𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 | 𝐬𝐩𝐧

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

"Dean, calm down we have done this hundreds of times," Carter assured. Dean wasn't taking her bait. "This isn't gonna work. Come on, these badges are fake. What if we get busted? We could go to jail." He told them. "Nothing we haven't done already. Just follow Sam and I's lead and don't scratch." She instructed. "Mr. Garland. Hi uh, I'm Agent Tyler. This is Agent Sampson and Agent Perry, FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your brother Luther." Sam introduced.

"Let me see some I.D," Garland asked skeptically. They handed the badges to him snd Dean rocked back and forth. "Those are real, obviously. I mean, who would pretend to be an FBI agent, huh? That's just nutty." He chuckled. Carter pinched his arm. "Uh, well...according to this, your brother Luther died of physical trauma," Sam muttered, reading from a file. Garland scoffed.

"Everybody was scared of Luther. They called him a monster. He was too big, too mean-looking. Just too different. Didn't matter he was the kindest man I ever knew. Didn't matter he'd never hurt no one. A lot of people failed Luther. I was one of them. I was a widower with three young 'uns. And I told myself there was nothing I could do...Frank O'Brien killed my brother." He told them. "How do you know?" Carter asked. "Frank's wife, Jessie, was a receptionist at the mill. She was always real nice to Luther, and he had a crush on her. But Frank didn't like it. And when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure that Luther had done something to her. Turns out the old gal killed herself, but Frank didn't know that. They found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was dragged up and down the stretch outside that plant till he was past dead." The old man replied.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Garland. How come Luther's murderer was never arrested?" She questioned. "I screamed to every cop in town. They didn't want to look into Frank. He was a pillar of the community. My brother was just the town freak. I hated Frank for a long time, but life's too short for hate, missy. And Frank wasn't thinking straight. His wife had vanished, he was terrified. A damn shame he had to put Luther through the same, but...that's fear. It spreads and spreads." The man sighed. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Garland." She shook his hand and she led the guys out.

"Now we know what these are, road rash. And I'm guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road." Dean said, walking down the stairs to get to the Impala. "Makes sense. You're experiencing his death in slow motion." Sam shrugged. "Yeah well, not slow enough, huh? Say we burn some bones and get me healthy." Dean beamed. "Luther was road-hauled. His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road like shredded paper. There's no way we're gonna find all the remains." Carter murmured.

"Wha---? You know what? Screw this. This is insane. This, Sam, is exactly why our lives suck. I mean, come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell?! I mean, normal people, they see a monster, and they run. But not us, no, no, no, we -- we search out things that want to kill us. Yeah? Huh? Or eat us! You know who does that? Crazy people! We...are insane! You know, and then there's the bad diner food and then the skeevy motel rooms and then the truck-stop waitress with the bizarre rash. I mean, who wants this life, Sam? Huh? Seriously? Do you actually like being stuck in a car with me eight hours a day, every single day? I don't think so! I mean, I drive too fast. And I listen to the same five albums over and over and over again, a-and I sing along. I'm annoying, I know that. I flirt with your ex. Hell, I love her. Which is the goddamn fucking problem and the whole ass reason why we aren't fucking intertwining hands and playing goldfish! And you-you're gassy! You eat half a burrito, and you get toxic! And Carter-- You sit there and deal with us while you and Sam act like you aren't fucking best friends who, yeah, have literally screwed-- but you're-- This is insane. I mean, you know what? You can forget it." Dean rambled, throwing Sam the car keys.

"Dean, where are you going?" His brother asked. "Stay away from me Sam, okay? Cause I am done with it. I'm done with the monsters and -- and -- and the hellhounds and the ghost sickness and the damn apocalypse. I'm out. I'm done. Quit." Dean told them, sprinting quickly through the bushes. "Get in. Go." Sam instructed.

He and Carter began driving around to look for Dean in silence. "Why are we always put in the spotlight?" Carter half-joked, her voice low. "I don't know. It's not like the world stops spinning because we aren't together." Sam mumbled. Carter didn't reply.

They stayed in silence and finally decided to go back to the motel room. Dean was on the bed, sitting and rocking back and forth with his hands crossed. Carter let out a sigh of relief. "Where were you, man? We were looking everywhere." Sam said. Carter hugged Dean and sat down beside him. "Don't fucking run off like that, man. How did you even get here? You're all sweaty." She scoffed. "I ran. What do we do now? I got less than four hours on the clock. I'm gonna die, baby." Dean panted. Carter glanced at Sam for help.

Flashbacks of Dean screaming flashed through Carter's mind. "No. No, I'm not letting you go back there. Okay? You aren't going back there. I promise." Carter assured, wiping sweat off his forehead with her sleeve. "We got you, Dean," Sam promised. Dean's eyes widened. "Back?"

Sam and Carter looked at one another. Dean got up and backed up. "You get out of my brother, you evil son of a bitch!" He yelled. Sam ran towards Dean. "Woah woah woah woah."

Dean snapped out of his hallucination and stared at Sam, scared. "Go shower, Dean. Sam and I will research." Carter lied. Dean nodded and walked out.

"Call Bobby," Carter whispered.

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Carter laid beside Dean, who was fast asleep. Sam was also sleeping in the bed next to theirs. Carter's hand ran through the hair on the back of Dean's head while her chin rested on his head.

"Is now the wrong time to start singing Friends in Low Places?" Carter asked Dean while they tried to gain back their strength from an earlier chow-down. She was in complete and utter pain, but she wanted to know Dean was still conscious. "If I weren't bleeding, I might've found that hysterical," Dean remarked. "I don't know how much more of this I can take." She confessed. "We aren't making other people go through this," Dean replied firmly. She nodded. "Okay. Okay, you're right."

A deep, bone-chilling bark erupted through the green fog. "I love you!" Dean yelled to Carter.

"I love you too, Dean," Carter whispered. She kissed the top of his head and let her tears stain their shared pillow.