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st_andingtallSam and Dean try to figure out what's what after they part ways from the girls.
Of course they had one room. They always had one room. Even if they didn't show up together, they always shared a room. Saved on money, saved on mojo, and it was easier to defend one room than two. So neither Sam nor Dean had protested when the Innkeeper gave them both keys to Room 102.
At least not until he'd said, "You'll have the time of your life!" and then they'd both been like, "Dude!" But it wasn't the first time they'd been mistaken for a couple, and people did leave them alone when they thought they were together, so Sam had shrugged it off and they'd headed for the room.
Once they got there, they realized it was the room that was Time of Your Life, but Sam didn't know whether to feel better or worse about that. Because it was purple and gold and looked like the Church puked Mardi Gras all over it.
It was nice enough, but... He turned to Dean. "At least it's just for the night."
“You sure ‘bout that, dude?” Dean wasn’t sure how Sammy’d ended up dead, or whether this was just something he wanted to see, or if there was something else going on. At least he wasn’t expected to cope by himself, or whatever. But you could be damn sure the first place he went to check was the closets, just in case the previous occupant had, for some unknown reason, left a pair of shoes in there.
What? There were weirder things to leave behind in hotel rooms, especially roadside monstrosities. “The Impala’s not here and unless you wanna try walkin’ to the next town,” if there even was one, “we might be here a while.”
Brows pinching, Sam frowned at Dean's back as he ducked into a closet. "There's got to be a bus or a shuttle or something in the morning. And it's not like we're just gonna sit here until the Impala ghosts in or Ruby comes looking for me."
Since he didn't know what to do with the fact Dean thought he'd just been hit by a truck that hadn't killed him over a year ago, Sam ignored it for now. Eventually, they'd end up talking about it. They always did.
No shoes. Shit. “If there’s somethin’ in the morning we take it, sure. I’d rather move around than not.” Staying still felt way too much like an invite to ‘come get me!’ And sure, there wasn’t much more that could be done to either of them, but who knew what fucked-up stuff was around anyway? “But plan B, dude. If there’s no bus or whatever, we’re either gonna sit tight or try walkin’.”
"Not planning to sit here with my thumb up my ass while the clock's ticking on your deal, dude," Sam bit out and then dropped to sit at the end of the bed. "Plan B is try walking and plan C is summon Ruby and yell until she gets us out of here."
"Uh huh." No arguing on plan B, that was something, but Dean had other questions. That didn't involve where to get a pair of shoes since hell if he was gonna wander the world barefoot like a hippie. "Two questions. One, what deal? An' two, who's Ruby?"
Well, shit. Sam rubbed a hand over his face and said, "One, the deal you made with a crossroads demon to save my life. Like a year after you got t-boned by the semi, which is why this is so fucked up. Two is an argument I don't feel like having. Leave it at she's a chick I met not long ago."
“A chick who can be summoned.” Which severely limited the nature of the chick, but it was a fight they could have later. Especially since Dean had other questions. “What was the deal exactly?”
"Your soul for my life. One year. And if you try to break the deal, I die." Which meant Sam had to be the one to break the deal. "I was just--" His mouth quirked at the corner in an uncharacteristic smirk. "--negotiating with the crossroads demon before I got here."
Dean considered for a few seconds. “Actually sounds like a pretty good deal to me, dude. Fair and shit.”
"Dude, don't even start with me again." They'd been having that argument since Dean told him. "Because then I'm gonna have to remind you that you bitched for months about Dad giving up his soul for you."
“He did what?” That didn’t sound like Dad at all! Sure, if it’d been Sammy all brain-smushed in a hospital bed, but not Dean. Dad staying alive with the Colt would be more important than Dean, for sure. “The difference is that that’s a fucking stupid deal. Nobody’d think it’s close to even.”
"Maybe I am dead. This is my punishment. To listen to you tell me over and over again that Dad's life and mine are worth more than yours," Sam growled and scowled, brows furrowing as he slammed his arms across his chest. "Stuff it, Dean. Seriously."
“Okay, without that, dude. Come on. When I die I’m goin’ to hell anyway, an’ even if you’re right and I’m not actually dead now that still means a year’s probably pretty generous. Get myself killed before then easy, no deal involved. So all I put up was a firm date on what’s gonna happen anyway, and you get to live. That’s pretty good.” It was obvious that his life was lower on the ladder than Dad and Sam, but Sam appreciated logic, right? “Anyway. You actually get an answer from the crossroads demon before you shot it?”
Sam rolled his eyes, mostly to avoid letting Dean see how much this conversation fucked him up every time they had it. "Yeah, pretty good. Whatever. An' yeah, she said she couldn't break the deal and wouldn't tell me who could. So I shot her with the Colt for being a smartass."
Dean laughed. Sammy sometimes had issues killing things that needed killing, but other times he was hardcore as anything. “Nice one, dude. One less crossroad demon whatever happens. Hey, you think the hotel shop’s got shoes?”
Of course they had one room. They always had one room. Even if they didn't show up together, they always shared a room. Saved on money, saved on mojo, and it was easier to defend one room than two. So neither Sam nor Dean had protested when the Innkeeper gave them both keys to Room 102.
At least not until he'd said, "You'll have the time of your life!" and then they'd both been like, "Dude!" But it wasn't the first time they'd been mistaken for a couple, and people did leave them alone when they thought they were together, so Sam had shrugged it off and they'd headed for the room.
Once they got there, they realized it was the room that was Time of Your Life, but Sam didn't know whether to feel better or worse about that. Because it was purple and gold and looked like the Church puked Mardi Gras all over it.
It was nice enough, but... He turned to Dean. "At least it's just for the night."
“You sure ‘bout that, dude?” Dean wasn’t sure how Sammy’d ended up dead, or whether this was just something he wanted to see, or if there was something else going on. At least he wasn’t expected to cope by himself, or whatever. But you could be damn sure the first place he went to check was the closets, just in case the previous occupant had, for some unknown reason, left a pair of shoes in there.
What? There were weirder things to leave behind in hotel rooms, especially roadside monstrosities. “The Impala’s not here and unless you wanna try walkin’ to the next town,” if there even was one, “we might be here a while.”
Brows pinching, Sam frowned at Dean's back as he ducked into a closet. "There's got to be a bus or a shuttle or something in the morning. And it's not like we're just gonna sit here until the Impala ghosts in or Ruby comes looking for me."
Since he didn't know what to do with the fact Dean thought he'd just been hit by a truck that hadn't killed him over a year ago, Sam ignored it for now. Eventually, they'd end up talking about it. They always did.
No shoes. Shit. “If there’s somethin’ in the morning we take it, sure. I’d rather move around than not.” Staying still felt way too much like an invite to ‘come get me!’ And sure, there wasn’t much more that could be done to either of them, but who knew what fucked-up stuff was around anyway? “But plan B, dude. If there’s no bus or whatever, we’re either gonna sit tight or try walkin’.”
"Not planning to sit here with my thumb up my ass while the clock's ticking on your deal, dude," Sam bit out and then dropped to sit at the end of the bed. "Plan B is try walking and plan C is summon Ruby and yell until she gets us out of here."
"Uh huh." No arguing on plan B, that was something, but Dean had other questions. That didn't involve where to get a pair of shoes since hell if he was gonna wander the world barefoot like a hippie. "Two questions. One, what deal? An' two, who's Ruby?"
Well, shit. Sam rubbed a hand over his face and said, "One, the deal you made with a crossroads demon to save my life. Like a year after you got t-boned by the semi, which is why this is so fucked up. Two is an argument I don't feel like having. Leave it at she's a chick I met not long ago."
“A chick who can be summoned.” Which severely limited the nature of the chick, but it was a fight they could have later. Especially since Dean had other questions. “What was the deal exactly?”
"Your soul for my life. One year. And if you try to break the deal, I die." Which meant Sam had to be the one to break the deal. "I was just--" His mouth quirked at the corner in an uncharacteristic smirk. "--negotiating with the crossroads demon before I got here."
Dean considered for a few seconds. “Actually sounds like a pretty good deal to me, dude. Fair and shit.”
"Dude, don't even start with me again." They'd been having that argument since Dean told him. "Because then I'm gonna have to remind you that you bitched for months about Dad giving up his soul for you."
“He did what?” That didn’t sound like Dad at all! Sure, if it’d been Sammy all brain-smushed in a hospital bed, but not Dean. Dad staying alive with the Colt would be more important than Dean, for sure. “The difference is that that’s a fucking stupid deal. Nobody’d think it’s close to even.”
"Maybe I am dead. This is my punishment. To listen to you tell me over and over again that Dad's life and mine are worth more than yours," Sam growled and scowled, brows furrowing as he slammed his arms across his chest. "Stuff it, Dean. Seriously."
“Okay, without that, dude. Come on. When I die I’m goin’ to hell anyway, an’ even if you’re right and I’m not actually dead now that still means a year’s probably pretty generous. Get myself killed before then easy, no deal involved. So all I put up was a firm date on what’s gonna happen anyway, and you get to live. That’s pretty good.” It was obvious that his life was lower on the ladder than Dad and Sam, but Sam appreciated logic, right? “Anyway. You actually get an answer from the crossroads demon before you shot it?”
Sam rolled his eyes, mostly to avoid letting Dean see how much this conversation fucked him up every time they had it. "Yeah, pretty good. Whatever. An' yeah, she said she couldn't break the deal and wouldn't tell me who could. So I shot her with the Colt for being a smartass."
Dean laughed. Sammy sometimes had issues killing things that needed killing, but other times he was hardcore as anything. “Nice one, dude. One less crossroad demon whatever happens. Hey, you think the hotel shop’s got shoes?”
