Wow! You guys are amazing…your reviews and adding this story to your alerts blows me away every time. I'm sorry I have left you all hanging for so long. Thank you for sticking with me!
I didn't get very far into the episode in this chapter and it's not too riveting, but I wanted to get something out there for you guys. So hang in there because I have a few ideas up my sleeve that will come out over the next few chapters :)
Special thanks to ispiltthemilk for her help. I don't know what I'd do without her! You all should totally check out her sisfic story. Definitely worth it.
As always, I hope you all enjoy! Don't forget to drop me a line and let me know what you thought.
A few days had passed since my mental and emotional breakdown with Sam. Luckily he didn't think I had finally popped my lid and gone psychotic, even though that was how I felt. All these awful feelings were just a lot to process through and I was still having a hard time getting over losing my dad. Sam would occasionally check in on me when we were alone to see how I was doing, and I continued to lie every time. I had already dumped enough on him and I didn't need to burden him more with my issues, so I was determined to muddle through on my own and find a way to deal with the emptiness and void left inside me. And the bright side to it all was Sam agreed to keep everything between the two of us. The last thing I needed was Dean to find out; I mean I really never kept anything from him, but this was different. I just felt…embarrassed, as silly as that sounded. He had always been so strong around us and I didn't want him to know I was weak.
I had spent these last few days doing pretty much nothing, which was something we Winchesters had a hard time coping with. We were used to being busy and on the go 24/7. I guess that would explain why Bobby, Dean, and I really got into this one show, Dr. Sexy. And just so you know, the show really lived up to the name. That and there was nothing better to do. Sam was all 'I'm better than that' and decided to go read or some other nerdy thing while we all tuned in to this week's latest scandal between the sexy-cardio-neuro-kidney-I-don't-know-what-else doctor, his boring wife, and his terminally-ill-patient-cured-by-the-doc-then-turne d-secret-lover. It was intense.
Finally Tuesday morning rolls around and I decided to grace the kitchen with my presence, since I'd been pretty scarce around these parts lately. My appetite had kind of died out this last week and I found myself not eating that much anymore, which was weird because normally I was like a bottomless pit; however it felt like more of a chore than anything these days and I was never really up to it. But today I just needed to force it down, basically because Sam was eyeing me over from his spot at the table. So here I was, hovering over the damn toaster, trying to peer pressure it into lightly toasting my pop tarts faster. Why did waiting for it to pop out always seem like an eternity?
"Get your bags packed. It's time to get this crazy show back on the road!" Dean yelled joyfully as he came slamming through the front door and into the kitchen. I tore my gaze from the incompliant toaster to my brother.
"What? Why?" Sam asked as he sat his coffee and the newspaper back down. Wow, could he be any more normal.
"Yeah, now's not a good time. I'm kinda in the middle of something," I said as I turned back around to yet again try to persuade the toaster to do its job more efficiently.
"Oh, sure, real busy. Try not to pull anything," Dean retorted. I knew he couldn't see me, but I stuck my tongue out anyway. "In more important news, I got my baby all fixed up and it's time to get her back out there where she belongs," Dean explained.
"That's actually good timing," Sam began. "Cuz I found us a case over in Montana. Couple of severed heads and one too many cattle mutilations. I think it's worth checking out."
"Best idea I've heard all week," I said as I turned back around to face them. I really needed to get out of this house. It was like cabin fever was settling in. We needed to get back out there and try to get back to our normal.
"Nice work, Sammy. Well then, I'm leaving in an hour whether you are there or not, so you better get moving. I know how long it takes you both to primp and shit," Dean said smirking as he took off through the living room. Just so we are on the same page, when Dean threatens to leave you behind if you're late, he's actually serious. Trust me. I speak from experience. Twice. Ok, I lied. There was that whole taco incident and the square dancing mishap and the freak dog chasing fiasco. So, thrice. Yup. I'd been ditched three times. Oh, and while we are clearing things up, I do not take that long to get ready. Sam does, so I hereby officially take offense to Dean's comment.
"Come on, Kate," Sam said as he got and paused for a moment, waiting on me to go with him. I turned back to the stubborn toaster and it was STILL toasting. I let out an audible grunt in frustration when suddenly I heard bing! and the pop tarts came shooting up. This stupid thing was mocking me. That little bitch.
We said our goodbyes to Bobby and hit the road. The windows were down, music up, and wind blowing through my hair, which I despised. I hated hair blowing around in my face because no matter how hard I tried, it would always get stuck in my mouth or over my eyes or something ridiculous. I didn't get how Sam wasn't having the same issue, I mean, his hair was getting out of control these days.
"Hey, can we shut the windows?" I yelled over the radio up at my brothers in the front seat.
"Hell no! I wanna listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?" Dean said, giddy as a 5 year old. I had to admit, it was nice to see him in such a good mood for once because normally he was Captain Grumpy.
"You know, if you two want to get a room, just let me know, Dean," Sam joked, looking over at him. I swear. If it came down to Dean saving me and Sam or the damn car, I wouldn't put your money on us.
"Oh, don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand us," Dean said lovingly as he caressed the dashboard. Not even joking. Caressed the dashboard.
"Well aren't you just a regular ball of sunshine now," I interjected as I scooted up so my arms were resting on the seat in between them. One of the many benefits of never being forced to buckle up.
"And why shouldn't I be? Got my car, got a case. Things are looking up," he explained, again with that stupid childish grin. As much as I didn't want to admit it, his happiness was kind of catchy. "How far to Red Lodge?" he asked.
"Uh, about another 300 miles," Sam replied. I never knew how he did it. He just always seemed to know how much further we had to go. It wasn't like we had passed a sign out here on these back roads telling us how far out we were and he didn't have a map nearby. Sam had to have some kind of Map Quest built in his brain. There was just no other explanation.
"Good," Dean smirked as he floored it. I felt myself jerk back a little from the sudden acceleration as we went launching even faster down the road. This couldn't be good on the car if you asked me, but what did I know.
We arrived at Red Lodge and instantly found ourselves the only motel in town. After getting changed into our 'work clothes' (I was totally rocking the pants suit, fyi), we made our way down to the police station to get the ball rolling on this case.
A nice, chubby, older sheriff with a little too much gray mustache invited us into his office so we could interview him for an 'article' we were working on. Sam and I both took a seat, leaving Dean to stand behind us.
"The murder investigation is ongoing and that's all I can share with the press at this time," he explained to us. Well if that were really the truth, he should have just told us that before he invited us in.
"Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first…uh…head last week, correct?" Sam asked. He was all about double-checking the facts.
"Mm-hmm," the Sheriff replied; apparently he was too out of shape to even form complete sentences.
"Okay, and the other, Christina Flannigan…," Sam began.
"That was two days ago," he answered as he looked down at his watch. "Oh, but you know what, I'm sorry guys. Time's up. I gotta go, so we're done here," he said as he started to stand up. Rude. I bet he didn't even really have to go. Talk about oldest trick in the book.
"But one last question-," Dean interjected quickly and the Sheriff sat back down.
"Yeah, what about the cows?" I asked. After receiving a very confused and annoyed look from him, I went on to explain, "You know, over a dozen cows found dead, split open, drained, the works."
"What about them?" he asked. Well this conversation just wasn't going out way. Why was he making it so hard to get information out of him. Didn't he understand that we were here to help?
"So you don't think there's a connection?" Sam asked, hoping to pry some facts out of him we didn't already know.
"Connection with…?" This Sheriff was genuinely confused.
"First cattle mutilations and now two murders? Kinda sounds like ritual stuff, you know, like satanic cult ritual stuff," I offered.
He just stared at us, searching each of our faces for any sign that this was a joke when suddenly he burst out laughing. "You're kidding," he said, but once he realized that none of our expressions changed to signify it was a joke, his face dropped. "Oh, you're not kidding." He paused. "You know how I know these cows aren't being mutilated?" All three of us shook our heads. "Because there's no such thing. Cow drops, leave it in the sun and within 48 hours the bloat will split open so clean, it's just about surgical. Then the bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But hey it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you work for?" If this guy weren't making fun of our investigation, I would definitely strike up a conversation with him. I needed more sarcasm like that in my life.
"Uh, World Weekly News," Dean spat out.
"Worldly Wide News?" I said not very confidently, looking up at Dean. I was positive Sam had told us the newspaper name before, but it didn't really seem that important at the time. So we were just throwing stuff out there.
"Weekly World News," Sam corrected. Know it all.
"World…," Dean began before Sam cut him off again.
"Weekly World…," he said.
"We're new," I said as I motioned between Dean and myself. Needless to say the Sheriff's suspicions about our credibility just grew three fold.
"Get out of my office!" he declared angrily as the three of us hurriedly got up and scrambled our way out to the car.
Well police station was a bust, in case you didn't catch on to that. And I was really hoping we could get all our information there because I knew what our next stop would be if we didn't—The Morgue. I didn't care who you were, a freaking ice cold morgue filled with dead bodies would give anyone the heebie-jeebies.
And there it was. The Morgue. Ugh. We walked inside and made our way passed a few nobodies as we went down to the basement to search of the dead bodies. We managed to snake some lab coats in the process too. They really shouldn't leave those things lying around. Anyone could just take them.
We marched through the doors and saw some tech guy sitting at a small desk. Dean must had spotted his nametag, J. Manners. "John," he name guessed as he walked closer, with Sam and I trailing behind. I instantly stopped in my tracks and tensed up at the mention of Dad's name. That came out of nowhere. Why would Dean just throw Dad's name out there like it was nothing? Sam noticed my sudden hesitation and offered me a small, encouraging smile and placed a comforting hand on my back as we took a few more steps towards Dean.
"It's Jeff," the tech corrected. That's right. He wasn't good enough to be a John.
"Jeff. I know that. Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away," Dean explained.
"But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation." Jeff was clearly confused.
"Well he's back, pissed off, and screaming for you, man. So if I were you I would…," Dean said as the tech got up and scurried away at lightening speed. I was always so amazed at how good he could just lie on the go. It was so effortless for him.
With the body guard (pun intended) gone, we made our way into the actual morgue in search for the girl's body. "Those Satanists in Florida marked their victims, didn't they?" Dean asked. Leave it to him to forget the details.
"Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead," I explained as Sam continued looking for the girl's body.
"So much f-ed up crap happens in Florida," Dean joked.
"I know. Which is why I'm sure there's a lot of evil to hunt down there," I offered. Let's be honest. I think after growing up and living in the Midwest my entire life, I deserved to go hunt some windego or shapshifter on a nice, sunny, beach underneath a palm tree with a piña colada in hand along the tip of southern Florida. And I bet I could convince Dean to take us once I explained to him what went on there during 'Spring Break'.
"Guys, over here," Sam announced, ruining my would-be life changing vacation conversation with Dean. Sam pulled out a plastic container and sat it on the table and threw some latex gloves to us. Gross. Her head was in that container.
"What are you waiting for? Open it," I said as I nudged Sam.
"You open it," he countered.
Dean sighed as he turned the box so it was now facing him. "Wusses," he insulted as he tossed off the lid and grimaced. See, that was why I wasn't game for that. If Dean is grossed out by it, there's no way in the world I would make it.
"Poor girl," I said as I slowly took a few steps backwards, not wanting to make eye contact with the head. Sam reached out and grabbed on to my arm to pull me back up beside them, basically saying if he had to be there, so did I. And I thought he was a gentleman.
"Well, no pentagram," Dean explained. Great, that just made the case more complicated. "Maybe we should…you know…look in her mouth. See if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. You know, kinda like Moth in Silence of the Lambs."
First off, I had never seen that movie so the reference was lost on me. And second, seriously, what kind of freak shoves things down people's throats when they kill them? Yuuuuuck. "Yeah, go ahead then, Dean," I encouraged. Personal cheerleader right here.
"No, you go ahead," Dean said as he turned the box towards me. I immediately gave it a slight shove so it would get passed on to Sam because there was no way I was doing it. But as it turned out, my shove wasn't so slight and the box almost fell off the table. Talk about a major issue. Luckily Sam had cat like reflexes and caught it before it headed (yup, pun intended) off the table. Dean and Sam both shot me evil glares as I innocently shrugged my shoulders.
"Right, and I'm the wuss, huh? Whatever," Sam retorted as he took his fingers and began poking around in the mouth. "Kate, get me a bucket," he asked as his face scrunched up in disgust.
"You find something?" Dean asked.
"No, I'm going to puke," he stated. Well that was my cue to back away. I took a few steps back and made my way around so that I was now on the other side of Dean, who instantly walked closer to Sam and the head.
"Wait, lift that lip up again," he commanded. Sam threw him the infamous bitch face. Who could blame him. Dean rolled his eyes as he shoved Sam aside so he could pull up the lip. "Is that a hole?"
Well, now we were getting somewhere. I took a few steps closer, so it looked like I was all in on this head investigation. "Is that a tooth?" Sam asked.
"Sam, that's a fang. Retractable set of vampire fangs. You've got to be kidding me." Dean was in just as much shock as we were. Woah.
"Well that changes things," I interjected sarcastically.
"Ya think?" Dean threw back at me. Well if she was a vampire and someone cut her head off, either that person was just a wacked out murderer or knew what they were doing. This added a little spice to the case after all.
Well we knew what we were hunting and now we just had to find it. And given the fact that it was a vampire, there was no better place to check than a bar. So after throwing on some ordinary clothes, we rolled into the local bar. It was smokey, smelly, and full of people. Sounds about right for a town of 2,000 people. The three of us made our way up to the bar and I took a seat on one of the revolving chairs.
"How's it going?" Dean asked the bartender.
"Living the dream. What can I get for you?" he asked. I started to twist back and forth in the chair. I think it's impossible to sit in one and not do it. I challenge you.
"Two beers, please," Dean replied. I swiveled my way around to him, kicking him in the back of the leg in the process, slightly on purpose. My expression spoke louder than words. Talk about rude. Since when did I get voted out of drinking. Dean returned my evil expression with his own version of one, which clearly said 'knock it off'. I think that between the three of us, we could have an entire day long conversation with just facial expressions. Growing up with each other and spending so much time together allowed us the pleasure, more like torture, of getting to know each other's every mood.
"So we're looking for some people," Sam piped up on the other side of Dean.
"Sure. One girl, two guys. Doesn't seem like a good ratio," the bartender said as he nodded towards me. Dean instantly took a protective step closer. Did this freak just call me a prostitute? Did he not care to notice that I wasn't dressed like a slut? Body = fully covered. Gross. Gross. Gross. That was it. This guy was dead. I started to get up, but Dean quickly placed a hand on my shoulder and shoved me back down in the seat. I gave him a seething look, but he just mouthed 'calm down.' I crossed my arms and swiveled myself away, facing the opposite wall so I didn't have to make eye contact with the bartender again.
"What?! Uh, no. That's not what I meant. She's our sister," Sam explained, slightly offended and grossed out just the same. Good. You tell that ass hole bartender, Sam.
"Oh my bad," the bartender responded nonchalantly as he shrugged his shoulders and opened up the 2 beer bottles. Clearly he was feeling remorseful.
"I meant…we are looking for some specific people," Sam began again as I heard him pull out some cash.
I zoned out on the rest of their conversation and just began to look around the room, checking out all the people here. There were the flannel wearing country folk, slutty girls, old creepy guys, the works. Small town bars were the same all over. But I glanced over to a table by the far window and saw this black guy look at Sam and Dean out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly he put his half smoked cigarette in the ashtray and left his almost full beer before making his way to the door. Well talk about suspicious. I swiveled my way back to Dean and was about to share that with him, but he cut me off before I got a chance.
"Come on," Dean said as he pulled me off of the chair and we left the bar.
Once we were outside, we started walking down the alley towards the back parking lot. "Dean!" I said in a low voice. He slowed down his pace and turned to me, waiting for me to continue. "I think it's cold out," I explained.
He just shrugged his shoulders and continued walking. "Not my fault and I'm most definitely not giving you my jacket cuz last time you about spilled...-."
I cut him off as I pulled on his arm and spun him around so he was facing me. "I said I think it's cold out tonight." Gosh. What's the point of making up a secret code word for 'hey, I'm pretty sure there is someone following us' if he wasn't even going to remember it. All of a sudden Sam and Dean's facial expressions changed as the light bulb went off in their big heads. Finally they caught on to what I was trying to say. Sam took a few steps closer to me as we continued to walk on through the maze of backstreets. I assumed Dean had some kind of plan because that was just kind of his job.
Suddenly, we dodged behind a corner and Dean motioned for Sam and I to get up against the wall. It was like he didn't think we knew how to be sneaky and hide. Anyway, Sam and Dean suddenly moved back around the corner and pinned a guy up against the wall. "This him?" Dean turned to me.
I walked up closer to them. "Yeah, that's him," I said taking a good look at this guy. He was out to get us and that was so not okay. I hereby sentenced him to suffer the wrath of the Winchesters.
"Smile and show us those pearly whites," Dean said as he held the knife up to his throat.
"Oh for the love of—you want to stick that thing some place else? I'm not a vampire," mystery creep man said. Well that was an unusual response I wasn't expecting. "Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there," he explained, cocky. Oh so what, you overheard my brother's talking. He was acting like it was a big deal. They weren't exactly whispering.
"What do you know about vampires?" I asked as I stood between Sam and Dean who were still holding on to him tightly.
"How to kill them," he responded directly at me. This guy gave me the creeps. There was just something off about him. Call it a woman instinct or whatever. "Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch." He glanced down at the knife Dean was seconds away from jamming into his neck.
Stalker guy made a sudden jerking movement to get free, but he was no match for my oversized brother and Sam threw him even harder against the wall. "Woah, easy there, chachi," he said as he slowly raised his right hand up to his mouth and pulled up his lip. Turned out he was telling the truth and he wasn't a vampire.
Dean and I shared a confused look. "Well then who the hell are you?" I spat at him. This case just kept throwing us curveballs.
Turned out his name was Gordon Walker and he just so happened to be fellow hunter. Wasn't that convenient. And even so, I still did not trust him. I blamed my trust issues on my upbringing. I had been hurt and betrayed by one too many 'friends' when I was a kid that there came a certain point where the only people I trusted were Sam and Dean. And Gordon was far from being like my brothers. First for the obvious appearance issues. And his height. And the fact he was more of a douche than they were.
Gordon led us over to his car and pulled out his 'board of weapons' that slid out from behind the front seats. He claimed it was to prove to us he was a hunter, but to me it seemed more like he was showing off his stuff. Please, the hidden compartment stashed with all kinds of weapon goodies in the Impala trunk could take on this wimpy ass wall of knives and guns any day.
"Sam. Dean. And even little Kate. All the Winchesters. I can't believe it," he began. What was it with people and their need to point out that I was little. I mean I wasn't short by normal standards at all, but by Winchester ones, yes. Anyway, talk about rude. "You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy. Great hunter," he finished. We all fell into a small silence as I looked up at Gordon.
"Yeah, he was," I stated sincerely. I knew we were all thinking it.
"I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes to fill, but from what I hear you guys do a good job. Great trackers, good in a tight spot-," Gordon went on, but was cut off by Dean. I wished he had let him continue. Not like every day we get to hear how purely awesome we were, even though it was pretty obvious.
"You seem to know a lot about our family," Dean jabbed at him.
"Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk," Gordon explained, as if it was common knowledge.
"No, actually we don't. What is there a Secret Society of Hunters we haven't heard of?" I replied sarcastically. Were we the only ones who had been left out of the "Hunters Almighty" club? First Ellen and Jo and now Gordon, all claiming that hunters were some tight knit group. I could count the number of hunters I knew. Let's see. Bobby. Pastor Jim, may he rest in peace. Bam. List over.
"Well I guess there's a lot your old man never told you, huh?" Gordon replied. I did not like the fact that he was insinuating that our father kept secrets from us. Obviously he did. That's no secret. He was John Winchester after all, but when someone else pointed it out to you, it was like a hit below the belt to the baby maker.
There was an awkward silence. I honestly had nothing else to say to this guy. He was already pissing me off too much and judging by the look on Sam's face, he was over him too.
"So those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Dean asked, breaking the silence and getting this conversation back on track.
"Yup. Been here two weeks. That Barker farm the bartender told you about? It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks," Gordon explained. Well that just saved us a trip.
"Where's the nest then?" Dean pried.
"I've got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meeting you three, but I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin and tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it." Gordon was getting defensive. Clearly he didn't want us working with him and I, for one, was okay with that.
"We could help," Dean practically pleaded. Did he miss the memo about we shouldn't trust freaks who lurk around stalking us in the middle of the night?
"Thanks, but uh, I'm more of a do-it alone type of guy," Gordon explained as he shoved his "wall of shame" back into the car.
"Come on, man. I've been itching for a hunt," Dean begged and it was true. We all had wanted to get out of Bobby's house and get back to 'normal', but it just didn't seem like a good idea right now.
"Let him finish it up, Dean. We'll track down another case," I said as I pulled on his arm. There was enough evil in the world that we shouldn't have to share a case.
"Yeah, she's right. Hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out," Gordon threw out there as he got into his car and closed the door. Chupacabra? I was pretty sure that was Spanish for Goat Sucker and didn't seem appealing to me. "It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side," he finished as he started up the car and took off before any of us had a chance to reply.
"Well he seems like a real winner," I said as he turned the corner up ahead and disappeared.
"I say we investigate this case too. Something just seems off about him," Sam threw in.
"Yeah, no shit!" I exclaimed, looking up at Sam. Glad to know I wasn't the only one with suspicions.
"You guys always look for the bad in people," Dean stated sarcastically as he turned around towards us and started taking off towards the parking lot where we had left the Impala.
"That's because I couldn't find an ounce of good in that guy," I said. And it was true.
"Well he's a hunter just like us," Dean said. It was almost like I had offended him.
As it turns out, Dean eventually gave in and agreed with Sam and me that we should follow Gordon, just to double check that he really did have this case under control. We followed him and ended up outside some old looking mill where we watched him head inside.
"Wait here," Dean instructed without even a second glance back at me as he got out of the car.
"How about not." I started to open my door, but his oversized hand connected with it first and slammed it back shut.
"We are just going to go give this a once over and be right back. So stop making a whole drama out of it," he said through the driver's window that was still rolled down. He motioned for Sam to follow him and with that, they took off to investigate Weirdo Gordon while I was forced to just wait.
It was like Dean didn't know me because leaving me to wait was actually gonna end up doing him more harm than good. I was struck with another genius idea and crawled my way over into the front seat. Let's see…where to start. Windshield wipers, on. Radio cranked up, check. Tuned to a random ass station, double check. Heat on full blast, why not. And for good measure I added the emergency break.
Feeling very accomplished and proud of my work, I sat back in the driver's eat and began banging my hands on the steering wheel, full on rock out position when all of a sudden I heard the buzzing sound of what I could only assume was something like an electric saw, given we were at a saw mill. Well, that was never a good sign no matter how you spun it. I opened the door and took off running towards the mill. I came around a corner and practically almost ran into Sam. He steadied me before I went falling down and both of our gazes went straight ahead to Dean, just as he was pulling the electric saw down to decapitate what I assumed to be vampire. Dean then pulled the saw up and the look on his face was unmistakable. It was covered in blood splattered from the guy and the expression in his eyes was unexplainable. It was rage. And hurt. And pain. It was ragurtain, as it shall now be referred to. Sam and I just stood there, completely horrified and unable to move. I had never seen such a look before and I was shocked to think that Dean, the guy who had always been my rock, was so not okay.
"Guess I gotta buy you that drink," Gordon said as he smiled approvingly at Dean's work. Gordon announced that he'd meet us back at the bar he originally tried to attack us for a drink. Ironic, wasn't it? Anyway, the three of us made our way back to the Impala in silence, each lost in our own thoughts and avoiding the topic that I knew was on everyone's mind.
We climbed into the car and Dean started it up. The wipers, heat, and music all clicked on at once. I had almost forgotten about that. I was too good.
"Damnit, Kate!" Dean yelled and I said mockingly at the same time. I knew him too well. Sam burst out laughing as Dean clicked off everything and turned around to give me a scolding look. I just shrugged my shoulders. He should had seen it coming anyway. "How many times do I have to tell you to not mess with my car!" Huh, I guess I pushed his buttons.
"Well serves you right for leaving me in the car," I countered.
"We were only gone for like 5 minutes! Seriously. You can't sit still for five minutes?" Dean yelled, completely annoyed as he started up the car. When he realized he emergency break was on, he grunted in frustration before taking it off and turning out of the parking lot.
"Oh, look who's talking Mr. I-always-have-to-be-doing-something-or-I-might-sel f-implode," I spat. It was true. Dean was most definitely a busy body.
"You act like you're 12!" Dean glared at me in the rearview mirror.
"Yeah, because all the pranks you've done have been 'so mature'," I threw back at him.
"Guys!" Sam yelled, interrupting our argument. "Just knock it off." Since when did Sam intervene? But he was right. This was a stupid fight and quite frankly had no real point to it. A (semi) innocent prank was too much to handle for Dean apparently. I think he was still on edge after what had just happened mixed in with his ragurtain feelings too. I guess it's best not to poke the bear while he's angry.
I scooted up against the side window and stared outside, spotting our motel sign up ahead.
"You know what, just drop me off at the hotel," I stated. First I didn't want to spend any more time with this Gordon freak. And second, I was sure Dean and I would be down each other's throats again in no time, so what was the point.
"Fine by me," Dean said as he turned sharply into the motel. Well that was a lot easier than expected. He stopped in front of our room. "Oh, and since you can't seem to sit still, why don't you use your time wisely and do the laundry," Dean threw back at me as I was getting out of the car.
I leaned up against his rolled down window. "No way, it's Sam's turn, not mine," I argued. How was that even fair!
"Yeah, well Sam didn't mess with my car. So happy washing," he spat out as he took off quickly, almost running over my foot, I might add. Wow, how did I get blessed with two of the kindest, most thoughtful and genuine brothers in the world? Oh right, I didn't.