Summary: "It's scary how your own mind doesn't even agree with your actions anymore." Gordon didn't know right from wrong these days. All he knew was the 'voice' telling him Sam Winchester must die. Set Season 2. Crazy Gordon/Limp Sam/Protective Dean
Dean looked over at his brothers horror stricken face, he couldn't breathe for that moment. He just been completely tricked into a hunt and gradually is handing Sam over to harms way.
"Don't freak Dean, we'll figure this out." Sam tried to calm his older brother down as Dean went to pacing again. It was always a tactic he used when he needed some heavy thinking.
"I think I have a pretty good idea already, I just need you to stay in this room and don't come out." Dean more or less demanded as he grabbed his favorite gun and slid it behind the waste band of his jeans.
"What! Dean no, I'm coming with you." Sam argued as he went to stand with his brother preparing to face whatever Dean deemed the culprit.
"No Sammy!" Dean yelled but quickly calmed his tone. "Just please trust me on this… please." Dean begged as he looked into Sam's eyes searching to see if Sam would start up another argument.
"Ok, I trust you. I'll stay put." Sam replied flatly as he sat back down. He didn't like where this was going and he had a strange feeling that it wouldn't turn out well.
"Thank you, just stay in here and I'll be back for you I promise." Dean sighed as he opened the door to leave. If anyone was behind this shit it was that creepy desk clerk. He knew there was something odd about him, and he mentally cursed himself now that he didn't call it up upon there first meeting.
"Dean." Sam called out before his brother headed out the door.
"Please be careful." Sam said with concern evident in his eyes, he was still tired and adrenaline was slowly coursing through his veins which was not a good combo.
"You know I will." Dean smiled as he left to head downstairs where he knew the clerk would be. He slowly took the stairs one at a time, not making a sound…fingering the gun hidden behind his jacket.
Dean turned the corner to be met with nothing, there was no one to be seen in the lobby. It was just too quiet.
"Dean your one smart cookie."
Dean suddenly turned around at the voice to be met with a shotgun in his face. How the hell did he hear him coming?
"What's the deal here huh? You know our names, brought us here. For what?" Dean ground out as he backed away slowly.
"Me bring you here I laugh. I wasn't tryin to get you here boy I was just doing a favor for a little ole' friend of mine." Roy smirked as Dean's eyebrows raised in question. "Oh, it seems you haven't figured that part out huh?" Roy moved closer as Dean tried to back away to the stairs, where he knew he holed his brother up in. Sorry Dean that wasn't a safe move.
"What the hell does that mean? You're still in on all of this so why not spill the beans." Dean questioned, he wasn't one to be over-run by a hillbilly hick…especially one that had a fetish for word games.
"You're still not gettin it are ya boy?" Roy shook his head and laughed. "Why do you think I was stealing glances at Sammy all those times, or trying to get under your skin?" Roy asked as the familiar mask of anger reappeared.
"Cause you're a sick pervert would be one guess. Other then that I got nothing." Dean growled as his suspicions were confirmed. This guy wasn't just stealing peeps at Sam because he's pretty.
"No boy, sorry to tell you it's not your brother I'm suppose to mess with." Roy was pleased to see Dean's anger bubbling over. He had him reeled in. "It was you." Roy ground out as he pulled the trigger of his shotgun.
"Wha?" Before he had a chance to even comprehend that he heard the sound of the shotgun going off and it catapulting into him. He felt it dig into his chest as it flung him off his feet. He was dead he must be dead.
"Ha, ha that was a good un boy." Roy laughed as Dean tried to sit up off the floor. The dang force from the blow knocked him off his feet. "It's only filled with rock salt, don't fret your not dead." Roy began to explain as he watched Dean feel his chest to make sure it was still intact.
"You sonofabitch!" Dean ground out hiding the serious amount of pain he was in. God damn that hurt like bitch. Why was it people wanted too shoot him with rocksalt? Come on he's not that bad of a person.
He rubbed the wounded area to alleviate the pain just as he saw the clerk approach him with a hidden object in his hand.
"What the hell are you doing?" He yelled crab crawling backwards to get away but to no use. His body wouldn't respond and his chest muscles were cramping from the hit at close range.
"Don't worry Dean ole' boy the real fun begins." Roy mocked as he roughly grabbed Dean's arm and shoved the needle into a vein. He watched as the man slowly started to lose consciousness till there was nothing left. Alright Sammy your next.