Oregon: Random Motel

They had been driving for about eight hours solid, with a quick stop for food a few hours in. Dean was getting a little tired, though it was nothing compared to the previous night, and he had slept in quite late in the morning. They had not really talked since they left Forks, with Dean's music being the only thing filling the silence.

It was getting close to midnight, and as much as he had wanted to carry on driving into the night, it was probably a better idea to get some sleep now, so they could set off early in the morning. They only had about another eight hours left, anyway. If they headed off by about eight then they should be back before it got late, and Dean would be able to make a head start on the journey back.

Dean went to lie down on his bed. There was no point staying up late tonight. There was no research to be done, and the earlier he went to sleep, and the earlier he could get up to get Sam back to Stanford and head back to Forks.

Sam didn't say a word to Dean, still, as they got to the motel. It was the usual, worn down, dirty kind that was cheap. At least it was only for a few hours until they got back on the road.

When he finally sat down on the bed, he didn't bother going to sleep, staying up on his laptop, thinking that the excessive typing might annoy Dean since he still hadn't written that paper yet, which was meant to have been done days ago.

Dean tried to get to sleep. He tried, but he didn't have any luck. Sam's incessant typing was putting a stop to any notion he might have had over sleeping. He tried turning over, facing away from Sam, but the sound was just as annoying. Why was Sam still up, anyway? He knew they needed to be up in the morning, and whatever it was he was doing now, he could surely have done in the car.

""Would you put it away, Sam?" Dean groaned, after a few more minutes of putting up with it. Sam did not sound like he was going to be coming to an end any time soon, and this was only going to amount to less sleep for the both of them. "Some of us want to get sleep round here," he added, turning back over to glare at Sam.

Sam paused with the typing and rolled his eyes at Dean. He shut the laptop and placed it under the bed. There was no point in irritating Dean any further. He wasn't going to change his mind, and annoying him would only make him want to carry on with the case even more.

So, he actually went to sleep. About half an hour later, though, he got out of bed, walked to the center of the room and just stood there, staring at the ceiling. A long shadow cast across the floor where he was standing in front of the window.

It was taking Dean a while to get to sleep. Just as he was beginning to drift off he heard the sound of something shuffling about in Sam's direction. He cracked an eye open, and saw his brother standing in the middle of the room, looking up. It was a bit weird.

"What are you doing?" he asked Sam, raising his voice so it was loud enough to travel to where Sam was stood. He wasn't going to be able to get to sleep with Sam like this. Having his giant of a brother standing there was a little off putting, and slightly creepy since he did not appear to be really doing anything.

Sam said nothing, not able to see the reality - only the fire on the ceiling, burning. He continued to stand there, not hearing Dean at all, or moving.

As the fire licked to the walls, he watched - he could only watch.

"Sam?" Dean called again, he remained standing there, apparently ignorant to what Dean was saying. He was probably sleep walking, by the looks of it. He was clearly not awake, so there was little else it could be.

Dean hauled himself out of bed, and walked over to Sam.

"Come on, dude," Dean said, walking up to Sam, grabbing hold of his arm and giving him a light shake, "time for bed."

"No." Sam whispered. "No."

He kept on starring at the ceiling. "It's all my fault. All my fault." he didn't move, not letting Dean pull him away.

"Come on, man," Dean said, tugging on Sam's arm, trying to get him to go back to bed. This was seriously weird, Sam getting these nightmares every single night when they were on the road, hunting, when apparently he had not gotten any beforehand. It was starting to freak Dean out. He knew that he would definitely have to keep close tabs on Sam once he was back at Stanford.

"It's gunna happen to everyone." Sam continued, unblinking. "And Dean's next on the list."

He shut his eyes, quickly shaking his head from side to side and looking back down. "No..." he said louder than before. "No, don't... don't!"

Dean frowned. Since when had he featured in Sam's nightmares? It had always been Jess that he had been mentioning afterwards. Never him. What the hell was going on in that head of Sam's?

"Sam, wake up, man, please," Dean grabbed hold of Sam's shoulders, abandoning his attempts at dragging Sam over. He tried shaking harder, with more force. What the hell could be the reason behind these nightmares? The only thing that Dean could think of was their hunt, but they had hardly seen anything traumatic. He really couldn't think of any reason behind their sudden onset.

The fire burned away leaving the dirty old motel room as Sam opened his eyes, taking a breath. He swayed slightly on his feet, taking a step backwards and then he blinked a few times, looking around the room, at the ceiling and then at Dean.

"Crap." he muttered, realising he must have been having another nightmare.

Sam seemed to have returned to the world of the living, and Dean let his arms drop as Sam readjusted.

"You sure you haven't been having these before?" Dean asked, seeing as the nightmares were occurring so frequently it would be strange if they hadn't, even if Sam had confirmed they hadn't happened before.

Sam was still angry at Dean. "Why would you care?" he said coldly, turning around and crossing the room so he had his back to him.

"You're not gunna make it."

Dean froze. Was Sam really going to start up on that again? The whole vampire thing, that was Dean's choice, and presuming that he was going to die was really not much appreciated.

"What are trying to say?" Dean asked, his voice cold as he stared at the back of Sam's head, "And don't you start on me for not caring. You're the one who friggin' abandoned me and dad."

"Oh don't start guilt tripping on me." Sam turned around. "At least I didn't kill myself!"

What Dean was doing was suicide. There was enough evidence to prove that. He didn't understand - he wouldn't understand.

"I'm not- what the hell has this got to do with anything," Dean shook his head, rubbing at his jaw frustratedly, "Can't you just drop it?"

This was getting ridiculous. He was only asking if Sam was sure he hadn't had any nightmares before all this, and know they were both laying in on each other. It was ridiculous.

"You're going to go kill yourself, and you think I'm just going to drop it?" Sam laughed sarcastically. "I thought that maybe, just maybe there'd be a thin chance that'd you'd've changed in the past four years, but you haven't. You're exactly the same - trying to be noble."

Sam lowered his voice, bitterly. "You think this will save dad? It won't."

Dean glared at Sam, "Don't you bring dad into this," Dean said, because really, Sam hadn't been the one there when he went missing. Sam didn't understand how terrified he was of losing their father for good, "This is the closest to a lead on him I've got, and I'll be damned if I don't investigate it."

His expression hardened, "Why are you so bothered about me, anyway?" his voice gradually getting colder, "You left us. What right have you got to care now?"

Sam hesitated. Should he tell him the truth? That lately everything had felt so stable and then suddenly it seemed to be slipping. That everything might just go away even further? That he felt everything was going to go wrong?

"Doesn't matter." he muttered, sitting down at the end of the bed.

Dean opened his mouth, as if to continue the argument, but as Sam sat down on the bed, apparently giving up on it, Dean shut it. If Sam was letting it drop, then he was hardly going to complain.

Dean went over to his own bed a few seconds later, not looking at Sam. He had kind of dealt a low blow there, bringing the Stanford thing back into it. Sam was obviously just concerned, and it was unfair of him to question that, knowing that he would be the same if their circumstances were swapped.

Sam stayed up for about an hour, watching a spider make it's way across the ceiling and down the wall onto the floor, only just able to make it out in the darkness. He glanced at the clock - it was only three. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep now.

He glanced over at Dean who seemed to be asleep, so he got up and decided to go for a walk outside to clear his head from the stuffy fumes of the room that were still angrily floating around.

Dean turned over in his sleep, not waking up as Sam left the room. It had taken him a while to get to sleep after their argument, having been kept awake thinking about Forks and the whole Sam going back to Stanford thing.

Sam walked for a while, staying close to the motel so he would be able to find his way back. He found a wall and just sat there, not having any huge desire to get back. By tomorrow night he would be back in Standofrd and would probably never see Dean again.

It would be normal. What he always wanted... wasn't it?

Dean woke up at about six. It was not light yet, the sun having yet to come up. Dean made no effort to get up for a few minutes. It was still early, and really, he'd rather be asleep.

After a while he cracked open an eye, vision blurry. His eyes snapped open as he saw that Sam was not in his bed. What the hell? Where could he have gone?