It was nearly 4 o clock as Sam and I trudged down the road. I knew a place we could go for the night until I could set up more permanent housing.
It was a cheap motel down the road from my school. It was run by a man with no teeth and his four younger children. I think I remember someone telling me his wife had died under 'mysterious circumstances' a while back.
I grimaced at the thought, but we had no other choice.
"What if he finds us, Dean?" Sam asked, his voice so broken and weak. The way he sounded reflected exactly how I felt. But I couldn't let him see that.
I had to be strong for the both of us.
"He won't, Sammy." I wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe just because he used to be in the marines, it didn't matter. He had drowned away all his brain cells with the stinging booze.
But a huge part of me…knew he was still a clever, conniving son of a bitch.
For so long I tried to love him. Tried to tell myself, he was still my dad. He just drank too much. He lost too much too soon. It wasn't his fault.
But each day a new bruise appeared or each time I had to skip a meal to make sure Sam got enough food, my faith gradually faded.
He could have stopped. He could have pulled himself together. But instead he watched his son get a job at just thirteen to pay for the bills. The bills he ignored and instead bought another 30-pack.
"We're going to the Blue Bird Inn, okay Sam?" I said, and got a mediocre nod from my only sibling.
"Not much further."
We arrived at the dank 6-room motel by 4:22, I deduced, taking a glance at the gdingy clock hanging on the mustard-yellow paneling.
"One room please." I said to the 12-year-old boy at the counter. He had dark hair and even darker eyes. He nodded and pushed the clipboard toward me, with a key to room number 3.
I smiled politely, but his eyes were locked on Sam. Perhaps they knew each other at school, I mused.
But Sam just looked at the ground as I signed the sheet and handed over two twenties.
The kid looked at me as the key scuffled across the counter into my pulling fingers.
"Have a nice night." He said, those dark eyes unblinking. "Bye, Sam…" He said quietly as we began to depart.
"Bye.." Sam murmured.
"You know that kid?" I asked as we began inspecting our room. Two twin beds, a kitchenette with a microwave and mini-fridge, and a bathroom with a lime-stained shower.
"He's in my Algebra class." Sam said, unloading his things into a small bedside drawer.
I couldn't be bothered with the task. So instead, I decided to set my bag on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. "That's nice." I said, but my mind was elsewhere.
I thought about my job and where we would have to stay. I thought about Sam and how he would deal with all of this.
How could I take him away from home. Without even asking him..
"Dean?!" Sam's hands on my shoulders jerked me back to reality. I released a small pant of surprise at my own inability to stay focused.
"Sorry, what were you saying?" I asked, blinking away the images of our broken home and all the other choices I had but instead I chose to take my brother and run.
I needed to teach Sam bravery and this was how I was going to do it?
Some role model I was.
"I was just saying…" Sam paused, his eyes flickering all over my face, checking just to make sure I was listening this time. I nodded minutely. "that I think we should just call it a day." He finished.
I could only nod, too afraid if I opened my mouth, another person would begin talking. The Dean Winchester Sam could never meet. The Dean Winchester who was afraid.
Afraid of losing people and dying. Afraid of their father. Afraid of school and classwork. Afraid of growing up and being young.
This Dean Winchester could never be afraid.
To prove to myself we could do this, I got up and laid Sam in bed. I sat at the edge of it and talked to him about school and what it was like when we were little. Talked about movies and music and laughed because we could.
Until he fell asleep, consumed with the idea that we were going to be alright.
I only wished I felt the same.
The sun had faded into the horizon. Its bleary smudge of light only visible as a citrus line against the skyline.
I sighed and pulled the copy of Romeo and Juliet from my bag.
I read for a while, not particularly interested, but just enough to tease my preferences.
After the sun had been long gone, and the moon shone proudly gibbous in the navy sky, after my eyes began to droop and my hands began to cramp from clutching the book, came a knock.
"Mr. Winchester?" Came a gruff voice.
I blinked and placed the book pages-down on the motel quilt.
I got up and padded over to the door.
Unlocking it, with slight anxiety twisting my gut, I opened it.
On the other side stood a younger man, mid-twenties. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes that glimmered toxically in the dull light that flooded from our room.
He had strong features, a clear jaw and a flat, pointed nose. His eyes had several creases, but something about them fit.
But it wasn't what he looked like or who he was that made the blood drain from my face.
It wasn't those piercing eyes or the bruisingly straight line his mouth made that caused my heart to drop.
It was what he wore.
A blue uniform complete with a utility belt; gun, Taser, walkie-talkie, hand cuffs, and the bright gold badge on his lean chest.
"Hello, Dean." He said without a single blink.
"…Officer…" I stammered. "I…I…" I bit my lip and felt my hands tremble. What could I say?
He took quick note of my petrified appearance. He titled his head and squinted, but I couldn't tell if he was mocking or not when he asked, "What are you so afraid of?"