Going Live- A Destiel Fanfic

Heavy Tears and Three Words

|11:42 P.M.| ~Almost everything you've been waiting for~

The hallways of the hotel are ominously empty and silent. Despite what the outside and lobby of the hotels look like, this is the complete opposite. Long, old pathways that could lead me into oblivion. The walls are bare and uninviting, a place where nightmares bunk for summer camp.

I'd be completely opposed to spending even another moment here if it weren't for Dean quickly trudging through the pale lighted halls. His own bags take the space of both his hands, stealing the place that mine had accompanied just hours ago. I've never been so jealous of an inanimate object.

"Here we go," Dean says stopping in front of a brown, wooden door marked with the numbers 1967. They are suspiciously familiar however I cannot place where I have seen them before. Most likely just a random detail that I have pulled from my subconscious.

He places the plastic key card to the door scanner and waits for the light to flash green. The change in color is followed by a small, reminding chorus of beeps that notifies us of our home for the next two nights.

Dean steps precautiously inside and I follow closely behind. Once inside, I inspect the room. White walls with black trim. Framed photos of flowers hang upon the walls, attempting to seem inviting despite the yellowing lights that cast an eerie glow throughout the room. There is a dresser that houses enough room for a single pair of pants and the Holy Bible. The spare room is consumed by a mini-fridge that is about as cold as a Florida swimming pool mid-May.

"Well, this is homey!" Dean states with a sarcastic tone edging into his voice as he tosses his bag of clothes onto the single queen-sized bed. 'Wait... single queen-sized bed. SINGLE?'

"There's only one bed! What the hell! We booked a room with two!" I complain, which could be passed off as a whine since I'm extremely tired.

"Fuck. I bet the receptionist just gave us one since she was a fan," he grumbles. "I'll call down and ask for an exchange."

A pit finds it's way into my stomach as I realize that won't end well. "You can't do that."

"Why not? I'll just ask for another room if you wanna take this one," he offers, reaching for the phone to call down.

There are two reasons that won't work and if I agree there's no saying how long it will take me to work up the nerve to tell him again. "If you call down, she'll know something's up," I argue setting my own bag onto the table on the other side of the bed.

Dean grumbles and takes his belongings from the bed. "I'll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed."

"No. I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor! You take the bed and I'll sleep on the chair," I retort. He paid for the room so I'm not going to take the bed for myself.

He rolls his eyes, but they glisten with an idea. "We'll just share. It's not like we haven't slept on the couch together." The motion sends an electric feeling through my chest making a shiver shoot over me. I have a bad feeling that this won't be a good idea, but there's no way he's sleeping on the floor and he's not going to let me sleep on the chair.

"Fine," I compromise. I'm not in the right state of mind to deal with an argument. I still have to decide how I'm going to tell Dean the truth. 'Do I just tell him fast or explain everything? God, I'm such a mess. How am I supposed to tell him that I'm the reason my last girlfriend is six feet under?'

"Okay. I'm gonna hop in the shower quick," he cuts into my thoughts holding a pair of flannel pants and a black cut-off. He pauses at the end of the bed as if he's waiting for me to reply.