Friends in Low Places

74

[Dark Side of the Moon]

INT. MOTEL

Empty beer cans were all over. Dean was lying on his stomach, hand under the pillow as he searched. Francesca, who was in the bathroom, peeked out to see strangers, and reentered the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She sat in the dark, making herself as hidden as she could.

"Looking for this?" Roy asked before popping the cartridge from a handgun and tossing it to the side.

Dean turned over. He looked at Sam, who also had a gun pointed at him.

"Mornin'," Dean greeted.

"Shut up. Hands where I can see 'im."

Dean lifted his hands, then lifted himself up before he said, "Wait a minute. Is that you, Roy? It is, isn't it. Which makes you Walt. Wait. Hiya Walt."

Roy and Walt looked at each other.

Walt removed his mask. "Don't matter."

Roy lifted his mask off his face.

"Well, is it just me, or do you two seem a tad upset?" Dean asked in a taunting tone.

Walt narrowed his eyes. "You think you can flip the switch on the apocalypse and just walk away, Sam?"

Sam frowned. "Who told you that?"

"We ain't the only hunters after you." He pumped his shotgun. "See you in the next life."

"Hear me out. I can explain, okay? Please."

After a pause, Walt shot Sam. Dean jumped to go to Sam.

Roy shifted to follow Dean's movement. "Stay the hell down."

"Shoot 'em," Walt demanded.

"Killin' Sam was right but Dean..."

"He made us and we just snuffed his brother and Frankie's friend, you idiot. You want to spend the rest of your life knowing Dean Winchester and Frankie Rivera are on your ass, 'cause I don't. Shoot 'im. Then her."

Dean, who'd been looking at Sam's body, turned to face Roy. "Go ahead, Roy, do it. But I'm going to warn you, when I come back I'm going to be pissed. C'mon! Let's get this show on the road. Shoot me, but don't shoot her."

"Come on, already," Walt said.

Walt stepped forward and shot Dean who was staring in horror at Sam before turning to Walt with a murderous look.

As soon as she heard the door close, Francesca ran to check on her friends, instant tears coming to her eyes when she saw their bodies.

"Sam!" she cried. "Dean!" She shook them and collapsed on Dean's chest as she sobbed.

INT. IMPALA

Dean was sitting in the Impala, sleeping. He was wearing his leather jacket over his normal clothes. Thunder sounded and he woke up. He got out of the car and shut the door. The trunk closed. Dean turned toward the sound. 13-year-old Sam was there, holding a crate of fireworks.

"Sammy?" Dean called.

"Come on, let's go," Sam said, walking off.

"Weird dream," Dean commented. "Frankie, you here?"

Sam placed the fireworks on the ground and pulled out a few.

"Got your lighter?" Sam asked.

Dean checked his pocket and pulled out an old lighter. "Whoa, I haven't seen this in years."