Two Brothers 6/?
Chapter 6
I was kinda curious about where the Winchester brothers stayed and yes, I wanted to peek into the life my old friend lived now. So I didn't wait until morning to pick up the stuff Dean said he'd need. The name of the motel, Pete's Inn, meant nothing to me and following the GPS instructions it soon became clear why. This part of the town I hardly knew but I knew this wasn't a place to be after dark.
The motel was sleazy at best and I wouldn't have been surprised if they rented the rooms by the hour. This was the place Sam stayed at? The brilliant young man with a full ride to Stanford stayed at a place like this?
"Seriously?" I parked right in front of the room and looked around before I got out of the car. Not seeing anybody I hurried to get to the door and fully expected the key to not work. Dean must have given me the wrong motel name or something. Of course the key worked.
When the door clicked close behind me I breathed in relief and shook off the feeling of being watched from every dark corner.
Paranoid, I know, but can you blame me at a place like that?
Even before I switched on the lights I caught the scent of the room. Old cigarette smoke, mold, unwashed bodies and a lot more I didn't want to think about.
It didn't get better with the lights on. Walls in puke green, carpet in swamp brown with undefinable strains. Two unmade beds which matched the smell, waste basket overflowing with take out containers and beer bottles, clothes lying around.
"God, Sam." I gasped. "What has become of you?"
The only thing reminding me of the Sam I knew were the papers on the desk. That could have been Sam studying back at Stanford an eternity ago.
Because it was the only thing I could hold on to I had a closer look. I skimmed through newspaper articles about animal attacks, coroner reports with pictures I didn't want to have a closer look at and copies from different books some of them written in Latin.
I wasn't sure what to make out of that so I let the papers be for the moment and went on with my actual task. Gathering the clothes I presumed were Dean's I made my way through the room. Everything was well-worn and I didn't spot a brand's name on any of them.
"Apparently that hasn't changed over the last years." I muttered under my breath and felt a little ashamed of myself. That had been one of way too many reasons I had looked down on Dean for before.
To my surprise I found two suits in the bathroom, neatly on hangers on the bar of the shower curtain, which didn't look as cheap as the other clothes. How they fit into the whole scenario I had no idea, though.
The bathroom itself wasn't bigger than a shoe box so when I turned around to get Dean's razor, the one on the right and not that sissy four blades easy shave crap on the left, his words not mine, I accidentally knocked down one of the suits.
"Shit." Hastily I picked it up, the floor was a bit too sticky for my liking, and fumbled to get the jacket back on the hanger when something fell out of the inner pocket.
"Holy shit." That was a FBI badge, an honest to God FBI badge. Sam's face smiled at me.
My mind jumped to James Bond like conclusions. For a second I cheered at my friend for making it to the FBI.
"Undercover." I nodded to myself. That was the explanation. Sam was an undercover agent.
Then reality kicked in. If Sam was an undercover agent why was he working with his brother and not a partner? I could imagine Sam at the FBI easily but Dean? Not so much. As far as I knew he was a mechanic, part-time Ghostbuster or the other way around but not a believer in higher education. And not to forget, both Winchesters had been on the FBI's most wanted list before and were presumed dead.
Then I spotted the name on the badge which wasn't either Winchester nor Carter. It read Willis. I dropped it like the black leather had burned me. Fake. It was fake. Just like the insurance for Sam Carter and everything else.
"Sam, what did you get yourself into?" I asked into the empty room. Sam had wanted to become a lawyer, how did he end up in a motel like this impersonating a FBI agent?
Suddenly a heavy knocking broke the silence. Startled I bit back a surprised scream.
"Open up!" A man yelled and hammered his fist against the front door. "I know you're in there."
He must have seen me sneaking in or he had seen the light either way playing dead would probably only lead to a kicked in door.
"Who's there?" I yelled back not quite ready to open the door.
"Manager." Came the short answer. "Open up."
I opened the door a crack and through that we eyed each other for a moment. The man in front of the door filled every cliché I could think of in that situation. Cigarette burns in his t-shirt, dirty jeans hanging low under his belly and a face like a pig, round and sweaty, over no neck.
"Listen, I can explain." I hurried to say to avoid the impression that I'd broken in or something. "I'm just picking up a few things for a friend of mine."
"I don't care who you are. Your friends …" He chewed on the words and I half expected him to spit on my shoes. "... should have cleared the room this morning. So either I see some money, now, or you better get their stuff out within an hour."
"Alright, alright." The Winchesters had other problems right now so the least I could do was to make sure their belongings didn't end up in the trash. I already had my wallet in hand, and the manager dollar signs in his eyes, when I changed my mind.
"You know what?" I tucked the wallet back. "The room will be clear within an hour." With that I shut the door right in his face. Then I started packing.
continue to chapter 7
back to Masterpost