Best Kept Hidden
Chapter Four
Kirkland's Diner, Salem, Illinois
Dean Winchester pushed back against the cracked vinyl seat and ran a hand across his stomach, now almost uncomfortably full. Two eggs, (over hard, darlin'), bacon and sausage (Go ahead Dean, order snout, it's the only part of the pig not on your plate yet) and a short stack. Side of buttered toast. And working on a second pot of coffee. Dean picked up a crust of toast off his plate and pointed it across the table at Sam.
"Stop pickin' at your food, Sammy," Dean gestured at Sam's almost-full plate, then popped the crust into his mouth.
Sam sat, head down, shoulders drooping. He dragged a fork through his scrambled eggs, shoving them into little piles. Finally he dropped the fork onto the plate with a clatter and leaned back, sighing.
"I can't deal, Dean," Sam said quietly. "That family. We could have done something. It's just so... unnecessary. It's not fair."
Dean shot a glance around the small diner, then practically laid across the table.
"Dude," he hissed. "Get a grip. Life's not fair. Nothin' is fair. If it was, Mom and Dad would be on a second honeymoon in Hawaii and we'd be bangin' the Olsen twins."
At that, Sam rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his over-long brown hair.
"You know, Dean, I'm so happy that you can make jokes about this, you know?" Sam was starting to sound exasperated. "Dead people, ha ha, hilarious." He bit his lip, stopping himself from saying anything more. He knew what he said was unfair and absolutely untrue, but Sam was so tired of dealing with Dean's forced bravado that the coming confrontation was not only inevitable, it was essential. They could only last so long walking on eggshells. Something had to give.
Dean waved at the waitress and started to dig his wallet out of his pocket.
"We are so not doing this here, Sam. Go get in the car. I'll get the check." He fixed his little brother with a hard stare that meant Now, and Sam started to slide out of the booth. The chubby young waitress hurried over, tucking a strand mousy brown hair behind her ear as she trotted to the table. She tore the check off the pad and slid it to Dean, then handed Sam a paper bag.
"Huh?" Sam started to ask but she leaned in and whispered loudly "Pie, for later. You look like you could use some cheerin' up, sweetie." She tsk-tsked, eyeing his bruises, and patted his hand. "You take care now, y'hear?" She hurried away to refill coffee mugs two tables down.
Dean dug a few bills out of his wallet and stuck them, along with the check, underneath his coffee cup. He raised an eyebrow at Sam as they stood up.
"Well, look at that, Francis... free pie." He fished car keys out of a his jeans pocket. "Some touches, you just never lose.
Moments later, after a hissed "Don't slam my fucking car doors, you moron" and an equally snippy "I'm sooo sorry", the brother sat in silence in the diner parking lot as Dean unfolded the road atlas. Sam sat staring at his hands, which he folded in his lap, then finally spoke.
"Dean," Sam spoke so quietly that he was afraid his brother wouldn't hear him over the crackling of the pages. He cleared his throat and repeated, a little more loudly. "Dean..." and flinched as the older Winchester threw the map into the backseat.
"What?" Dean demanded angrily, green eyes blazing.
"What the hell is your problem, dude?" Sam exploded. " We need to sort this crap out! Something big and nasty crawled out of Hell, right under our noses, and it's just teasing us. Playing with us, man. It knew us, Dean... it said our name. Does that not fucking freak you out?"
Dean sat unblinking, during Sam's tirade. Only a rhythmic clenching of his jaw gave away the tremendous tension he was feeling. His lack of reaction only infuriated Sam more.
"We can't just blow this off and leave, Dean.. not until we figure out what the hell this thing is and why it lured us here in the first place."
No answer.
Sam sighed and shook his head.
"So I guess you just want to walk away, right? We lost this fight, but no big deal, we'll catch up with it in Omaha or Cincinnati or wherever the hell..." He knew that goading Dean was a dangerous ploy, but what else did he have?
"Maybe we can pick up a body trail in a couple of weeks, or maybe if we're really lucky, I can get another stupid vision and have it leave a big red X on the map... unless of course we're just moving on." The words were barely out of Sam's mouth before his big brother finally reacted.
Dean leaned forward and hit his brother, hard, in the shoulder. Pain exploded in Sam's already bruised body, and he gasped and started to raise his hands to protect himself. Dean grabbed at Sam's shirt with both hands and dragged him toward the driver's seat. Sam winced as Dean leaned in, his breath hot against Sam's neck and almost whispered.
"Don't you ever... ever... accuse me of being a quitter." Dean shoved him back across the car seat, where Sam bounced painfully against the heavy chrome door handle. Tears glistened in Dean's eyes as he continued. "I don't know what to do next, Sam. So if you think we're kind of screwed here, well, yeah, genius... we kinda are. You're right, people did die. We fucked up, it's on our heads, man. But I don't know what to do different." Sam huddled, unmoving, eyes fixed on his brother, as Dean continued. "I don't know everything, Sam. Sometimes, I think I don't know anything." He wiped a hand angrily across his eyes. His words came out in a rush.
"I'm sorry, Sammy... I let those people down, and worse, I let you down. I let you walk into something we weren't ready for." Guilt flooded Dean as he confessed. "And yeah, that it knows us personally freaks me out. It scares the shit out of me. This whole weird freak-show scares me, Sammy. It's not right. This is not what people should do with their lives." He stopped suddenly, looking out the car window at the diner entrance, where a couple were walking in, laughing, as the grey haired man held the door for his companion. Dean's voice dropped to an almost imperceptible level, and Sam leaned forward, straining to hear.
"Everyday people, Sammy, they have no idea what's out there. When I was little, I used to wish for normal. I wanted to be one of those people who just woke up, lived their lives and went to bed at night. Worst thing that would happen is they'd get heartburn from the chili they had for dinner. I wanted that so much, man..." Dean shook his head slowly. "But I knew I was never gonna have normal. So I wanted it for you. I tried so hard to keep you away from it but no matter what I did, you kept getting dragged back into this sick, fucked-up life we have." He slumped back into the driver's seat, facing the windshield.
There were a million things he could have said, most of which would have made the situation worse. So Sam went with what he felt would start to patch the rift between them.
"Hey Dean... you can have my pie." Sam looked expectantly at his brother.
A slow small, smile spread across Dean's face.
"Never met a Winchester yet who would turn down free pie, Sammy." Dean stole a quick glance at his little brother. "Hey, I'm sorry I pushed you... you okay?"
Sam nodded and swallowed.
"I'm sorry for making you want to push me. It's just that... Dean, seriously, you know that no matter what, we can talk about stuff, right?" Sam paused, watching as Dean scraped his thumbnail across the Chevy's steering wheel. Dean always was a fidgeter, especially when he was stressed.
"Y'know, Dad would have our hides for fightin', right?" Dean's fingers continued to play across the curve of the wheel as he spoke. Sam nodded again, eyes down, buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt cuff for the hundredth time. "I know you can't just quit thinkin' about stuff, Sammy. And you and me, we'll figure this mess out. I promise."
Dean plugged the key into the ignition and the car roared to life.
"Where to?" Dean asked his little brother.
Sam snapped out of his daydream and fumbled for his seatbealt.
"Uh, okay... I think maybe we should head up to Bobby's for a while. Fresh eyes, right? I mean, maybe he can see something we're missing. Maybe we're too close to it." Sam reached back and grabbed the road atlas. "seven hundred, seven hundred fifty miles, give or take. We can do that, two days easy, right?"
"Sure thing, dude. Two days. If we stop to shave our legs and buy a new purse." Dean shot his brother a I seriously can't believe you look. He snagged a cassette tape at random from the shoe box between the car seats
"One day... or I owe you the biggest steak dinner they got in Sioux Falls."
Sam gave a shaky grin.
"Okay, whatever.. just get us there is one piece, all right?" Sam rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. The first few notes of Zeppelin's Black Dog pinged through the car speakers as the black Chevy's tires crunched on the gravel parking lot, headed toward South Dakota.