"The lore on the Maya is confusing as heck." Sam shoved the laptop back, his eyes burning from staring at the screen for so long.
He noticed Dean glance up from the bed where he was watching a badly dubbed Godzilla movie. At least he'd kept the volume low for once.
"Not finding any info?"
"Oh, I've found information, loads of it." It was hard keeping the sarcasm from his voice. "But aside from agreeing on some very high level points, a lot of the other stuff is contradictory, or up to each individual scholar's interpretation, or whatever. Even the deities keep changing. A bunch are only referenced by letters and numbers like G1 through G9 which are part of the calendar systems. Heck, even some of the ones they do know the names of seem to have multiple personality, aspects, forms, you name it. Some even depended on area! The Tumul ruins in Quintana Roo in the Yucatan has what they call the Descending God, but while he was seemingly quite prevalent there, that's the only location so far showing anything on him at all."
Dean sat up suddenly, smacking his head. "Shit! What about the fact the hearts were taken out of the victims? Aren't the Maya the ones in that Mel Gibson movie, doing sacrifices?"
Sam sighed deeply. "From what I gather, Apocalypto is not exactly an unbiased account of the people or the time period. Blood letting did seem to be common as a type of sacrifice. But the people part seems to have come from the Toltecs, during the Maya decline. Yet for every place that says that's true, there's another refuting it. Like I said, there's lots of information, but little of it tends to agree." He stood up, his frustration making him restless.
"Well, all of that's just details anyway. What we need to do is get back to the DMA before Ricky gets off work and tail his ass to his place. When he goes back to work, we can sift through his stuff. We'll find something, I'm sure of it. He's our guy."
Sam shook his head, not understanding where all this certainty was coming from. He just hoped it wasn't only for his benefit. Could be his brother was trying to keep his mind away from other things, like the scene back at Williams's apartment, and the fact Dean might change again tonight. More things to worry about.
Suddenly the walls seemed a little too close, the room a little too crowded. "I'm going out."
"Want me to come with?" Dean was already reaching for the remote.
"No." Sam waved him back. "Enjoy your movie. I just need some air. Won't be long."
"You sure?"
Great, Mother Dean at work. "I think I can manage a few minutes alone, okay? I'm not made of glass."
"You're still a total wuss though."
Sam motioned with his hand in a dismissive gesture and made his way outside, not rising to the bait.
He closed the door behind him and just stood there, taking deep breaths of the cooling night air, letting the pent up stress of the last several hours pour off him like water. The sounds of the TV filtered through the door as Dean turned up the volume, soon followed by the noise of battling monsters and his brother's whoops as he cheered them on. He supposed it was a miracle Dean had been able to restrain himself for so long before.
A heartening feeling grew at his breast. His brother loved him. He would probably rather die than ever say so out loud, but he didn't have to. A lot of little things already shouted the fact to the heavens. Sam knew.
Things would be all right. They would work through them as they always did. He just needed to be patient. Not something he'd ever been very good at really, not when it was over something that truly mattered. He envied the way things just seemed to roll off his brother's shoulders, how he could dismiss stuff and just go on. He did have a tendency to bury things deep down too on occasion, but that seemed to be a Winchester trait, and it plagued every one of them.
The sky was clear, the stars blinking brightly above. The brilliant moon seemed to be in the Last Quarter phase. The moon, phases, four – four a number which recurred a lot with the Maya, four aspects of the gods, the four directions, the four walls comprising the world. Thirteen – the number of levels for the tree and heavens rising above. Nine – the number of levels of the underworld. Jaguars – believed to be able to travel between the worlds above and below.
Sam shook his head. Why think of this now? Nothing made any more sense than it had before.
Checking his pocket for change, he took his time making his way over to the soda machine between buildings. The noise of the coins as they clanged down the slot sounded overtly loud. He pressed the button for a Pepsi and heard the reassuring sound of the can being dispensed.
He was about to reach into the bin to get the drink when he tensed, his honed instincts sensing something. There was someone out there, he was sure of it. Just another restless tenant? He could see no one, but the feeling he wasn't alone wouldn't go away.
He continued with his original move and slid his hand into the aperture, keeping his other senses primed for an attack. He felt the cold can and let his fingers travel to wrap around it. A prick of pain made him pull his hand back. A drop of blood was forming on the side of his hand. Glancing back out toward the parking lot again to reassure himself no one was coming at him, he pushed the flap of the catch basin back and knelt down trying to see what had nicked him. In the bottom of the bin were several small balls of rough rope with dark, shiny needles sticking from them.
Sam stood up in a rush and almost lost his balance as the whole lot spun around him. His back to the vending machine, a wave of nausea crashed through him as he struggled to get his hand in his pocket for his cell phone. A shadow disengaged itself from behind a van and came toward him.
Hands and feet tingling, Sam brought out the Q. He pressed the scroll button on contacts and searched for his brother's name. His legs shook then collapsed from beneath him. The phone flew from his no longer responsive fingers as he slid down to the concrete.
His chest felt in a vise, his breathing shallow. He couldn't raise his head as a pair of work boots came into his field of vision.
"The divinations prove true once again. When there is need, the gods provide."
Sam recognized the voice. The hunters had become the hunted. His vision narrowed then went dark, his last thoughts about how Dean had been right again after all.