Tag to Folsom Prison Blues. RR much appreciated. I will update as soon as possible.
Not a big fan of wincest/slash so there will be none. Sorries.
---
The drive home was painfully silent. Lost in their thoughts, none of them had anything to say. I was a long hunt and all they wanted to do was find a decent motel to crash. The awkwardness finally caught up to Dean. He reached over and pressed the play button, hoping that whatever was in the cassette player would subside the feeling. Killing Moon.Great.
Sam turned his head to the passenger window, looking aggravated, but more thankful that Dean tried to keep from getting too quiet. Even though they deserved a pat on the back after they saved Deacon's prison, it wasn't something they'd normally talk about. He watched trees pass by and wondered where they were heading. He had lost track of time but a stubborn feeling inside him stopped him from looking at the digital clock in the car.
"So…" Sam said, expecting Dean to start a conversation.
"Uhh...So…how about we pull over at the next motel? You tired?" Dean tried to keep his voice calm. He figured that once they got settled in a motel, he could check over his chest, which he could now feel the heat radiating out of, his shirt stuck to his chest from sweating.
"Yea, sounds great," Sam felt kind of upset when he realized the conversation didn't last very long.
They drove past a motel with neon vacancy signs. Dean immediately pulled in. "I'll go check in." He headed for the main, realizing chest was aching more than he could bear. He looked back to see his brother fiddling with something while sitting in the Impala.
---
Inside the office there was an old woman half his size. The room was uncomfortably warm and the smell of medicine was making him gag. She was watching an infomercial with her back turned to him.
Dean coughed, trying to catch her attention politely. Come on lady, turn around! Dean was getting nauseas. He coughed louder and the lady turned around.
"What can I do for you?"
"I'm here to check out a room…two beds," Two beds. If I forgot that…
"That'll be $49.99 a night. Is that alright?"
"Great," He forced a smile and pulled out his wallet. There was a grip of credit cards and his eyes scanned for one he liked. He yanked out Visa card and gave it to her.
The woman looked at the card. "Dustin Bumwhackit?"
Dean looked up at her. All he could do was nod and smile. Fucking Sam. She swiped the card and handed it back to him along with a key. "All done. Hope you feel right at home."
Home? That word slapped him in the face. "Of course." He took the keys and left.
"24!" he yelled at Sam, who was still sitting in the car. Dean slowly made his way to his car to get his stuff.
Sam got out and opened the back trunk. He grabbed his bag and tossed one at Dean, who was still making his way over. The bag hit Dean square in the chest and he groaned heavily.
"You alright?" Sam looked up at his brother. He face was ashy and he looked like he was about to pass out.
"Always," Dean said and headed to their room. He opened the door and switched on the lights. The room was a pale green. The carpet was a pale green. The bed sheets were a shade of pale green. Dean face turned a pale green.
Sam walked in after his brother with their bags. "Whoa," was all that he could manage to slip out as he closed the door behind him.
"Yea, I know..." Dean decided to ignore it. Hell, he was way too tired to have some color throw him off. All he wanted to do was take a shower and go right to sleep. He dropped his bag on the floor and unzipped it. "I'm gonna grab a quick shower." He took some clothes from his bag and threw it over his shoulder.
"Alright," Sam said, already settling into his bed. "I think I'm just gonna go to sleep." He pulled the sheets over the top of his head. "So freaking tired," he muffled under the covers. Sam stretched his lanky frame in the bed and gradually fell asleep.
---
Dean went into the bathroom and locked the door. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and barely recognized himself. Dark circles were already forming under his eyes. Dean quickly remembered the incident in the prison. He carefully took off his leather jacket and let it drop. Dean unbuttoned the collared shirt and pulled it off. He lifted up his damp shirt to reveal his throbbing chest. It looked like a horrible burn with scabs already forming. Of course, it felt much worse than it looked; and it looked pretty bad to start with. He examined more closely. His skin had a cloudy, puss like fluid draining from the wound. Infection. Joy. The edges of the burn were bright red and he could already feel his chest swelling.
Dean started the shower, thinking he'd just clean up his chest and avoid having Sam being all stressed out. He let the shower run awhile before he climbed in the tub, letting the hot water kill his stress.
Can't let Sam find out. I can handle this; Sam has enough to worry about .I-I just won't tell him. He doesn't need to find out.
Although he knew his chest was infected, that was the least of his problems. Deep in his gut, he could feel his heart weakening, struggling. Not again.
---
Dean got out of the bathroom and checked the clock that was sitting on the bed stand. 10:28. He absent-mindedly rubbed his soar chest and shuffled through his bag, looking for some painkillers. Frustrated, he went over to Sam's bag, which was way more organized, and found some in a side pocket. He took 4 and swallowed them dry. Dean climbed into bed, exhausted and turned off the lamp on the nightstand.
TBC...
---
Sorry this is so short. I promise I'll try to make it longer next time. Writing certainly does not come easily and naturally to me.