Chapter 10 - Dean

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Rolling my sore shoulders, I step outside. My eyes sting in the sudden sunlight and I recoil, bringing a hand up to shield my face. When my pupils finally adjust, I lower my hand and start walking towards the office of the motel, hoping to find some sort of vending machine. 

I’m only a few doors down from our room when I stop short and turn around, frowning at the silver Camaro parked before me. It itches at me, prodding at a memory I can’t quite bring to the front of my mind. Shaking my head, I turn back around and walk to the office. I edge around the desk, hoping that the dude who runs the motel won’t wake up anytime soon.

The only thing worth getting out of the two puny machines is water, and I get two bottles of the overpriced stuff. I’m walking back past the desk when I notice the red spray spattering the wall, which I couldn’t see from my angle when I walked in. 

Slowly I step closer to the counter, peering over the edge. The desk guy is on the floor, huge gashes running down his body, his face and neck gouged deeply. The carpet around him is absolutely soaked in blood, turned a sickly red-brown-purple. “Son of a bitch.” I mumble, backing away from the mess. 

“I didn’t think we were chasing anything like this.” I growl to myself as I rush back to the room. Sam bolts upright in bed as I burst through the door.

“Dean!” He grumbles, then notices my face. “What is it?”

I shake my head, pulling the door closed. “I don’t know, man, the desk clerk is ripped to shreds in there.”

Sam clenches his jaw and gets to his feet. “Hellhound?”

“It must be, most things don’t rip people up like that.” I gulp down the rest of my water and toss the other bottle to Sam, making a beeline for the mini fridge and the beer that sits inside.

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