The World You Thought You Live In 1/12
Chapter 1
After they left Bobby's place Dean quickly fell asleep in the passenger seat his head leaning against the window. Metallica was playing on low tune, Victor felt the basses pondering in his head and it couldn't do Dean's head any good either.
"How can he sleep with all the noise and the rumbling of the engine?" Victor asked Sam who was driving in silence.
"Are you kidding me?" Sam glanced him an amused look through the mirror. "The purr of his baby works better for him than any lullaby." He went silent for a minute. "Try to get some sleep, too."
"Don't think I can." And it wasn't just the noise and being in a moving car in general.
Sam nodded in understanding and maybe he did understand.
"He was your friend." He said, eyes never leaving the road.
"That thing was not my friend." Victor closed his eyes but that only brought Rick's face back. Black eyes behind familiar glasses. No, sleep wasn't an option. So he just looked out of the window and tried not to think about his pounding head and why it was pounding in the first place. The boring landscape wasn't really helping.
"That smoke ..." He broke up not sure how to continue.
"The demon." Sam helped him out. "That's what they look like. They don't have a body so they possess people when they are here."
Victor thought about that for a minute. "And when they are not here, where …?"
"Hell."
"Hell." He repeated with numb lips. He had never been a religious man and the concept of hell had never been more than metaphorical. Maybe it was time to rethink a few things.
"Is there a heaven?" He hesitated. "God?"
Sam gave him a sad smile. "I like to believe it but we never ran across real evidence. I think for that side we have to have faith like everybody else."
"So you know there is hell and demons and all that shit but you're not sure if there is any good out there?"
"Pretty much."
"Your world sucks."
"You tell me." He chuckled.
My live had been a lot easier when the worst thing out there had been a psychopathic serial killer called Dean Winchester. Victor sighed.
"Where are we driving?" He broke the silence again.
"Remember the articles? About the dead women?" Sam waited for his nod. Had that really been this morning? It felt like ages ago. "Not sure if it is something or not but we'll find out."
"Will he be ready for it?" Victor nodded in Dean's direction. Silently he added: I'm sure as hell not ready for it. His head hurt, which hopefully would be gone after a good nights sleep, his ribs however were more than just sore and he felt the pain with every breath he took. But he didn't want do show any weakness. It had been his stupidity that almost got them all killed. It was his fault Dean had most likely a concussion.
"He will." Sam answered after a moment in which he just looked at his brother. Something in that look formed a lump in Victor's throat and he swallowed. "Don't worry, Vic. You'll be up for it by then, too." Sam added with a grin.
OK, busted. There wasn't much getting by a Winchester. "I'm just a little sore. Some sleep and I'll be as good as new." He wasn't quite as convinced as he tried to sound.
"It's a three days drive and today we'll stop early to give you two time to recover."
"Sounds good." It really did.
"Just speak for that princess in the back seat. I'm fine." Dean said suddenly without moving or even opening his eyes. Victor startled but Sam just shook his head.
"You banged your head pretty good, Dean. You need time to recover, too."
"'M fine." Came the muffled response.
"Sure you are." Sam rolled his eyes.
True to his word Sam maneuvered the car in a parking lot of a motel in the early evening.
Victor looked around. A run down place, the building only hold together by flaking paint and a sense of optimism. He shouldn't be surprised. While chasing the Winchesters he had seen a few of the places they usually stayed in. Places he never willingly would set a foot in let alone sleep in one. The only reason they had ended up in the same motel when they accidentally had ran into each other and Victor had ended up tied to a chair was because it had been the only motel in that town.
In this town however he had seen at least two signs leading to better places which Sam had just ignored.
"You can't be serious." Victor got out of the car. The motel didn't get better with a closer look.
"What?" Sam shot him a puzzled look.
Behind him Dean snickered. "I think our princess is used to other standards."
Sam looked at his brother then at Victor, turned to the motel and back to Victor. "Oh."
While Dean cracked up laughing, one hand on the car to prevent him from doubling over, Victor felt his blood rushing hot into his cheeks.
"I … didn't ..." Victor started.
"Listen, first lesson of surviving." Dean wiped a tear from his eye. "Money isn't coming in as a regular pay check anymore. You'll have to keep your priorities st..." His eyes rolled back, searching hand missed the roof of the car. Victor caught Dean's arm and saved him from a face-plant but he was slipping from his grip. That guy was heavy.
"Shit." Sam materialized on Dean's other side. His grip around his brother's waist and the way he slung Dean's arm over his shoulder showed his experience with this kind of situation. "Vic, open the door." Sam grunted.
With a smooth move he settled his brother in the passenger seat feet still on the ground outside the car. Fingers on Dean's throat he checked for a pulse. When Sam didn't freak out Victor knew he found one.
"Happens often?" Victor was breathing heavy, this little stunt didn't do his ribs any good.
"More often than I like." Sam made sure his brother was well seated before he stood up. "Keep an eye on him while I get us our rooms, will you?"
"Sure. But shouldn't we get him to a hospital?" Victor wasn't a doctor but passing out couldn't be a good sign.
"He has a mild concussion. I bet it was the laughing, not a good combination." He shook his head. "Normally you don't feel like laughing when you suffer from a concussion."
Victor sensed more experience behind Sam's words but he didn't push it. Besides it was his stupid reaction which caused this. Again.
A few minutes later Sam came back with their keys and together they manhandled Dean into the nearest room. Till then Dean was with them again - more or less - and did his part to get into the room. Which meant his feet weren't dragging on the ground.
"Can walk."
Sam didn't even response to this and dropped his brother unceremonious on the bed.
"Sit down before you fell down." Sam said to Victor who was standing in the doorway not sure what to do next. His head was killing him. Or his ribs. He couldn't tell what hurt more. With a sigh he sat down.
"Here take one of those." Sam dropped a pill on his palm and handed Victor a glass of water. Then he turned to his brother and fed him a pill, too.
"Don't go all Florence Nightingale over me." Came the weak protest but it didn't stop Sam to remove his brothers boots and tug him in. When he was done Dean was sound asleep.
"Stupid bastard." The mumble was nearly inaudible and definitely not for Victor's ears to hear.
"You okay?" Sam sat down on the only other chair. It gave a warning crack but hold under his weight.
"I'm not the one passing out." But it felt like a good idea. Just crash in a bed and sleep twenty-four hours straight. "You know we should get him to a hospital. Or at least checked out by a doctor."
"He's fine." Sam repeated the Winchester phrase of the day. "Can you stay with him for a few minutes while I grab us something to eat? I don't know about you but I'm starving."
By the time Sam came back Victor was half asleep. He wasn't really hungry but he forced a few bites down just because he knew he needed the energy. Apparently Sam had foreseen that, the bag of take out food was not even half the size of the ones Victor remembered from another motel room he had shared with the Winchesters. This time however he could use both of his hands.
After they finished their meal Sam kicked him out and Victor hesitated only a second glancing at Dean before he obeyed and headed to his own room.
A quick visit to the bathroom later he slipped under the covers of his bed. He hadn't dared to investigate them closely before he switched of the light. With a sigh he closed his eyes.
Victor lay in a bed in a motel room which was paid with a credit card that hadn't his or one of the Winchesters' name on it. And he felt only a little bit ashamed of it. What had he become? A hunter, whispered a little voice in his head.
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