When the moment dies
and I come to you
with a broken lie
that I made for you.

"Mirador" by Efterklang

The guy at the motel's check-in desk gave Dean a silent once over. Dean scowled. He didn't like being scrutinized, especially at the sleazy places he stayed. And here was this guy, scruffier than most with his scraggly beard and stained beer-brand shirt, giving Dean the hairy eyeball.

"Something wrong?"

The man snorted and scratched his cheek. He leaned in toward Dean over the counter.

"Double or single?" He growled, glancing over to Claire, who leaned against the wall near the entrance. Her eyes were less red, but she looked just as miserable. Dean clenched his teeth. He was not dealing with this shit today.

"Two singles," Dean ground out, matching his voice to Mr. Biker-Wannabe. It was summer. Normally, he got less shit during this season. Random people tended not to approach them and ask why Claire wasn't in school – like her education was everyone's friggin' business – or why they were always moving around. He never received so many questions when it was just Cas and him. There's something, when kids are involved, that perked people's interests. Riled them up.

Scruffy's eyes flickered between the pair, again. A part of him deflated, as he shook his head slightly and handed Dean the keys.

"He was suspicious," Claire said later, as they walked to their rooms. Dean nodded.

"He didn't do anything."

Dean sighed.

"They don't tend to. It's why monsters can get away with so many things. Humans don't seek out unhappy thoughts. In the end, they want to think the best of everyone."

"Deep," Claire noted. Then she got a funny look on her face.

"We," she said.

"Huh?" Dean stopped in front of their door.

"We. We want to think the best of everyone." Claire's eyes were wide, in that soul searching way that Cas would send in Dean's direction, a look that made her look much older than her fourteen years.

Dean looked away.

"Yeah, I meant 'we.'"

Claire flopped onto the mattress. It squeaked softly. The room was even uglier than most of the motels she'd visited the last three years. The walls were what looked to be a puke yellow, and – if the stark splotches were anything to go by – it might actually have puke stains. The floor was also dizzying, a maroon carpet inlaid with a swirling turquoise design.

Dean was organizing a stack of papers he'd printed at a library, probably while Claire had slept in the car. His eyes flicked over each article. Working. Claire sighed and threw an arm over her eyes. Even now, he was totally engrossed in work. The sniff of a hunt, the research, the kill.

"It's what Dean does. He throws himself into things. He likes to believe he is stronger than his emotions. The idea that he can still work while upset gives him that illusion."

Castiel's eyes never left Dean as he spoke.

"What happened?" Claire leaned into her uncle.

She thought, for a while, that her uncle wouldn't answer. He stayed silent as they watched Dean poking and prodding under the hood of his car.

"Today is his brother's birthday," Castiel said abruptly.

Oh. Claire picked at her sleave.

"He is all Dean has. But they are…estranged.'

"How does he stand it?" Claire asked.

Castiel turned to her, his head tilted in a questioning tone.

"Being alone," Claire clarifies.

Castiel gives his niece a sad smile.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains. Claire groaned and buried her head under a pillow. Without warning, she felt both it, her blanket, and the sheets, pulled away.

"Up and at 'em, kiddo.'

Claire sat up, grabbed the remaining pillow, and threw it at Dean's head.

"Hey!" Dean chuckled as he ducked. "Don't take out your grumpy on me!"

Claire used Growl! It was not effective…

Claire laid back down. Dean hummed as he folded his clothes into his bag. If Claire had been more awake, she'd have noted the humor in a semi-chauvinistic, "no-chick-flick-moments" hunter folded and organizing.

Then again, someone had to do it. Claire had never been the neatest person in the world, and her uncle…

Well, Cas had had a difficulty with most modern appliances.

"We have a hunt?" Claire asked, looking up at the ceiling.

Dean nodded. "We've got a hunt."