Without A Trace >> Dean Winchester

22 | Man's Best Friend with Benefits [ Hexed ]

Chapter 22 | Man's Best Friend with Benefits [ Hexed ]

THE ENGINE PURRED as Dean pulled up at the parking of Sleepy Lodge Motel. The trio were having a slight debate about the comedy show they've just watched, and as Clarissa did not side with either of the Winchester brothers, both parties were not having a mutual agreement as they sassed each other. When Dean shut off the engine, Clarissa sat right up and got out of the car, relieving her aching pair of legs that were squished from the small legroom of the Impala.

"Wow." Sam scoffed.

"You know," Dean patted the hood of the Impala, "of all the lame-ass things you've ever said, that's got to be the lame-assiest."

"I'm sorry, but I happen to think Shemp was a funnier stooge than Curly."

"Curly was a freaking genius!" Dean fired back.

Clarissa sighed, "They were both funny, okay? Can we leave it at that?"

"No!!" they both shouted simultaneously.

"I always found Curly's work a bit obvious." Sam turns to Dean, now completely ignoring the brunette.

"It's supposed to be obvious, man. They're stooges!"

Clarissa stormed in to their motel room and flicked the light switches on. She headed right for the bed and sprawled across the soft goodness. She snuggled against the warm and thick comforter, "gosh, I love you, bed. You're the only one for me."

"So we calling James, tonight?" Sam asked, settling down his duffel bag.

"No, I'll just call him tomorrow. That drive was a bitch."

"I wonder what he wanted," Clarissa mused, kicking up her legs.

"Well, his text said that he needed help. He's a cop, I figured it was work-related." Dean replied, his tone gruff.

"Yeah, well, we do own him," Sam reasoned.

"The guy saved our lives once, Sammy. I mean it's not like the guy—"

"Saved our lives?"

Dean gave Sam his usual resting bitch-face and shook the matter away.  "I'm going for a beer run. You guys need anything?"

Clarissa hopped from the bed and straightened out the creases on her jacket, "I'm coming with. I need some more fresh air."

Sam shook his head, "no, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Sam looked up from unpacking his duffel bag to see Dean staring at him, concerned, as he stared right back.

"'Cause you did just gank a hellhound, which is no slice of pie, and there is a mine field of who knows what crap ahead."

Clarissa nodded, "Dean just wants to make sure that you are okay, Sammy."

"I'm good." Sam says, trying to shove the conversation away from the two nagging bees.

"Cause you know, we could find another devil dog— you could tag out, I could snuff the son of a bitch."