18. Distractions

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•~MARIE~•

The ride to the mini-mart was quiet. Not a word was spoken between Dean and I as the Impala made its slow stop-and-go journey through the numerous traffic lights. Every time we were able to pick up speed, a yellow light would compel us to slow to a crawl before halting us completely once the light turned red. Dean let out out an irritated huff every time we were forced to stop. I could tell he was aggravated by every moment we spent away from the the motel and Sam's prone body; a sitting duck for anyone who happened by.

It took us a total of fifteen minutes to get to the convenience store, and when we walked in we saw that every isle was empty save for the cashier who was stocking one of the shelves with an assortment of candy bars. As soon as the bell chimed when we entered the store, she looked up from her task and let her gaze slide across me and focus wholeheartedly on Dean. Once we were fully into the middle of the store, she straightened up and brushed her clothes off, walking towards us and fixing her dark hair like she was getting ready for a photo shoot.

I turned to Dean and was about to make a comment under my breath, but he was already making his way to the drinks isle at the back of the store. The cashier stopped when Dean brushed passed her, not even giving her a glance. The girl and I stood and stared at each other for an awkward moment before I gave an apologetic smile and hurried after him.

When I met up with Dean again, he was carefully extracting a case of beer from the precariously stacked freezer.

"It seems you have a fan," I murmured once he turned around. Dean glanced over my shoulder distractedly, not even letting his gaze linger on the cashier for more than a moment before returning his eyes to me. He stared at me for a few seconds as if he didn't understand the words that had just come out of my mouth.

"...What?" He asked bewilderingly.

I just rolled my eyes and walked over to the snacks section. Dean did not strike me as a guy who wouldn't take notice when a girl was hitting on him. I had at least expected him to acknowledge the girl's presence, or have some kind of smug smirk.

The cashier met us again at the counter, all but jumping at the chance to ring up our case of beer, four bags of chips, and large pecan pie. Dean had also made sure to grab few healthy items, stating that he didn't want to give Sam something else to have a fainting spell over: the idea of being stuck in a motel without an apple or granola bar in sight. Dean slid the items on the counter and fished out his wallet for extra cash. As he did this, the cashier kept her eyes glued to Dean's face; almost to the point were it became a little creepy. Once everything was paid for, she asked if he would like the receipt. She had overtly written her number on it, and I almost outwardly cringed when Dean brought his gaze from the girl's out stretched hand to her hopeful face and shook his head. He turned and left without a glance back.

"Your loss," she whispered indignantly. Again, I gave her another apologetic smile before following my half-brother out the door.

•~~•

The moon had made a full appearance by the time we left the mini-mart and slid into the front seats of the Impala. We were out of the parking lot and peeling onto the street before the light onto the road could turn red again.

It felt weird sitting in the passenger seat next to Dean, knowing that this was usually where Sam would sit on a normal day. I almost felt like an intruder on some sacred tradition and that kept me from truly relaxing into the seat. But gradually, I became more comfortable as I focused my attention on Dean and his odd behavior.

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