Chapter 4: Keep 'em Coming
Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them for a second.
AN1: Yay! Look at that! Another update! You should be expecting the next one by the weekend! And to Bonanza Rocks, don't worry, they will eventually, Sam is just a little self-conscious of what they'll think. So GO AND ENJOY, and don't forget to R&R!
-GNS-
I find my way to the nearest bar and sink down into one of stools lined up by the counter. I sag into the cracked red leather cushion. I'm nursing my beer when my father takes a seat down next to me. "Ran out of there pretty fast," He notices, motioning to the bartender that he'll have one of whatever it is I've got. I just nod and keep my eyes trained on the countertop. Lazily I'm wondering what it is that I've got. I flick my eyes down over a label that I don't recognize.
"Figured you'd follow me out," I huff, "I knew you wouldn't leave me alone after dropping something like that." I take a swig from my bottle. I'm tracing the ring of moisture it left when John speaks again.
"You look like you've lived a life enough for three men," He states, and I glance up at him, "I saw it first when you looked up at me on the floor of the room, and then another time when I," he gestures to the newly formed scab on my neck. "That didn't hurt you at all, did it?" I shake my head, I have had so much worse than the shaving nick he gave me. I almost shiver at the thought of 'so much worse'. "Nah, figured as much. It just adds to what I said earlier, life enough for three, ya know?" I shoot up one of my eyebrows, silently asking for him to explain. "I mean there, right there, looks like you're two-hundred."
"Nearly Two-hundred and ten, if you want to get technical." I mumble under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," I sigh, "What makes you think that?" I say instead.
"Your eyes." I'm looking at my reflection in the countertop and I'm pretty sure I know what he means. I can't help but thinking about how he would react if he knew who the eyes belonged to, and what he would do if he knew that this wreck of a man was his son. Neither of us speak for a long while after.
"So do you," he pauses, "know where Sam is, I mean?" He hasn't touched his beer and I'm wondering if he just got it for show. He's got a reputation to uphold, I joke to myself, the reputation of a grade "A" alcoholic in a bar at one o'clock on a week day.
"I've got a hunch," I tell him, "there's no other place I could think of that he would be at this point." I explain. I'm looking at him now and he's staring back at me and he looks so tired.
"Just," John starts, voice soft with something I can't place, "Is he safe there? Will he be okay?"
I'm reaching for my wallet before I realize that I don't actually have anything to pay with, and I tuck it back into my jeans. What will Dean think when he gets back and my cell phone and key are still sitting where I left them? I ask myself. I hold in the bitter chuckle that starts to form in my throat with the thought that he will probably assume I didn't want to be called. "This isn't the place to have that conversation," I tell Dad, and he sets down bills enough for the both of us before standing up.
"Well we better get somewhere that is," he says simply. The short walk back to the motel room is taken in silence as well.
-GNS-
We're all circled around the small table, Dean and John are on one end and I'm on the other. The "them and me" mood of it all doesn't escape me. "So this hunch," my father begins, leaning towards me and looking extremely interested in what I have to say. He's got one arm on the table, his forearm is resting against it and his elbow is bent to support his weight. It almost looks like he's using it to pull himself closer. My brother is a nervous but quiet ball of energy next to him. I can tell just by the look in his eyes that he is silently stewing in all of the possibilities of what I might say. He's dead, he's being tortured, he won't last long, all flicker in my mind. I can imagine vividly how that must feel.
"Worst case scenario, of my hunch that is," I can feel the tension in the room at my words, and I pause a little for emphasis, "he wakes up alone on a motel room floor, nobody is there. The guy who has the room shows up late that night, figures out what's going on, he fixes this pretty quick and that's that." Confusion mars the face of the two sitting before me and I give them a small smile.
"You're kidding." Dean deadpans. He's got a dumbstruck look on his face that says that he thinks I've got to be the best damn liar on the planet. My smile only grows bigger.
"Unless I'm completely and utterly wrong in my assumption of what has happened, then no, he'll be perfectly fine." I say, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs. I watch the quick shift in emotions on their faces.
"He'll be safe?" Dean asks, a little timidly. I nod.
"More than safe, kid'll probably be doted on until he gets back here." I laugh, imagining a mini me and my big brother, side by side. I try to keep a straight face as I visualize a little me pulling the most tragic, doe eyed expression you've ever seen and Dean just caving.
"Wait," John breathes, "if you know where he is why can't we just… go get him?" My smile falters for a second.
"It's not that simple," I exhale, the words coming out soft, "we can't."
"What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean demands, standing up so quickly that his chair hits the ground with a smash. The relief on his face is suddenly replaced by anger.
I press my lips into a thin line and look up at him warily, "It means that until we fix what happened there's no getting your brother back." I explain, "I'm sorry."
-GNS-
AN2: So that's that. Hope you guys enjoyed it! I'd love to hear from you on how you think it's going so far! A special thanks to fanfic1892, Missy Winchester, BonanzaRocks and a guest for commenting on chapter 3! Don't worry about when, or if they find out about Sam, quite a few things will start to come to light in the next few chapters. Also, thanks to the 300 of you who have read this story!