"Bad hunt?" That leather-smooth voice snuck up behind me while I was pounding trash cans into my housekeeping cart.
"Bad luck." I said. "Damn bad luck." I set the trash can inside the open motel room door and looked up at him. At John Gorgeous Winchester. He was smiling at me, and there was definitely kindness in his eyes.
"And his name was - ?"
"Not worth repeating." Right at that moment I was lucky to remember my own name. "He traded me in for a younger model. And I only found out about it because they stopped here on their way to Reno 'cause he thought he left his shaving kit here."
"So – he's an idiot as well as a jerk."
"He could be a stain on my windshield for all I care. And I wish he was."
"Was he a hunter?
"Ha. He couldn't tell a wendigo from a water spirit. What he was, was 'high, wide, and handsome'. And he rode a Harley."
"All that, was he?"
"He thought he was." I tried to ignore the gold band on John Winchester's left hand but it felt like it was burning right into my eyes. "Ain't like I got much cause to be picky."
He kept his eyes on mine and smiled.
"I disagree."
How I remained standing? Well, to this day, I still don't know.
He turned then to look behind him. I followed where he was looking and saw that his boys had come out of their motel room. I hadn't heard a thing, but then my attention had been elsewhere. The taller son was tossing something into the air and catching it again and the younger one was tugging on the sleeve of his brother's shirt. They were headed in the direction of the diner.
I looked at John Winchester looking at his boys and I could see that nothing else existed for him right at that moment.
"You got a couple of fine boys there."
"Yes I do." He agreed with me right away. "They're both the spitting image of their Mother."
"Looks like they get along pretty good."
"They'd die for each other."
PRESENT DAY
I was crossing back to the office when I heard the boys talking at their door.
"Dean - we need laundry." Even fifty feet away I could see Sam was bowed under something heavier than the duffel bags on his shoulder.
"No, you need to eat."
"I can't even think about eating. And don't tell me again that I need to sleep. I need to do laundry." Sam didn't give his brother another chance to argue, just turned away to the laundromat at the far end of the complex.
Dean saw me watching then and had to know I'd overheard them. He smiled and tipped his head to side, like he was saying the argument was no big deal. He didn't follow Sam like I expected him to so I walked over.
"Bad hunt?" I asked him.
He blew out a breath. Considering whether or not to tell me. Before he said anything, he watched Sam until he walked into the laundromat and the door closed over behind him.
"He fell in love with a girl who turned out to be a werewolf."
The look on his face told me how hard he was working through his own pain just to keep moving and take care of his brother.
"And Sam had to kill her." I guessed.
"Worse - when she knew what she'd become - she'd only just been turned, it was only her first lunar cycle - she asked Sam to kill her. She told him she knew it was the only way he could save her."
"Oh my Lord. When?"
"Four days ago."
"Oh my Lord. You poor boys. Is that what happened to his face?"
"Yeah. We kinda let it go while we were trying to help her. We're playing catch up now trying to keep it from scarring too much."
"Well, we got a practical whole pharmacy here, anything you need just -."
I didn't get to say much more than that and Dean was off, hurrying over to the laundromat and his brother. I followed behind, just in case.
Two washing machines stood open, two duffels hung empty on one of the sorting tables. Sam Winchester was looking even emptier, sitting next to the open washing machines on the low stool I keep in the place for my shorter customers. He was leaning against the machine, looking dazed and in pain.
"Sam?" Dean crouched in front of him. "Hey - how're you comin' with the laundry?" I got the feeling this wasn't an entirely unusual situation between the brothers, talking easy through an emotional wringer.
"I ran out of quarters."
"We can take care of that." Dean made it sound like it was no big deal, like that was all that was wrong. He stood up and felt in his pockets while he looked into the open machines.
"Is there soap in here?"
"I don't have any soap." Sam said. He didn't move an inch from where he rested his head against the washing machine. "I don't have anything."
"That's okay. That's okay Sam. We can take care of this." Dean crouched down in front of Sam again and put his hands on his shoulders. His tone was still light, like Sam had only left the soap in the car, not like he was having a breakdown in a public laundromat.
"I need to do laundry."
"And we'll do the laundry. First we need to get you back to the room -."
"NO!" That sure got Sam's attention. "No - I don't want to go there. I don't want to go back to the room. You'll leave. I don't want to go to sleep. You'll leave."
"Where am I going to go?"
"To do laundry. To get dinner. You'll leave."
"I won't go anywhere Sammy, I promise. Okay? Everything else can wait, the important thing is to get you back to the room."
Even though Sam was taller than Dean, I had the feeling that in situations like this Dean could make Sam do what he wanted, against his will if it came to it. Or maybe in situations like this, Dean could make his will Sam's will.
"Dean - please. Please. I'll wait here. I will. I'll wait until we get soap and quarters." Sam put his hands on Dean's shoulders, gripped his shirt in his fingers. Sitting like that, each brother with his arms out to the other, they made their own safe area I thought. They made their own privacy.
"I don't have quarters with me Sam and I'm not going to leave you here to go get some."
"I don't want to go to sleep - please Dean. Please."
Sam leaned enough to rest his forehead on Dean's shoulder. His breath came out in half sobs, each inhalation sharp and painful sounding. Dean put a hand on the back of Sam's head and one arm around his shoulders.
"Who said anything about sleeping?" Dean asked. He was still sounding easy and lighthearted. "Did I say anything about sleeping? We'll order in and find something stupid on TV and just chill."
Sam didn't say anything and Dean didn't say anything else. He leaned even closer into Sam and pressed his cheek against Sam's hair.
"Okay, it's okay Sammy. We'll get through this."
I waited, and I felt like I was getting to watch something so private it should've been a crime for me to be there. ButI thought I should leave, leave them alone in this, but I thought my leaving might be more disruptive than just standing quietly by the door. So I stayed there.
"All right Sam." Dean said after awhile. "We need to get you back to the room."
"No - I need to do -."
"Laundry, I know."
And though Dean was older – or maybe because - I had the feeling he was used to giving and getting Sam whatever he needed. So right now he'd be trying to figure a way to get laundry done with quarters and soap he didn't have in his pockets. I took the chance to move a little closer.
"I can take care of your laundry for you."
I thought for sure Dean wouldn't have known or remembered that I was there, but he didn't seem surprised at all. He gave me a glance and nodded.
"Okay Sam? Meganne's gonna take care of the laundry. So maybe this time somebody won't burn a hole in my jeans with the bleach, hunh?"
Sam laughed, a strong laugh despite the tear stains down his face. Then he laughed again.
Men and laundry, I just don't know.
Dean seemed delighted with the laugh, though he put on a sour face.
"Laugh it up Sammy, laugh it up. Remember, next time it's my turn to do the laundry...c'mon, you ready to get out of here?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Sam nodded. Dean stood up, helping Sam up with a hand under his arm. When they were standing, I could see it again - though Sam was taller, he was the little brother and he kept his eyes on Dean, because whatever Dean said, Sam would do.
Because that was how it worked between them.
"C'mon, here we go." Dean put a hand on Sam's arm to guide him toward the door. He smiled at me as they walked past, but kept his focus on Sam.
"Thanks for doing the laundry." Sam said before Dean had him out the door. The tears hadn't even dried on his face. That boy was in agony and he took the time and trouble to thank me.
"You're welcome honey. You boys need anything, you let me know."
Then I watched them walk back to their motel room, Sam still bowed under that invisible weight, Dean walking beside him, keeping his eye on him. He was talking to Sam, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Whatever he was saying, Sam nodded and Dean smiled and they disappeared into their room.
To be continued
