Hi and yes, it has been a long time, sorry about that. Sorry for the short chapter but I wanted to get back into the swing of this story so this is what I came up with. I hope to keep the momentum going and get more chapters out sooner than later. Thank you to each of you who have taken the time to read and send me your thoughts, I really appreciate it! :)
"So S'm? What…. happened? Did you get thrown out of the car? Sure you're okay man?"
Damn, I hate that. Sam. I hate when he tilts his head and thinks so hard that those weird crinkles line up in row on his forehead. Shit, I know that look. He's gauging me, probably gonna come over here and talk to me like I am fricken five. Jesus, here we go. Yup, just like damn clockwork. He's giving me the once over, looking me up and down with that over the top concerned gaze of his. He thinks there is something wrong with me. But I'm good, just like always. Hell, as long as his freakishly overgrown self is safe and intact, I'm fricken perfect. That's all that matters.
Great, now he's on his knees staring me in the damn face. What ever happened to privacy dude? Jesus, don't snap your damn fingers in my face, kinda hard not to see you when you're ginormous form is blocking out everything else.
And there it is, look number two. It's his patented 'I think your lying' stare. I'm not. So what, maybe my head has an orchestra blasting away in it; maybe I'm a tad on the unsteady side; maybe my ribs are sore and my stomach has decided to rebel against me, but so what. Just another day in the life. In my life. So, I'll just give him a thumbs up and a firm slap on the shoulder and we can blow this popsicle stand.
Back off man, I can sure as hell get up on my own, I ain't no fricken invalid.
Damn it, when did it get so dark and when the hell did I buy a ticket to the 'let's see how fast we can spin Dean until he passes out' ride. This sucks ass. Ah hell, not Mr. Ground again, this dude is starting to piss me off.
Typical. Stupid, stubborn, pain in the ass brother. He looks like he's gone, oh I don't know, about twenty rounds with a damn werewolf or some shit and still he feels the compulsion and duty to make sure I'm okay. What an idiot. Oh well, why should I suddenly expect anything different. Hell, I'll be seventy and he'll still be putting me ahead of everything else, chasing away all the evils in the world using his damn walker. Huh, that's a good one, as if either of us have a snowball's chance of actually lasting that long.
Time to get my big, concussed out of his freakin gourd brother back to the car so I can patch up his sorry ass again; so he can add yet another scar to his abundantly overstocked collection.
God, his head must hurt like a bitch for him to actually be squinting. Shit, I can almost feel the headache from here. Oh wait, I can, but that's because I have my very own to contend with due to the fact that here I am, out in the middle of the night saving his bacon again, when both of us should be safe and sound and injury free back at the motel.
Okay man, just breathe, put it on the back burner for now cuz by the looks of him, your self-sacrificing brother is about two seconds away from passing out.
I think he can see me but his eyes are looking pretty glazed over. No wonder he doesn't know what's going on. Okay, okay, so he's still got his usual charm and some piss and vinegar left in him, nearly took me out with that death glare just from a snap of my fingers.
Unbelievable. He's fine. Yeah, of course he is. Why wouldn't he be? He just can't give up the act of how he is fine and that this entire situation is fricken dandy. Well alright then bro, suit yourself, we'll see how far you can manage on your own. You wanna show me how in perfect shape you are then go right ahead, I dare you to get up unassisted.
Well shit, even I didn't see that coming. Dean Winchester, defender of the world and his baby brother, face down in the damn dirt. I hope your pride is worth it man.
TBC... Thanks for stopping by and feel free to send me your thoughts if you so wish! :D