We're not calling it Babe 8/?

[emebalia]

Chapter 8

Dean was freaking out.

Something was about to happen. Something big. Apocalyptic big.

At first he hadn't noticed it but the signs were everywhere.

The radio station played all his favorite songs, his top three at least twice.
Until they reached their destination they were almost alone on the road. And the few other drivers he saw over the day weren't assholes who tried to kill themselves or others with their driving.
Traffic became thicker when they rolled into town, there seemed to be some kind of fair going on this week, but it still moved smoothly.

Every traffic light was green.

There was only one slot in the parking lot left, just waiting for the Impala, when Dean stopped at a motel for the night.

He left Sam and Mac in the car and went inside to get them a room but packed as the parking lot was, he was pretty sure that the place was booked to the last broom closet but he at least hoped that the clerk could point him in the direction to another motel. Preferably here and not two towns over.

"Have a nice day, sir." The woman behind the counter finished a phone call and then turned to him with a smile. "Welcome to the Harvest Lodge. What can I do for you?"

"A room please." Dean said, he could at least try. "Two singles."

"Lucky you." Her smile brightened. "We're completely booked because of the fair, you know, but somebody just canceled their reservation."

"Lucky me." Dean repeated numbly and paid for the room.

Fate was playing nice. Fate never played nice. Not with him. That bitch hated him.

He tried to act normal but made sure that his gun was in his waistband and the knives were where they were supposed to be. Just in case.

"You got a room?" Sam asked with disbelieve in his voice. He had eyes. Dean was pretty sure he'd noticed all the cars around him and how busy the town was. Hell, they even had billboards up for this stupid fair. Billboards. If Dean was honest, he had almost expected to sleep in the car. But here he was with the keys in his hand.

"We're lucky." Dean slipped in the driver's seat. "Somebody just canceled their reservation."

"Uhh." Sam made but the light frown on his face told Dean that he wasn't taking this seriously enough. But most of the trip Sam had been busy with Mac so he probably hadn't noticed the green lights or the parking lot. And the music was just Dean's music to him, Dean wasn't sure if Sam even knew what his favorite songs were.

Dean had no idea how to put his feeling in words. It sounded stupid in his own head that he became suspicious over green lights, so he said nothing and drove them over to their room at the far end of the building, away from the noise and the people.

He doubted Mac would need a disguise at all to get into their room without anybody noticing. Which didn't help to put Dean's mind at ease. Quite the opposite.

He felt the Mark, hot and burning, under his sleeve and he fought the urge to rub it. By the time he dropped his bag on his bed, his whole arm was tingling.

"Nice room." Sam commented. He put Mac down who was off to explore every last corner of the room a second later.

"Hmm." Dean made. He didn't like the room. Not one bit. It was nice, no question about that. It was too nice. It wasn't just clean, it looked freshly renovated. With spotless white walls, tasteful prints on the walls but not too many. The beds looked comfortable with white linen which smelled faintly of lavender. No burn-holes in the carpet which was also new. No suspicious strains or moldy spots in the corners.

"Dean?" Suddenly Sam stood close to him, hand hovering over his shoulder as if he wanted to touch but didn't dare. "You alright, man?"

Dean blinked and rubbed his face. "Yeah. Just tired."

It was a lie, they both knew it, but neither of them commented on it.

At his feet Mac made a questioning noise and Dean felt the small body pressed against his shin. Mac was trembling.

"Hey." Dean forced his voice into a gentle tone and scooped the little guy up. The pig was sensitive to his mood swings, he'd noticed that over the last few days, and he didn't want to spook him farther. "It's okay."

Mac snuggled deeper into his arms, snout almost in the pit of his arm and body pressed firmly against his chest.

"It's okay." Dean repeated and it was. He could breathe easier and the tension melted out of his body. Maybe he was just tired.

Sam gave him one last glance and then retreated to the bathroom for a shower. It was too early for a shower even if they didn't start working on the case today, it was too late in the day for that, but if Sam wanted to give him some space, Dean was the last one to complain.

"Just you and me now." Dean sat down on his bed with a sigh. It was as soft and fluffy as it looked but for now Dean was content with just accepting it.

In his arms Mac squirmed around until he was lying on his back, feet in the air and his belly ready for a good rub.

"You greedy little bastard." Dean said with the hint of a laugh and it didn't even sound hysterical. Focused on rubbing Mac's belly he could put the uneasy feeling aside for the moment.

It was barely 6 pm when Sam came out of the bathroom in his sleepwear and sat down at the table to work on his laptop. It was too late for interviews but he could work his magic online.

While Sam did that, Dean and Mac lay sprawled out on the bed, watching TV. Of course the room had a giant TV and a huge cable package. Not that Dean's channel surfing went farther than the second channel. He was just right on time for a Dr. Sexy re-run marathon. They started with his favorite episode and he was pretty sure the preview he saw for the next two were for episodes he'd missed so far.

His paranoia spiked again at that but this was Dr. Sexy so he let it slide. He even put up with Sam's comments, at least those were normal. But by the end of the first episode Sam had abandoned his laptop and had made himself comfortable on his bed.

The teasing comments changed to interested questions and Dean didn't mind educating his brother.

Gotcha, Dean thought when Sam started arguing with the people on the screen.

What did put Dean's mind to ease was the pizza. They ordered in and when there was no two for one deal going on and they had to pay extra for the extra cheese Sam wanted on his pizza, Dean allowed himself to relax and enjoy the comfortable bed and the episode he was watching. He felt even better when the pizza was late.

The unholy streak of luck was broken. Finally.

Since he was the one still decently dressed, Dean opened the door when the delivery boy knocked over half an hour too late.

Dean greeted him with a smile and a generous tip already in his hand but the boy didn't want the money. He was too late so the pizza was free. Of course it was. Dean wanted to punch something.

In the end Dean grabbed the boy's hat, crammed the money in and put it back on the stunned guy's head. Then he closed the door in his face.

The pizza was still hot.

It was the best pizza Dean ever had.

By now Dean was a hair-trigger away from exploding.

What made it worse was that he didn't feel like he could escape this. It, whatever it was, had followed him all day. Since they'd left the bunker. He doubted that he could outrun it.

So he ate his pizza, it was a really good pizza, and planned their defense in his head.

Sam still hadn't caught on and when Dean pointed it out to him, his brother just shrugged it off with a "So you're lucky for once, enjoy it." and turned his attention back to the TV.

Dean wasn't sure if Sam getting sucked into his favorite show counted as part of the phenomenon or not. It did, however, trigger a memory of one certain archangel. Dean made a mental note to ward the room extra tight against angels. He wasn't sure if there was a way to keep tricksters in general out, though. Maybe Sam knew something about that.

However, before he could salt all the windows and disfigure the fresh white walls with warding sigils, Dean had to use the bathroom.

It was a nice bathroom, new and clean as the rest of their room. Dean just accepted it with a muttered "of course".

The toothbrush put him over the edge.

"Sam!" He yelled and stormed back to the main room. "We're leaving."

"What?" Sam was on his feet and in a loose fighting stance a second later, searching the room for the threat.

"There's a toothbrush in the bathroom." Dean grabbed his bag and started packing. When he turned around he nearly fell over Mac who made frightened little noises and tried to press himself to his leg without getting kicked around. With a sigh Dean picked him up and set him on the bed.

Over the last few seconds Sam hadn't moved.

"And?" He finally asked, still ready for a fight but not packing his stuff.

"When have you ever seen a toothbrush in one of these motels?" Dean asked, now stuffing Sam's clothes into his brother's bag.

"Ehm." Sam made, thinking.

"Exactly." Dean pointed a finger at him. "Those small bars of soap. Yes. Those sorry excuses for shampoo and body wash? Yes. Toothbrush? No. Not ever."

Sam visibly relaxed. "That's why you're freaking out? Because they're nicer than usual?"

"I'm freaking out because the one time I forget my toothbrush is the one time a motel bathroom has one waiting for me." Dean shook his head. "I can live with the other stuff, maybe I do have a lucky day, but that?" He pointed in the general direction of the bathroom and the offending toothbrush. "That's not normal, that's no coincidence."

Finally he saw understanding dawning on Sam's face.

"Somebody's messing with us, Sammy." Dean said with one last look around the room. Sam was still in his sleepwear but he could change somewhere along the road. They had to get out of here. Now.

The Mark was flooding his body with adrenalin and calming his mind at the same time. He was ready for a fight, ready to kill. His body vibrated and he was tense like a bow string, just waiting to snap. If he didn't actually do something in the next few seconds, he would start punching holes in the wall.

Flight or fight. He couldn't fight this but he could run.

Somehow Mac had managed to get off the bed and he was back at his feet now, making those noises again.

Dean scooped him up with his left hand so that he still had his right one free for a weapon.

"Don't worry, buddy." He murmured. "We're leaving."

Suddenly there was a noise behind him.

Without even thinking Dean swirled around, gun in his hand. Next to him Sam had his gun out as well. They were aiming at the back of the laptop on the table.

"I closed it." Sam said in a low voice, almost lost in the loud moaning coming from the now open and powered up laptop.

Slowly Dean circled the table. He had Mac still under his arm but the little guy seemed to sense his tension and didn't move.

Dean didn't have to be close enough to read the URL. He knew the layout. BustyAsianBeauties. And he was pretty sure he knew the video which was currently playing. It had been one of his favorites.

He'd mourned it when the site went out of business a few years ago.

Chapter 9
Masterpost