Thanks for the reviews, guys. i'm hoping to pick up some readers on this one soon to, you know, share the love or whatever. Know anyone who might be interested? Don't keep this gem a secret.

Wow. Now I feel bad for the whole shameless begging and self-promotion thing. To make myself (and you) feel better, here's chapter 2!

Chapter 2

And Two Warm Hands Break Right Through Me

"Damn hinges!" That was the first thing that Sam heard upon entering the motel room that he was sharing with his brother just outside of Black Rock. Actually, it was the same motel he'd been duct taped to a chair in less than a year before. Ah, memories.

The younger Winchester spun around, half expecting to see Dean struggling to push the slightly askew door of the room shut. Instead, his breath caught in his throat and his mouth dropped open in a flawless imitation of a mailbox that someone had forgotten to shut.

Dean was standing in the doorway, holding onto the doorknob and looking into the room at Sam with a mixture of annoyance and shock. The thick wooden door was hovering a couple of inches off the ground, only supported by Dean's single-handed grip on it. It had been completely torn off the hinges.

"What happened?" Sam asked, unable to get much more out of his mouth as his eyes roved over the unusual sight.

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. I was following you into the room, the door started to shut, so I grabbed the knob to pull it back open. It just ripped off. Hinges must've been rusty."

"Isn't it heavy?"

The older man glanced at the door as if really seeing it for the first time, his gaze traveling slowly down the length of the knotty wood to rest on the space between it and the ground. "Not really." He lifted it a little higher, his eyebrows rising with surprise at the ease of the task, "pretty light, actually."

"But, I had trouble pulling it open."

"That's because you're a little girl," Dean replied matter-of-factly, backing himself into the room and attempting to set the door back in its place.

"Funny, Dean," Sam deadpanned, "but I'm serious. It's heavy. Don't you remember the last time we were here? You kinda had trouble with it, too."

"That was a different room. It doesn't count."

"It's a motel. All the doors are the same."

"Not true," Dean insisted, "they each have different numbers."

"Are you frickin' kidding me?"

"Why else would it pop off in my hands, Sam? Huh? Give me an explanation."

Sam just shrugged, unable to find anything that sounded more plausible than rusty hinges. He walked over to the door and leaned down, inspecting the shiny bolts that had once held it in place. Not a sign of rust.

Dean didn't seem to care about those particulars, though. He walked into the room, shedding his jacket and tossing it toward the bed with such force that the zipper actually dented the plaster on the wall.

"Anger management, much?" Sam asked. Dean turned to look at him again, confused, and he pointed out the small hole.

"We need to find another motel," Dean reasoned, "this one's falling apart." He headed toward the bathroom, grabbing onto he doorknob and pulling at it to open the door. This time, the knob broke clean off, coming out of its place in one piece, leaving a large hole in the wood.

"Somehow," Sam gawked, "I don't think it's the motel."

The older man held the doorknob up to eye-level, inspecting it closely. "What the hell?"

"I dunno," Sam said weakly.

"I mean, seriously, what the hell?"

"I dunno," Sam shouted, "maybe… I dunno."

"What, Sammy? What?"

"Just… maybe there's something else going on here, Dean. I mean, we were digging through dad's old stuff today."

"You think I got cursed?"

The younger man shrugged. "I-"

"Because this," Dean interrupted, nodding toward the doorknob, "doesn't seem like much of a curse to me."

"Maybe it's not a curse, then."

"So, what, a gift?"

Sammy shook his head. "I don't know, Dean. It's just weird. I mean, the doors and the wall-"

"It's a crummy motel," Dean insisted, "that's all there is to it."

"Maybe we should go back and take inventory. Call Bobby up and ask him for a history of the stuff. See if there's anything that-"

"What, Sam?" Dean asked with a smile, "ask him if there's anything in there that dishes out superhuman strength?" Sam blushed, much to his brother's pleasure. "I knew it. That's what you think, isn't it? You think I'm Superman or something."

"Well," Sam muttered, averting his eyes and fidgeting, "there was that cape…"

"Dad's old Halloween costume?"

"Maybe it wasn't… I mean, why would he keep that?"

Dean shrugged, feeling slightly offended at the comment. Why wouldn't his dad have kept the costume? It had been vital to their final week before the fire, vital to their normal lives, to their family history. It hurt to think that Sam saw it as something that could be thrown out. Of course, he younger man hadn't been there, hadn't seen the way their father had looked that night, like a real superhero.

"He kept it because he wanted to remember," the older man said softly.

Sam sighed, slumping his shoulders as he realized his misstep. Maybe he'd had his fallings-out with John, and that made it so much harder for him to see the man the way his brother did, through rose-colored glasses. And Dean had looked up to John so much, had stressed so much about his father's final decision and request, that to suggest neglect, even if it had occurred, was a crime in the older man's book.

"Makes sense," Sam shrugged.

Dean swallowed. "It's not a curse," he said, "it's just a crappy room." He headed toward the door, which he had propped up at an awkward angle. "I need some air."

Sam stepped into his path, blocking his brother's escape. "No. We need to find out for sure. We should go back and then call Bobby."

"Do it yourself," Dean suggested, placing a hand on his brother's chest and nudging him gently out of the way. Sam spun roughly and fell down on the closest bed, a look of hurt wonder on his face. "I didn't push you that hard," Dean groaned, rolling his eyes at his brother's act.

"Yes, you did," Sam muttered, pulling down the collar of his shirt to reveal the rapidly darkening bruise that was forming there.

Dean's jaw fell slack as his eyes roved over the black and blue flesh the stood out painfully on his brother's chest. He backed from the room, tripping and stumbling into the door, falling through it with enough force to snap it cleanly in half.