Word of the Week: grim

Word Count: 200 it's a double! Yay!

"This is looking pretty grim, Sammy," Dean said as he pulled past the dark pharmacy. "Seriously, we're in a dry county and every pharmacy is closed up tight for the night."

When Sam didn't say anything, Dean cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna get us a room somewhere, we'll have to do this the old fashioned way," Dean said, not missing the way Sam's breath hitched, the sound catching his ears from the backseat.

Dean took his silence as an agreement and pulled the car into the first hotel they passed. Dean was out of the car instantly, but not before he heard Sam mumbled something about calling Bobby. Dean didn't respond, knowing Sam was to out of it to remember that he himself has sent Bobby heaven bound.

Not an hour later, Sam had finally passed out on the ugly hotel bedspread, while Dean struggled to keep hold of the needle and thread, both slick with blood. Dean tried his best to keep his mind on the job before him, but Sam's words kept rattling around in his head.

He wanted someone to call. Someone who would answer at any hour. Someone who cared about them.

He wanted Bobby too.

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