Banner made by the_last_shadow , who deserves an apology because I promised there would be something in this chapter and there isn't! *cowers*
“Not know Sam.” Dean can feel Sam reach out next to him, wanting to comfort, an explanation for this sudden freak out. But its not so sudden. When Dean woke up this morning and found Sam gone, not next to him and the sheets cold, he freaked out. Thinking that Sam had left him. And it scares him how much he needs his brother and sleeping with him can only makes things worse, deepen the bond between them and Dean knows that Sam is going to leave. Sam always leaves him. Always striving for bigger and better things and if, when Sam leaves this time, he doesn't want it to hurt as much at it hurt when Sam left for Stanford. Dean can't take that kind of pain again. The physical ache in his chest, the hollow feeling that something was missing, that he tried to fill with girls, alcohol, hunting and yet more girls. But it only started healing when Jess died and Sam got back into the Impala. And Dean knows he's selfish and its horrible to think that he started healing when his brother started falling apart but he can't help it. He's always needed Sam, needed his Sammy by his side. Sam gives him a reason for going on, for carrying on without Dad. And he can't bear the thought that this is going to end. He knows it will. They can't keep this going forever. Its wrong and illegal and its going to fuck them both up.
“I said not now Sam. Lets just get this over and done with and then we'll talk. Chick flick moments aplenty, ok?” Dean says, trying for levity, pulling the Impala into the motel car park. Sam crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant child who's been told he can't have anymore cookies.
“Yeah, whatever.” He mumbles and is out of the door before Dean can stop him, shoulders hunched as he stalks across the tarmac and disappears inside their room. Their room with one bed. Dean slams his head against the steering wheel. He doesn't want to hurt Sam. God he would rather rip his own heart out than hurt Sam but, yeah he's being selfish again, Dean doesn't want to hurt anymore.
“Sam can we just focus here?” He says, opening the door and not even looking for Sam, cos he knows Sam is going to be locked in the bathroom.
“Sure Dean, whatever you want.” Comes the incredibly sarcastic response through the bathroom door. Dean sighs and fights the urge to go to Sam and get down on his knees and tell him he didn't mean it, that he knows exactly what's going on, tell Sam he needs and beg him not to leave.
Dean rips his tie off in frustration and unbuttons the first couple of buttons on the shirt and lifts it over his head. Sam chooses that moment to walk out of the bathroom. They both freeze and stare at each other. And there is a moment when Dean knows that they both want the same thing, they both want to feel skin against skin. Sam shoves his hands into his pockets in was way that makes Dean know that he's trying to stop himself from reaching out and walks past him. Dean grabs a t-shirt from the top of his duffle and pulls it over his head.
“I'm going to check out the bar. You coming?” He asks. Sam throws himself down on the bed, his side of the one bed. Jesus Christ Dean can't get that out of his mind, one bed.
“No.” Sam says simply. Petulant child again. The bitch face that Dean hates but has been a part of his life so long that if Sam ever decided to stop giving it to him, Dean would be lost. Its part of who Sam is.
“Sammy...” Dean tries, and even to his own ears he sounds tired.
“Its Sam.” Sam responds automatically without even looking up. Sitting with his knees bent up, Dad's journal balanced on his knees and his laptop by his side. Dean stops, listens and all he hears is the whir of the laptop as it powers up and the silence.
“So we're back to this are we?” Back to it's Sam, and awkward silences and not talking and Jesus Dean just wants to run, with Sammy and put all this behind him. Wants things to go back to normal. Although the thought of not being able to kiss Sam has his heart beat speeding up in his chest.
“Looks like.” Sam still hasn't looked at him. And Dean knows this is all his fault, knows he might have messed things up but he felt things were spinning out of control and he's never been good at talking, never been good at getting his point across without hurting someone or punching someone.
“Sam, come on...” Please understand Sammy.
“Go to the bar Dean, get drunk, flirt with tiny girls. I'll be here when you get back.” Dean hears the hurt in Sam's voice, lurking under the harsh tone and the snipe about girls. They haven't talked about that. Haven't actually voiced that Dean doesn't want anyone else. He would spend the rest of his life in the Impala, riding with Sam and not touching him, but he doesn't want anyone else, has never wanted anyone more than he wants Sam. The lingering thought that Sam is going to leave hits him hard.
“Will you?” Sam gives him an off hand nod, one simple nod of his head. And Dean slams the door extra hard as he walks out.
The bar is warm and inviting. Not that its cold outside but the atmosphere in the motel room was frosty enough to make the Sahara Desert freeze right now. Dean can't get the image of Sam staring at him out of his head. The look in his eyes that said please don't walk out of that door. But Dean did, walk out. Leaving Sam with his laptop and leaving Dean cold and frustrated. He wants to talk to Sam, wants to try to explain but doesn't have the faintest idea where to start. Listen Sammy, I love fucking you but this is wrong and its going to destroy us both. Yeah, probably not a good way to start.
“I had a feeling I would see you again.” A familiar voice says at his ear as Dean pulls himself onto a bar stool. He swings around and comes face to face with Mary-Beth. Her round, pretty face smiling widely at him. Dean gets the same shivers down his spin when she runs her hand down his arm.
“Yeah, well we decided to stick around.” Dean says, surreptitiously extracting himself from her touch. “Get you a drink?” He offers. Not because he wants to, he'd rather be back in the motel room, under the covers with Sam, exploring the wide expanse of Sam's chest with his fingers and mouth but Dean can't shake the feeling that Mary-Beth is somehow connected to this job. And the job comes first.
“Sure.” She grins, slipping onto the stool next to Dean's and crossing her legs in a way that is meant to be provocative. “Jack and Coke.” She signals to the barman. He gives Dean a look and Dean orders a whiskey.
“I love a man who drinks whiskey.” Mary-Beth says. There is certainly nothing subtle about this girl. She licks her lips and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “So...you find anything out about what happened to your Uncle Paul?” She asks grabbing at the glass the barman places in front of her and twirling the straw around. Dean swirls the whiskey around his glass, watching the patterns the liquid makes against the glass.
“No. Its a mystery.” Dean shrugs. “Buts it's happened to a couple of guys right?” Mary-Beth nods, swallowing her drink.
“Yeah. Its weird cos they were always really...I dunno, full of life I guess. And then they just give up.” She says. There is a twinkle in her eyes that makes Dean think she knows more than she is letting on.
“You know them all well?” He asks. Mary-Beth shrugs.
“Not really, I've only lived here about 6 months but its a small enough town, everybody knows everybody.”
“Did they get sick? I mean, did the doctors find anything wrong with them?” Mary-Beth swivels in her chair, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Her perfume wafts over Dean. Its strange, smells like flowers and magic and is soothing in an odd way. Dean closes his eyes briefly.
“No. That's the strange thing. None of them did. Perfectly healthy. Not even tired. Just wanted to sleep all the time.” She shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. “Obviously having really good dreams.” Its meant to be an off hand comment but there is something in the tone of her voice. God dammit what is with this girl, Dean thinks. He can't put his finger on what's wrong with her, but her touch makes him shudder, the smell of her hair makes him sleepy and calm and the tone of her voice is strangely menacing. Wait...
“What did you say?” Mary-Beth looks taken aback at his question.
“Obviously having really good dreams.”
“Good dreams...” Dean mutters to himself, fingers against his temples as he tries to dredge up information from his fathers journal. His fathers journal that is currently in Sam's lap. Dammit.
“You ok?” Mary-Beth asks, placing a hand on his arm. Dean jerks away and she steps off her chair and into the space between his legs. She flicks her hair over her shoulder again. Dean is suddenly only aware of her, Her pink lips and the way they part slightly. Her big blue eyes that blink slowly at him. The smell of her hair and the line of her collar bones beneath the barely there, poor excuse for a top that she's wearing. She smiles slowly and dangerously and steps closer, crowding in and reaching up to cup his face. Her breath tickles his lips and he opens his mouth to lick them and she's there. Pressing her lips to his with a hunger that Dean hasn't felt since Sam..Oh holy shit, Sam. Dean tries to push her away but Jesus, she's strong, holding onto Dean with a vice like grip even though it doesn't hurt and he honestly thinks that maybe he isn't trying hard enough to push her away. She pulls back though, only a few millimetres but it gives Dean enough room to breathe out “I don't want this...” against her mouth. She chuckles.
“Yes you do.” And his mind goes blank as she covers his mouth again.
The next thing Dean knows, he's waking up in the car park of the bar, a police officer tapping on the window. Dean squeezes his eyes together and scrubs a hand down his face before he winds the window down.
“You can't sleep here son. Move it along.” The Officer says with a stern look that reads I don't like outsiders in my town. Dean mutters an apology and closes the window. What the hell? A quick glance at his watch tells him that he's been out most of the night. Its close to 3 am now and his head is pounding and his mouth feel furry likes he's been drinking although he's pretty sure he only had one whiskey at the bar with...shit...Mary-Beth.
The thought of her hits him and he's suddenly filled with the need to sleep. A bone deep need that he hasn't felt for anything for a very long time. Desperate and wanting. And yeah, he needs sleep.
His hands shake slightly as he turns the ignition and pulls the Impala out onto the road that goes down to the motel.
His legs are shaking by the time he reaches the motel and slides out of the car and he's pretty sure his whole body is shaking, along with his pounding head as he unlocks the door.
"Dean, where the hell have you been?” Sam is talking as soon as the motel room door opens, voice furious and worried and more than Dean can deal with right now. He pushes two fingers into his temple and rubs a small circle. He's too tired for this. He toes off his boots and climbs into bed without evening looking at Sam.
“Not now Sammy. I just want to sleep.” Dean is too desperate for sleep that he misses the worried and confused look his brother throws him.