Sam’s just starting to forget that there’s anything more to be worried about than the fact that he’s getting hungry when the door swings open. Dean’s on his feet instantly, pushing Sam behind him. The man from before actually stops, because even at just over five feet, Dean’s good at giving off the vibe that he’ll take your arm off if it’s the last thing he does.
“Step back, boy,” the hunter instructs Dean. “Jus’ want a word with yer brother there.”
“Fuck you,” Dean spits. The man looks nonplused, gives Dean another once-over, and reaches for something tucked into the back of his jeans. His hand comes back holding a knife. Sam’s heart is suddenly in his throat, and he may be terrified, but he's not so scared that he’s going to let Dean get hurt because of him.
“Hey,” Sam says, shoving Dean aside an inch and elbowing in front despite his brother’s attempts to keep him back. He sets his jaw and glares at Dean until the older boy eases up, grudgingly allowing Sam to take the lead. “I’m right here, “ Sam says. “So talk. Why did you take us?” He can feel Dean at his back, itching to protect him at the first hint of danger.
The man chews his cheek thoughtfully. “Some things ain’t pleasant, but they’s gotta be,” he says, unhelpfully. “I’m real sorry, boy. Yer daddy shoulda been the one to do this when he found out.”
“You think so?” John asks, suddenly appearing in the doorway.
“Dad!” Dean cries.
“John,” the other hunter exclaims at the same time, clearly surprised. “Wh…”
But whatever he was going to say is lost when John pistol whips him into unconsciousness. “C’mon boys,” he snaps, holding out a hand to Sam. “Get a move on, lets go.”
“Dad, who was that?” Sam asks. “He said…”
“He said a lot of bullshit,” John interrupts. “Get in the car, we’re leaving.”
Sam scrambles over the man’s prone form, wonders briefly what happened to the other man, and finds that he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to be out of that stupid hotel room and all it’s confusing implications.
Dean gives Sam a comforting squeeze when they get to the Impala. “You did good,” he whispers. Sam smiles a little to himself as he slides onto the bench seat, even though his shoulder is still sore.
Re: Filled!
Sam’s just starting to forget that there’s anything more to be worried about than the fact that he’s getting hungry when the door swings open. Dean’s on his feet instantly, pushing Sam behind him. The man from before actually stops, because even at just over five feet, Dean’s good at giving off the vibe that he’ll take your arm off if it’s the last thing he does.
“Step back, boy,” the hunter instructs Dean. “Jus’ want a word with yer brother there.”
“Fuck you,” Dean spits. The man looks nonplused, gives Dean another once-over, and reaches for something tucked into the back of his jeans. His hand comes back holding a knife. Sam’s heart is suddenly in his throat, and he may be terrified, but he's not so scared that he’s going to let Dean get hurt because of him.
“Hey,” Sam says, shoving Dean aside an inch and elbowing in front despite his brother’s attempts to keep him back. He sets his jaw and glares at Dean until the older boy eases up, grudgingly allowing Sam to take the lead. “I’m right here, “ Sam says. “So talk. Why did you take us?” He can feel Dean at his back, itching to protect him at the first hint of danger.
The man chews his cheek thoughtfully. “Some things ain’t pleasant, but they’s gotta be,” he says, unhelpfully. “I’m real sorry, boy. Yer daddy shoulda been the one to do this when he found out.”
“You think so?” John asks, suddenly appearing in the doorway.
“Dad!” Dean cries.
“John,” the other hunter exclaims at the same time, clearly surprised. “Wh…”
But whatever he was going to say is lost when John pistol whips him into unconsciousness. “C’mon boys,” he snaps, holding out a hand to Sam. “Get a move on, lets go.”
“Dad, who was that?” Sam asks. “He said…”
“He said a lot of bullshit,” John interrupts. “Get in the car, we’re leaving.”
Sam scrambles over the man’s prone form, wonders briefly what happened to the other man, and finds that he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to be out of that stupid hotel room and all it’s confusing implications.
Dean gives Sam a comforting squeeze when they get to the Impala. “You did good,” he whispers. Sam smiles a little to himself as he slides onto the bench seat, even though his shoulder is still sore.