Solidarity

Damsel In Distress

"Sam, you better hurry up and get in this car," Dean mumbled to his brother through the closed window of his prized Impala. He was too tired to exert the effort it would reguire to actually roll the window down, so he just silently seethed, sinking into the seat as his brother collected the last of their things from the hotel room. They had been on a bit of a hunting spree recently. There hadn't been a dull moment in about three months. Dean chuckled to himself as he thought. Always a damsel in distress in need of a good dick and some table salt. He took a sip from his dented flask, looking up as Sam finally slipped into the passanger's seat. 

"Ready?" Sam asked, pushing a hand through his long, greasy hair. The boy really was in need of a hair cut. It was down to his shoulder's for christ sake. What did he think this was? Some kinda college fratenity for douche bags?

Dean decided to voice these thoughts. "Question. Say there was a vampire running at you. Full speed." He started the engine and pulled out of the empty lot. "Do you think you would have time to brush your bangs aside before he made you his lunch, Sally?" He wiped under his nose. 

Sam rolled his eyes, reclining his seat carefully and moving his computer to the back seat. "Leave my hair alone Mr. Ivy League." An Ivy Leage is another name for a crew cut that's worn long instead of military short. Google it. It's a thing I promise. 

Dean sighed and shrugged, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of some random song that had been stuck in his head for a few day's too long. "Just lookin' out for you Sammy. You know this." They drove passed the Delaware state sign, twelve miles per hour above the posted speedlimit. They didn't have a real destination in mind, but Dean wanted a change in scenery and Sam obliged. They had been working a case in upstate New York when Sam had read about some grosome murders that occured in Delaware. The victims had all been part of the same family and they were aparently, as the article put it, 'so violently disfigured, that it looked as though seven bears had a go at them.' That was enough to spark the brother's intrest, so there they went down to Delaware. Turned out it wasn't even one bear, but rather an alcholic Japanese revenge spirit shoved into a bottle of good Saki. It was a long story... "So did you find anything else interesting?" Dean asked Sam after about half an hour of silence. "Any freaky-deaky murders or hot babes gone missing?" 

Sam shook his head, yawning and closing his eyes. "I havent picked up on anything worth checking out, no." He opened his eyes and looked over his brother. "I was thinkin maybe we could take this break to go visit Bobby? We should go see how the poor bastard is holding up."

Dean nodded and turned onto the express way. "Sounds good to me. I could use a break and some of that famous vintage Singer whiskey Bobby's got layin around." He smirked and leanded bacl in the seat a little to stretch his back, rolling his neck as he shifted straight once more. "Iowa here we come." Bobby had lived in that old junk yard for as long as Dean could remember. Since before Sam could even talk. Dean destinctly could remember his Dad dropping him off at the front of Bobby's lot when he had to go out alone on a hunt. He would kneel down and take the boy's shoulders, gripping them gently while Sam wandered off to play in the sandy dirt. 

"Dean," The man would mumble, his voice deep and authoritative. "I wont be back for a few day's. I left Sam's things in the bag over there. You watch him. If anything tries to kill you there's weapons in the bag too. And you'll have Bobby." Yeah... Dean always had Bobby. Bobby was more of a Dad then John Eric Winchester ever was. 

Dean blinked slowly as he came back to his senses, the day dream fading away to reveal the road and clear country skies. Dean sighed and rubbed his face, shifting in his seat once more and turning up the radio to an ungodlyl volume. 

Sam groaned, his eyes shooting open. "Can't you see I'm trying to sleep!" He complained, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting the radio off. "What is wrong with you!" 

Dean frowned and turned the music back on, turning the volume down to more of an acceptable rate. "Jesus Grandma, calm your tits," he mumbled, sniffing and rubbing his stubbled Jaw. "You wanna pull over and get lunch or something? Maybe we'll get some service so we can call Bobby and tell him we're swingin' by."

Sam nodded and sat up, fixing his chair accordingly. "I'm just so sick of burgers, Dean. Find something different. Sure enough about an hour later they found themselves in front of an old fashioned burger place.

"Look on the sign, Sam," Dean chuckled as he stepped out of the car.  "Say's they have chicken and salads too." He slammed the door behind him, pulling out his cellphone and checking if they had signal. Upon finding that they did, he dialed Bobby's number, listening to it ring before it went to voicemail. Dean cleared his throat before begining. "Hey Bobby its Dean. Sam and I are headed your way weather you like it or not. Call me back when you figure out how to use your telephone, Gramps." He rolled his eyes and flipped his phone closed, pushing it deep into his pocket and walking with Sam into the diner. "Hey uh," he leaned in to read the waitress' name tag as they slid into a booth, "Sara. I'll have a bacon cheese burger and a uh-a Pepsi or coke, whichever one you have." he nodded and motioned to Sam. 

"A salad and a glass of water would be fine, Thank you," Sam sighed, watching the robust woman walk away to relay their orders. Sam tapped his foot, leaning forward after a minute to talk to Dean. "So how do you think Bobby is doing? We havent seen him in... in years." 

Dean shrugged and leaned back as Sam leaned forward. "Bobby is always fine," he chuckled. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see us," His voice was dripping in its quintecential sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. "I think he finds us scarier then a pack of wearwolves." He chuckled, nodding to Sara as his drink was set down in front of him. "Least he wont feel guilty if he kills the wolves."

Sam rolled his eyes, finding it in himself to laugh a little. He wasn't as close to Bobby Singer as Sam was, but he still concidered him family. He was like.... a crazy Uncle. Their food came a few minutes later and both of the brother's ate in silence, enjoying the mediocre small town meal. It wasn't long before they were on the road again, however, passing by the bleak, mentally draining scenery. 

"Tree." Dean identified. "Tree. Tree. Bush. Tree. Yellow sign." His eyes were pinned to the windsheild as he played this little game with himself. 

Sam's hand shot out, covering Dean's running mouth. "Shut up," he mumbled. "Before I cut your tongue out." He looked out the front window regardless, following Dean's eyes. He paused when he saw a gap in the dense side forest. "Wait Wait pull over..." 

Dean had the same idea and was already parked before Sam could finish his sentence. The gap wasn't just caused by a fallen tree or someone pushing through the thicket. It looked as though a whole steam engine had blown a giant hole in the foilage. "What in the hell..." He mumbled, his brows furrowed together. "What do you think it was?" 

Sam shook his head and pushed forward, equally as confused as his older brother. He was even more puzzled when just a little way's through the trees they came across a giant cleared circle, similar to something you see in Alien movies. And in the middle of the clearing in a partially dried up stream lay a bloody man, struggling to stand up in the mud.