The lucky horseshoe that nearly gave Sam a concussion now hung above the hotel closet. Others hung above the doors to the bathroom and the outside, and Dean stood on a chair nailing one above the window. "You know you really only needed one of those." Sam smirked.
"I don't want to take any chances." Dean shrugged climbing down from his chair, "I'm to pretty to end up looking like you."
Dean laughed at himself and was a little disappointed when neither Shelly nor Sam seemed to appreciate his humor. He turned around to see what they were doing and his smile faded when he saw his brother. Sam sat on the edge of his bed trying not to wince as Shelly swabbed alcohol over the cut on his head. "Sorry." She whispered.
Sam offered her a weak smile but it didn't really make her feel any better. Dean watched the body language behind the interaction and decided that it might be a good time to get lost for a few minutes. "Ok," He said making sure that the shot gun was fully loaded, "I'm gonna run out, pick up a few things. If that closet so much as creeks, blast the hell out of it."
"Pick up what?" Sam asked as Shelly covered the wound with a butterfly strip.
"I dunno, stuff." Dean shrugged as he gestured with a suggestive look toward the beautiful woman dressing Sam's cut.
Sam glared at Dean but it only made his grin even wider. Shelly noticed the look on Sam's face, unaware of Dean, and drew back. "Am I hurting you?" She asked shyly.
"No." Sam said with a nervous smile, "It's fine."
Shelly smiled back at him and then blew on the cut to dry the liquid around it. Dean raised an eyebrow and tried not to smirk too much. "I'll take my time." He said playfully and then disappeared.
Shelly looked over at the door as it closed and then back to Sam who shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "I'm sorry." She finally said, breaking the new silence.
"For what?"
"For getting mad in the car… and on the phone. I was the one who asked you to come."
"You asked Dean to come, you didn't know that meant me too."
"Still, I was out of line and then you turned around and saved my life." Shelly's eyes wandered from the cut above Sam's eyes to his shredded, bloodstained shirt. "And you nearly got yourself killed in the process."
Sam glanced down at his chest and shrugged. "I've taken worse beatings."
"I'd believe that." Shelly sighed, "But still, I should take a look at it."
Sam gulped back his nerves when Shelly slowly removed his tattered shirt. He thought of the many times she'd done this very same act only under completely different circumstances and his eyes finally lifted to meet hers. Minus the gaping wound and all the blood, the sexual tension was thick enough to slice into and spread like butter. Both could feel it and deep down both wanted to give in to it, but Sam would never let it happen. He attempted to lighten the mood a little with a question that had been on his mind for some time now, partially to break the growing tension and partially to mask the pain he felt as Shelly gently swabbed the cuts on his chest. "SO." He grunted through clenched teeth, "What's going on with you and Dean?"
The question surprised Shelly and forced redness into her cheeks. Sam smiled when she blushed and continued to harass her. "Did you guys hook up last time he was here?"
"No!" Shelly replied quickly.
"No?" Sam laughed, "So this afternoon was just…"
"It was nothing ok? Can we please stop talking about this?"
"Ok, just tell me one thing?"
Shelly looked at him curiously as she reached for the bottle of rubbing alcohol again. Sam tried to hold a serious look but smirked. "I'm the better kisser, right?"
Shell's crimson cheeks turned deep purple and as she stood there horrified she didn't bother to hold back the amount of alcohol that fell over Sam's chest."
Sam jerked from the shock but laughed through the burning sensation. "Ok, you're right I'm sorry."
"Hold that." Shelly snapped as she placed a large gauze pad over the wound.
Sam calmed his giggles and the serious look returned to his face as Shelly taped the bandage in place. "Seriously though, Shell, I can't picture you with a guy like Dean."
"I don't know. I guess part of me just…" Shelly hesitated but couldn't resist Sam's puppy dog eyes so she released a long, woeful sigh. "Part of me just wanted to make you jealous."
Sam stared at Shelly, shocked by the depth of her feelings for him. She watched him piece together her secret and her hands began to shake as she continued to bandage him up. Their eyes locked and Shelly couldn't take it anymore and ever so slowly, leaned in.
Sam held his breath as Shelly's lips moved closer and closer to his. For a moment he was powerless to stop her. When she kissed him he gave in, letting old feelings resurface, but when passion began to take over his logic, he pulled himself away. "Shelly." He whispered as he placed his steady hand over her trembling one. "I can't do this."
Shelly watched Sam's expression turn distant and she knew he was fighting suppressed feelings. "Why?"
"Sam?" Shelly pleaded again, pulling him from his memories, "We were happy together. Why did you break up with me?"
"Because I was scared."
"We're not kids anymore Sam. There's nothing to be afraid of anymore."
Sam wished more than anything that that was true, but as he looked at Shelly all he could see were the haunting images of his last romance. His mouth dropped open but he couldn't find the words to explain the curse he believed he suffered from. Once upon a time Sam had cared very deeply for Shelly, but that was a long time ago and Jess's death was still too fresh in his memory. He believed Jessica was taken from him because of his feelings for her and he couldn't let that happen to Shelly too; his heart couldn't take it. He looked away, not wanting to see the hurt he was causing. "I'm sorry Shelly, but I just can't."
Tears glossed Shelly's eyes as she drew back. Sam shrugged helplessly as he forced a sad smile and Shelly slowly nodded. "You should try and get some rest." She said as she picked up the open first aid kit.
"You too."
Shelly disappeared into the bathroom and when she returned a minute later Sam was fast asleep. She watched him for a moment enjoying the way he seemed so relaxed. She had a feeling that might be the only time he ever truly felt that way. With a heavy sigh, and wishing she could climb into his arms, she turned out the lights and went to sleep, alone.
An hour or two later Dean finally strolled back in completely exhausted after the world's longest day. He crept in slowly, not wanting to disturb what he assumed would be his brother and Shelly sleeping peacefully in each other's arms, and frowned when he flipped on the bathroom light. There was his brother, sleeping above the covers with his pants still on and sure enough, Shelly was tucked snugly in the other bed. Dean rolled his eyes feeling disappointed in his little brother and yet not the least bit surprised. He shifted his eyes back and forth between the two again and grumbled quietly to himself. "Nah you guys it's alright. Don't worry about me or anything, I'm good with sleeping on the floor."
The hours passed as the three of them caught up on some much-needed sleep, but when daylight began to wake up the city of Detroit, everything remained dark in the cheap motel room. Sam rested peacefully until the room started to heat up around him. He twitched when a single drop of liquid splashed his forehead and when a second hit his eyes finally pulled open.
Horrified by what he was above him, he began thrashing but was unable to lift himself from his bed. She was pinned to the ceiling just as his mother had been all those years before. Her skin was pale and her eyes dark. She gasped for breath after painful breath but couldn't call out to him for help.
Sam's eyes grew wide as her clothes turned red from the blood that was now pouring from her abdomen. He tried to reach out for her but his arms were being held to the bed by an invisible force. This was it. The yellow-eyed demon was taking her, and Sam was powerless to stop it. "No!" he screamed, "No!" but it did no good.
Suddenly the ceiling burst into roaring flames that seemed to explode into the very pits of hell. Sam met the familiar glowing eyes of his haunting demon and his heart stopped when the man smiled at him, enjoying the pain he was causing. "No!" Sam screamed again. The Demon laughed and then the flames engulfed her completely causing the room around him to explode. Then suddenly all was quiet.
Sam's eyes flew open and he shot straight up in bed, drenched in his own sweat as if the flames he'd imagined had really been there. He took a minute to slow his breathing when he realized were he was. He looked up to see Dean watching him with concern and Shelly staring at him in fear. "Sam?" she whispered, "Are you alright?"
Sam flinched at the sound of her voice but then ran his fingers through his damp hair. "It was just a dream."
Sam looked at the two other people in the room who were waiting for more of an explanation. He didn't want to relive it again verbally, so he slowly pulled himself from bed and headed toward the bathroom without saying a word. He met Dean's questioning look as he passed and responded with the obvious, "I'm fine."
"You sure?" Dean asked with a quick glance at Shelly and no hints of play in his voice, "It was just a dream?"
Sam knew his brother was worried that this dream may have meant something more, but they weren't about to discuss Sam's unique situation in the company of a stranger. He glanced back at Shelly too but then nodded to Dean. "Just a dream."
"That's weird. You haven't dreamt of Jess in months."
Sam glared at his brother, not wanting to explain himself, and he disappeared into the bathroom without a word. Dean released a sigh when he heard the shower turn on. As much as it hurt to see his brother's pain, he was relieved that that's all it was.
These visions Sam had been having lately scared the hell out of Dean. They were something that couldn't be explained or prevented and they were becoming more frequent. They not only made Dean feel helpless in protecting Sammy, but they seemed to be a barrier between them. The premonitions were something Sam was going through on his own and no matter how much Dean wanted bare the burden for him, he couldn't. The most he could do is be strong for him, and not let him know just how much they upset him.
"What happened to him?"
Dean shook himself free of his depressing thoughts and sent a shrug to Shelly. "What do you mean?"
"He's so… reserved, so guarded now. He didn't used to be that way."
Dean watched Shelly curiously for a moment and then cracked a smile. "So it was his fault you slept in separate beds last night."
Shelly glared at Dean as she blushed. Dean playfully slumped his arm over Shelly's shoulder. "Don't take it personally Shell, Sammy wouldn't know a come-on if it bit him in the persqueeter."
Shelly smiled, remembering how shy Sam was the first time he kissed her. "That's not what I was talking about." She said, nudging him softly, "Back when we were, uh… Well, before, he was always so open with me. He used to tell me everything that was on his mind."
"Yeah, that sounds like Sam. He's always trying to talk about pansy stuff like that."
"Not anymore. Now all he ever says is, 'it's complicated.'"
Dean sighed knowing the feeling of frustration in Shelly's voice all too well. It was only fair to let Shelly know why Sam is the way he is. "Well, it's not entirely his fault. Ever since Jess, things have been a lot more complicated for him."
"Who's Jess?"
"Jessica. She was his girlfriend at Stanford."
"Was?"
"Yeah, was. She was killed by the same thing that killed our mother."
Shelly looked at the bathroom suddenly feeling terrible about the night before. "That's why he didn't go to law school." Shelly said more to herself than to Dean as she began to put the pieces together.
"He's been hunting the damn thing with me ever since. He's got the idea in that crazy little head of his that Jess's death was his fault. Like he's cursed or something."
Dean was surprised to hear Shelly laugh. "Something funny?"
"Oh, no. It's nothing; it's just, Sammy thinking he's cursed. It sounds a lot like my Dad's wife."
Dean was so surprised by Shelly's comment that he literally did a double take and then stared at her as if she were in trouble. "What do you mean your step mom thinks she's cursed?"
"Uh, well…" Shelly stumbled over her words flustered by the sudden interrogation.
"Is she?"
"What, cursed?" Shelly laughed until she saw the seriousness in Dean's eyes. "Of course she's not cursed. People can't be cursed Dean."
"Just like there's no such thing as the bogeyman?"
Shelly looked up at Dean with wide eyes, but he didn't have time to wait for her to catch up. "Why does she think she's cursed?"
"I don't know the whole story, but she says her family was always cursed with really bad luck and then her husband died in some freak accident. She said it was the curse that killed him and she thought his ghost was haunting their old house so they moved, and that's when she met my dad."
Dean was completely flabbergasted by what he was hearing, and he looked at Shelly as if she were crazy. "You never thought to tell us this before?"
"Tell you what Dean? Cursed with bad luck? The guy fell off the roof of his house and Karen was distraught. It was just an accident, nothing else."
"Yeah, maybe." Dean said as he reached for his jacket. "Or maybe it was something else."
"Do you really think it's connected?"
"There's only one way to find out." Dean grabbed his keys and pounded on the bathroom door. "Sammy! Get a move on it. We gotta go!"