A/N: Hey guys! Don't hate me, this is my first supernatural fic. Some serious high fives all around for Dancing Fiyero who revised this chapter (and co-authored the up coming chapters.) Please read and review!
Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did, but I don't...sigh If only I could have a Sam and Dean all my own. DF Note: Well, to share, darling.
Sick of Driving
Sam looked out the passenger side window, watching the yellow line disappear behind them. They'd been driving for three days now and the thought of sleeping in the car again wasn't appetizing. With no time for long meals, Dean and Sam had been eating in the car, and it was getting gross.
"Look, at the risk of sounding juvenile, are we there yet?"
"Patience, my young padawan." Sam scoffed and Dean continued. "We've got another seventy miles and we're California. From there it's only another day or so." Dean smirked as he drove, eyes fixed on the road, since it was the only changing scenery and he was getting tired of studying Sam.
"Another day? Gimmie a break! Look, it's lunchtime so can we grab a bite? Maybe sit down someplace? It's about time to shovel some of the garbage out of here-- that hamburger back there is starting to rot."
"Aww, some over ripe meat scaring you?"
"Shut up Dean." Sam crossed his arms huffily over his chest, trying to suppress a smile as he did so. Dean could be such an ass some times…most of the time actually, but even after 37 states and nine months, Sam wasn't tired of his company. Funnily enough, Sam's nightmares were eased somewhat in the car. They weren't as frequent or as detailed, because he knew when he woke up Dean would be there, brow knitted together with worry, with one hand on the wheel and one hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Somebody's a thundercloud today." When they were kids and Sam got into a huff, Dean would call him thundercloud in a ridiculous voice and his younger brother would break out in peels of giggles. Today wasn't any different, aside from the fact that Sam tried to be a bit more dignified and exchanged the giggles for an enthusiastic chortle.
"You're such an ass." He said, lips pursed tightly to keep more laughter at bay.
"Yes, yes I am. Thank you. And what an ass-"
"I meant it to be derogatory."
"Well that's just me turning a frown upside down." Dean reached over and ruffled his brothers hair affectionately, but the horn of a passing car brought his attention back to the road. "You say nothing." Sam simply smiled and closed his eyes, resting his head on the strap of his seatbelt, and slipped into a sweet dreamless sleep.
The women's bathroom door swung open and out stepped Dean looking disgruntled, wiping his hands on his jeans.
"Is there something you're not telling me?" Bits of sandwich hung out of Sam's mouth as he tried to talk and chew, he never was an accomplished multi-tasker.
"It's true what people say, the women's bathroom is incomparable to the vortex of poor hygiene that is our washroom. They have soap and paper towel and everything."
"And yet you're still wiping your hands on you pants. Classy."
"So what'd you order me?" asked Dean looking down at his…sandwich? Burger? He poked it experimentally wondering if it might bite back. Of all the restaurants he'd been in all his long years this was approaching the scuzziest, and he'd been to Jersey.
"Grull'd heese amd ham." Sam said no more, deciding that his lunch didn't need any help escaping, especially since it didn't seem to be fully dead yet. In retrospect, a steak sandwich wasn't such a stellar idea.
"Oh, and the fact that I hate ham didn't cross your mind?" Dean accused, taking a colossal bite out of it and wiping the grease off his chin. Sam finished before him and reclined as far as he could on the stiff benches, picking his teeth with a business card
"Delicate flower you are," laughed Dean, but Sam ignored him.
"So, we hear anything strange about this place? It's usually about now that we attract some sort of paranormal vengeance, isn't it? Forty five minutes is pretty standard." Sam was agitated about something, his brother could always tell: he fidgeted restlessly, crossing and uncrossing his feet at the ankles, shifting uneasily every five seconds.
"Funny enough, I have heard a few things." He desperately wished he could have said anything else to Sam; 'Nope, not a thing.' But there was always something. Sam couldn't ever have a normal life, he was waist deep in this now. Mind you, so was Dean, but he'd never wanted a normal life. Sam was the selfless crusader who wanted to find his Dad, kill the thing that got his mother and Jessica and put this all down for good, become a school teacher, have kids and a life. That'd be cruel, thought Dean to himself, even if he did manage to have kids and all that, they'd just be dragged into this, and their kids, and theirs. Shivers went up Dean's spine thinking about doomed generations.
"Huh? Oh…" Once again Sam snapped him lose of his thoughts, which was good, thought didn't become someone like Dean. He was all rough and tumble 'shoot ya before you know I'm there', tall dark and broody type. "Right, umm, there was rumors about a demon Duke, Bathin, growing some of his crazy demon weed. It's called mathios, it keeps him young. Bad dude in a large way, but usually not a human threat."
"Yeah, usually, but here it seems he kinda gathering some sorta human groupie cult. Basic ego trip."
"Okay, so the problem here is?"
"I don't think people go willingly. I dunno, but most people get freaked by a ten foot hog-bat, or is that just me?" Dean continued to devour his lunch, trying not to let it sit too long in his mouth lest he taste something. Sam sighed and threw his hands behind his head closing his eyes wearily smirking sweetly, it could have been a smile- it would have been two years ago but it broke (whether 'it' was Sam or the smile was a question for later). There was a tortured puppy quality to his brother, Dean mused, a sort of 'I'll follow you and bring you roses and chocolates if you love me' kinda vibe. Dean preferred the blunt 'shag me' option. Sam's chest heaved suddenly, his eyes flittering under closed lids, fingers tightening on his crossed arms. He was dreaming, it didn't take long for Mr. Narcoleptic to fall asleep these days.
"Sam." Nothing. "Sam!" not even a little response. "Sammy!" Nada. "Hey dad."
Sam bolted up right looking around, obviously disoriented. "I fell asleep?"
"Yes genius. Do I have to drug you before you actually sleep?"
"Oh." Sam could deal with monsters, blood and decay, hey, just another day in the life. But letting someone down, failing, that was damned scary. Dean knew that it wasn't Sam's fault, he couldn't have helped Jessica anymore than he could have helped their mother as an infant.
"You know we need to talk right?" Dean smiled gently as he could, replacing the usual snide smirk with genuine affection, which was kinda like listening to Mickey Mouse talk through Stephen Segul. Of course he felt genuine affection for his brother but showing it just wasn't manly, not now that they were both grown ups. When they were kids Sam used to slip his hand into Deans, sucking on the corner of his shirt when he was really nervous about something. It was so cute, thought Dean, but they were both much older and handholding wasn't a good thing for brothers to do…neither was sucking on your collar for that matter or…your…brothers... Moving on. There was something about being someone's big brother that feeds a fierce protectiveness, a pulsing need to hide your sibling from the dark, which made his job so incredibly hard. Sam was a big boy now and knew the ins and outs of demonic eradication, but it was difficult to listen to weapons cut through Sam's flesh, and impossible to watch him sink to his knees, eyes shut tight in pain, the corner of his mouth bleeding like everything else. Dean had to shake the thought. He had his own nightmares.
"Yeah, I know. I guess I owe that to you now huh?" Sam knew just when to interrupt.
"Oh hell yah. Let's play the check and get going. You know for a meal like that we should be getting the cash." They laughed as Sam tossed a ten on the table and walked out to the car, the bell of the door clanging behind them.