Chapter
4
Sam had seen Dean pull out his wallet when he paid and signed in at
the
motel’s front desk. He was slipping his wallet back in his pocket when
Sam
grabbed it. “Hey, let me see that! You have a platinum Amex card.”
“Yeah, I do.” Dean took the wallet back and slipped it into his
jeans. He
lifted his duffle bag and began walking to the room. “What?” he said as
he felt
his brother staring at him.
Sam was too curious. He had seen Dean’s house and was wondering
about his
income. “Dean, how much do you make?”
“Enough, Sam,” The older
“No, I’m good-it’s just the house, the horses and the platinum card.
. .”
Sam followed his brother to room 215.
Dean chuckled and took out the pass key, sliding it into the door
lock, with
a click the light turned green and they entered. “They’ll give one of
these to
anyone.”
“Yeah, right,” Sam answered, knowing that an application had to be
completed
and the fee was over three hundred dollars per year.
Dean had dropped his bag on the bed, and unzipped it, then noticing
that his
brother was still staring at his back he replied. “Sammy, I do well
enough and
it’s not like I spend it.”
Sam sighed as he lay down on the opposite bed, and stared at the
stained
ceiling. “Why are we staying here?” The room was sparsely furnished
with two
beds, a desk and a television set.
Dean looked around the room. “There’s nothing wrong with this place.”
As a first year law associate, Sam was making a great salary, and
was
looking at a bonus at the end of the year. He has promised himself no
more
roadside motels. “Dean, we can afford a little better, actually a whole
lot
better than this.”
Dean placed his clothes on the desk in a neat pile. “Gee, Sammy, and
what-have the concierge at the Ritz clean the guns too?” Sam replied
with a
hearty laugh. Dean didn’t think the comment was that humorous. “What
are you
laughing at?”
Gasping for a moment, Sam composed himself, folding his arms behind
his head
and relaxing back against the pillow. “I didn’t think there would be a
day
where you would use the words Ritz and concierge in the same sentence.”
“Bitch,” Dean smirked. “I’m going to take a shower.” The older
brother
slipped off his t-shirt, balled it up and threw it at Sam.
Sam removed the shirt from his head, and was about to throw it back
at his
brother, when he noticed his brother’s back. “Dean?”
“What?” Dean had his back turned to Sam as he retrieved his shaving
kit.
Sam propped himself up on the bed. “I guess I’m curious-what did you
come up
against?”
Dean looked over his shoulder. “A little bit of this and a little
bit of
that-nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Sam noticed the new scars on Dean’s torso. God, guilt was becoming
quite a
companion. If he had been there then maybe Dean wouldn’t have gotten
hurt. Sam
sighed, thinking of the three years he’d lost with his brother. “Daniel
said
you had been hurt.”
Dean crossed his arms, self-conscious over the scars that Sam
noticed.
“Jesus, how long did you guys talk for?” Dean knit his brows together.
“It must
have been quite the chick flick moment.”
“So you were hurt before?” Sam gestured to a ropey three inch scar
on Dean’s
side.
“You were listed as my
next of kin and
since you never got a phone call then I guess I was fine.”
There was the
time when Daniel wanted to call Sam. Dean had convinced him that the
injury
hadn’t been that serious. He could survive being on his own. Not to
mention, a
hospital stay was far better than sewing yourself up in the bathroom of
a dingy
hotel. But Dean couldn’t live with his brother seeing him hurt and
vulnerable.
With that explanation, Dean went into the bathroom to take a shower,
and end
the conversation.
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