Love Without End, Amen

32. Born Under a Bad Sign

"That's it." Dean looked at him, stunned. "Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."

"Okay. Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back, so-" He pulled back the curtain and found a bloody fingerprint on the window. "Hey."

They walked outside the motel. It was daylight, but raining.

"Recognize anything?" Dean asked.

"Not really," Sam admitted as they went towards a parking garage out back. "Wait."

"What?"

"I think I was here."

"You remember?"

"Not really, it just feels familiar, you know?" Dean shrugged and went to the nearest garage. Sam looked over to the second and pointed. "Try that one. Yeah."

Dean tugged at the padlock. "Okay."

"Wait." Sam dug in his pocket and frowned, pulling out a key and gave his brother a significant look.

Dean opened the padlock with the key and raised his eyebrows at Sam. He pulled the garage door open to reveal a filthy, beat-up VW Beetle.

"Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this," Dean said, motioning for his girls to stay back. "Lennon, Simon, stay back."

Sam fidgeted. They went into the garage and opened both doors of the car. Sam was on the driver's side.

He touched the wheel and showed Dean his stained finger. "More blood."

Dean pointed. "Sam. Backseat."

Sam reached down and picked up a blood-stained knife that stuck to the floor of the backseat.

He stared at it. "You think I used this on someone?"

Dean paused. "I'm not thinking anything."

Sam looked around and rubbed the knife handle off on the inside of his jacket.

Dean picked up a pack of cigarettes. "Okay now, this is disturbing. Come on, man, this couldn't have been you. Had to have been someone else, someone who," he sniffed the pack, "smokes menthols."

"Here," Sam said. "Gas receipt. Few towns over."

They made their way to the gas station and the twins stayed in the car.

Dean glanced at the receipt. "All right. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two. You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? God, this looks familiar, déja vú vibes?" Sam shook his head quietly. "Maybe someone inside will remember you. Come on."

They went into the convenience store. The clerk looked up in shock, then anger.

"You," the clerk said. "Outta here now, I'm calling the cops."

"You talking to him?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging it."

"This guy? You're drinking malt liquor?"

"Not after he whipped the friggin' bottle at my head."

"This guy?"

"What, am I speaking Urdu?"

"Look, I'm really sorry if I did anything," Sam apologized.

"Tell your story walkin', pal. Po-po will be here in five."

"Wait, wait, put the phone down. Sam, go wait in the car," Dean said.

"But Dean-"

"Go wait in the car!" Sam sighed and left. "Okay, look, man. I just want to talk to you, that's it. Okay?" The clerk hung up. "Now, when he took off yesterday, where did he go?"