(no subject)

[gavemea_45]

The cheap Iowa motel's put a lot of effort into its theme. There's corn-printed wallpaper, dried corn tassels in grass art on the walls, corn patterns on the pillowcases and sheets.

Not that Sam notices any of it, as the door bangs open and he stalks into the room.

Comments

[gavemea_45]

"Oh yeah? What, are you waiting for me to read your mind or something?"

Sam's standing by the far wall, hands clenched at his sides.

[hopeitsworthit]

"I'll be waiting a long time for that, won't I?"

Dean's tone is harsh, but the expression on his face is just tired.

[gavemea_45]

"Well, it's not like I'm ever gonna be trying to."

A beat.

"Is that it?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean looks startled, unguarded and totally shocked.

"Is that--Sam, hell no. Just."

He shakes his head, rubbing one across his hair.

"You really think I'd bang a dead chick? Really?"

Because that's just stupid, and seven shades of fucked up.

[gavemea_45]

There's not even an instant's hesitation.

"Of course not. Just-- I don't get it, man."

Sam shoves both hands in his pockets and scowls down at the floor.

"Enough already, okay?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean just looks at his brother for a second, shaking his head.

"Dude. Sam. You're the one who's gotta call it quits, you know? I mean. With the moping thing. You can't--you keep saying you know there ain't a life there for you, but you're not--you're not really acting like it."

He's quiet for a bit, fidgeting.

"It's kinda--You don't ever relax, man, and that can't be good for you."

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah? You know what, Dean? You're wrong."

Sam's glaring at him again.

"It's got nothing to do with moping. I'm afraid you're just gonna have to excuse me for being a little focused on the fact that the damn demon's still out there and we don't have any clue where, not to mention--"

He bites the sentence off mid-word and suddenly turns his back on his brother.

Sam's breathing heavily as he stares at the corn-covered wall, and his hands are in tight fists at his sides again.

[hopeitsworthit]

"You think I don't want to get that son of a bitch, too, Sammy?"

There's a grittiness underlying Dean's words, the grittiness of exhaustion and a grief that's older than Sam. Almost.

"But you can't--We've got zero leads man. What, you wanna let other people die while we drive around the country after nothin' at all? Do you?"

Dean can't believe that of Sam. Can't. Won't.

There isn't much difference, in the end.

Not much.

[gavemea_45]

"No-- I know, but--"

He hasn't turned around.

"It's almost the only thing I can think about, anymore."

Almost.

[hopeitsworthit]

Almost?

"You want me to guess what the other shit is? 'Cause, you know, I kinda need to know where your head's at."

He can't take care of his brother if he doesn't know what he needs, what's bothering him.

"If you're watching my back, and all."

[gavemea_45]

The muscles in his shoulders tighten, and it's a moment before Sam turns around.

"Low blow, man."

Sam looks as pissed as he sounds.

"But since you brought it up, that's another thing."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's eyebrows are up, and he almost scoffs.

"Yeah? You wanna go solo again, Sam? Because you just need to say the word."

He's already said it twice before.

Dean's kinda not surprised he wants to say it again.

[gavemea_45]

He takes a step toward Dean before he forces himself to a halt.

"You'd rather I did. Wouldn't you. Be a lot easier that way, wouldn't it?"

It's low, it's harsh, and it's brutally cold.

"Because you don't trust me, do you, Dean? Not anymore."

[hopeitsworthit]

Oh, Dean isn't stopping himself from moving toward Sam, hands reaching out to grab his brother's shirt, holding him in place as Dean gets right up in his face.

"You are such a goddamn moron, sometimes I can't even believe we're related, Sammy."

His voice is rough, harsh and low in the quiet motel room.

"You ever think I wouldn't trust you? Because of what? Some fucked up dreams that wake you up screaming every freaking night? Because you moved a dresser with your mind? What--"

He lets Sam go abruptly, swearing viciously as he turns away, his gaze fixed on the corner of the motel room door.

"Guess I don't need to wonder what you think of me, huh?"

[gavemea_45]

"What I think? I think you're gonna get yourself killed, Dean!"

Again. It hangs in the air, unspoken.

"Look what happened today!"

[hopeitsworthit]

"It was going for your head, Sam. What, you just want me to let you die?"

He stops then, turning around to look at his brother.

"Jesus, Sam. Tell me it ain't that."

Make him believe it, Sam.

Please?

[gavemea_45]

"What?"

Startled out of his anger, Sam just stares at him.

"What-- no. No, man. That's not-- no."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean slumps for a second, eyes closed.

Then he blinks, shakes it off, and looks up.

"No? Then what is it, Sam? I'm not doing anythin' I haven't always done."

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, I know. That's the problem."

Sam sighs, and drops heavily to a seat on the end of the nearest bed, then looks up at Dean.

"You gotta start letting me carry some of it, Dean. You've got to."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean looks bewildered.

"What the hell're you talkin' about, Sam? I let you do everythin' except drive!"

Some things Dean's been doing so long he doesn't notice 'em anymore. Kinda easy with stuff you've been doing since you were four, huh?

[gavemea_45]

Sam shakes his head.

"No, you don't. Or-- not the same way. Don't you see it?"

He half-turns, facing his brother.

"You take all the risks. More than you need to. It's like-- like you don't think I can handle it."

A beat.

"Like you don't think I've really got your back."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean shakes his head, lips tight.

"It ain't that at all, Sam. I--"

He grits his teeth, attention fixed on a water stain on the carpet.

At least he hopes it's a water stain.

"I--"

He looks up, mouth quirked in a smile. His eyes are anything but amused.

"It's hard enough not knowin' where Dad is, you know? If you--"

Yeah, that thought? He can't even talk about that one.

"I just can't do it, man. I'm sorry."

[gavemea_45]

"Dean. I get it. I do."

Sam's not looking away, now.

"I feel the same way. It's why I can't -- I can't just sit back and watch, okay? Don't ask me to."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's quiet.

Some things hurt to hear. But he doesn't doubt for a minute what Sam says is the truth.

Well. Maybe for a second or two. But he's far too familiar with the feeling not to recognize it in someone else.

And this is Sam.

"All right, man. All right."

He's quiet for another second or two, then he moves toward Sam, punching gently at his shoulder.

"And with that in mind, you're gonna spot me money for burgers, right? Takin' up your fair share of the burden and all?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam rolls his eyes.

"Give me a break."

He's already digging out his wallet.

"Means you have to go get them."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean grins.

"Sure, dude. But you'll take what I get you and like it."

Which means veggie-burger shit is right out.

[gavemea_45]

"Whatever, man."

Sam hands over the cash, then flops back on the mattress and puts his hands behind his head as he grins back.

"Besides, if I don't, I'll just take yours instead."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Dude, you can try. Then neither of us'll be eating anything."

He shakes his head.

"Because you won't even touch the Twinkies I've got in my bag."

Beat.

"Picky lameass."

[gavemea_45]

Sam just looks at him.

"Twinkies aren't food, Dean -- they're like weird yellow plastic with white goop squished in."

[hopeitsworthit]

"They got calories, don't they?"

Dean grins, smugly, as if to say 'so there. food'.

"Anyway, I promise I won't make you eat Twinkies tonight, you pussy. Okay?"

He's got his jacket in his hands, sliding it up and over his shoulders.

[gavemea_45]

"Or any night. Jerk."

Sam watches as Dean turns to the door.

"Hey. We okay, here?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean turns back for a second, giving Sam a Look.

"Yeah. Yeah we are."

He shakes his head again, snorting as he starts heading out the door.

"Bitch."

And then he's gone.