Salads and Sulfur - 2

There was always something about coming back to the motel after finishing up a case. The rooms were always shabby and worn and Dean definitely didn’t waste too much thought about how well the cleaning service washed everything. So long as the TV worked and the shower had enough pressure, he wasn’t going to complain.

Coming back victorious, though, made even the cheapest motels into an executive suite. The pride that they’d solved another case and wasted another evil son of a bitch lifted Dean’s spirits even as exhaustion tried to drag him down.

“You did pretty good there, pint-size,” Dean commented wryly as he set down his keys and wallet on the table. While he stretched his arms over his head, he felt a stirring in his chest pocket.

Right on cue, the pocket flap lifted up and revealed Sam’s bitchface. “Oh, you mean before or after I saved your ass?” he griped. Dean made sure he didn’t jostle his little brother as he climbed out of the pocket and up towards his customary spot on a shoulder. He’d had to hide for the walk up to the door, and looked glad to be free of the pocket once more.

“First that doppelganger, then the scarecrow cultists, and now this? Almost tossed aside by a plain old vengeful spirit? I think you’re getting soft, Dean,” Sam continued, his smug voice loud and clear now that he was right next to Dean’s head.

“Laugh it up, short stack,” Dean groused, shrugging just enough to toss Sam against his neck. He ditched his duffel bag on the spare bed and shucked off his jacket, careful not to jostle Sam. Or at least, careful not to jostle him more. He’d never forgive himself if he knocked Sam to the ground, but a little teasing was always good to keep the little guy from getting too hotheaded.

Dean grabbed a beer from the minifridge and went over to the bed, settling down carefully so he was propped up on the pillows. Sam had a good vantage point where he sat, and Dean set to popping the cap off the beer with his ring before pouring a little for Sam. Ever since falling in his beer, Sam was a lot more cautious about his drinking.

That done, Dean snatched up the remote. “Time to see what’s on,” he announced, flicking on the TV. It gave a flash of light and a low whine of electricity, but didn’t give up and blared to life.

“Tell me you’re not planning to put on Dr. Sexy again,” Sam groaned.

“You got a better idea?” Dean shot back.

The following silence drew out longer than Dean meant to. He felt his ears turning a little pink at the reminder that No, of course Sam doesn’t have a better idea. He didn’t get to watch much TV for over half of his life, and he’d only been back with Dean for several months. The kid was still getting used to the idea that he could pick a favorite TV show.

Dean could just imagine the sheepish look on Sam’s face, and decided to release them both from the awkward moment. “I’ll just surf around for now, since princess Sam over here can’t handle the good doctor.”

“Thanks, Dean,” came the soft voice.

“Hey, man, your opinion of Dr. Sexy may be blasphemy, but at least you recognize some of the classics, like Godzilla vs. Mothra. You get a pass this time. Lemme know if something catches your eye, pint-size,” Dean replied, flipping channels and settling in a little more.

~~~~~

Oscar knew how phones worked, of course, but he’d never used one before. He never thought he’d need it. When he was a very young child he used to pretend he’d climb up to one someday and order food. He’d imagined a feast being brought right to him, more food than he could even eat. All for him

He wished this was something so simple.

With a terse sigh, Oscar propped his business card against the alarm clock so the numbers written on it in blocky handwriting were visible. He marched up to the phone with his arms crossed, glaring at the large curve of plastic in its cradle.

It would be heavy and cumbersome, especially with Oscar occasionally shaking from nerves over what he witnessed. But he needed to call for help. No one else around his motel would know what had really happened. Oscar had a feeling that Sam and Dean would know. It was their job to fight monsters and the unexplained in the world.

That black smoke was certainly unexplained.

The base of the phone was over half his height. He clambered up onto it, kicking his legs briefly for balance. He had a little trouble on the unfamiliar surface until he reached up and grabbed one of the many buttons arrayed on the machine.

Oscar dragged himself up onto a phone for the first time in his life. He’d never had to do it before; no one ever left food on it and it was a precarious place to stand anyway. With a grunt of effort, he got his hands under the handset and heaved upwards, turning it over with a heavy clatter onto the nightstand. The light blinked at him and he heard a tone out of the earpiece. Oscar’s heart pounded at the thought of what he was actually doing.

He almost didn’t see the note taped to the phone by management: Outgoing calls dial 9* before the number. He sighed. The last thing he wanted was to call the front desk from an unoccupied room. That would bring up a thousand problems that he didn’t need to add to his already growing list.

Oscar had to lean his weight into his steps when he began to push buttons on the phone. He was almost too light to dial the number, constantly referencing the card he’d propped up. After months, the thick piece of paper had become dusty and had a fold at one corner from Oscar keeping it tucked away in his spare closet. He never imagined he’d actually use it.

Now, it was his one tie to someone that might be able to come and help. More people could die like the poor man in room 17, and Oscar was the only witness to what had really happened.

Oscar finished the last number and heard the dial tone out of the phone receiver. He had to stomp several times on the volume up button before he hopped down to wait near the mouthpiece. Oscar fidgeted with his hands and stared at the holes in the cheap plastic, behind which a microphone waited.

After the phone rang five times, a deep voice growled out of the receiver, and Oscar flinched despite being several inches away from it. “Hello? Who is this?”

It sounded like Dean just woke up, which didn’t surprise Oscar in the least. It was the middle of the night. Even knowing the human was miles away didn’t stop the shudder from running up Oscar’s spine. Friend or not, he was intimidating and Oscar was small.

“How’d you get this number?” barked out of the phone, reminding Oscar that he needed to actually say something.

“Uhm, w-well,” he began, before being cut off.

“What? You’ll have to speak up,” Dean said, sounding more tired than impatient.

Oscar cleared his throat and leaned closer to the mouthpiece of the phone, bracing his hands on the edge. “Hello? D-Dean? Can you hear me?” Using a phone shouldn’t be this difficult. The damn humans did it all the time!

“That’s better, now who are you? How’d you know that name?” Dean asked impatiently, slowly working the growl of sleep out of his voice so he could replace it with the growl of suspicion.

“What other name would I use?!” Oscar blurted out, before he caught up with himself. He sighed and continued before the human’s voice could override his own again. “I used the card you left me, it’s Oscar.”

Dean’s voice, when he spoke next, was noticeably warmer. “Oz! Good to hear from ya. Just a sec, lemme get Sam.” Oscar didn’t respond, instead listening intently to the sounds that followed. The phone clattered as though Dean set it down, and then there was a creak of furniture and what Oscar vaguely recognized as books being moved out of the way.

He heard Sammy, wake up, Oz is calling, but didn’t hear the reply. Sam was either too tired or too far away from wherever Dean had put the phone down. Then, Don’t try to blame me when you fell outta bed all on your own, I was just bringin’ the news. Now come on.

Oscar waited for a few more seconds before another familiar voice came through the receiver, this one softer than Dean’s and masking his annoyance much more gracefully. “Oscar?”

“Hi, Sam,” he replied. There was a weird echo of feedback, just the slightest sound of his voice, as speakerphone picked up his answer.

“What’s new, Oz?” Dean chimed in, and Oscar rolled his eyes even though the human couldn’t see. “Everything alright there? You didn’t find any more witches, did you?”

Oscar sighed. “W-well, I don’t really know what I found,” he admitted. “But someone died here in the motel and they’ve been investigating and stuff but I’m the only one who was around to see what happened and it didn’t make any sense at all so I’ve been trying to figure out if something like this is normal but I don’t think it is, so-”

Sam cut him off before he could ramble any further. “Oscar,” his voice was steady, calm. “Slow down. What happened? Who died, and what did you see?”

“Okay,” Oscar said, anchoring his thoughts. He took a breath, and explained what he’d seen from the wall. The brothers remained silent on the other end, and he could practically see them exchanging a look with each other while he spoke. He finished with “So … am I going crazy?”

“You’re not going crazy,” Sam assured him.

“Oz, this is very important, did it see you? Does it know there are people like you living in the motel?” Dean asked, his intensity coming through the phone enough to make Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“I, um, don’t think so,” he answered. “The smoke came out of a different vent and then after … after, the lady just left.”

“Good. We’re coming to you to help sort this out, Oz. What room should we try to meet you in?” Dean’s voice was determined now, and lacked all signs of fatigue.

“Uh, well, I guess room 8,” Oscar replied, remembering that most of the rooms were empty now that someone had been murdered in the motel. Room 8 was easiest for him to access from his home, and he knew for certain that it was vacant.

“We’ll see you sometime tomorrow, Oscar,” Sam told him, before there was a short cry of surprise. Oscar got the distinct feeling that Sam had just been retrieved along with the phone in Dean’s haste. Sam blurting ”Dean!” confirmed the theory.

“Seeya, Oz,” Dean said, ignoring Sam’s grumbling before disconnecting the call.

Oscar sat in front of the phone’s handset, staring blankly at it for several more seconds. He had almost forgotten how peculiar those two really were. And now he’d called them back.

“Oh, boy,” he muttered to himself.

~~~~~

Sam reclined against Dean’s neck while the Impala ate up the miles to Breckenridge. After receiving a call from Oscar of all people, neither Winchester wanted to leave this case hanging. Sam knew how much it must have taken the tiny little guy to work up the courage to call Dean back after their first case with him.

A few times, even Sam had been a little alarmed by Dean’s intensity. He knew without a doubt that Dean would never have hurt an innocent. But seeing Oscar so frightened and Dean so intense after days of spinning their wheels had reminded Sam that Dean knew how to intimidate with minimal effort.

And yet, here they were, heading back after Oscar called them, his quiet voice trembling and nervous as it often was. Sam had noticed before and he stood by his thought: Oscar was braver than he thought he was.

“Oscar’s turning into a pretty good scout for cases for us,” Sam remarked, breaking the amiable silence between the brothers.

Dean nodded his head once, as always careful not to upset Sam’s perch with his movements. “I’m kinda surprised,” he admitted. “After I … after last time, I figured he’d just take something like this and keep quiet. He didn’t owe us a call.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’s probably still scared, but he’s also smart. If police started looking into that murder too much, they could find evidence of the people living in that motel’s walls.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully, the soft sound vibrating behind Sam’s back. Once again, it seemed like Sam had surprised Dean with the way the smaller folk living in hiding had to think. The threat of humans finding them was always there, and they always had to do what they could to keep the secret.

“We’ll just havta help out again, then. Keep all of ‘em safe and get rid of a demon at the same time,” Dean decided. Sam couldn’t help a soft smile at the conviction in the voice that rumbled behind him. He was proud of his big brother.