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P.S- I do not have a fish =O
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. If I did, well, let's not get into that….. =]
Dean and Sam arrived at the motel room to see John lying in the middle of the room, blood surrounding his terminally pale corpse.
"Guess I should bury him."
Dean spun around, already knowing Sam would offer his assistance. "No, you won't. You're gonna sit your ass there and wait for me to get back."
Sam sighed. Ever since Dean had found out he had been stubborn as hell, barely letting him pick up a fork by himself, much less bury a body.
Sam watched, intrigued, as Dean put John's corpse on his back, and carried it out the door. The area they were living in may have been slightly isolated, but that doesn't mean no one would see that. Sam continued to watch as he dumped the body in his trunk and slammed it down. Sam looked around the area, skeptical that no one say that.
Sam sighed as Dean drove off, heading to the nearest graveyard. It would be a quick burial, and Dean would probably not be nearly enough respectful to John's memory. He may not have been the best gentleman, but he was still their father, and that in itself needs to be shown reverence. Ever since finding out his and John's secret, he had grown inward, rarely ever talking. It was as if he had swallowed himself whole, all that was left being shitty, second-rate features. He was no longer the happy-go-lucky big brother he used to have, and it terrified him. To think that this was all Sam's fault was tearing him apart inside, leaving nothing but voided spaces he couldn't seem to fill.
Nearly five minutes later, Dean drove up, and parked the Impala into one of the many open spaces in front of the motel. Sam watched as he got out in a hurry, slamming the car door shut. Sam winced. Dean would never do that to his "baby".
Sam stayed where he was as watched, through the window, as Dean unlocked the door. He marched into the room, and immediately began gathering his belongings.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the-"
Sam stood, slightly stunned by Dean's demeanor. Seconds later, Dean gave him another glance, his menacing look making Sam abruptly stiffen. Dean turned back to his things, gathering everything into whatever he could carry shit with, whether it be bags, cases, or fish tanks.
Sam got off the chair, winced slightly as he ran his injured hand into the table, and stood up. He swiftly began packing up his belongings as well, questions racing through his mind.
What could have possibly happened at the graveyard to make Dean behave this way? Yes, they traveled a lot, and it was expected that they would move soon anyway, but not like this.
Maybe John was never dead to begin with. Besides, it had only been a stomach wound. Sam mused over it further, the information not adding up. It wouldn't make any sense. They had made sure he was dead before leaving. Further more, there had been blood everywhere. It had to be something else.
Sam and Dean continued to pack in silence, stuffing what little they owned into their respective bags. Dean through a cloth at Sam, hitting him in the back of his head as it fell to the floor.
"Swipe everything. We need to get rid of our fingerprints."
Sam did as he was told, and began wiping off the furniture.
"Hey Dean, what's going on?"
Dean continued to swipe everything down, not showing in the slightest that he had heard. Sam sighed, realizing his brother was doing it on purpose. He didn't want to voice what was happening because it probably involved Sam, whether it was directly or indirectly.
Maybe some of John's friends saw Dean with his body. They're probably out for some sort of payback.
Once everything was swiped and the luggage packed, they gathered all their things into the Impala. Sam watched as Dean hurried into the driver's seat, and, in return, made Sam also speed up his pace.
He jumped in the Impala, Dean getting in a second before him. Without a word, he drove out of the parking lot, speeding off onto the street.
Sam sat silently for a moment, allowing Dean his space to let off some steam. He only waited about a minute.
"What's going on, Dean?"
Dean's knuckles were white, losing all previous color. Fear brewed in Sam's stomach, slowly being distributed to the rest of his body. What could have possibly happened to make Dean act this way?
Dean heaved a long, weary sigh. "While I was digging the hole to put Dad in his phone went off." His grip on the wheel grew impossibly stronger, his knuckles chalk white. "Someone had texted him. They asked…" Dean couldn't seem to go on, and Sam wasn't sure if he would.
Dean seemed to choke on an invisible ball of lint. It didn't seem like he would say anymore. Sam wanted to urge him to continue, but decided against, knowing he would tell him if it's important.
"They asked 'Did you get rid of them yet?'." Dean's voice cracked. Tears filled his eyes. He was in too much pain to continue, even if he wanted to.
Sam watched in agony as his brother broke down, slowly ebbing away. He has dealt with so much in his life, and now he finds out his father is an abusive bastard that had just planned to kill them.
"I tried to ignore the message and just kept digging. After I had placed him in the hole his phone went off again. 'John?!?' After a few moments another one came... 'We're coming to get you', they said."
Dean's anger was one big mass of hatred, clinging to his body, and then lashing out at Sam out of spite.
"So...do they know John's dead yet?"
"Probably. Right now, my best bet is they're in our motel room."
"When they see us gone…will they come after us."
Dean kept his eyes on the road, but nodded, as if in physical pain to tell his brother such an awful truth.
Sam sighed, running his hands through his long, chocolate brown hair. His life, and Dean's, was full of so many agonizing events it wasn't even funny. Sam felt his eyes fill with tears as his vision began to blur. They were both so screwed up. Would they ever fully heal, or will they always, until the end of time, be scarred from this horrid nightmare.
He felt his tears gently being wiped away by a coarse, nevertheless gentle, hand. He looked up to see Dean giving him a small smile. Sam returned a smile of his own, making Dean's smile widen further. Just by looking at Dean, he knew they would get through this, and he could tell Dean was thinking the same thing. Not because they were Winchesters. Not because they were experts at pain. Hell, not because they were brothers. But because they were there.
HOPE U LIKED IT!!!!! Be watching for a sequel!!!!! Haven't decided yet, but there might be!!!!
I would love u for this lifetime and the next if you went and checked out my other stories!! You might like one, if not both!! =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =) =)
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