As he drove, Dean fiddled with the dial on the radio until he found a soft rock station- something Sam would like- and they listened to the musical talents of Fleetwood Mac, Kim Mitchell, Bon Jovi and Toto until they reached Orlando.
Sam was quiet for most of the drive, sipping the bottled smoothie and fumbling with the prescription bag in his hands.
Dean had a lot of time to think as he drove; hoping he wasn't making a mistake by taking his brother to Disney World. But God, he really just needed to forget about everything for a few days and pretend that it was all okay. It was better than waiting around in some grungy motel room for the inevitable to happen, at any rate.
Sam seemed to perk up somewhat as they approached the theme park, numerous signs along the roadway pointing them in the right direction.
"Could you imagine if Dad had taken us here as kids?" he asked Dean, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, clearly envisioning a younger version of himself absolutely losing his mind at having their father take them to the happiest place on Earth.
"We would have gone bonkers," Dean agreed, "We'd never want to leave."
Sam's smile faded somewhat, "Do we have enough money for this? It's not cheap."
"That's the beauty of credit card fraud, Sammy," Dean assured him, nonplussed, "We'll enjoy ourselves for a few days and then beat it before they realize anything's wrong."
Sam nodded, trusting his brother.
Dean's excitement grew as they joined the line of cars, vans and RVs waiting to pass through the gates of Walt Disney World. The going was slow, security tight, so Dean rolled the windows down to catch what little, humid breeze there was. They inched forward at a crawl, all around them were the sounds of impatiently waiting families, and fumes from motor vehicles and the bass thud of loud radios.
From the corner of his eye, Dean saw his brother growing restless, shifting in his seat as though uncomfortable.
"You okay?" he asked as he pulled the Impala a few feet forward, an old Winnebago right in front of them belching blue smoke from its exhaust pipe.
"Yeah," Sam replied in a clipped tone.
Turning to peer more closely at his sibling, Dean saw Sam's face was pale, beaded with sweat, his jaw clenched.
"What's wrong?" Dean asked.
"Nothing," Sam muttered through gritted teeth, "I'm fine."
The Chevy crept forward a few more feet, the security gates within sight now.
"No, something's up," Dean argued, "What is it?"
"I…" Sam hesitated, "I have to go."
Dean's eyes widened slightly, "Aw Sammy, can't you hold it? We're almost through."
"I'm trying!" Sam growled, hands grabbing the edges of his seat tightly.
A wave of heat that had nothing to do with the Florida temperature washed over Dean and he resisted the urge to bear down on the horn.
"C'mon, can't we go any faster!" he snarled in frustration.
There were five cars ahead of them, including the Winnebago.
"We're almost there, Sammy," Dean murmured to his brother, hoping his sibling would be able to keep it together and avoid a very embarrassing situation.
Slowly, slowly, they crept forward until they were finally sitting in front of the security guard. An elderly man with an impressive handlebar mustache, he squinted down into the Impala for a moment before asking Dean for some ID. Obediently, the hunter fished out his driver's license and handed it over.
"How long are you planning on staying?" the guard asked in a languid drawl.
"About a week or so," Dean replied vaguely. Really, they would stay as long as the credit cards worked and no one got suspicious.
The guard handed Dean back his license and narrowed his eyes as he looked into the car and saw Sam.
"Your friend okay, there?"
"He's just gotta use the bathroom badly," Dean replied, glancing at his sibling from the corner of his eye.
"There's public toilets just as you drive in," the old guard told him, "Near the information booth."
Dean smiled, relief washing over him, "Got it, thank you."
The guard nodded and waved them on.
Dean drove a little faster than necessary towards a large, redbrick building marked 'RESTROOMS' with a smaller similar building beside it that read 'INFORMATION'. There were already a few cars parked in front of the restrooms- mostly family vehicles with kids- but there was an open space and Dean took it. As soon as the Chevy had stopped, before Dean could even turn off the engine, Sam was hurrying towards the doorway with a figure of a man painted above it.
The hunter leaned back for a moment, letting out a sigh, before he too, left the Impala and walked to the information booth and grabbing a handful of maps available to tourists just entering the park.
W
When Sam lurched back to the Impala, Dean was looking through a map of the resorts; trying to decide which one they should stay at.
Once his brother had slumped into the passenger's seat, Dean showed him the map and brochure describing the different places guests could stay at the theme park.
"How about this, Sammy? It's called Port Orleans Resort- French Quarter. It looks nice."
"Whatever Dean," Sam muttered, brushing his sweaty hair back from his face.
Dean peered at his brother sympathetically.
"You okay?" he asked.
Sam shrugged, "I will be."
For a moment the brothers were silent, watching a woman and three children run out of the women's restroom and into a grey van parked beside them. Through the open windows came the screechy sound of pre-pubescent voices arguing about which park they wanted to visit first.
"Just as long as we don't go to the same place they are," Sam spoke up, smiling faintly as the van pulled away and in the direction of the resorts.
Dean chuckled and turned the key in the ignition.
"You got it, Sam."
W
"Wow," Dean breathed as he and Sam stepped into the lobby of the Port Orleans, French Quarter resort. The building was tall, with large windows along one side. A fountain in the center shot water high into the air. Dark green lampposts illuminated the area, even in the daytime. Foliage in pots sat in between benches placed in the area for weary travellers to lounge on. The brothers walked up to the desk to their left upon entering the immense lobby and Dean spoke to the concierge.
As Sam looked around the lobby, taking in the sights and sounds and smells, he couldn't help but smile.
"C'mon Sammy," Dean put an arm around his brother's shoulders, "Let's see our room."
Sam allowed Dean to guide him outside and down the sidewalks, with appropriate names such as Café Au Lait Way, to the resort rooms.
The hotel rooms were grouped together in buildings made of redbrick, with wrought-iron railings on the walkways, and dark brown roofs.
"Here's ours," Dean announced and led Sam up a staircase three flights to the top of a walkway and around a corner until he stopped in front of a door painted bright red.
Dean unlocked the door to reveal a large room with two queen-sized beds with ornately carved wooden headboards, purple and gold blankets, yellow carpet, a television and a dresser for clothes. A rectangular table with two chairs sat in front of the window. A portrait of what looked like a dozen or so girls or young women in frilly dresses dancing around a clearing, waving ribbons, graced the wall between the two beds. The room was meticulously clean.
Sam stepped inside and dropped his duffel bag on the bed furthest from the door, closest to the washroom.
"What do you think?" Dean asked, dumping his bag on his own bed.
Sam, giving a genuine smile, replied, "This is so cool."
Author's Note:
Thanks to everyone who left a review for the previous chapter.
Next chapter, Sam and Dean will actually go to some of the parks!
