced dryly, "You had a bad ass flu bug that loved the fact that you stayed sopping wet for over four hours while getting wasted."
"Meant, what happened to dropping me off at the house?" Dean clarified groggily.
"You call that a house?" Derek exclaimed softly then watched as Dean flinched. He knew how run down that place was. The roof never leaked in the same place twice. Every time Dean had fixed one set of leaks, another set appeared. He'd started believing the house was cursed but couldn't prove it and it had been a pain in the butt fixing a roof with cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder. Derek continued, "I broke the door by leaning on it after trying to get in."
"That's what over muscled frames tend to do, you know," Dean rasped slightly.
Derek gave him more water while arguing, "There was more water inside the house than outside."
Dean shrugged and dismissed wearily, "It worked."
"For how long?" Derek questioned, wondering how long Dean had lived there.
Dean shrugged and moved on, like he was trained. "Where's my phone?"
Derek sighed and grabbed it off the bedside table. He handed it to Dean, letting him know, "Your dad called yesterday but nothing from Sammy so far." Dean paled and stared at Derek with dread. Derek nodded, "You were delirious with fever and were worried about them. You kept calling out for them."
Dean swallowed hard and asked hesitantly, hoping for the right answer, "I say anything else?"
Derek stood uncomfortably and announced, "I'm going to get some food. Think you can handle some? Burgers?" Dean nodded warily to which Derek responded, "Be back in a few."
As soon as Derek left, Dean checked his voicemail and heard his dad's message. He knew then he had to head out. At least now he knew which way to go.
He slowly stood and waited for the weakness to pass then headed for the shower, taking his clothes with him. He blasted the hot water and relaxed as he let the water wash his muscle stiffness away. He pushed the unpleasant thoughts from his head which demanded he find out what he'd said to Derek in his delirium. He knew it was unpleasant based on Derek's reaction but that could have described almost all of his life. He didn't know if he'd talked about the supernatural or about the other evils out in the world that weren't supernatural. He shook his head, spraying water on the shower curtain and walls, then blanked his mind.
When the water turned cold, he quickly washed and rinsed before stepping out of the shower. He dried off, brushed his teeth then got dressed. He felt almost normal when he exited the bathroom. He smiled when the aroma of hamburgers and fries greeted him.
"Awesome," he commented with a wide, boyish smile that he saw Derek return.
"Dig in," Derek ordered softly. "Good to see you up and around."
Dean didn't hesitate. He dug in with relish that made Derek laugh. "What? I'm hungry," he excused with a mouthful of food.
"You remind me of my younger brother. He eats like that, too."
"How many brothers you got anyway?"
"Two, plus a sister in between them. Scott headed to college last year with his friend, Stiles. Liam's in high school. Cora will start next year," Derek rattled off. "What about you?"
Dean shook his head. "Just me and Sammy. And Dad."
"No mom?" Derek wondered.
Dean flinched slightly then answered softly, "Died when I was like four. Sammy never really knew her. Dad . . . well, it's only us now."
"What does your dad do?"
"A combination of pest control and removal with some wildlife relocation included. It's sort of a family business," Dean explained vaguely. "Which reminds me. Dad left a voicemail and I need to meet up with him." Dean cleaned up his trash and started to clean up.
Derek frowned in concern, "You do know that you are not completely well, right?"
"I'm well enough," Dean countered with a shrug then glanced at Derek and saw Derek's concern. "Look, I know, okay? But I still have a bit of drive ahead of me and I can recover on the way. Dad needs me. It's my job and there are no sick days." Dean sighed softly, knowing no one could understand, "I have to go, Derek."
He'd finished packing by then and shouldered his bag. He walked over to stand in front of Derek who was still seated at the table. Derek shoved a small stack of cash over toward him, saying, "Your boss contacted Mort who gave me this. Said it was your pay for last week."
Dean couldn't remember but he didn't think that he was owed that much. He frowned slightly, sensing something was not right, then shrugged and took the money. After all, money was money and it would save him some time hustling which he really didn't feel up to anyway.
After pocketing the money, he looked Derek in the eye and promised, "Listen, you took care of me when you didn't really have to. Not many people would have done that. I owe you big time. Here's my number." Dean offered as he wrote it down on some motel stationary. "If you need anything, just give me a call. Anything, dude. I really enjoyed meeting and hanging out with you, Derek."
Dean held out his hand and Derek stood then they shook hands, each one gripping the other firmly. They stared at each other for a long moment then they let go. Derek ordered, "Take care of yourself, Dean."
"Always, Derry," Dean saluted cockily as he left the room.
"It's Derek," Derek insisted with a glare but could tell that Dean did it just to annoy him. He stood in the doorway watching Dean and observed dryly, "Wiseass."
"Bitch," Dean countered as he opened his car door and tossed his duffel in the back.
"Dick," Derek insulted.
"Jerk." Dean placed one foot in his car while he leaned on its top and car door window.
Derek's smile grew wider as he taunted, "Pretty boy."
"Dork," Dean snapped irritably.
Derek arched his eyebrow and drawled out lazily, "Beautiful."
Dean shook his head. "Way too gay, bitch. And you're supposed to say, 'Jerk,' when I call you bitch."
Derek shook his head. "Nah. Pussy fits you better 'cuz you're such a girl."
"Eat me, douchebag," Dean snapped irritably.
"Maybe next time, big boy. Never on the first date," Derek dismissed suggestively.
"What? Wait, what?" Dean exclaimed in shock. "Dude!"
Derek laughed heartily as he turned to go back in the room, "Yeah, I know. Not gay but, man, you should see your face right now. Later, Dean." Derek waved behind him then shut the motel room door.
Dean stared at it for a moment before smiling wide. He chuckled as he lowered himself into his baby and shut his door. He turned up his radio and headed out of the parking lot with a good feeling. Too bad this feeling wouldn't last very long. It never did for Dean.
Sure enough, ten minutes outside of town, Dean glanced to his right and felt the emptiness of his passenger seat nail him like a knife to his heart.
