Big Bang 2013: Leaving Footprints behind Chapter 2
The next morning Dean was slowly teased from a deep restful sleep by the smell of fresh coffee and breakfast, but it was Sam’s slow drugging kisses that made him fully alert. When Sam moved to let him up from the bed, Dean realized how sore he was as he took his first step. Even though he was walking funny, he smiled to himself as he appreciated that for once the soreness was a good thing.
“You okay Dean?” Sam asked worry etching his voice as he watched Dean walk awkwardly towards the bathroom.
“As okay as I can be after having a pole shoved up my ass, bitch,” He replied with a smirk.
“Jerk,” Sam replied with a knowing smile as he took a quick sip of his latte, before he sat it down on the table and followed Dean into the bathroom for their morning shower.
After a long leisurely shower, the Winchester brothers made their way across town to the home of Monica Love. Dean supposed that with a name like that he should have known that she was a witch, but what with Sam making him walk a little more bow legged than normal, his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders this morning.
When they arrived at the house one glance told them that it was old, easily over a hundred years. Two floors with what looked to be about a dozen rooms plus hidden nooks and crannies needed to be explored in their hunt for the ghost. The house had been restored to all of its former Victorian glory including the gardens.
To a civilian, the garden was beautiful and peaceful, but to a hunter it screamed witch. From a glance, Dean could see belladonna, mandrake, basil and eucalyptus just to name a few. There was a cross of cedar chips artfully placed in the garden as well as other protective symbols. Apparently, Monica knew what she was doing, so Dean did not understand why she needed the services of a hunter.
“Sam you know I hate witches,” Dean grumbled at his brother as they started walking towards the door.
“Yes princess, I know you hate witches, but unless she was doing some evil shit that we don’t know about, she deserved to be helped too.”
“Bitch,” Dean, mumbled.
Before Sam could respond with an answering Jerk, the door opened revealing Monica Love. Dean swore he was seeing things, because there stood an incarnation of Stevie Nicks, the hot version from her Fleetwood Mac days, and a quick glance at Sam told Dean his brother was thinking the same thing.
Monica laughed at the expression on their faces and said, “No, I didn’t glamour myself, the face is my own courtesy of my mom and dad, the rest are just theatrics.” She added referring to her attire, which like the rest of her looked as though it came from Stevie Kicks as well.
Once inside the house, Dean looked around and found more evidence that Monica was a witch. Before she could tell them why she had called, Dean advised her, “We do not work with witches so, I suggest you call your little coven and spew spells around your cauldron or whatever. Come on Sam let’s get out of here.”
“Bobby said that would be your reaction,” She tossed at their retreating backs.
“Bobby?” Dean stopped and turned back towards Monica, “Our Bobby?” he questioned.
“Yes, your Bobby,” she confirmed. “He said to tell you not to be an idjit about this.”
“How did you contact Bobby?” Sam asked wearing a bitch face that Dean was sure he had never seen before and would have to categorize later. He was probably wondering if this was some kind of trap, because Dean was.
“I used my board,” Monica answered as she pointed to the Ouija board on the table. “I asked the board for help to get rid of the thing that was haunting me and your Bobby came forth and he even gave me your numbers. All of them.”
“And he called us idjits,” Dean grumbled. “Sending us to help a witch, what was he thinking?”
“He’s dead Dean, so not really thinking,” Sam reminded his brother.
“Ok tell us what you know, why you can’t get rid of what’s haunting you on your own,” Dean demanded as they made their way to the sofa. Dead or not, if Bobby wanted them to do this then they would do it.
Sitting in a chair facing the brothers, Monica nervously explained, “I purchased the house about two years ago because it was big enough for me to both live in and perform readings. I did a lot of the cosmetic work myself and contracted out the rest. Honestly, everything was going great until I got to the last room.”
“What happened in the last room?” Sam asked.
“When I opened the door, it was as though the temperature dropped about twenty degrees, but since it was cold outside I thought that the room was cold because the window was open.”
“Was the window open?” Dean asked impatiently.
“It was, but when I was thrown across the room as I went to close it kind of told me that that was not the problem.” She wryly stated.
With those words, she finally had Dean’s full attention. Even if she was a witch, she didn’t deserve to be haunted, and if Bobby came through to give her the information to contact them, then that meant she was someone worth helping.
“Well that’s good,” Sam said.
“How is that good Sam? Dean asked. “The poor woman was tossed around in her own house.”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Sam clarified. “What I meant was that that ghost was only in one room.”
“Well that’s what I thought too.” Monica agreed. “That was until it pushed me down the stairs and choked me while I was sleeping.” The only thing that saved me were some spells I chanted, but it kept coming back, stronger and stronger each time.”
One of the things that Dean had noticed about the restoration of the house was that it was true to the period. That included the iron fireplace set sitting next to the huge stone fireplace. At least it looked like iron, so to confirm it he walked over to the fireplace to inspect the set. When he picked up the poker, the weight told him that it was indeed iron. Great, that would save them a trip to the car.
“Can we see the room?” Sam asked as Dean threw him the additional poker from the fireplace set.
“I’ll wait here,” Monica said. “If you are going to antagonize it, I want no part of that.”
“You need to either come with us or wait outside,” Dean advised. “If we piss it off, and chances are we will piss it off, then if you are down here alone you will be a sitting duck.”
Monica chose to wait outside because she’d had too many run-ins with this ghost and had always come out the loser. If those two want to tangle with it then they were welcome to.
Once the door closed behind Monica as she went outside, Dean and Sam made their way upstairs to the room where the ghost had first appeared. As they entered the room, Dean noted that the window was still open. Once they were inside, Dean silently questioned Monica’s story as nothing happened. At first. Suddenly the door they left opened slammed closed and they felt the temperature drop drastically. Dean could see that the air turned white with each breath Sam took.
Neither man saw anything but experience told them that they weren’t alone so they stood back to back circling the room wielding the pokers, waiting for the ghost to make its presence known. They didn’t have to wait long as something unseen crashed into Dean’s side knocking him to the floor before it quickly attacked Sam, throwing the huge man across the room as though he was a rag doll.
Dean was the quicker of the two and made it back to his feet first grabbing the iron poker. As he moved to help Sam up, he was knocked down again and watched helplessly as Sam was drug into a nearby closet the ghost had opened.
“Dean!” Sam yelled.
The sound of Sam yelling his name spurred Dean back into action. He knew that what he did next meant saving both of their lives, because the ghost was playing divide and conquer. His problem was that he couldn’t see the damned thing. He had no clue where it was until it hit or punched him and by the time he swung the poker, the thing was out of reach.
“Dean, get me outta here,” Sam yelled.
“I will Sammy, but I’m a little busy right now,” Dean snarked as he took another missed swing after being punched in his kidney. “Now I’mma be pissing blood.”
Each time Dean tried to run towards the closet, he was thrown towards the middle of the large room and away from Sam so he tried something new, he swung the poker in a circle keeping the ghost from getting too close to him. He did this until he found his back to the wall near the closet door and he just stood there trying to catch his breath because adrenaline would only take him so far.
With the solid wall to his back, this time he felt it coming, swung the poker, and was pleased when he saw the thing dissipate as the iron made contact with it. He knew it was coming back soon, so he quickly opened the closet door and freed Sam.
They both looked across room at the wondering if they would have time to make it when Sam barked, “Dean the window, now.”
“You first Sam,” Dean ordered, wanting to make sure Sam was safe.
“Just fucking go Dean, if I have to push you I will.” Sam countered with an order of his own.
Dean glanced at Sam’s face and the expression he found there told him Sam meant what he said, so he climbed onto the windowsill and jumped. The long fall ended when Dean landed hard on the soft grass, but he rolled away quickly so that his brother wouldn’t break his own fall by landing on top of him as he jumped to safety.
Both were still lying were they fell when Monica came to see what the commotion was.
“Sam, Dean what happened, are you two okay?” she asked concern lacing her voice.
“Not really,” Dean groaned. He didn’t know about Sam, but he hurt like hell.
“Did you get it?” she asked cautiously.
“Lady we jumped out of a friggin’ second story window, do you really think we would have jumped if we had the option of walking out the front door?” Dean ground out.
“Give us a minute and let us catch our breath,” Sam said. “Dean you okay?”
“Well nothing’s broken, so I’ll count that as a win.”
“Dean!”
“’M fine Sammy, fine,” He reassured.
“Look, I’ve got something in the house that we can use to clean up your cuts and maybe some over the counter stuff for the pain,” Monica offered the men.
“Lady you can’t go back in that house,” Sam told her, enunciating his words as though he were speaking to a child. “If you do, you’re as good as dead.”
“So what do I do?” she asked in a confused tone.
“You find a place to stay until we tell you it’s safe for you to come back and we,” Sam said as he pointed a finger at both him and his brother, “Will research and find out who this ghost could be and burn the bones.”
“B-burn the bones?” she stuttered.
“You’re a fucking witch, with all of the phlegm and the yucky shit that you deal with, why are you squeamish about a little bone burning?” Dean asked.
That’s when she did something so totally unexpected that it threw Dean off, she cried. He looked over to Sam as though silently asking since when did witches cry. After Mr. Know it all Sam shrugged his shoulders, Dean drug his battered body over to Monica and held her as she cried. In that moment she wasn’t a hated witch, she was a civilian who needed reassurance and Dean could give her that.
Dean and Sam spent the next day in the public library researching Monica’s house. One would think that that would be easy on a house that old, but it wasn’t. Sam was sure that the way to go was to start by researching ownership, but Dean thought differently and checked the archives newspapers for strange deaths.
“Yahtzee!” He exclaimed. “Look at this Sam,” Dean grinned as he pushed the newspapers towards Sam and moved his chair so they both could see them.
One of the newspapers had an article that chronicled deaths going back over one hundred and twenty years after Priscilla Glynnis, the first owner of the house died, or rather was murdered. It seemed that the local townspeople weren’t too fond of a witch living in their mist, and when strange things started happening in town, they blamed the witch, formed a mob, and killed her.
“It says that people have been dying in that house since that mob killed her.” Sam read. The article also stated that the house had been empty since the last unexplained death over twenty years ago until Monica purchased it.
“She’s buried at the Greenbrier Cemetery in the family plot. Guess what we’re doing tonight Sammy,” Dean smirked.
“Fuck,” Sam swore.
“Nah, that comes later,” Dean promised with a comedic waggle of his eyebrows.
Apparently, witches were bitches whether they were dead or alive and everything about this one was bitchy. They couldn’t find the grave on any or the Glynnis’ family records, because no one wanted to own up to having a witch in the family, so they had to go back to the library and see if there was any mention of where else she could possibly be buried. They finally found records showing that she was buried in an unmarked grave at the very back of the oldest part of the oldest cemetery in town. When they started to dig her up, she was as pissed as they were.
The shovel had barely touched the rotted casket before her ghost showed up to stop them. It was supposed to be Dean’s turn to dig the grave, but since he took the worst hit earlier at Monica’s, Sam dug this one. They were used to ghosts showing up at graves trying to prevent them from burning their bones and putting an end to their fun, but what they hadn’t counted on was two ghosts showing up. It appeared that the gravedigger at the time didn’t think Priscilla deserved to be buried on her own, so he piled another body on top of hers and she was just as angry as Priscilla was that Sam had just exposed their bones when he dug up the casket.
Sam had managed to get the salt and lighter fluid poured over the bones before the other ghost lifted him from the mouth of the grave. Dean looked at Sam and had a fleeting realization that his brother was going to be slammed onto the ground but she kept going higher, and higher and he knew that Sam was going to die if he didn’t light those bitches up.
“Sam, the lighter!” he yelled as loud as he could while still trying to pry Priscilla’s cold hands from his throat where they were cutting off his ability to breathe.
Somehow, Sam managed to get the lighter from his pocket and drop it into the open grave and both ghosts let out piercing screams before they went up in flames. Dean was on the ground trying to catch his breath, when he heard his brother hit the ground with a thud.
“’M okay, Dean really,” Sam huffed sarcastically when Dean didn’t say anything after he hit the ground.
“Was gonna ask Sammy,” Dean assured him as he sucked precious oxygen into his lungs, “It’s just that pissy Prissy almost choked the life out of me, and right now I’m trying to catch my fucking breath.”
The two of them limped back to the Impala, and Dean seriously considered throwing the keys to Sam and letting him drive back to the hotel, but he would be fine. It’s hard for him to give his baby over to someone else, even if that someone is Sam; besides, he’s driven while bleeding profusely, so these aches and pains were nothing.
They made it back to the hotel safely, but after the scene at the graveyard coupled with the activity earlier that day, they checked each other for injuries, took a shower and went to sleep. The fuck that Dean had promised Sam earlier would have to wait. Normally they would inform people immediately when their problem had been taken care of, but this one would have to wait. Tomorrow they would inform Monica that she could return home, but tonight they were going to rest.
Dean staggered into the shower and as soon as he put his head underneath the hot spray, he felt Sam join him. There wasn’t anything sexual about them showering together, it was more for comfort, to touch each other and relish in the fact that they had survived another near death experience.
After the shower, Sam snatched one of the threadbare motel towels from the rack and slowly and methodically dried Dean’s body. The older man was so tired that he almost fell asleep under his brother’s ministrations and once he was finished, Sam led him naked and docile to the bed and put him under the covers. After Dean was settled, Sam quickly dried himself before getting in, tucking Dean into his body and falling asleep.
chapter 1 chapter 3
“You okay Dean?” Sam asked worry etching his voice as he watched Dean walk awkwardly towards the bathroom.
“As okay as I can be after having a pole shoved up my ass, bitch,” He replied with a smirk.
“Jerk,” Sam replied with a knowing smile as he took a quick sip of his latte, before he sat it down on the table and followed Dean into the bathroom for their morning shower.
After a long leisurely shower, the Winchester brothers made their way across town to the home of Monica Love. Dean supposed that with a name like that he should have known that she was a witch, but what with Sam making him walk a little more bow legged than normal, his brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders this morning.
When they arrived at the house one glance told them that it was old, easily over a hundred years. Two floors with what looked to be about a dozen rooms plus hidden nooks and crannies needed to be explored in their hunt for the ghost. The house had been restored to all of its former Victorian glory including the gardens.
To a civilian, the garden was beautiful and peaceful, but to a hunter it screamed witch. From a glance, Dean could see belladonna, mandrake, basil and eucalyptus just to name a few. There was a cross of cedar chips artfully placed in the garden as well as other protective symbols. Apparently, Monica knew what she was doing, so Dean did not understand why she needed the services of a hunter.
“Sam you know I hate witches,” Dean grumbled at his brother as they started walking towards the door.
“Yes princess, I know you hate witches, but unless she was doing some evil shit that we don’t know about, she deserved to be helped too.”
“Bitch,” Dean, mumbled.
Before Sam could respond with an answering Jerk, the door opened revealing Monica Love. Dean swore he was seeing things, because there stood an incarnation of Stevie Nicks, the hot version from her Fleetwood Mac days, and a quick glance at Sam told Dean his brother was thinking the same thing.
Monica laughed at the expression on their faces and said, “No, I didn’t glamour myself, the face is my own courtesy of my mom and dad, the rest are just theatrics.” She added referring to her attire, which like the rest of her looked as though it came from Stevie Kicks as well.
Once inside the house, Dean looked around and found more evidence that Monica was a witch. Before she could tell them why she had called, Dean advised her, “We do not work with witches so, I suggest you call your little coven and spew spells around your cauldron or whatever. Come on Sam let’s get out of here.”
“Bobby said that would be your reaction,” She tossed at their retreating backs.
“Bobby?” Dean stopped and turned back towards Monica, “Our Bobby?” he questioned.
“Yes, your Bobby,” she confirmed. “He said to tell you not to be an idjit about this.”
“How did you contact Bobby?” Sam asked wearing a bitch face that Dean was sure he had never seen before and would have to categorize later. He was probably wondering if this was some kind of trap, because Dean was.
“I used my board,” Monica answered as she pointed to the Ouija board on the table. “I asked the board for help to get rid of the thing that was haunting me and your Bobby came forth and he even gave me your numbers. All of them.”
“And he called us idjits,” Dean grumbled. “Sending us to help a witch, what was he thinking?”
“He’s dead Dean, so not really thinking,” Sam reminded his brother.
“Ok tell us what you know, why you can’t get rid of what’s haunting you on your own,” Dean demanded as they made their way to the sofa. Dead or not, if Bobby wanted them to do this then they would do it.
Sitting in a chair facing the brothers, Monica nervously explained, “I purchased the house about two years ago because it was big enough for me to both live in and perform readings. I did a lot of the cosmetic work myself and contracted out the rest. Honestly, everything was going great until I got to the last room.”
“What happened in the last room?” Sam asked.
“When I opened the door, it was as though the temperature dropped about twenty degrees, but since it was cold outside I thought that the room was cold because the window was open.”
“Was the window open?” Dean asked impatiently.
“It was, but when I was thrown across the room as I went to close it kind of told me that that was not the problem.” She wryly stated.
With those words, she finally had Dean’s full attention. Even if she was a witch, she didn’t deserve to be haunted, and if Bobby came through to give her the information to contact them, then that meant she was someone worth helping.
“Well that’s good,” Sam said.
“How is that good Sam? Dean asked. “The poor woman was tossed around in her own house.”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Sam clarified. “What I meant was that that ghost was only in one room.”
“Well that’s what I thought too.” Monica agreed. “That was until it pushed me down the stairs and choked me while I was sleeping.” The only thing that saved me were some spells I chanted, but it kept coming back, stronger and stronger each time.”
One of the things that Dean had noticed about the restoration of the house was that it was true to the period. That included the iron fireplace set sitting next to the huge stone fireplace. At least it looked like iron, so to confirm it he walked over to the fireplace to inspect the set. When he picked up the poker, the weight told him that it was indeed iron. Great, that would save them a trip to the car.
“Can we see the room?” Sam asked as Dean threw him the additional poker from the fireplace set.
“I’ll wait here,” Monica said. “If you are going to antagonize it, I want no part of that.”
“You need to either come with us or wait outside,” Dean advised. “If we piss it off, and chances are we will piss it off, then if you are down here alone you will be a sitting duck.”
Monica chose to wait outside because she’d had too many run-ins with this ghost and had always come out the loser. If those two want to tangle with it then they were welcome to.
Once the door closed behind Monica as she went outside, Dean and Sam made their way upstairs to the room where the ghost had first appeared. As they entered the room, Dean noted that the window was still open. Once they were inside, Dean silently questioned Monica’s story as nothing happened. At first. Suddenly the door they left opened slammed closed and they felt the temperature drop drastically. Dean could see that the air turned white with each breath Sam took.
Neither man saw anything but experience told them that they weren’t alone so they stood back to back circling the room wielding the pokers, waiting for the ghost to make its presence known. They didn’t have to wait long as something unseen crashed into Dean’s side knocking him to the floor before it quickly attacked Sam, throwing the huge man across the room as though he was a rag doll.
Dean was the quicker of the two and made it back to his feet first grabbing the iron poker. As he moved to help Sam up, he was knocked down again and watched helplessly as Sam was drug into a nearby closet the ghost had opened.
“Dean!” Sam yelled.
The sound of Sam yelling his name spurred Dean back into action. He knew that what he did next meant saving both of their lives, because the ghost was playing divide and conquer. His problem was that he couldn’t see the damned thing. He had no clue where it was until it hit or punched him and by the time he swung the poker, the thing was out of reach.
“Dean, get me outta here,” Sam yelled.
“I will Sammy, but I’m a little busy right now,” Dean snarked as he took another missed swing after being punched in his kidney. “Now I’mma be pissing blood.”
Each time Dean tried to run towards the closet, he was thrown towards the middle of the large room and away from Sam so he tried something new, he swung the poker in a circle keeping the ghost from getting too close to him. He did this until he found his back to the wall near the closet door and he just stood there trying to catch his breath because adrenaline would only take him so far.
With the solid wall to his back, this time he felt it coming, swung the poker, and was pleased when he saw the thing dissipate as the iron made contact with it. He knew it was coming back soon, so he quickly opened the closet door and freed Sam.
They both looked across room at the wondering if they would have time to make it when Sam barked, “Dean the window, now.”
“You first Sam,” Dean ordered, wanting to make sure Sam was safe.
“Just fucking go Dean, if I have to push you I will.” Sam countered with an order of his own.
Dean glanced at Sam’s face and the expression he found there told him Sam meant what he said, so he climbed onto the windowsill and jumped. The long fall ended when Dean landed hard on the soft grass, but he rolled away quickly so that his brother wouldn’t break his own fall by landing on top of him as he jumped to safety.
Both were still lying were they fell when Monica came to see what the commotion was.
“Sam, Dean what happened, are you two okay?” she asked concern lacing her voice.
“Not really,” Dean groaned. He didn’t know about Sam, but he hurt like hell.
“Did you get it?” she asked cautiously.
“Lady we jumped out of a friggin’ second story window, do you really think we would have jumped if we had the option of walking out the front door?” Dean ground out.
“Give us a minute and let us catch our breath,” Sam said. “Dean you okay?”
“Well nothing’s broken, so I’ll count that as a win.”
“Dean!”
“’M fine Sammy, fine,” He reassured.
“Look, I’ve got something in the house that we can use to clean up your cuts and maybe some over the counter stuff for the pain,” Monica offered the men.
“Lady you can’t go back in that house,” Sam told her, enunciating his words as though he were speaking to a child. “If you do, you’re as good as dead.”
“So what do I do?” she asked in a confused tone.
“You find a place to stay until we tell you it’s safe for you to come back and we,” Sam said as he pointed a finger at both him and his brother, “Will research and find out who this ghost could be and burn the bones.”
“B-burn the bones?” she stuttered.
“You’re a fucking witch, with all of the phlegm and the yucky shit that you deal with, why are you squeamish about a little bone burning?” Dean asked.
That’s when she did something so totally unexpected that it threw Dean off, she cried. He looked over to Sam as though silently asking since when did witches cry. After Mr. Know it all Sam shrugged his shoulders, Dean drug his battered body over to Monica and held her as she cried. In that moment she wasn’t a hated witch, she was a civilian who needed reassurance and Dean could give her that.
Dean and Sam spent the next day in the public library researching Monica’s house. One would think that that would be easy on a house that old, but it wasn’t. Sam was sure that the way to go was to start by researching ownership, but Dean thought differently and checked the archives newspapers for strange deaths.
“Yahtzee!” He exclaimed. “Look at this Sam,” Dean grinned as he pushed the newspapers towards Sam and moved his chair so they both could see them.
One of the newspapers had an article that chronicled deaths going back over one hundred and twenty years after Priscilla Glynnis, the first owner of the house died, or rather was murdered. It seemed that the local townspeople weren’t too fond of a witch living in their mist, and when strange things started happening in town, they blamed the witch, formed a mob, and killed her.
“It says that people have been dying in that house since that mob killed her.” Sam read. The article also stated that the house had been empty since the last unexplained death over twenty years ago until Monica purchased it.
“She’s buried at the Greenbrier Cemetery in the family plot. Guess what we’re doing tonight Sammy,” Dean smirked.
“Fuck,” Sam swore.
“Nah, that comes later,” Dean promised with a comedic waggle of his eyebrows.
Apparently, witches were bitches whether they were dead or alive and everything about this one was bitchy. They couldn’t find the grave on any or the Glynnis’ family records, because no one wanted to own up to having a witch in the family, so they had to go back to the library and see if there was any mention of where else she could possibly be buried. They finally found records showing that she was buried in an unmarked grave at the very back of the oldest part of the oldest cemetery in town. When they started to dig her up, she was as pissed as they were.
The shovel had barely touched the rotted casket before her ghost showed up to stop them. It was supposed to be Dean’s turn to dig the grave, but since he took the worst hit earlier at Monica’s, Sam dug this one. They were used to ghosts showing up at graves trying to prevent them from burning their bones and putting an end to their fun, but what they hadn’t counted on was two ghosts showing up. It appeared that the gravedigger at the time didn’t think Priscilla deserved to be buried on her own, so he piled another body on top of hers and she was just as angry as Priscilla was that Sam had just exposed their bones when he dug up the casket.
Sam had managed to get the salt and lighter fluid poured over the bones before the other ghost lifted him from the mouth of the grave. Dean looked at Sam and had a fleeting realization that his brother was going to be slammed onto the ground but she kept going higher, and higher and he knew that Sam was going to die if he didn’t light those bitches up.
“Sam, the lighter!” he yelled as loud as he could while still trying to pry Priscilla’s cold hands from his throat where they were cutting off his ability to breathe.
Somehow, Sam managed to get the lighter from his pocket and drop it into the open grave and both ghosts let out piercing screams before they went up in flames. Dean was on the ground trying to catch his breath, when he heard his brother hit the ground with a thud.
“’M okay, Dean really,” Sam huffed sarcastically when Dean didn’t say anything after he hit the ground.
“Was gonna ask Sammy,” Dean assured him as he sucked precious oxygen into his lungs, “It’s just that pissy Prissy almost choked the life out of me, and right now I’m trying to catch my fucking breath.”
The two of them limped back to the Impala, and Dean seriously considered throwing the keys to Sam and letting him drive back to the hotel, but he would be fine. It’s hard for him to give his baby over to someone else, even if that someone is Sam; besides, he’s driven while bleeding profusely, so these aches and pains were nothing.
They made it back to the hotel safely, but after the scene at the graveyard coupled with the activity earlier that day, they checked each other for injuries, took a shower and went to sleep. The fuck that Dean had promised Sam earlier would have to wait. Normally they would inform people immediately when their problem had been taken care of, but this one would have to wait. Tomorrow they would inform Monica that she could return home, but tonight they were going to rest.
Dean staggered into the shower and as soon as he put his head underneath the hot spray, he felt Sam join him. There wasn’t anything sexual about them showering together, it was more for comfort, to touch each other and relish in the fact that they had survived another near death experience.
After the shower, Sam snatched one of the threadbare motel towels from the rack and slowly and methodically dried Dean’s body. The older man was so tired that he almost fell asleep under his brother’s ministrations and once he was finished, Sam led him naked and docile to the bed and put him under the covers. After Dean was settled, Sam quickly dried himself before getting in, tucking Dean into his body and falling asleep.
chapter 1 chapter 3