Monachopsis

Chapter VII: Welcome To The Hotel California

I was in and out of consciousness while Dean drove. The exhaustion--both emotional and physical--had finally caught up to me. Sleep deprivation wasn't a stranger, but the emotional toll of the past few days had done damage.

However, by the time we pulled into a motel, my fatigue had left me. I didn't know where we were, but I couldn't really bring myself to care. Dean paid using cash, and it wasn't until he came back with a single key that he realized he'd only gotten one room. Out of instinct, he said. I didn't mind much. Mostly, I felt too numb to care.

The hotel room smelled like cheap cleaner and mothballs. Not that I was complaining. The suite was equipped with a futon, which I quickly claimed before the boys could put up some half-baked show of chivalry. I let the two of them take their respective time in the bathroom before I darted in to take a shower. The water pipes groaned like a wounded earthquake, but the pressure was decent and the temperature went up to scalding, so I dealt.

When I exited the bathroom, a cloud of steam followed behind me. The cool air of the room sent shivers up my bare arms and legs, but it was my brothers who drew my attention.

Both of them were in different states of distress. Dean was pacing back and forth anxiously, loading and reloading the clip of his gun. Sam was sitting on one of the twin beds, staring into space, lost deep in thought. Both of them looked up at me when I entered. I clutched the bundle of dirty clothes in my hands, trying to squeeze out the pit sitting in my gut.

"So," I said softly, leaning against the bathroom doorway. "Are we gonna talk about what happened, or . . . what?"

My nonchalance must have surprised them. Sam sat up, furrowing his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," I replied with a shrug. "Come on, let's hear it."

Dean sighed, growing exasperated. He gave me a blank stare. "Hear what, kid?"

I let that one slide. "Oh, come on! The 'who are you really'. The 'Dad would never'; the 'we don't have a sister'. Let's hear the denial!"

I waited expectantly, arms open to embrace the hailstorm of harsh accusations and a fierce battle of beliefs. But all I got was crickets. My brothers stared me like chumps, faces blank and confused. Dean was the first one to speak.

"There's nothing to talk about," he grunted.

My temper flared up like a cobra rearing its head. It was irrational and sudden, but I couldn't help but feel frustrated. I felt the urge to storm out, but I didn't have a key, and asking to be let back in after a tantrum would just be humiliating. So instead, I sighed out the steam in my brain and nodded.

"Okay. Whatever." I walked over to the futon and began making my bed. As I shoved my balled up clothes into my bag, I said, "If we leave early, we'd make it to Fallon before dark."

Silence.

"Fallon?" Sam asked. "Where's that?"

I answered without looking up. "In Texas. Figured if you guys didn't feel like driving at night, you could shack up in the local motel after you dropped me off."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded gruffly.

I took a deep breath and faced them, planting my hands on my hips. "Look, no offense to you guys, but I'm not just gonna sit around and wait for John to call. Now, I left my mother by herself when I took off, and I have no idea if she's alive or not. I need to go home."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, I don't think so."

The roaring frustration in my head was suddenly replaced with steely calm. I glared right into his amused green eyes. "I wasn't asking for your permission, Hot Shot."

"Oh yeah?" He didn't back down. "And how're you gonna get there? Walk? That's nearly twelve-hundred miles."

"If you won't take me, I'll figure it out. I always do."

"Good luck with that, Princess."

"Did you just--" Before I could lunge for his throat, Sam launched from the bed and placed himself between us. He held his arms out to push us back.

"Both of you, calm down, alright?" he said. He tensed. "Dean."

Dean's eyes were brimmed with a mixture of dark amusement and anger. My face was hot with anger, and I had half a mind to push Sam out of my way. I pressed forward, his giant hand enough to cover my breastbone. He turned to me.

"Gray, please," he begged. He turned both hands to me and held them out like a shield. "Just . . . hear me out. Okay?"

I glared at him, but the sincerity in his eyes made me think twice of running for the door. I set my jaw and took a single step back. Sam dropped his arms.

"I know you don't know us," he said gently. "And you have no reason to trust us. But . . . what Dad"--the emphasis he put on the word didn't go unnoticed--"said was true. Whatever's happening is bigger than us. And going back home is exactly what the enemy wants you to do."

"My mother--"

"I know! I know you want to go. But is going back really what she'd want you to do?" he asked. "I mean, she's the one who told you to leave . . . right?"

The truth in his words stung, but it was truth nonetheless. Facing the reality that I couldn't go home nearly brought me to tears. My eyes burned and my vision swam. I blinked my tears away as quickly as they appeared; the last thing I needed was for my brothers to catch me weeping like a child. Instead, I cleared the lump in my throat and looked Sam dead in the eyes. Then Dean.

"Fine," I spat. "But as soon as this thing is over, I'm gone."

Dean stepped around Sam and stuck out his hand. I took it. He looked down at me evenly. "Deal."