Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)

Chapter 3: Dream On

SONG: Dream On - Aerosmith

I can't breathe. Not in asthmatic kind've way, where your lungs are shrunken or your airways are closed. Rather in the way of my airways are clogged, thick flakes of ash traveling inside me. Darkening my blood and covering my lungs in a thick coat of black. Turning my veins the color of soot and graying out my skin. I overlook a motel room. My back flat against the ceiling, my H/C falling in front of my face. It's hot. So, so hot. It's what I imagine hell would feel like, burning and waiting to feed on me. Getting to my core by melting my skin first. A feeling of warmth blooms on my stomach, oozing and ebbing off of an oversized shirt and dripping onto a figure below. It's a man, I know that much - but the hair and the flakes of ash in my eyes obstruct my vision. He turns, his head craning up. I can see his mouth gape open and a string of 'no's' leaving his throat.

Then I'm engulfed.

________________

My eyes bolt open, a migraine knocking in between my eyes. I blink a few times, getting acclimated to the familiar surroundings of the Impala. I sit up, craning my neck to both sides - the popping of my neck ringing in my ears.

"Mornin' sleepyhead." I see Dean gazing at me through the rearview, a hint of a smirk behind his eyes. I roll my shoulders back,

"Morning." I mutter, leaning back into the leather - never buckled up, so if we crash...I'm dead. I look out the window, we're surrounded by forests for miles and it's my favorite thing ever. "Y'know, my favorite color is green." Dean looks back at me in the mirror, his fingers tapping the steering wheel. He nods, slight confusion lacing his brows.

"And you're sharing this...why?" He leans back in the driver's seat, his hips shifting. I glance at Dean, surveying his side profile. I don't like how much I admire my best friend's brother. "You like my eyes don't you?" Dean grins, this time turning slightly to look me in the eye. His green eyes sparkling with a certain mischief. I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest.

"Because we're surrounded by it, dipshit." I scoff, looking back out the window. Seeing the slight wind pass through the tall evergreens of Colorado. "We're close to home too." I mutter, more to myself than to Dean, an observation. Dean's head jerks back, real confusion written all over his face now.

"Home? home is in..." He trails off, jaw clenching before he rubs his mouth - something holding him back. I know Dean isn't one to open up to strangers, for christ's sake he's Sam's brother. Sam was sealed up like a tomb before he finally spilled to me. I lick my lips, the burning question of 'where?' lingering on my lips - but I know the answer for him. He may say home is nowhere but he once had a singular place to look forward to.

"Oregon." I decide to clarify, looking back out the window. "We're close to my home." I rub my arms, cold seeping through me. I was stupid and left my hoodie in the trunk; and now I'm paying the price.

"Ah," Dean nods, the conversation falling quiet. There's been a certain stiffness in the air ever since Jess has passed. I know things aren't going to be all sunshine and rainbows, especially not for Sam. I haven't had the proper chance to let myself cry yet either, only having a few minutes every now and then to scramble off to a bathroom and shed a few. I can't take it anymore, Dean walking around us like we're going to break any moment has me going insane. I need him to be an ass again.

"Look, Dean" I lean forward, resting my elbows on the front seat. "Can you please just be a prick again?" Dean's head jerks to face me, brows furrowed.

"What?" He chuckles, one hand dropping from the steering wheel to his lap. I cock my head to properly look at the man speeding through Colorado.

"You're walking on eggshells around Sam and I, it's driving me insane." I look at the road ahead, nothing but trees for miles. The white dashes disappearing underneath the car. "Just be...Dean. Don't pretend to be someone else during this bullshit. As stupid as that sounds. I just, guess, we just...I don't know." I begin tripping over my words, struggling to find them and I end up sounding stupid. Dean licks his lips, a sense of recognition washing over him, his hand grips tighter at the wheel.