Okay, so this is my new story. I really hope you like and hope that you will let me know what you think.
Disclaimer to cover entire story: I do not own any of the familiar characters from the tv show Supernatural. No money has exchanged hands.
"Eight ball, corner pocket," Sam announced, indicating the intended pocket with his cue stick.
The tip of the cue struck the cue ball, a cloud of blue chalk dust wafting into the air. The cue ball rolled silently over the felt covered table and struck the eight ball with amazing accuracy, and the eight ball started it's course to the pocket, bouncing in front of it before finally falling in with a soft clink.
"Nice shot Sam!" Dean shouted exuberantly, clapping Sam on the back. Sam smiled brightly at his brother, then laughed at Dean's excitement.
"Son of a bitch!" their latest victim spat as he slammed a pile of bills down on the tabletop. "Double or nothing? Come on, one more game boy!" the man cried.
"Sorry, but we need to be calling it a night" Sam said, reaching down to grab the money.
The man grabbed Sam's wrist, squeezing it painfully. Sam met the man's gaze and tried to pull his arm away. "I said one more game!" the man spat angrily, before feeling a strong grip on his shoulder.
"If you know what's good for you, you will let him go," Dean hissed into the man's ear, pulling him around and glaring into his eyes.
The man must have seen something in Dean's eyes because he let go of Sam's wrist, but not before giving it a final, harder squeeze. He stomped off, muttering under his breath.
Sam pulled the money up from the table, nursing his wrist absently. He walked to the table they were sitting at and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, putting it on while Dean did the same. Dean glanced at Sam's wrist, noticing the ugly red marks that had formed there. Dean started toward the bar where the man sat, fury in his eyes. Sam grabbed him by the arm, stopping him from moving any further.
"No Dean. Let's just go. Please?" Sam begged, pulling on Dean's arm.
Dean pulled his arm from Sam's grasp, looking at Sam's face. "Yeah, okay let's go," Dean said, storming out of the bar, Sam on his heels.
They reached the impala and both climbed inside, Dean still fuming, his face red with anger.
"Come on Dean, its no big deal. It doesn't even hurt," Sam reasoned.
"Did you even look at your wrist Sam? How can you say it's no big deal?" Dean asked incredulously.
Sam glanced at his wrist, seeing the red was already turning a deep purple. "It looks worse than it feels. You know I bruise easily," Sam answered, shrugging his shoulders. "The guy was understandably pissed Dean. I mean, I took him for a couple hundred bucks!"
"Yeah, well that's no excuse! He lost fair and square!" Dean shot back, starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot.
"Hey, you hungry? There's that all night diner by the motel. I don't feel like going to bed just yet," Sam asked in an attempt to change the subject.
"Yeah, I guess I could eat. Why? Are you hungry?" Dean answered.
"A little. Maybe a piece of pie and some coffee?"
"Okay, sounds good. I can always eat pie!"
They headed down the main street, reaching the diner five minutes later. They entered the diner and took a seat at a booth by the window, both turning their coffee cups up as they sat down. The waitress brought their menus and filled their cups with coffee.
"Uh, I'll just have apple pie please," Sam said, flashing a quick smile at the woman.
"Sure thing sweetie" she said, winking at Sam. "How about you hon? Do you know what you want?"
"Same as my brother, but I'd also like a double cheeseburger and fries. Oh, and make my pie ala mode," Dean replied, the sparkle back in his eyes.
"I gotcha hon. I'll have that right out to you," the waitress said before heading back to the kitchen.
Sam looked at Dean, shaking his head and smiling ear to ear, his dimples doing overtime. God Dean loved to see that smile. He hadn't seen it much lately and it warmed his heart, making him forget what he wanted to do to the man at the bar.
They sat there waiting for their food, laughing at halfway forgotten memories, Sam usually being the object of the joke. Their food arrived and Dean continued talking and laughing, even with his mouth full. Sam just shook his head and kept his eyes on his plate, preferring not to see Dean's chewed up food sputtering all over the place. They finished, Dean before Sam, paid their bill and left the diner.
They reached the motel and both got out of the impala, still laughing, and headed for their room. Dean unlocked the door and stepped inside first, automatically scanning the room before letting Sam enter. They both plopped down on their respective beds, Sam grabbing the remote and turning on the television. Dean stood up, patting down his pockets, a frown on his face.
"I must have left my phone in the car. I'll be right back," Dean said, heading for the door.
"Yeah, okay," Sam replied, digging in his duffel for his sleep pants and a tee shirt.
Dean stepped out of the room and walked up to the impala, unlocking the door and opening it. His phone rested on the seat and he reached in and grabbed it. He pushed down the lock and closed the door as quietly as he could, then started back to the room. A cold breeze suddenly blew down his neck, sending shivers through his body. He stopped, looking around the parking lot, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary he made to turn back toward the room. A sudden jolt of pain pierced his forehead and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He fell back against the impala and slid down the side, holding his head, his eyes scrunched shut tightly.
As suddenly as the pain and dizziness hit, it left and Dean pulled himself up. He looked around again, confusion in his eyes. 'What the hell' he thought then headed back to the room. He walked into the room and Sam, who was already dressed for bed, looked up from where he was propped against his headboard and smiled. The smile left his face however, when he saw how pale Dean was.
"Hey, are you okay?" Sam asked, his voice laced with concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just got tired all of the sudden," Dean replied, a trace of coldness in his tone. "Turn the TV off will you? I want to go to bed."
"Yeah, sure," Sam said with an air of confusion. He turned the TV off and looked back at Dean. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I said I'm fine Sam! Back off!" Dean spat.
"Okay. I'm sorry," Sam replied, trying to mask the hurt he now felt.
"Just go to sleep Sam," Dean said, grabbing his duffel and disappearing into the bathroom.
Sam lay down, rolling onto his side, his back toward the bathroom and Dean's bed. 'What the hell did I do?' Sam thought to himself, wondering why Dean seemed pissed at him all of the sudden. He closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep, but he knew sleep wouldn't come easy tonight.
Dean stood in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection. "What's wrong with me?" he said silently. When he came into the room and saw Sam look at him, smiling, instead of feeling happy he felt like grabbing Sam and slapping the smile right off his face. It was all he could do to not jump across the bed and strangle the kid. He splashed cold water on his face and changed into his sleeping clothes. He took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.
Dean walked to his bed, glancing at the prone form of his little brother on the other bed. He sat down on his bed, his back to Sam, trying to push the anger he now felt toward Sam away. He lay down and turned off the light, closing his eyes, hoping sleep would come soon.
Sleep did come and along with it, dreams. Bad dreams. Dreams of his mother being killed; his father being killed. But in his dreams, it wasn't the yellow eyed demon that killed his parents. No, it was much worse. In his dreams, the one killing his parents was Sam.
Dean awoke with a start several hours later, sweating profusely and gasping for air. He turned his head and looked at Sam, who was sprawled out on his back, snoring lightly. Dean rose from his bed. Grabbing a pillow in both hands, he approached his sleeping brother.
He knew what he had to do. This had to end once and for all, and he vowed it would end today. He took the pillow and pressed it down over Sam's face. Sam immediately began to struggle, grabbing the strong arms that were trying to smother him. Yes, Dean thought, it would end today, and he pressed the pillow down harder.
There's chapter 1. Please let me know what you think.