(no subject)

[gavemea_45]

It's not Vegas, where they've ended up-- just another dingy motel by the highway in some town that's barely more a wide spot in the road.

Sam barely notices. He doesn't care, anyway.

He'd spent most of the day in the car studying their father's journal-- looking to avoid talking about it all with Dean as much as he was looking for answers.

Answers that he didn't find. Answers he has to find.

He knows Dean's worried about him; he keeps seeing his brother looking at him, little sideways glances. Would it have made a difference in the end if Max had an older brother? Sam doesn't know, but he can't help wondering.

But he still doesn't want to talk about it, so Sam mutters something about being tired and lies down, closing his eyes and pretending to fall asleep quickly.

A few hours later, he's asleep in truth-- and dreaming.

"Sam. Please...Sam... help me--"

"Jess? Jess!"

His eyes are open but he can't move, can't do anything but stare up at the ceiling and the woman pinned there.

"Sam... why? Why?"

He struggles to sit up, to reach her, screaming over and over as she bursts into flame. "No! Jess, no! No!"

The moan that comes from his sleeping form is deep and wracked with pain.

Comments

[hopeitsworthit]

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Dean'd been hoping--hell, he didn't even know. Maybe that all this dream crap would've stopped after Max, maybe that it was a fluke, a one-time cosmic joke, they saw the punchline, they were done.

Looks like he was barking up the wrong tree, hey?

He rolls out of bed, slamming his shin against the night table before he stumbles over to Sammy, hand on his brother's shoulder to shake him awake.

"Dude. Come on, Sam. Wake up. Before the neighbors start throwin' things."

He can sort of hear himself over the pounding of his heart, but it's kinda hard to swallow.

Damn it.

[gavemea_45]

He flinches in his sleep at the touch on his shoulder--

--he can hear screams and the soft sound of fire and a deep growl from somewhere just out of sight as the anguished cry is ripped, raw and bleeding, from his throat--

"JESS!"

Sam jerks awake, eyes wild as he bolts upright.

It takes a moment for him to take in his brother's worried face and the unfamiliar-familiar sight of the motel room, and then his breath explodes out of him in a sigh.

"Another one, huh."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Nah, dude."

Dean shakes his head, trying on a smirk.

"Just, you know, you were scarin' the tomcats hanging around outside."

He knows it's weak, knows that he's trying too hard.

But Jesus, what's he supposed to say?

[gavemea_45]

"Right."

It comes out flat, and it's obvious Sam doesn't believe him.

"And we wouldn't want to do that."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dammit. Why isn't Sam--well, okay, he knows why Sam isn't playing along. Just.

Dammit.

"'Course not. They can out-yowl you any day, and some of us need our beauty sleep."

Dean's smirk spreads, though he's really grateful it's dark so Sam can't see that it's nowhere near his eyes.

"Well. Some of you. I'm pretty hot already."

[gavemea_45]

"Must be all those naps you keep taking," he says, but it rings hollow.

Sam sighs, and swings his legs over the side of the bed, putting both feet flat on the floor and bracing his hands against the mattress.

"I can't keep on like this."

He's not looking at Dean.

[hopeitsworthit]

Keep on like what? This shit just started.

"Keep on like what, Sammy?"

Dean gives his little brother a narrow-eyed glare.

"There somethin' else you're not telling me?"

[gavemea_45]

"No."

His fingers tighten on the edge of the bed, digging in.

"It's just-- the nightmares were bad enough, and now with all the rest of it-- the visions, the telekinesis--"

Sam swallows hard.

"We've got to face it, Dean. There's something wrong with me."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Nothing's wrong with you, Sam!"

Dean punches the mattress, standing up and pacing toward the TV.

He can't sit still, not if Sam's gonna talk like that.

"We'll figure this out."

[gavemea_45]

"How?"

Frustration's clear in his voice, along with strain.

"How, Dean? I've been looking all day, and even before that--"

[hopeitsworthit]

"And before that, what?"

Dean's jaw clenches as he turns back toward Sam.

"It was already too hard?"

He's not listening to himself, he can't right now.

"You've gotta give me more time, Sam!"

[gavemea_45]

"That's not what I meant--"

Sam's on his feet, glaring defiantly at him.

"More time? Time for what? For me to change my mind? We don't have that kind of time, Dean -- I can't control this thing, don't you get that?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"Yeah, I get it, Sammy. And it sucks ass."

Dean glares back, face pinched tight.

"You think I don't know that? But what else are you gonna do? Quit? Throw in the towel?"

Pull a Max?

He grinds his teeth, almost loud enough to be heard.

"There's always an answer, Sam. You just gotta--we just gotta keep moving till we find it."

[gavemea_45]

"That's not good enough."

Sam turns away and stalks over to stand by the window, looking out across the parking lot.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean sags, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, Sam. It's all we've got."

[gavemea_45]

"Maybe, yeah. But it can't-- I can't--"

His shoulders tighten as he looks down at the windowsill, then Sam whirls around.

"We could ask someone. There's got to be someone who knows more than we do."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean just looks at Sam, jaw jutting out stubbornly.

"You know anybody who knows this kind of shit and isn't in Dad's journal? 'Cause if you do, I'm dying to hear about it, college boy."

[gavemea_45]

"No, but-- we could ask Bobby, maybe, or Pastor Jim--"

[hopeitsworthit]

"Okay. Now you've convinced me you're crazy."

Good job, Sam.

"You think lettin' anyone know about this whole--dream-thing is smart?"

Are you kidding him, Sam?

"And without that, you really think any of those guys didn't tell Dad everything they know already?"

[gavemea_45]

"No, I don't think it's smart, but what else are we gonna do, Dean? It's not like there's anyone else--"

Sam stops mid-word, and stares at him.


"Wait. What about at that bar? You know, that guy, what was his name-- Andrew?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"That guy? Yeah. Yeah, his name was Andrew."

Dean's still giving Sam the wary 'are you sure you're not cracking up' look.

"You thinkin' his world's got more stuff about this kinda thing than here?"

Sam wants to go back to that crazy-ass bar?

Seriously not doin' a good job of convincing Dean you're not nutso, Sammy-boy.

You might wanna work on that.

[gavemea_45]

"How should I know? But he had books, remember? Books that looked like they could be someone else's version of Dad's journal."

He shrugs.

"Even if not, that place is weird enough we could probably find out something useful."

[hopeitsworthit]

"You think they'd be as likely to share it as we are to share Dad's?"

But Dean looks like he's maybe kinda thinking about it.

Sort of.

"'Cause that'd be a problem."

Not to mention not letting anything weird find out useful shit about the brothers Winchester.

Dean's tired already.

[gavemea_45]

Sam just looks at him.

"You got a better idea?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean scrubs his hand over his hair, heaving out a put upon sigh.

"You think I wouldn't tell you if I did?"

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah. I know."

Sam gives a sigh of his own, this one weary.

"Dean, it's just-- I've got to try something, man. I've got to."

[hopeitsworthit]

"All right, Sammy. All right."

He shrugs, looking awkward and a little uncomfortable.

Dean's not a big fan of places he can't control, and that freaky as hell bar is definitely something he can't control.

"You got any idea how to get there, now we're goin'?"

[gavemea_45]

He deflates.

"... not really, no. But it's not like we were expecting to find it the first time, right? Through the door of that old house?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"Guess we could always try opening and closing the bathroom door really fast, huh?"

He might be making fun of Sam now.

Hey, older brother prerogative. It comes with the territory.

"Could get lucky that way."

[gavemea_45]

Sam gets a very stubborn look on his face.

"What, you think I won't?"

He crosses the room, tossing back over his shoulder as he goes,

"You never know, Dean, this could turn out to be the door to that bar, right here--"

Sam flings the bathroom door open, revealing--

--the bathroom.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean snorts out a laugh.

"Yeah, Kreskin. Looks like a bar to me. You keep the tequila under the toilet seat?"

[gavemea_45]

"Ha, ha."

He slams the door shut.

"Your turn."

[hopeitsworthit]

"I'm comfortable right here. You keep on going."

Dean nods toward the door.

"Take your time."

[gavemea_45]

He opens the door again.

Bathroom.

"Look, you were the one who found it the first time."

Slam.

"But if you're too tired to get off your lazy ass, old man..."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Keep on like that, whippersnapper, and the only moving around I'm gonna do is kicking your ass."

Dean is not that easily riled, Sammy-boy.

Well.

Not when he's just made himself comfortable. The pillows at this motel aren't that bad.

If you ignore the happy smiling-faced clams on all the sheets.

[gavemea_45]

"You're welcome to try it."

He opens the door again, and slams it shut.

Again.

And again.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean just yawns.

"Yeah, whatever, dude. Wake me when you find it."

Though the door-slamming will probably get old, first.

Hey, at least the all-night diner down the street has good coffee.

Maybe he'll take a field trip later.

But first, naptime.