Highway to Hell: Episode One: "Hell's Belle"
Episode 1 : Hell’s Belle
Chapter 3: Blood, Sweat & Tears
Chapter Wordcount: 1365
The Full Moon Motel was deserted. The heavyweight old lady behind the counter of course was best friends with Monte. Laughing and joking about the antics of her late father. Sam and Dean walked in behind her and the lady said they were the first customers in a week.
Thanks to Monte’s hometown connections Gladys let them have the room a whole week for one day’s rent. Monte’s room of course was free.
“Alright, goodnight guys.”
“Nite, Monte.” Sam said, as he carried his and Dean’s bag into the room.
Dean hung around for a minute while Monte went and grabbed the leftover Crown Royal from her car.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
She hopped up on the hood of her car and leaned back on the windshield. Taking a swig and sighing deeply.
“You know anything about this cult your brother’s in?”
He was trying to start a conversation with her…hard thing to do for a guy whose whole life revolved around the paranormal.
“Not much. Satanic. Human sacrifices. That’s about all I’ve gotten.”
“HUMAN sacrifices?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.
She sighed. “Yea.” She whispered.
She had idolized her brother when they were younger. Confident that he would always be her shelter in the storm of life. He had promised her shortly after their parent’s deaths that he would never leave her…and then he did. Part of her hated him. She knew if she ever saw him again he was at least gonna have a broken nose and black eye. But despite everything he was still her brother. And she still loved him.
After she had first found out about the cult he had joined, she spent a week in a backwater town’s hotel puking her guts up. She couldn’t bear to think of her brother doing those things…or having those things done to him. Part of her was scared to death that when she found The Clan, as they called themselves, she would be too late.
The sting in her eyes brought her back from her thoughts and she was able to save face and blink away the tears. But Dean had already seen.
“Monte…”
“What?”
“We’ll find him.”
“It’s not your fight.”
“It is now.”
“What in the hell makes you think that?”
“Because I want to help you.”
Silence. Pure, blessed, damned silence.
She polished off the bottle and tossed it in the parking lot. Dean’s eyes following its arched path through the air, and its demise as it hit pavement.
“It’s late…why don’t you get some rest.”
“Who died and made you my father?”
Dean shot her a look.
“We’ll go to the caves first thing in the morning…okay.”
It wasn’t a question. He said it as a fact and even though she hated it…she wanted Sam and Dean with her. Some backup wouldn’t be a bad idea if she was going to face what she thought she would.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Night.”
She nodded again, and Dean turned to go into his and Sam’s room.
As soon as she heard the lock click on their door she let three lone tears roll down her cheeks. She hated crying, but sometimes you just had to.
Dean peeked through the curtained window to see her furiously wiping her face and watched her walk around the side of the hotel.
“Everything alright?” Sam asked as he pulled his laptop out of its case.
“Yea…I’ll be right back.”
“Dean?”
He was gone.
She leaned against the worn canvas of the old punching bag out back, resting her forehead on its rough surface.
“Damnit.” She cursed, striking the bag. “Why the fuck do I have to be a pussy. They’re trying to help me, why do I have to be such a bitch. And why the hell does he have to be so nice. Fucker, doesn’t he know that’s just screwing me up more.” She chuckled. “Those damn eyes…fuck.”
She struck the bag again…and again, and began a series of blows to take her mind off all the thoughts that were swirling like a whirlpool in her head. Thoughts about her brother. Whether he was alive or had been one of the sacrifices. Thoughts about having to face those fears tomorrow. Thoughts about Sam’s genuine smile and thought’s about Dean’s haunting hazel eyes. Those eyes that seemed to have been lurking in the back of her mind from the moment he first smiled at her. That smile that refused to leave her alone.
Dean silently made his way around the small building to find her in the back, by the supply shed, beating the shit out of an old punching bag that was strung up.
She hadn’t wrapped her knuckles and they were already turning raw. She was going hell bent for leather, and punching it over and over again without ever stopping. Finally she took one mean right hook and a roundhouse kick, bringing the bag crashing to the ground.
She stood there panting for breath with tears and sweat streaming down her face, when she saw a shadow move from around the corner of the building.
Quicker than he had even registered her movement she had a .44 Magnum pointed at his head.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. It’s just me.” He said, raising his hands in surrender.
She panted and replaced the gun in her waistband.
Just great, it’s not bad enough that I can’t stop thinking about you, but now you won’t leave me alone. She thought.
“How many guns you got anyways?” He joked.
She refused an answer, staring at him and still trying to catch her breath.
He looked down to see blood oozing from her now raw knuckles.
He almost winced. Moving towards her gingerly and carefully taking one of her hands in his.
“You should’ve wrapped them.” He whispered.
He met her eyes to see the tears falling of their own accord and gently pulled her into a hug; letting her bury her face in his chest, as he rested his chin on top of her head.
She grasped at his leather jacket fighting back the sobs that insisted on erupting…she wouldn’t let them.
“Sshhh…it’s alright to cry. We’ll help you.”
She nodded and took a deep breath, breathing in his pure masculine smell and forcing herself not to react to it…it was a losing battle, but at least he didn’t seem to notice. Finally regaining her composure she pulled away from him, taking a second before meeting his eyes.
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “Come on, you need some rest.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hers found its own way around his waist and they walked back to their side-by-side rooms. When they made it to the door, Dean gently brushed some stray hairs from her face and said goodnight before disappearing into his own room. Shutting the door and leaning against it, sighing deeply.
“She okay?” Sam asked.
“She will be.” Was all Dean answered as he stripped of his jacket and collapsed in bed. Falling to sleep in his blue jeans and t-shirt almost instantly.
Sam watched him for a moment. Dean had always been a ladies man, but it seemed like recently there was more under that tough exterior he presented. Sam smiled; hoping Dean for once could at least be happy. Monte was a good girl after all, and a good match for Dean. Hell, she could probably kick his ass…which was exactly what he needed sometimes.
He laughed quietly to himself before switching off the lamp and following his brother into an exhausted sleep.
“Damnit.” She whispered as she collapsed into bed, kicking of her shoes and curling up under the thick blanket.
The tears began to fall again despite how hard she tried to stop them. She punched into the pillow and cursed herself for being weak. Despite the warmth radiating from the heater and despite having a blanket she felt cold. She grabbed the extra pillow and held it like her life depended on it. She ended up crying herself to sleep within a few moments. Her last thought straying to a certain set of hazel eyes before she did.
Previous: Chapter Two | Next: Chapter Four
Highway to Hell Master Post
Chapter 3: Blood, Sweat & Tears
Chapter Wordcount: 1365
The Full Moon Motel was deserted. The heavyweight old lady behind the counter of course was best friends with Monte. Laughing and joking about the antics of her late father. Sam and Dean walked in behind her and the lady said they were the first customers in a week.
Thanks to Monte’s hometown connections Gladys let them have the room a whole week for one day’s rent. Monte’s room of course was free.
“Alright, goodnight guys.”
“Nite, Monte.” Sam said, as he carried his and Dean’s bag into the room.
Dean hung around for a minute while Monte went and grabbed the leftover Crown Royal from her car.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
She hopped up on the hood of her car and leaned back on the windshield. Taking a swig and sighing deeply.
“You know anything about this cult your brother’s in?”
He was trying to start a conversation with her…hard thing to do for a guy whose whole life revolved around the paranormal.
“Not much. Satanic. Human sacrifices. That’s about all I’ve gotten.”
“HUMAN sacrifices?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.
She sighed. “Yea.” She whispered.
She had idolized her brother when they were younger. Confident that he would always be her shelter in the storm of life. He had promised her shortly after their parent’s deaths that he would never leave her…and then he did. Part of her hated him. She knew if she ever saw him again he was at least gonna have a broken nose and black eye. But despite everything he was still her brother. And she still loved him.
After she had first found out about the cult he had joined, she spent a week in a backwater town’s hotel puking her guts up. She couldn’t bear to think of her brother doing those things…or having those things done to him. Part of her was scared to death that when she found The Clan, as they called themselves, she would be too late.
The sting in her eyes brought her back from her thoughts and she was able to save face and blink away the tears. But Dean had already seen.
“Monte…”
“What?”
“We’ll find him.”
“It’s not your fight.”
“It is now.”
“What in the hell makes you think that?”
“Because I want to help you.”
Silence. Pure, blessed, damned silence.
She polished off the bottle and tossed it in the parking lot. Dean’s eyes following its arched path through the air, and its demise as it hit pavement.
“It’s late…why don’t you get some rest.”
“Who died and made you my father?”
Dean shot her a look.
“We’ll go to the caves first thing in the morning…okay.”
It wasn’t a question. He said it as a fact and even though she hated it…she wanted Sam and Dean with her. Some backup wouldn’t be a bad idea if she was going to face what she thought she would.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Night.”
She nodded again, and Dean turned to go into his and Sam’s room.
As soon as she heard the lock click on their door she let three lone tears roll down her cheeks. She hated crying, but sometimes you just had to.
Dean peeked through the curtained window to see her furiously wiping her face and watched her walk around the side of the hotel.
“Everything alright?” Sam asked as he pulled his laptop out of its case.
“Yea…I’ll be right back.”
“Dean?”
He was gone.
She leaned against the worn canvas of the old punching bag out back, resting her forehead on its rough surface.
“Damnit.” She cursed, striking the bag. “Why the fuck do I have to be a pussy. They’re trying to help me, why do I have to be such a bitch. And why the hell does he have to be so nice. Fucker, doesn’t he know that’s just screwing me up more.” She chuckled. “Those damn eyes…fuck.”
She struck the bag again…and again, and began a series of blows to take her mind off all the thoughts that were swirling like a whirlpool in her head. Thoughts about her brother. Whether he was alive or had been one of the sacrifices. Thoughts about having to face those fears tomorrow. Thoughts about Sam’s genuine smile and thought’s about Dean’s haunting hazel eyes. Those eyes that seemed to have been lurking in the back of her mind from the moment he first smiled at her. That smile that refused to leave her alone.
Dean silently made his way around the small building to find her in the back, by the supply shed, beating the shit out of an old punching bag that was strung up.
She hadn’t wrapped her knuckles and they were already turning raw. She was going hell bent for leather, and punching it over and over again without ever stopping. Finally she took one mean right hook and a roundhouse kick, bringing the bag crashing to the ground.
She stood there panting for breath with tears and sweat streaming down her face, when she saw a shadow move from around the corner of the building.
Quicker than he had even registered her movement she had a .44 Magnum pointed at his head.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. It’s just me.” He said, raising his hands in surrender.
She panted and replaced the gun in her waistband.
Just great, it’s not bad enough that I can’t stop thinking about you, but now you won’t leave me alone. She thought.
“How many guns you got anyways?” He joked.
She refused an answer, staring at him and still trying to catch her breath.
He looked down to see blood oozing from her now raw knuckles.
He almost winced. Moving towards her gingerly and carefully taking one of her hands in his.
“You should’ve wrapped them.” He whispered.
He met her eyes to see the tears falling of their own accord and gently pulled her into a hug; letting her bury her face in his chest, as he rested his chin on top of her head.
She grasped at his leather jacket fighting back the sobs that insisted on erupting…she wouldn’t let them.
“Sshhh…it’s alright to cry. We’ll help you.”
She nodded and took a deep breath, breathing in his pure masculine smell and forcing herself not to react to it…it was a losing battle, but at least he didn’t seem to notice. Finally regaining her composure she pulled away from him, taking a second before meeting his eyes.
“Thank you.”
He nodded. “Come on, you need some rest.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hers found its own way around his waist and they walked back to their side-by-side rooms. When they made it to the door, Dean gently brushed some stray hairs from her face and said goodnight before disappearing into his own room. Shutting the door and leaning against it, sighing deeply.
“She okay?” Sam asked.
“She will be.” Was all Dean answered as he stripped of his jacket and collapsed in bed. Falling to sleep in his blue jeans and t-shirt almost instantly.
Sam watched him for a moment. Dean had always been a ladies man, but it seemed like recently there was more under that tough exterior he presented. Sam smiled; hoping Dean for once could at least be happy. Monte was a good girl after all, and a good match for Dean. Hell, she could probably kick his ass…which was exactly what he needed sometimes.
He laughed quietly to himself before switching off the lamp and following his brother into an exhausted sleep.
“Damnit.” She whispered as she collapsed into bed, kicking of her shoes and curling up under the thick blanket.
The tears began to fall again despite how hard she tried to stop them. She punched into the pillow and cursed herself for being weak. Despite the warmth radiating from the heater and despite having a blanket she felt cold. She grabbed the extra pillow and held it like her life depended on it. She ended up crying herself to sleep within a few moments. Her last thought straying to a certain set of hazel eyes before she did.
Previous: Chapter Two | Next: Chapter Four
Highway to Hell Master Post