Red Dragon Inn, Room 29...
When Lilli said she was tired, woo-boy did she mean it. Because while she'd gotten a very decent night's sleep the day before, there was still a certain level of energy that seemed to elude her. Perhaps it was the aging coming so close to the end, or even the healing she'd done. The emotional stress was a factor she didn't count, simply because she was better than that; stronger. Wasn't she" These thoughts were far behind, however, because the gypsy still looked like a pile of lumpy blankets and a bed tousled mop of red curls. Not a limb stuck out. She was dead to the world, breathing peaceably.
When Dean awoke the next morning, his head felt like the size of Texas. He vaguely remembered an encouter with a bottle of bourbon and a redhead. No, two redheads. Shit, Lilli. He shoved a hand through his hair, which was sticking up this way and that, and glanced over at Sam's bed and last night's roommate, frowning. He remembered her tucking him in and then curling up in Sam's bed for the night and he'd promised again to make her breakfast in the morning. He'd at least owed her that. He reached around and ran his fingers over the fading scar on the back of his shoulder and wondered if she hadn't saved his life. After a moment, he quietly climbed out of bed, head pounding, wishing he had taken the bottle with him and not left it with Clover. Hair of the Dog and all. He leaned over and pulled his boots on, leaving them untied for now because he was just too hung over to make his fingers work right.
Sam was outside, wrapped in a 'borrowed' coat, and clothes that were not made for his build. They height was right, the weight was not. He looked slouchy to say the least. He waited patiently for a couple that left one of the adjacent rooms to stroll down the stairs and then went to work on the lock as the key wasn't on him any longer. He had a lump on top of his head from the bars of the cage, and a generally foul mood that one would get while walking mostly naked through cold, wet woodlands.
The lump beneath Sam's blankets didn't move too much- it shifted and displayed a new series of hills and valleys in the soft comforter, and those rumpled curls did their damnedest impression of hell-fire snakes slithering in the early stints of morning light creeping through the window- but that was about all. Signs of life were minimal. After all, Lilliana had been drinking too. Possibly not anywhere near as stiffly as Dean had, but it was enough.
Dean stood up, stretching his back, feeling a little sore and cramped, feeling like he'd kill right now for a cup of black coffee. He looked over at Lilli again, unsure if he should wake her and let her know he was going to make breakfast or surprise her. He didn't really want to leave her alone. He'd only been gone a short time when Sam had disappeared. He wandered over to Sam's bed and leaned down to adjust the lay of the blankets, even though it was probably completely unnecessary as cocooned as she was in them. He pushed some of those red curls back from her face and brushed a kiss against her cheek.
Wire hanger, pocket knife and a little luck, would leave the lock undone and he started turning the knob slowly, wondering if his brother was still in the room. What if he left' Moved to another room' He peeked in, being certain there were no more love happy couples, or worse...
"....Brish, lay off. Bugger Ma fer yer breakfas', ya' Goddess-damned creepst'er." Lilliana's face scrunched up a bit from the kiss. Apparently her brother had a sick sense of humor, and the sleepy gypsy was already curling up a fist beneath the blankets, readying a punch. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, and was clearly caught in another year's worth of memories as well as the lingering cobwebs of sleep.
He blinked, Dean' Someone in *his* bed, and voice recognized, The Redhead. The "Sam go find out if she likes me, Redhead," in his bed! "What the hell"!" He was no longer quiet, and the door was pushed open a little too hard.
Dean wasn't sure who Brish was. He'd never heard her mention the name before and had never met anyone by that name. Friend, lover, brother" He had no idea. "It's me, Lil. Dean," he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.
He didn't care who was startled. "Dean"!"
"Mm' AH! Brish! Ge' yer friends ou' o' here! M'naked!" Dean's voice, combined with the haze of sleep and Sam's abrupt, non-too quiet exclamation resulted in that sleepily curled fist coming up and out from under the covers in a sloppy jab formation. Unbeknownst to Lilli, she wasn't nude, she wasn't in her wagon with her family, and those were not pesky cousins or friends of her brother. Either way, the fist was still flying, as were covers.
Startled by Sam's sudden and unexpected appearance, the fist caught Dean in the chin and he staggered backwards, losing his balance and almost falling on his assets.
The bone in Dean's chin elicited a yelp from the gypsy as she curled right back up in a whirlwind of limbs, hair, and blankets, curling her fist into her stomach. "Oh fer cryin' ou' loud!"
He was nearly pouting, he wanted to be the one that put Dean on his ass, instead the girl got the honors. "I'm out in the damned woods all night and you are here, warmed up to the redhead?"
Dean rubbed at his chin, swinging a glance from one to the other, gawking a little at Sam, and then the love for his brother won out. He smiled, still rubbing his chin and turned toward his brother to give him a bear hug. "Sam! Where the hell have you been" I've been worried sick. You look like hell. Smell like shit, too. Lilli and I have been looking all over." The words were just tumbling out in an emotional rush.
"Fighting the damn Bogeyman, while you are here playing house!" he was irritated.
"Warmin' up t'wha'. S'cuse me, kid, bu' I've go' a name ya' know....Oh cripes. Goddess ya' have good bones..." The world was starting to become more real. Pain helped with that. Managing what was left of her dignity, Lilliana swept back the wildfire tumble of her hair and moved up from the pile of blankets to watch the two reunite. Despite it all, she was smiling a little; it reeked of home.
Dean pulled back and took a closer look at his brother. "The Boogeyman. Here in Rhydin?"
Boogeyman. Clearly she'd missed something, and it showed in her bemused face. Her thoughts drifted to the oogey-swamp witch stories she'd heard as a child.
"He's not the most hygienic guy in town, you know?" He was ready to ball up his own fist and take a swing. He felt like hell, and did indeed look like hell.
Dean ignored his brother's rebuffs for now. He was somewhat used to them. "Did you kill him?"
"With a stick?"
When Lilli said she was tired, woo-boy did she mean it. Because while she'd gotten a very decent night's sleep the day before, there was still a certain level of energy that seemed to elude her. Perhaps it was the aging coming so close to the end, or even the healing she'd done. The emotional stress was a factor she didn't count, simply because she was better than that; stronger. Wasn't she" These thoughts were far behind, however, because the gypsy still looked like a pile of lumpy blankets and a bed tousled mop of red curls. Not a limb stuck out. She was dead to the world, breathing peaceably.
When Dean awoke the next morning, his head felt like the size of Texas. He vaguely remembered an encouter with a bottle of bourbon and a redhead. No, two redheads. Shit, Lilli. He shoved a hand through his hair, which was sticking up this way and that, and glanced over at Sam's bed and last night's roommate, frowning. He remembered her tucking him in and then curling up in Sam's bed for the night and he'd promised again to make her breakfast in the morning. He'd at least owed her that. He reached around and ran his fingers over the fading scar on the back of his shoulder and wondered if she hadn't saved his life. After a moment, he quietly climbed out of bed, head pounding, wishing he had taken the bottle with him and not left it with Clover. Hair of the Dog and all. He leaned over and pulled his boots on, leaving them untied for now because he was just too hung over to make his fingers work right.
Sam was outside, wrapped in a 'borrowed' coat, and clothes that were not made for his build. They height was right, the weight was not. He looked slouchy to say the least. He waited patiently for a couple that left one of the adjacent rooms to stroll down the stairs and then went to work on the lock as the key wasn't on him any longer. He had a lump on top of his head from the bars of the cage, and a generally foul mood that one would get while walking mostly naked through cold, wet woodlands.
The lump beneath Sam's blankets didn't move too much- it shifted and displayed a new series of hills and valleys in the soft comforter, and those rumpled curls did their damnedest impression of hell-fire snakes slithering in the early stints of morning light creeping through the window- but that was about all. Signs of life were minimal. After all, Lilliana had been drinking too. Possibly not anywhere near as stiffly as Dean had, but it was enough.
Dean stood up, stretching his back, feeling a little sore and cramped, feeling like he'd kill right now for a cup of black coffee. He looked over at Lilli again, unsure if he should wake her and let her know he was going to make breakfast or surprise her. He didn't really want to leave her alone. He'd only been gone a short time when Sam had disappeared. He wandered over to Sam's bed and leaned down to adjust the lay of the blankets, even though it was probably completely unnecessary as cocooned as she was in them. He pushed some of those red curls back from her face and brushed a kiss against her cheek.
Wire hanger, pocket knife and a little luck, would leave the lock undone and he started turning the knob slowly, wondering if his brother was still in the room. What if he left' Moved to another room' He peeked in, being certain there were no more love happy couples, or worse...
"....Brish, lay off. Bugger Ma fer yer breakfas', ya' Goddess-damned creepst'er." Lilliana's face scrunched up a bit from the kiss. Apparently her brother had a sick sense of humor, and the sleepy gypsy was already curling up a fist beneath the blankets, readying a punch. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, and was clearly caught in another year's worth of memories as well as the lingering cobwebs of sleep.
He blinked, Dean' Someone in *his* bed, and voice recognized, The Redhead. The "Sam go find out if she likes me, Redhead," in his bed! "What the hell"!" He was no longer quiet, and the door was pushed open a little too hard.
Dean wasn't sure who Brish was. He'd never heard her mention the name before and had never met anyone by that name. Friend, lover, brother" He had no idea. "It's me, Lil. Dean," he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.
He didn't care who was startled. "Dean"!"
"Mm' AH! Brish! Ge' yer friends ou' o' here! M'naked!" Dean's voice, combined with the haze of sleep and Sam's abrupt, non-too quiet exclamation resulted in that sleepily curled fist coming up and out from under the covers in a sloppy jab formation. Unbeknownst to Lilli, she wasn't nude, she wasn't in her wagon with her family, and those were not pesky cousins or friends of her brother. Either way, the fist was still flying, as were covers.
Startled by Sam's sudden and unexpected appearance, the fist caught Dean in the chin and he staggered backwards, losing his balance and almost falling on his assets.
The bone in Dean's chin elicited a yelp from the gypsy as she curled right back up in a whirlwind of limbs, hair, and blankets, curling her fist into her stomach. "Oh fer cryin' ou' loud!"
He was nearly pouting, he wanted to be the one that put Dean on his ass, instead the girl got the honors. "I'm out in the damned woods all night and you are here, warmed up to the redhead?"
Dean rubbed at his chin, swinging a glance from one to the other, gawking a little at Sam, and then the love for his brother won out. He smiled, still rubbing his chin and turned toward his brother to give him a bear hug. "Sam! Where the hell have you been" I've been worried sick. You look like hell. Smell like shit, too. Lilli and I have been looking all over." The words were just tumbling out in an emotional rush.
"Fighting the damn Bogeyman, while you are here playing house!" he was irritated.
"Warmin' up t'wha'. S'cuse me, kid, bu' I've go' a name ya' know....Oh cripes. Goddess ya' have good bones..." The world was starting to become more real. Pain helped with that. Managing what was left of her dignity, Lilliana swept back the wildfire tumble of her hair and moved up from the pile of blankets to watch the two reunite. Despite it all, she was smiling a little; it reeked of home.
Dean pulled back and took a closer look at his brother. "The Boogeyman. Here in Rhydin?"
Boogeyman. Clearly she'd missed something, and it showed in her bemused face. Her thoughts drifted to the oogey-swamp witch stories she'd heard as a child.
"He's not the most hygienic guy in town, you know?" He was ready to ball up his own fist and take a swing. He felt like hell, and did indeed look like hell.
Dean ignored his brother's rebuffs for now. He was somewhat used to them. "Did you kill him?"
"With a stick?"