Author's Note: The person the guys are on their way to see was originally named Joseph. After noticing there was already a Joe in the other story (oops) I changed his name to George. Sorry for the confusion. I corrected it in the previous chapter.
The Last Mile
The sun had completed it's ascent into the sky as the two brothers argued in front of the tiny motel. Sam was determined to go along see George White. Although no one could best Dean when it came to his prowess on the supernatural battlefield, his people skills had a lot to be desired. This situation was even stickier; they were dealing with the traumatized victim of a horrible car crash that had claimed a young man's life. Although over thirty years had passed since the incident, Sam had no doubt that the paraplegic was probably worse off mentally than he was physically. They had to go into this with kid gloves.
Dean was being just as single-minded trying to convince Sam to stay behind. Despite Sam's claims to the contrary, Dean knew this entire situation stemmed from his own actions a month ago. Dean was not one to shirk responsibility; it was his duty to see this one out. He was just going to talk to the man; it's not like he would be in any physical danger. But mainly he was worried. Sam had hit his head shortly after sustaining a concussion. He had half a mind to take him to the emergency room, just to make sure there was no real damage.
Ironically it was Dean's concern over Sam's wellbeing that caused him to relent to the younger man's wishes. He'd rather have Sam where he could keep an eye on him, make sure he was ok. After nearly fifteen minutes of back and forth, Dean begrudgingly backed off.
"Fine, Sam. You win, ok? Let's go." Dean turned on his heel and began to walk back to their motel room. He stopped after a few steps, sensing Sam was not behind him. Dean took a quick look over his shoulder.
"Sam!" he called towards the retreating figure. "Where are you going?"
"What?" Sam called back. "The car's still in back!"
"Dude, it's 6:30 in the morning." Dean walked towards his brother.
"So?" Sam yelled as he turned the corner.
Dean jogged a few steps to catch up. "So, visiting hours aren't until nine."
Sam finally slowed down. "Oh." After a moment he shrugged his shoulders, continuing his fast gait.
Dean threw his arms into the air in frustration. Reigning in his annoyance, he grabbed Sam's arm.
"Sam, it's 6:30 in the morning." he repeated slowly. "At best it'll only take us a half hour to get there. That leaves us two hours to do what, sit there and play rock, paper, scissors? Come on, let's head back and grab a few hours of shut eye."
Distrusting hazel eyes looked down at Dean. "Sure. I'll fall asleep and you'll sneak off, leave me behind."
Dean put his hands on his hips and stared back. Bad move, Sammy boy. "Really? You're really gonna go there?"
Aw crap. "Look, I'm just saying--"
"Saying what, Sam? That you'd never do something that sneaky and underhanded? Oh that's right, you already did!" Dean bellowed.
"Dean, I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to do?"
"You can start by getting your ass back in the motel room. Now."
Sam took in a deep breath and tried to remain calm. He'd already gone one round in the Winchester War of Words; he didn't have the energy to start round two. He knew he was being irrational. Dean was more than capable of handling things; he should just hang back and rest. Lord knows he needed it. But his need to participate was stronger.
"Fine, but I'm not going to sleep." Sam said defiantly. "Maybe I can dig up some more information on the Firebird. You are not leaving without me."
"You are such a hypocrite! What gives you the right--" Dean was so angry he could barely speak.
"You're right. I'm a selfish ass who only thinks of himself. I shouldn't have gone out there by myself; I should have woken you up. I know you're pissed that I wrecked the Impala, but what you're really mad at is that I left you behind; that you were left out of the hunt, which is exactly I'm coming along." Sam took a deep breath and continued. "Dean, this whole situation is as much my fault as anyone's. I need to see this through."
"It's one little interview, you drama queen! It's not like the ghost car will be there answering the phones." But Dean couldn't help but chuckle at Sam's outburst. Sam gave him back a tentative smile. It was so hard to stay mad at his baby brother sometimes.
"Ok, tell you what. We'll both grab a quick snooze, then head out. Together. All right?"
Sam was locked in an inner battle. He was extremely tired. Besides, he was a light sleeper. There was no way Dean could sneak off without Sam knowing. The lure of sleep was too much to ignore. But could he really trust that Dean would keep his word? Sam chewed on his lower lip, trying to get a read on the man before him. Dean's face was a blank canvas, the open emotions so often splashed across his features carefully hidden away.
Apparently his own face wasn't quite as expressionless, for a wide grin spread slowly across Dean's lips as Sam made his decision. They both knew who the victor was in the final bout.
"Fine." Sam relented. "You win."
"Yes I do." Dean gloated. He'd take any win, no matter how small. "And if you're a good boy and go right to sleep, I promise not to draw on you with permanent marker again."
Dean laughed as he remembered the infamous prank war that had left a mortified Sam sporting a bright orange mustache on school picture day. Sam cocked his head to the side, obviously not getting the reference. That gave further testament to Sam's need for rest. Sam had stayed mad at him for two full days, vowing never to forget the incident.
"What are you talking about?" Sam questioned.
Dean lightly clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Never mind, Sammy. Never mind." he said, leading the way back to the room.
Not even bothering to kick of his shoes, Sam settled his lanky body onto the bed. Dean smiled at the relieved groan that sounded as Sam closed his eyes. "You, too, Dean. Get some sleep." he mumbled.
Dean sat on the edge of his own bed, loudly squeaking the springs. "Sure thing, Sammy." he whispered.
The hard lines surrounding Dean's eyes softened as he watched his brother drift off. His little trip into the Twilight Zone had ended; their roles were once again firmly in place. Dean was back to being the protective older brother, looking out and caring for his Sammy. Dean could never stomach having to be taken care of. He'd spent his whole life watching out for those he loved. To be on the receiving end was just not natural.
Dean smirked as Sam's ninth grade yearbook picture made another appearance in his memory. Ironically it was the fourteen year old's mistreatment of the Impala that had led to that particular prank war. Dean had been incensed to discover his baby wrapped from hood to trunk in plastic wrap...layers and layers that the September sun had melted into a nearly unbreakable sheet of plastic concrete.
Nearly ten years later Sam had committed yet another sin against the Impala. Although the incident on Blue Corner's Road was unintentional, the deception that led to the horrible outcome wasn't. Feeling like a villain from the old black and white movies, Dean rubbed his hands together, plotting his revenge.
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
The first thing Sam became aware of was the falsetto voice of his brother urging him awake.
"Come on, Sammy. Wakey-wakey."
Sam closed his eyes as tight as possible. Maybe if he wished real hard the annoying voice would disappear. Being an only child for a while would be kind of nice. But the taunting voice continued.
"Come on, Yosemite Sam. Time to get up." Dean said in his normal voice.
Yosemite Sam? Dean hadn't called him that since...
Sam's eyes snapped open as he flashed back to the large orange moustache he'd unwillingly sported for two days as a freshman. His eyes darted around until they settled their target.
"You didn't." Sam said, his voice thick with sleep.
"What?" Dean's mouth twitched as he struggled to keep his laughter in.
Sam sat up, one hand grabbing the edge of the bed for support while the other reached for his face. He flinched as his fingertips landed in something soft. He stared at the white foam on his fingers, comprehension slowing dawning.
"Shaving cream? Are you serious?
"I'm sorry, Sammy! Would you have preferred the marker?" Dean snickered.
Sam carefully rose to his feet, his clean hand grabbing the bedpost while his legs decided if they would hold him. "I would have preferred having an adult for a brother."
"And I would prefer having a brother who didn't sneak out and trash my car. We don't always get what we want, Stay Puft." Dean replied breezily.
The death glare Sam was sending Dean's way was undermined by the fluffy white beard that stretched from one ear to the other. The area where Sam had touched it poked up like the cream on a lemon meringue pie. Dean reached over and patted down the little peaks.
"Santa Claus is too obvious, don't you think? What do you think, maybe Uncle Jesse? Uncle Sammy?" Dean snapped his fingers. "Uncle Sam!" he exclaimed gleefully.
Sam smacked Dean's hand away. "You are such an ass." he said as he walked towards the bathroom.
Dean noticed Sam's legs weren't exactly steady, but chose not to comment. He leaned next to the bathroom door, raising his voice to be heard over the running water.
"So, I'm thinking we should do the relative route." he said, referring to their upcoming visit.
"What if they buzz him, tell him that we're here? We'll get busted." Sam shouted back.
"Good point. Reporters? Doing a story on the crash for our college newspaper?"
The door opened up, and Dean took a step back as the younger man emerged. Other than the little rivulets of water that ran from the tips of his hair, Sam's face was as bare as the day he was born.
Dean cocked his heading critically. "I don't know, Gandalf. I kinda liked you with the beard."
Sam glowered down at Dean before brushing past him. "Are we going or not?"
Dean pointed to the still visible lump on Sam's head. "You good?"
Sam countered with his own question. "Are you?" he asked, motioning towards Dean's shoulder.
"Lead the way, Grizzly Adams."
"Grizzly Adams didn't have a white beard."
"Yeah, well, you stole my car."
"What? That didn't even make sense!" Sam cried out.
"Come on. You've wasted enough time messing around with your face. Let's go, Uncle Sam. I want you!" Dean adopted a stern face and pointed his finger at Sam, imitating the famous historical picture.
Sam sighed as he followed a gloating Dean out of the motel room. It was going to another long day.
Author's Note (again): Ok, so the guys are really on their way this time! This was kind of a pointless chapter, but I felt like having a little fun before getting back to the whole haunted car thing.
Also, again I send my heartfelt thanks to everyone following along, and especially to the wonderful folks who leave reviews. I apologize for not thanking everyone personally, but I tend to turn into a complete dork when I attempt to write a response. I'm trying to get over that. LOL Thanks again!