Chapter One.
Their room was a mess. More than that, it looked like it had been trashed. Completely trashed, although not in the usual college-way of a stack of empty beer bottles and a couple of drunken buddies slumbering on the couch, that was far too normal. No, their room had been trashed Winchester style, and that was something college-life never even came close to.
Around the room trails of cemetery-mud circled the carpet in big boot marks, sweeping and criss-crossing one another until the carpet was so earthy-looking that Sam wasn't even sure what colour it had been when they'd arrived. Curled shavings of wood lay scattered on the floor amongst the candy wrappers, from where Dean had been busy whittling stakes over everything but the trashcan. Food boxes soggy with grease sat on every available surface that wasn't already covered with books, scraps of paper, printouts and newspaper cuttings and in the midst of it all, earphones in, a goofy smile on his face and God knows what on the computer screen, sat Dean. Oblivious to it all.
"Dude!"
"What?"
"What?" Sam repeated incredulously from the doorway, throwing his arms wide to indicate the chaos, "This place is freakin' mess and we've got to be out of here in…" cocking an arm towards his head he consulted his watch, an episode that brought yet another wide-armed appeal for action, "…less than an hour!"
Not bothering to look up from the screen, Dean simply offered up an infuriatingly casual shrug,
"So? They got a maid."
"Ye-ah," Sam replied in exaggerated tones as if talking to a five-year old. Sometimes he couldn't be sure he wasn't, "But there's blood all over the carpet Dean," he hissed, picking his way through the debris, one eye on the nicely healing cut tracing his brother's right forearm, "She's going to think we murdered someone in here."
"Well all right then," Dean replied with heavy sarcasm, pulling the phones from his ears and letting the tinny strains of Led Zeppelin drop onto the bed, "Why don't you grab your feather duster, I'll get the mop and we'll 'spoonful of sugar' this place clean."
Sam blinked.
"You've seen Mary Poppins?"
"Mary who?"
A groan followed by an awkward silence.
"Besides," he continued, shifting Sam's laptop to one side and sitting upright, "It's not like this place was going for five stars when we arrived. I know for damn sure that stain in the bathroom was already there."
Sam took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm,
"That's not the point."
"What is?"
"You really need reminding?! Dean, the feds are on our tails. They want you for murder! Do we really need to bring any more attention to ourselves?" he was yelling now, he couldn't help it, one of them had to see the bigger picture and if it wasn't going to be Dean, then it was just going to have to be him.
"Listen Sam," came the even reply, "Seeing as how I'm probably headed for the chair if I am ever caught, I don't think a bill for replacing the cheapest carpet in history is really my biggest concern right now."
"All the more reason for us not to piss off anyone else, motel corporations included."
As Sam continued to stare him down, that you know I'm right expression stamped so unwaveringly across his face, Dean let out a long-suffering sigh and stood-up with a roll of his eyes,
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Yeah, you load up our stuff, I'll go talk to the maid."
"Wait, wait, talk to her?" Sam repeated in disbelief, "That's it? Dean this place is a mess."
Pausing on the threshold of the door, Dean smirked, offering another of his patented leave it to me shrugs before suddenly thinking of something else,
"Oh, and grab me a burger from the diner will ya? I'm starving,"
"Again?! You're already customer of the month and we've only been here four days!"
"So? Come on Sam, with all the sweet talking I'm about to do, I'm going to need to build my strength back up."
Sweet talking? That was never good.
"Dean - ,"
"Don't worry, I've got it under control."
Yeah, Sam thought wryly as the door banged shut behind his brother, that's what worries me.
Their stuff was fairly easily packed, weaponry in one bag, the few clothes and belongings they had in two more. Dean had left the computer on, although he'd had the good grace to at least shut down whatever questionable web page he'd been browsing – not that it stopped Sam from cleaning his history, just in case. Their lives were weird enough without him accidentally stumbling across his brother's sexual preferences one day while researching apparitions or anything that sounded remotely anatomical. Creepy.
With the laptop slipped securely into his bag and the car loaded up and ready to go, Sam set about fulfilling the second part of his deal and satisfying Dean's seemingly endless demand for food. At times it almost seemed easier to simply buy and live out of a burger van; mobile, a source of income, and a handy supply of grease for Dean to up his calorie count on whenever he chose. Although it probably didn't crank out Led Zeppelin quite like the Impala, nor for that matter could he see Dean in an apron.
The diner located next to the motel was every bit as run-down as it's counter-part, although luckily with fewer stains. As Sam entered the young man serving behind the counter looked up with a smile, pleased to see a familiar face.
"Hey!" he greeted warmly, full of teenage enthusiasm. Sam bit back the urge to snort; here was a young man who'd clearly found his calling, "Your brother want the usual?"
"Err…yeah," he nodded slowly, browsing the menu before realising what a pointless exercise that was, "Make it two."
"Sure thing."
As the kid went about getting their order, the door behind Sam swung open and an older woman scuttled in out of the cold evening wind, grey hair blowing wildly under a wide-brimmed hat. She looked up at Sam and smiled, pulling a battered cardigan closer about her shoulders.
"Winter's really coming in now, huh?" she offered with a shiver. Sam smiled back,
"Seems like."
His accent drew a frown of curiosity,
"You not from round these parts?"
"No, just passing through," he replied easily, the lie by now so practised that it came naturally, "I'm on a road trip."
"Oh," the woman responded with a wide smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "How lovely."
As a strange silence settled between them, the woman stepped forward to pull out her purse, accidentally scattering coins across the floor. Sam dropped to help her instantly, scooping the loose change up in one hand and passing it over to her before she even had time to comprehend what had happened.
"Well bless me what a kind young man you are," she cooed, eyeing him with intrigue, "You're a credit to your family."
Sam looked up at her from where he was still crouched on the ground, aware that there was not a lot he could say in response. Luckily for him he didn't have to, for at that moment the young guy leant across the counter waving a bag.
"Here you go,"
Sam stood quickly,
"Thanks."
"Hey, no problem. We're all going to be sorry to see you go,"
Sam smiled, trying to quell the grin that threatened to spill across his face, I bet, although not as sorry you are that you don't work on commission. If that had been the case, surely Dean could have bought them all a condo by now. Instead he simply nodded,
"Err, yeah. Well, see you round."
As he turned to go, hoping that the server wouldn't physically break down in tears and realising that the chef too had come forward to wave him off, the old woman offered him a nod, smiling thinly in his direction.
"You take care of yourself now. Mind how you go."
Sam felt a shudder wash across his back. Was not even buying a burger normal for a Winchester? Were creepy old ladies par for the course now or was he just imaging things? Probably the latter, he considered as he crossed the windy car park towards the Impala, wondering when it was that he'd started to become so paranoid.
"Hey!" he heard a shout behind him as he pushed the keys into the lock, "Boy!"
He turned towards the voice at once, noticing the old lady scuttling towards him, hair blowing wildly. It wasn't until he caught sight of her face however that he realised his paranoia was warranted. In place of the intense but friendly smile she'd been wearing before, was a jaw clenched in determination, a purposeful stride and cold wide eyes staring at a point beyond his shoulder. He turned too late,
"Now Isaac!" he heard her shout, spinning into the twisted face of a younger man and feeling something stab into his neck, sharp and painful, something…he stumbled, still trying to work out what it was, dropping the bag of food to the ground as his legs suddenly refused to take his weight.
Slipping onto the cold hard ground, Sam felt his head begin to swim, his vision reaching up through layers of black cloud to the two faces bent above him, panting with exhilaration, staring down with unsmiling grins. His hand moved up to feel his neck gently, his hand feeling like lead.
He tried to rub at it uselessly, his strength evaporated to the point that the old woman was able to bat his hand away with a simple tap, chuckling as she did.
"Careful now boy," she hissed, leaning in so close to his ear that her breath tickled at his skin, flinching as her fingers began to run through his hair. Desperately he battled to stay awake but with every passing second he began to realise he was fading.
"Welcome to the family son," he heard her say as he gradually slipped into complete oblivion, "Don't worry, you'll fit right in."
ooooooooooooooooooooooo
Practically finished this one now, so hopefully I can get a chapter or two up per night or something along those lines…if it's any good, which it may not be. It's my first official foray into this fic-dom and the first time I've flexed my writing muscles in…wow, ages so for all I know it might suck!
Here's to hoping it doesn't though!