SPN Short Stories

Rainy Afternoon

The rain is pouring down on the window; I stare at the glass but my thoughts drift to other things, mainly the contents of the day.
This morning, my friend Cassiel and I had been discussing the best way to flirt. I had told her to make analogies. For example: "Your hair is as lovely as the sunset." But she has some issues, shall we say. She is socially awkward and doesn't really understand humans. Maybe it's because she's an angel. But Cass decided to interpret my advice by coming up to me at lunch and saying, "Delaney, you are the back to my chair." She decided to use my full name even though she knows I prefer to be called Dean. I wrongly assumed she was joking and replied, "And you are the back to mine, Cass." This led to much strangeness when we learned that Sam and Bobby, whose given names are Samantha and Roberta, where in the other room, listening in on our conversations and whispering about something called "Destiel." Apparently, it's a fictional relationship between Cass and I. And yes, it is very fictional.
As I'm sitting on my bed, still reminiscing into the past through the window, Samantha walks into the room. Apparently, she came back early from gallivanting with Gabriel. (I made up a relationship between those two that I believe not to be fictional. I call it "Sabriel"). Sammy sits down next to me. I feel the bed shift beneath her weight, causing me to rise an inch higher. I told her about the case I had found. It was a djinn: hard to kill, but not impossible.
"This djinn creature is a real tough sonuvab*tch. You need a silver knife dipped in lambs blood to kill it." Bobby had said after she had called me an idjit several times this morning when I told her about the case.
I recounted to Sammy what dad's journal said, "Dad says that it poisons people with a single touch, causing reality-altering hallucinations of a person's deepest desires."
The case was in Lexington, Kentucky, the next town over. Sammy and I agreed that we should leave in the morning at around seven am. I send Sam off to the nearest grocery store to get supplies for dinner.
"Don't forget the pie," I call after her as she shuts the door to the motel room we're staying in.
Glancing around, I take in all the details, comparing it to the millions of other cheap motel rooms we've stayed in. This motel doesn't have the same musty smell that most of the other ones do. Although, I did find some mold in the corner, so maybe the room isn't that much better than the others.
Lying on my back now, I stare at the ceiling, waiting for Sam to get back with the food. Remembering the food he got last time (lettuce, kale, and some other healthy and disgusting foods I don't care to learn the names of), I shudder and text her to get some pie (in case she didn't hear me earlier) and some whisky.
Thinking about it, Sam is just so... healthy. I mean, he only eats salads and other rabbit foods. And she's always out jogging. I understand it healthy for you, but God, at what cost?
Still entranced by the swirling pattern on the ceiling, I am surprised when Cass pops in, practically on top of me (interpret that how you will *wink, wink).
"Cass," I say, "we've talked about this. Personal space?" Cass apologizes and takes a step back.
Before I can say anything else, she's already lying on Sam's bed with her arms stretched to the edges in the shape of a "t". Her trench coat lies around her almost as if suspended by water. I notice her gaze following as I pace around the room and tell her about the new case in Lexington.
Then, I ask her what she plans to do while we're gone. Before she can answer, Sammy bursts in, carrying as many plastic bags as physically possible. I make a silent "yes!" when I see that Sam not only got pie, but two whole packs of Oreos.
Cass says she has a case she's working on with Bobby, and leaves to go to the room next door where Bobby is doing research. Probably with a beer in her hand.
Sam starts taking off her canvas jacket when her hair gets caught in the zipper. I burst out laughing, remembering all the times we had fought about the excessive length of her hair.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow! Dean! Help me! It's not funny!" Sammy whines.
I get up to help and quickly quiet my laughter because even though I'm older, she's several inches taller, and she won't hesitate to attack me despite all the lessons on "sisterly manners" that Bobby tried to teach us. With my help, her hair soon becomes untangled and now with Cass gone, it's peacefully silent. Sammy and I lay down and I slowly drift to sleep as I mentally laugh about this morning.