Vengeance Is Mine 1/?
Title: Vengeance Is Mine
Genre: gen, h/c
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence,
Characters: Sam, Dean
Chapter word count: 2587
Warning: Spoiler for Season 4, episode 4.01
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can lay no claims to the sexy boys. =( Just having fun with them.
~ * ~ * ~
It was a long drive.
Dean had been staring at the endless road ahead for hours on end, and now his eyeballs felt as if they'd burn out of their sockets. His hands felt like extensions of the steering wheel, and his foot might as well have been glued to the accelerator.
He glanced over at his brother, who sat slumped comfortably in the passenger seat, chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. Dean envied him the sleep.
"Sam." Dean reached over to jostle his brother. "Sammy. Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty."
Sam started and sat up, groggy and disoriented with sleep, his brown hair flopping in his eyes as he rubbed a hand over his face. "What. What?" He grunted, straightening his lean frame and trying to pretend he hadn't been sleeping. "What's up Dean?"
Dean snorted and grinned at the road. "Nothing. You just looked too peaceful. Can't let you have all the fun around here."
Sam gave him a long, disbelieving look before shaking his head and leaning it back against the seat with a sigh. "Really, Dean? You are messed up."
Dean chuckled. "The hell I am," he grinned, feeling suddenly cheerful. "And Sammy, now that you're awake, and not drooling all over yourself, how about going over the details of the hunt one more time?" He raised his eyebrows and flashed a mock innocent smile.
Sam fixed Dean with a disgruntled look before wiping his wrist across his mouth and twisting to fish a handful of papers out of the backseat.
"Third and last time Dean," he grumbled, thumping back into his seat and propping a booted foot on the dashboard.
Dean was quick to correct him. "Fourth, and get your foot off the dash."
He was rewarded with a weary look from Sam, who hesitated only a moment before doing as ordered. The relationship between Dean and his car was far too in depth and complex to bother arguing over, Sam knew. It was better just to back off and shut up.
"Fine. Fourth." Sam shuffled the pages and stifled a yawn before locating the correct page.
"Okay. Says here a small mountain town has been hit hard in the past months. People dying mysteriously left and right. No lead on the killer. No witnesses. No suspects."
He glanced at Dean who was tapping the steering wheel in time to whatever song must be running through his head. "Dean? Are you even listening?"
Dean cocked an eyebrow and rearranged his shoulders. " 'Course I am," he snapped lightly. "Did we find any connections between the victims yet?" he asked after a moment, and Sam shook his head.
"Ah no. Nothing but the manner of death. We kinda left in a hurry." He looked pointedly at Dean who shrugged.
"What can I say? I can smell a good hunt a mile away."
"Four hundred and ninety-two miles," Sam quipped, shaking the paper in his hand. "Really, Dean?"
"Aw quit your griping Sammy." Dean wiggled his eyebrows and reached over to turn on the radio. "Live in the moment! Enjoy the adventure."
Sam looked at Dean strangely and opened his mouth to make a smart remark about Dean's psychology crap, but instead he bit his lip and only laughed as Dean started lip-synching the words to the song, banging out a wild drum beat on the steering wheel.
Dean was always so tired these days, Sam had noticed. Not that Dean would ever admit it, but he was pushing himself twice as hard as before. Working himself to death, always running, pushing, fighting, trying to escape. His memories maybe? Ever since Dean had returned from hell, he'd been like this. Desperate. It was good to see him relaxed for a change.
Giving in, Sam joined him, bobbing his head and singing loudly along, only slightly off-key.
Dean stopped singing and watched, a small smile on his face as Sam finished the song on his own. He knew Sam had been worried a lot about him lately, and knew it was tiring out the younger man. It bothered Dean to see his brother so stressed out over Dean's well being, and he resolved to hide his unease from Sam. No sense in making Sam suffer any after effects from Dean's time in hell. He shuddered slightly at an unbidden memory, and gave his head a quick shake to banish it.
As the last strains of Back On The Road Again died away, Dean twisted the volume down to the background, and nodded toward the papers again.
"So what do you have on each victim? We know so far, only how they died. We've got eight people, all found in their homes with their throats ripped out. Sounds like a vamp to me."
Sam was reading intently, and raised his head after a moment. "No Dean, listen to this: the victims were all killed during the day. And there was water at the site where each body was found: water on the floor, water on their hair, skin, clothes several times even. That doesn't sound like any vampire kill we've ever worked."
Dean pursed his lips, a frown forming on his forehead. "Yeah, not a vamp then. A ghost? It could have a throat fixation. Could have been killed that way." He threw a squinting glance in the rearview mirror at the setting sun.
"Dean, come on. Ghosts can't track water around. I'm thinking demon. Could be possessing an animal even. I'd have guessed werewolf first, but the victims' hearts were untouched." Sam shook his head, puzzled frown deepening. "Man, this case gets weirder by the minute. Looks like all the victims were the same age: 37 to 39. But no gender discrimination. Three were women, four were men. All locals."
He shook his head and shuffled the papers into a neat stack. "I can find out more about them once we get to -- what was that town's name?"
"Montague," Dean supplied easily and Sam shot him a look.
Dean shrugged. " Hey, what little I do read, I remember." He grinned and winked as Sam rolled his eyes and allowed a tiny smile.
"Yeah well, this Montague place is a little town; a village really. Kinda remote. Very small population: around 300, tops. But like all towns, big or small, we'll find some dirty skeletons in the closets. No doubt about it."
He yawned again and rubbed the back of his neck. "How much further? I'm sore," he complained, and Dean chuckled.
"Can the bitchin', Pretty Boy. It's only about an hour or so further."
"Then why'd you wake me so soon?"
"Let's not go there again," Dean snorted. "Anything else we know?"
Typical Dean. Sidestep the question and muscle his way around an answer. Sam sighed.
"The first victim was killed two months ago. the bodies have been turning up regularly ever since then, once a week, always on a tuesday. The first killing was August 12th. The last one was September 30th. Its October 4th now. Should be another body by noon three days from now."
Dean looked grim. "Not if we get to it first."
Dark had fallen to cloak the winding mountainous road by the time the Winchesters reached their destination.
Montague really was small. Dean grunted as they slowed to a crawl on the main street, looking for a motel.
“If we blink we’ll miss the town completely," he commented smartly, and Sam grinned in agreement.
“Definitely one of the tinier towns we’ve visited,” he stated. “There’s a diner there,” he said, motioning to Dean’s left, and the Impala eased into the parking lot.
Wanda’s Diner proclaimed the large green letters painted on the diner’s front windows. Red neon letters on the door flashed ‘Come on in: we’re open.’
“Man, these little towns sure like to hang onto the past,” Dean muttered as he stepped out of the Impala and stretched his weary body.
“You gotta admit Dean, it’s usually the older places that have the best food and friendliest people.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Sure Sam,” he said noncommittally. “Now quit your yapping and come on. I’m starving.”
The little bell above the door jingled as the boys entered and the few people in the diner turned to stare.
Dean leaned toward Sam and spoke out of the side of his mouth.
“I hate those little bells. Make me feel like a friggin’ house pet that the owners need to keep track of every single second."
Sam snorted back a laugh and they moved to slide into a booth by the window.
“Well hi there boys, welcome to Montague,” a friendly voice said at Dean’s shoulder, accent smooth as honey. “What can I get you fellows?”
They both looked up to see a smiling, pretty woman who looked to be in her early thirties. Bright blue eyes and smooth pink lips smiled at them, and two sets of Winchester eyes widened.
Dean spoke first. “Well hi yourself.” He turned on his most charming grin, leaning back and winking at Sam. “I gotta say, we didn’t expect to find such a - bewitching little village." He kept his eyes on her and a cocky little grin on his mouth.
The woman shook her head and laughed softly, clicking her tongue at Dean. "Now young man, flattery will get you nowhere with this woman.” She waggled her ring-endowed left hand and him and mussed his spiked hair. “Now what would you both like to eat?"
Sam choked back a laugh as Dean slid down in his seat, face reddening.
“I’ll have a vanilla latte and my brother will have coffee-black,” Sam spoke up. “And we’ll both have whatever your special is tonight.” He smiled at the waitress, who made no move to write their order down.
“Sure thing Hon. It’s steak tonight: absolutely delicious. Be right up.” She patted Sam’s shoulder and moved off.
As soon as she was out of earshot Sam released his laughter, quietly enjoying Dean’s embarrassment.
“Haha, strike out much Dean?” he grinned and Dean glowered at him.
“Keep talking Goldilocks and you’ll be eating my fist for dinner instead of porridge.”
Sam laughed harder and leaned back with a sigh. “Oh Dean, Dean, that was your best yet.” He gave another long sigh ending in another chuckle.
Dean glared at him and then out the window as the waitress returned momentarily with their drinks.
Sam thanked her and took a sip of his latte as she walked away.
“She is very pretty. Nothing but the ring to indicate she was married,” Sam began but Dean cut him off.
“Shut up and drink your sissy drink,” he snapped and Sam laughed again.
“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll drop it.”
Dean frowned and cleared his throat. “So what’s our approach to this town? FBI, PI…”
“Yeah the towns too small to work under the radar here,” Sam agreed. “And they’ve probably had tons of cops swarming around her the past 2 months. I’m kind of surprised the town hasn’t been shut down. Then again, really, who’d be coming up here anyways?”
“FBI it is then,” Dean decided, taking a swallow of coffee. “We’ll ask the waitress where the hotel is when she comes back.”
The boys discussed the case in low tones as they waited for their food, going over what little information they had.
The pretty blonde was suddenly at their table again, two steaming plates of food in her hands.
“Here you are boys,” she said cheerily, sliding the food in front of them. “More coffee? Or how about a coke?”
The brothers exchanged glances. “Coke,” they requested in unison and the waitress smiled.
“Coming right up.”
“So where’s the nearest hotel Misses--“ Dean questioned when she returned, having recovered from his earlier embarrassment.
“Wanda. Just Wanda.” She smiled at Dean and rested her hand on her hip. “It’s just a little further up the road. It’s the only one in town. You can’t miss it; big red neon sign out front.” Her tone and the derisive snort that accompanied it left no doubt as to what she thought of it.
“And you boys are--“ she asked curiously, and the boys simultaneously fished out their fake ID badges and flipped them open for Wanda in a motion smooth from countless repetitions.
“FBI,” Dean informed her. “We’re actually here to look into the recent murders.”
Some indiscernible emotion flickered through Wanda’s eyes and then it was gone. “More government people,” she sighed, running a hand through her wavy hair. “Seems like this town’s been crawling with ‘em for so long.”
Dean tilted his head curiously. “You don’t sound too thrilled. I would have thought you’d see us as a good thing. The quicker this killer is stopped, the better right?”
Wanda sighed and nodded. “Oh yes. It’s just that there’s been so many and nothing’s come of it. The police don’t know anything. At first it brought in so much business - which was good for us in a morbid sort of way-because all these crazy tourists came up to see the Killer Town. Now it’s just getting more stressful. We don’t know who will die next, and the population is dwindling.” She rubbed her apron nervously between her hands and smiled.
“Well, you boys enjoy your meal. I hope you’ll be the ones to finally stop the killings.” And with a tired smile, she headed back toward the kitchen.
Sam leaned forward. “Dean did you catch that look? She’s hiding something from us. I wonder what.”
Dean nodded pensively, shoveling food into his mouth. “I saw it. We’ll have to do some checking up on her. We can quiz her more tomorrow morning.”
The boys made short work of their meal and in no time at all were rising to leave.
“Thanks for the great food Wanda,” Sam said, a smile on his handsome face as he slid several bills across the counter. “Keep the change.”
Wanda’s tired face lit up as she quickly estimated her tip, and she waved happily after the boys.
“Bless your hearts boys. Be looking for you two in the morning.”
Sam lifted a hand in farewell and Dean nodded.
The bell jingled behind them as they headed for the Impala and Dean shook his head again.
“Damn bell.”
Sam smiled quietly, sliding into his seat and shutting the door firmly. Dean’s door slammed moments after.
The hotel was only four blocks away from the diner and the boys were pulling into the parking lot within seconds. It was tiny-30 rooms at best. Neat and quaint, it looked cozy and welcoming to the weary travelers.
The young girl at the desk looked up as they entered and her blue eyes grew round and her cheeks warmed.
“Hello,” she blurted, scrambling to her feet and brushing her curly black hair away from her face.
Dean gave Sam an amused look as the girl appeared smitten by Sam.
“We’ll take a room,” Dean said, coughing uncomfortably. “How much?”
“Fifteen,” the girl said dreamily. “Two beds?”
A wicked light gleamed in Dean’s eye.
“One,” he responded and both Sam and the girl jerked to fix startled eyes on Dean.
“What?” Sam choked. “Dean, cut it out.” He turned to the girl, who looked no more than 15 or 16, and smiled disarmingly at her.
“My idiot brother means two beds,” Sam said, his smile making her melt into her seat.
“Okay," she sighed in her little girl voice. “Here’s your key.”
Sam took it with a smile and nod. “Thanks.” Putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder he shoved him out of the room before he could put his foot in his mouth again.
“Dean,” he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. “What was that?”
Dean’s face took on an innocent look. “What? Just trying to be helpful. That kid was falling all over you.” He grinned and Sam groaned.
“You’re sick,” he said helplessly and Dean slapped him on the shoulder.
“Welcome to reality brother.”
Chapter 2
Genre: gen, h/c
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence,
Characters: Sam, Dean
Chapter word count: 2587
Warning: Spoiler for Season 4, episode 4.01
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can lay no claims to the sexy boys. =( Just having fun with them.
~ * ~ * ~
It was a long drive.
Dean had been staring at the endless road ahead for hours on end, and now his eyeballs felt as if they'd burn out of their sockets. His hands felt like extensions of the steering wheel, and his foot might as well have been glued to the accelerator.
He glanced over at his brother, who sat slumped comfortably in the passenger seat, chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. Dean envied him the sleep.
"Sam." Dean reached over to jostle his brother. "Sammy. Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty."
Sam started and sat up, groggy and disoriented with sleep, his brown hair flopping in his eyes as he rubbed a hand over his face. "What. What?" He grunted, straightening his lean frame and trying to pretend he hadn't been sleeping. "What's up Dean?"
Dean snorted and grinned at the road. "Nothing. You just looked too peaceful. Can't let you have all the fun around here."
Sam gave him a long, disbelieving look before shaking his head and leaning it back against the seat with a sigh. "Really, Dean? You are messed up."
Dean chuckled. "The hell I am," he grinned, feeling suddenly cheerful. "And Sammy, now that you're awake, and not drooling all over yourself, how about going over the details of the hunt one more time?" He raised his eyebrows and flashed a mock innocent smile.
Sam fixed Dean with a disgruntled look before wiping his wrist across his mouth and twisting to fish a handful of papers out of the backseat.
"Third and last time Dean," he grumbled, thumping back into his seat and propping a booted foot on the dashboard.
Dean was quick to correct him. "Fourth, and get your foot off the dash."
He was rewarded with a weary look from Sam, who hesitated only a moment before doing as ordered. The relationship between Dean and his car was far too in depth and complex to bother arguing over, Sam knew. It was better just to back off and shut up.
"Fine. Fourth." Sam shuffled the pages and stifled a yawn before locating the correct page.
"Okay. Says here a small mountain town has been hit hard in the past months. People dying mysteriously left and right. No lead on the killer. No witnesses. No suspects."
He glanced at Dean who was tapping the steering wheel in time to whatever song must be running through his head. "Dean? Are you even listening?"
Dean cocked an eyebrow and rearranged his shoulders. " 'Course I am," he snapped lightly. "Did we find any connections between the victims yet?" he asked after a moment, and Sam shook his head.
"Ah no. Nothing but the manner of death. We kinda left in a hurry." He looked pointedly at Dean who shrugged.
"What can I say? I can smell a good hunt a mile away."
"Four hundred and ninety-two miles," Sam quipped, shaking the paper in his hand. "Really, Dean?"
"Aw quit your griping Sammy." Dean wiggled his eyebrows and reached over to turn on the radio. "Live in the moment! Enjoy the adventure."
Sam looked at Dean strangely and opened his mouth to make a smart remark about Dean's psychology crap, but instead he bit his lip and only laughed as Dean started lip-synching the words to the song, banging out a wild drum beat on the steering wheel.
Dean was always so tired these days, Sam had noticed. Not that Dean would ever admit it, but he was pushing himself twice as hard as before. Working himself to death, always running, pushing, fighting, trying to escape. His memories maybe? Ever since Dean had returned from hell, he'd been like this. Desperate. It was good to see him relaxed for a change.
Giving in, Sam joined him, bobbing his head and singing loudly along, only slightly off-key.
Dean stopped singing and watched, a small smile on his face as Sam finished the song on his own. He knew Sam had been worried a lot about him lately, and knew it was tiring out the younger man. It bothered Dean to see his brother so stressed out over Dean's well being, and he resolved to hide his unease from Sam. No sense in making Sam suffer any after effects from Dean's time in hell. He shuddered slightly at an unbidden memory, and gave his head a quick shake to banish it.
As the last strains of Back On The Road Again died away, Dean twisted the volume down to the background, and nodded toward the papers again.
"So what do you have on each victim? We know so far, only how they died. We've got eight people, all found in their homes with their throats ripped out. Sounds like a vamp to me."
Sam was reading intently, and raised his head after a moment. "No Dean, listen to this: the victims were all killed during the day. And there was water at the site where each body was found: water on the floor, water on their hair, skin, clothes several times even. That doesn't sound like any vampire kill we've ever worked."
Dean pursed his lips, a frown forming on his forehead. "Yeah, not a vamp then. A ghost? It could have a throat fixation. Could have been killed that way." He threw a squinting glance in the rearview mirror at the setting sun.
"Dean, come on. Ghosts can't track water around. I'm thinking demon. Could be possessing an animal even. I'd have guessed werewolf first, but the victims' hearts were untouched." Sam shook his head, puzzled frown deepening. "Man, this case gets weirder by the minute. Looks like all the victims were the same age: 37 to 39. But no gender discrimination. Three were women, four were men. All locals."
He shook his head and shuffled the papers into a neat stack. "I can find out more about them once we get to -- what was that town's name?"
"Montague," Dean supplied easily and Sam shot him a look.
Dean shrugged. " Hey, what little I do read, I remember." He grinned and winked as Sam rolled his eyes and allowed a tiny smile.
"Yeah well, this Montague place is a little town; a village really. Kinda remote. Very small population: around 300, tops. But like all towns, big or small, we'll find some dirty skeletons in the closets. No doubt about it."
He yawned again and rubbed the back of his neck. "How much further? I'm sore," he complained, and Dean chuckled.
"Can the bitchin', Pretty Boy. It's only about an hour or so further."
"Then why'd you wake me so soon?"
"Let's not go there again," Dean snorted. "Anything else we know?"
Typical Dean. Sidestep the question and muscle his way around an answer. Sam sighed.
"The first victim was killed two months ago. the bodies have been turning up regularly ever since then, once a week, always on a tuesday. The first killing was August 12th. The last one was September 30th. Its October 4th now. Should be another body by noon three days from now."
Dean looked grim. "Not if we get to it first."
Dark had fallen to cloak the winding mountainous road by the time the Winchesters reached their destination.
Montague really was small. Dean grunted as they slowed to a crawl on the main street, looking for a motel.
“If we blink we’ll miss the town completely," he commented smartly, and Sam grinned in agreement.
“Definitely one of the tinier towns we’ve visited,” he stated. “There’s a diner there,” he said, motioning to Dean’s left, and the Impala eased into the parking lot.
Wanda’s Diner proclaimed the large green letters painted on the diner’s front windows. Red neon letters on the door flashed ‘Come on in: we’re open.’
“Man, these little towns sure like to hang onto the past,” Dean muttered as he stepped out of the Impala and stretched his weary body.
“You gotta admit Dean, it’s usually the older places that have the best food and friendliest people.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Sure Sam,” he said noncommittally. “Now quit your yapping and come on. I’m starving.”
The little bell above the door jingled as the boys entered and the few people in the diner turned to stare.
Dean leaned toward Sam and spoke out of the side of his mouth.
“I hate those little bells. Make me feel like a friggin’ house pet that the owners need to keep track of every single second."
Sam snorted back a laugh and they moved to slide into a booth by the window.
“Well hi there boys, welcome to Montague,” a friendly voice said at Dean’s shoulder, accent smooth as honey. “What can I get you fellows?”
They both looked up to see a smiling, pretty woman who looked to be in her early thirties. Bright blue eyes and smooth pink lips smiled at them, and two sets of Winchester eyes widened.
Dean spoke first. “Well hi yourself.” He turned on his most charming grin, leaning back and winking at Sam. “I gotta say, we didn’t expect to find such a - bewitching little village." He kept his eyes on her and a cocky little grin on his mouth.
The woman shook her head and laughed softly, clicking her tongue at Dean. "Now young man, flattery will get you nowhere with this woman.” She waggled her ring-endowed left hand and him and mussed his spiked hair. “Now what would you both like to eat?"
Sam choked back a laugh as Dean slid down in his seat, face reddening.
“I’ll have a vanilla latte and my brother will have coffee-black,” Sam spoke up. “And we’ll both have whatever your special is tonight.” He smiled at the waitress, who made no move to write their order down.
“Sure thing Hon. It’s steak tonight: absolutely delicious. Be right up.” She patted Sam’s shoulder and moved off.
As soon as she was out of earshot Sam released his laughter, quietly enjoying Dean’s embarrassment.
“Haha, strike out much Dean?” he grinned and Dean glowered at him.
“Keep talking Goldilocks and you’ll be eating my fist for dinner instead of porridge.”
Sam laughed harder and leaned back with a sigh. “Oh Dean, Dean, that was your best yet.” He gave another long sigh ending in another chuckle.
Dean glared at him and then out the window as the waitress returned momentarily with their drinks.
Sam thanked her and took a sip of his latte as she walked away.
“She is very pretty. Nothing but the ring to indicate she was married,” Sam began but Dean cut him off.
“Shut up and drink your sissy drink,” he snapped and Sam laughed again.
“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll drop it.”
Dean frowned and cleared his throat. “So what’s our approach to this town? FBI, PI…”
“Yeah the towns too small to work under the radar here,” Sam agreed. “And they’ve probably had tons of cops swarming around her the past 2 months. I’m kind of surprised the town hasn’t been shut down. Then again, really, who’d be coming up here anyways?”
“FBI it is then,” Dean decided, taking a swallow of coffee. “We’ll ask the waitress where the hotel is when she comes back.”
The boys discussed the case in low tones as they waited for their food, going over what little information they had.
The pretty blonde was suddenly at their table again, two steaming plates of food in her hands.
“Here you are boys,” she said cheerily, sliding the food in front of them. “More coffee? Or how about a coke?”
The brothers exchanged glances. “Coke,” they requested in unison and the waitress smiled.
“Coming right up.”
“So where’s the nearest hotel Misses--“ Dean questioned when she returned, having recovered from his earlier embarrassment.
“Wanda. Just Wanda.” She smiled at Dean and rested her hand on her hip. “It’s just a little further up the road. It’s the only one in town. You can’t miss it; big red neon sign out front.” Her tone and the derisive snort that accompanied it left no doubt as to what she thought of it.
“And you boys are--“ she asked curiously, and the boys simultaneously fished out their fake ID badges and flipped them open for Wanda in a motion smooth from countless repetitions.
“FBI,” Dean informed her. “We’re actually here to look into the recent murders.”
Some indiscernible emotion flickered through Wanda’s eyes and then it was gone. “More government people,” she sighed, running a hand through her wavy hair. “Seems like this town’s been crawling with ‘em for so long.”
Dean tilted his head curiously. “You don’t sound too thrilled. I would have thought you’d see us as a good thing. The quicker this killer is stopped, the better right?”
Wanda sighed and nodded. “Oh yes. It’s just that there’s been so many and nothing’s come of it. The police don’t know anything. At first it brought in so much business - which was good for us in a morbid sort of way-because all these crazy tourists came up to see the Killer Town. Now it’s just getting more stressful. We don’t know who will die next, and the population is dwindling.” She rubbed her apron nervously between her hands and smiled.
“Well, you boys enjoy your meal. I hope you’ll be the ones to finally stop the killings.” And with a tired smile, she headed back toward the kitchen.
Sam leaned forward. “Dean did you catch that look? She’s hiding something from us. I wonder what.”
Dean nodded pensively, shoveling food into his mouth. “I saw it. We’ll have to do some checking up on her. We can quiz her more tomorrow morning.”
The boys made short work of their meal and in no time at all were rising to leave.
“Thanks for the great food Wanda,” Sam said, a smile on his handsome face as he slid several bills across the counter. “Keep the change.”
Wanda’s tired face lit up as she quickly estimated her tip, and she waved happily after the boys.
“Bless your hearts boys. Be looking for you two in the morning.”
Sam lifted a hand in farewell and Dean nodded.
The bell jingled behind them as they headed for the Impala and Dean shook his head again.
“Damn bell.”
Sam smiled quietly, sliding into his seat and shutting the door firmly. Dean’s door slammed moments after.
The hotel was only four blocks away from the diner and the boys were pulling into the parking lot within seconds. It was tiny-30 rooms at best. Neat and quaint, it looked cozy and welcoming to the weary travelers.
The young girl at the desk looked up as they entered and her blue eyes grew round and her cheeks warmed.
“Hello,” she blurted, scrambling to her feet and brushing her curly black hair away from her face.
Dean gave Sam an amused look as the girl appeared smitten by Sam.
“We’ll take a room,” Dean said, coughing uncomfortably. “How much?”
“Fifteen,” the girl said dreamily. “Two beds?”
A wicked light gleamed in Dean’s eye.
“One,” he responded and both Sam and the girl jerked to fix startled eyes on Dean.
“What?” Sam choked. “Dean, cut it out.” He turned to the girl, who looked no more than 15 or 16, and smiled disarmingly at her.
“My idiot brother means two beds,” Sam said, his smile making her melt into her seat.
“Okay," she sighed in her little girl voice. “Here’s your key.”
Sam took it with a smile and nod. “Thanks.” Putting his hand on Dean’s shoulder he shoved him out of the room before he could put his foot in his mouth again.
“Dean,” he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. “What was that?”
Dean’s face took on an innocent look. “What? Just trying to be helpful. That kid was falling all over you.” He grinned and Sam groaned.
“You’re sick,” he said helplessly and Dean slapped him on the shoulder.
“Welcome to reality brother.”
Chapter 2