THREE
Bedford, Pennsylvania
January 16th, 2009
Dean was tired, but he couldn't seem to fall asleep. He had his head buried deep in the cheap motel pillow, which was oddly comfortable, trying to suffocate his buzzing brain, as he lay on his stomach, trying to ignore the hum of the old heating unit pumping tepid air into the room. Sam was sound asleep in the next bed, the covers pulled up to his ears, his dark brown hair the only thing sticking out. Dean could hear Sam's slow, steady breathing as he dreamt peacefully.
Dean sighed. It was good the kid was getting some actual rest. Lately it seemed Sam was having just as many nightmares as Dean was. When I'm actually able to sleep, Dean thought bitterly. He glanced over at the cheap motel alarm clock. The small clock read two-fifty in the morning. With a groan, Dean pushed himself up, throwing the covers back to free himself. He shivered as the cool air sent a chill down his spine.
"You should get more sleep," a voice stated behind him. Dean instinctively jerked around, already recognizing the voice. Castiel stood in a darkened corner of the motel room, staring at Dean with a disapproving gaze.
"Yeah, well. You could try knocking on a door once in a while instead of sneaking up on people. Sometimes you just gotta make do," Dean grumbled. He pulled on the pair of faded blue jeans that hung out of his duffle bag and shrugged on a black t-shirt, feeling a little self-conscious in just his boxer-briefs with the angel around.
"I was just checking in on you. I wasn't planning on you being awake," Castiel stated, as if this excused him. "Are you still having nightmares of your time in hell?" Curiosity and sympathy edged his question.
"Not much," Dean lied. "I just can't seem to get to sleep tonight. Not something I usually have trouble with." He plopped back onto the bed to put his boots on. He could feel the angel's stare, obviously seeing through the lie, but he ignored it. Getting up, Dean pulled on his brown leather jacket as he headed for the door. Castiel followed silently behind him. "I assume there was a reason you stopped by. Besides to check up on me, that is."
"As a matter of fact, yes, there was."
Dean waited a moment, but the angel didn't continue. It's like pulling teeth with these guys, he groaned internally. "Well? Spill it." Dean knew he was being short with the angel, but he was too tired to care. He made his way across the gravel parking lot, his boots making a soft crunching sound over the cold ground.
"We believe Lilith is opening another seal in a town not far from here. A town called Honey Brook." Dean stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly to face the angel.
"Honey Brook? Are you sure?" Castiel raised an eyebrow at him and Dean tried not to laugh at how unnatural the expression looked on the usually somber face. "That's where we're headed, actually," Dean supplied. He watched Castiel's face smooth out again.
"Sam found some stuff online about a couple of murders. The local newspaper reported the bodies were left on top of pentagrams. The details were sketchy, but we figured we'd check it out anyway." Dean slid in behind the wheel of his pride and joy: his black, 1967 Chevy Impala. Castiel silently slid in on the passenger side as Dean started the car and smiled in response to the growl of the engine.
There's no sweeter sound, Dean thought contently. He patted the car's dashboard and flipped on the heater full blast. Dean, not having anywhere specific in mind and merely wanting to use the car's heater to warm up, drove out onto the highway in a general northerly direction.
"So, you think Lilith is involved with the murders in Honey Brook?" Dean asked, trying to fill the silence. If he couldn't have any music then he needed to talk. Silence made his mind wander and he'd had enough of that already.
"We believe she has demons performing certain rituals required to open a seal in the area, yes," Castiel stated. "We think it wise that you and Sam get there as soon as possible."
"Well, as soon as Sammy gets up, we'll head out. Should be there by early afternoon at the latest."
"You need to get there as soon as possible, Dean. This seal needs to remain closed. Lilith needs to be stopped."
"I know, I know. The world as we know it depends on it," Dean stated dully. He sighed as he watched the darkness creep over Castiel's eyes. "We'll head out, Cas, I promise. Just as soon as Sam gets up." Dean wanted Sam to get as much sleep as he could. If his brother didn't start getting some serious rest soon, he was going to be dead on his feet and they both couldn't afford for him to be anything less than tip-top.
"He hasn't been sleeping well, either," Castiel said. It was more of a statement than a question and it peaked Dean's interest. The angels had been peeking in on Sam, too, then. "His nightmares are intriguing, but basic. You should talk to him. It may help."
"Talk to him? Don't you think I've tried?" Dean snapped. "He won't tell me anything. Keeps saying it's nothing." Dean paused and then added in a grumble, "Besides, I'm not Oprah." He swung the car into the empty parking lot of a coffee shop. If he was going to be up then he was definitely doing it fully caffeinated. He looked over at Castiel, trying to decide if he should offer to buy the angel a cup, too.
Never seen him eat or drink anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't. Even an angel's gotta eat, right? Dean thought to himself.
Dean shrugged and got out of the car. When Castiel didn't follow, he leaned down and looked at the angel through the open door. "Um…you want something?" Dean asked, pointing to the bright shop front.
"No, thank you. But I think you should hasten your return to your brother. You need to get to Honey Brook."
"I will," Dean barked. He took a deep breath and let it out in an effort to contain his irritation. "I get the urgency, Cas, I really do. But first I need coffee. I'm running on empty as it is and without any caffeine pumping in my system, I'm going to be useless in a few hours."
"Make it quick," Castiel replied bluntly. Dean blinked once and the angel was gone.
"Never gonna get used to that disappearing crap!" Dean mumbled to himself.
Shaking his head, Dean shut the car door and strolled into the coffee shop. His nose was instantly assaulted by the strong, but enticing aroma of bitter coffee and fresh donuts. He smiled as his stomach began to growl. At the counter, a girl not much younger than Sam, smiled up at him as he approached. She was cute, with short blonde hair cut to her chin and bright blue eyes. When Dean winked at her, his green eyes taking in her slender frame behind the counter, her smile widened.
"What can I get for you?" she asked, her voice soft. She turned to the side to allow Dean an unobstructed look at the display case. Dean pretended to look over the donuts and bagels in the case behind her as he smoothly continued to check out her figure. The dark blue shirt and black pants of the uniform she wore accentuated her curves nicely, the pants just snug enough for him to make out the curve of her butt.
Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Dean looked up into the woman's eyes. "How about two large coffees-one black and the other just milk, three jelly donuts, and a plain bagel," Dean ordered, grinning at her. While the girl busied herself with his order, stealing quick glances at Dean when she thought he wasn't looking, Dean opened his phone and scrolled through his short address book, bitterly remembering the reason his phone had so few contacts.
Dean had lost a lot of the numbers he'd had, mostly one-night stands whose numbers he couldn't bring himself to delete, when another hunter, a man by the name of Gordon Walker used their phones to track them. Gordon had been hell bent on finding and killing Sam, believing him to be a kind of anti-Christ. Sam had purchased new phones and destroyed the old ones. But, in the end, it had been all for nothing. Gordon had found them anyway and the hunter had died, at Sam's hands.
The number for Bobby Singer, another hunter and a man they both knew since childhood, jumped out at Dean. He was just about to call Bobby when he thought better of it. Even though the hunter was known especially for sleeping during the daytime and working during the night, it still felt weird to Dean to call any man at three o'clock in the morning.
"Anything else I can getcha?" the girl asked. She had placed the coffee in one of those annoying gray holders that always ended up accumulating on floor of the Impala's backseat. The donuts and bagel were inside the shop's logo'ed brown paper bags, which she had nestled between the coffee cups. Dean shook his head no.
"I think that'll be it, thanks." Dean pulled out his money clip-well, actually Sam's money clip, he thought guiltily-and handed the girl a twenty. She handed him back his change and he immediately put a ten dollar bill into the tip cup in front of her register. She smiled again, this time in thanks. Dean turned to leave, but after a second thought, turned back. "You know, I guess there is one more thing you could get me," he said, giving the girl his trademark crooked grin.
"It's already in the bag," the girl stated, blushing as she turned around to adjust the donuts, giving Dean the benefit of looking her over one last time. He placed the coffee back on the counter and opened the first bag. Inside was Sam's bagel, a single serving container of cream cheese, a few packets of butter, and a slip of paper. He reached in and removed the slip, opening it to find that the girl, whose name was Jenna, had written her number on a small piece of register receipt paper. She remained busy arranging the donuts but obviously listening to Dean's discovery .
"Thanks, Jenna," Dean replied smoothly, folding the slip of paper and putting it securely in his back pocket. He gathered up the food and coffee again and headed back out into the cold, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. As he climbed back into the car, careful not to spill coffee on the seat, Dean could feel Jenna's eyes on him. He looked up as the engine roared to life, waving once before pulling out in a spray of gravel.
Dean cranked the radio, blasting Deep Purple's "Maybe I'm A Leo", which was almost finished, through the speakers. He air drummed on the steering wheel as he drove, arriving at the motel a short time later. As Dean slipped the motel key into the lock, noises from within the room made him pause. Silently, he placed the coffee and food on the ground near the door, out of the way, and pulled out the ivory handled Colt .45 he always kept tucked in the waistband of his pants against the small of his back.
"No! Dean!" Sam cried out. Dean thrust the unlocked door open, thumbed the safety of his gun off, and began quickly scanning the room. Sam sat upright in bed, bewildered and haggard looking, rubbing his forehead with his left hand.
"Sammy? You alright?" Dean yelled. He moved through the room, gun raised, heading towards the bathroom, flicking on lights as he went.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam muttered. "Sorry if I scared you." Sam shivered once and pulled the covers, which had been twisted around his knees, back up. The gray t-shirt he was wearing had ridden up his back, so he yanked at it, pulling it down over his toned stomach.
"Jesus, Sam," Dean growled as he lowered the gun, setting the safety again, before putting it back in his waistband. "Another nightmare?" His eyes softened as he took in his brother's disheveled appearance. He went to stand at the end of Sam's bed.
"Yeah," Sam sighed. He rubbed his eyes more forcefully, whether trying to rub the sleep away or the echo of the nightmare, Dean couldn't tell. Sam looked wrecked. Like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all.
Dean looked his brother over, trying to decide if he should try to press Sam for more details. It's never worked before, Dean thought to himself. Dean stared at his brother, trying to read his face. He'll talk when he wants to, he continued, resigned.
"Where were you?" Sam asked as he looked at Dean, dressed and still in his brown leather jacket. He eyed him suspiciously and Dean smiled.
"Couldn't sleep so I went out. Got us coffee and breakfast."
"Okay, so where is it?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows in obvious disbelief. Dean chuckled and went back outside to retrieve them from the doorway. He turned and waved the bags at Sam.
"See! Happy now?" Pulling the coffee with milk out of the holder, Dean handed it to Sam, along with one of the bags. "Got you a bagel. I think Jenna threw in some butter and cream cheese for you." He smiled as he said the coffee-shop girl's name.
"Jenna, huh? Let me guess. Not only did you get her name, but you got her number, too."
"Of course," Dean grinned as he plopped down onto the end of Sam's bed. "Now, since you' re up, get dressed. We've got to move out, pronto. Castiel stopped by while you were in la-la land and told me the angels think Lilith is up to something in Honey Brook. Apparently, you were right about the murders there."
"Another seal?" Sam asked as he pushed himself away from the pillows. He stretched his tall frame, his back cracking as he twisted out from under the covers. Dean watched as Sam grabbed a pair of black jeans and headed into the bathroom.
"When isn't it?" Dean called as he rose and began packing the room, sipping his coffee as he moved about. He was just zipping his duffle bag closed when Sam came back out. He looked a little more awake, but still tired. "Dude, you look like crap," Dean teased.
"Thanks," Sam replied sarcastically. "So, do the angels know what's going on? I mean, do they know what the seal is or what we should be looking for?" Sam finished packing his own duffle bag and zipped it closed. He froze, his arm halfway in his jacket, his other hand in the back pocket of his jeans. "Dean...?"
Dean laughed and threw Sam his money clip. Sam caught it in one hand and snapped the clip off to count the bills. "Sorry. I thought it was mine," Dean smirked.
"Sure you did. And the reason I'm short twenty bucks?"
"'Cause you bought breakfast," Dean joked, taking a giant bite out of the donut he was holding. Dean watched Sam roll his eyes which only made him laugh again.
"Right, like always," Sam grumbled. Dean watched as Sam pulled the lid off his coffee and began emptying several packets of sugar into the cup. He stirred it, took a sip, winced, and then added a few more.
"You sure know how to ruin a good cup of coffee," Dean grumbled.
Dean took his coffee like their dad did-black. Sam, on the other hand, had always needed to be as different from John Winchester as possible and thus never learned the finer things; like how to enjoy a good cup of coffee. Dean sighed and grabbed his duffle bag, heading out the door back to the Impala.
They packed the car in silence; Dean unable to think of a way to get Sam to actually talk about the nightmares. He didn't really want to press the issue since they were obviously about him. Sam had called Dean's name out so many times in the last few months it was beginning to become a little creepy. After a final once over, the training their dad had drilled into them from childhood strong as ever, Dean closed the door and followed Sam to the car, the silence stretching as they drove off.