Cowboy English

"Sam heard ... The three of us we have nothing else. I have no more. Sometimes I feel like I have just me. "Dean 1x21


.. oOo.

A slap of cold air gives just the face, ruffling his hair and clarify their thoughts. Feel the need for speed, so sink your foot on the pedal with more force than necessary. The Impala's engine roars as if it were a wild animal, pushing his body forward, devouring kilometers every second, turning his world in a wave of color and deformed bodies are left behind before his eyes.

Since little has loved the speed. The wind in your face, the feeling of freedom that bore his body as if it were a wild and untamed, with the world at his feet. A beast that travels the world running every inch that makes its way to him. When your hands on the wheel, foot on the accelerator and a way forward, regardless of the course, feels alive, daring and completely alien to the world around him.

And at that moment is what you want. Completely away from reality, its reality.

With one hand on the wheel and eyes on the road, put an old tape of Gun's and roses, that in a few seconds the car fills with the first chords of Estranged. Savor the irony of life while singing the lyrics of the song. Precisely that song had to be the first to hear after what happened yesterday.

Clearly remembers the screams, John's face and eyes while discussing Sam to take his final decision. The truth is that it's hard to forget something like that in so little time, but Dean just wanted to let all that shit back, delete it from your mind and pretend it never happened. But it was hard just to try, and because it was also painful. Never in all my lifetime, I'd think a day like this will cross into the path of the Winchester family, or rather, of the three Winchester men. The idea that Sam had left them to follow a path very different from them, it was unthinkable, improbable, and so real.

Since the death of his mother had always been the three. Only three. No matter where they were, whether hunting or in the middle of nowhere, in a remote section on the map of the United States. That did not matter, as they kept together. And if at any time John was missing (as was the case) at least two of them were always to protect each other, talk charades at midnight or fall with his fists for some stupid joke, or rather, annoy Sam until he lost his temper and threw him over. In all those years had been, now everything seemed to collapse like a house of cards or a mirror that was shattered on the floor.

Although he did not think Sam would have done that, especially him. Leaving the motel with a bang, with just a few things up and enough money to escape them like enemies. He feels betrayed, angry and eager to drink the whole damn alcoholic reserve the nearest town. Perhaps even wanting to punch him in the face of his "brother" and see if the idiot is removed. But partly, I understand. Sometimes when you are alone in a park or a cafe in an unfamiliar city residents looking hard at work everyday, want to be like them, with a normal life and no more problems to worry about which team is winning the league or what will be gamberra the next exit or maybe (only maybe) in some stupid argument with a girlfriend.

However, the life of a Winchester can not be normal at all. Normal people do not go from one city to another, in motel motel, looking for trouble and hunt the creatures that inhabit the dark, part of the nightmares of children and the legends that travel the world as stories for days without moons and fires at midnight. Normal people have never seen a ghost, a werewolf or a vampire. And definitely not melt silver to make weapons, use salt to close doors and windows, speak Latin or buy the most unusual ingredients to prepare any amulet to help them fulfill their mission, much less have packed the trunk with a arsenal of knives, sticks, rifles with salt bullets, holy water and silver crucifixes. At the end of the day, ordinary people did not know what they do.

Both understood and not his brother. Clear that he too would have liked to have a normal life, go to a school, having friends, a girlfriend and quit partying the weekend, celebrate a birthday or Christmas as God commands and of course, have the opportunity to grow with a mother and not hunting. But all that vanished the day when Mary Winchester died. He knew it, but apparently Sam. He had preferred to take their bags, get on a bus and get out before accepting it.

Much as I think even I could not believe it. The screams, the behavior of Sam and his father, until his complete lack of intervention. He was angry with everyone, Sam, with his father and even himself, until that portion of life that had touched them.

That morning when he awoke still held out hope that Sam was back, talked to his father and made peace, only to be another disappointment. Sam was not coming back, John had gone to hunt and he was left alone with the only companion than the Impala. So I take the car keys, he dressed quickly, took his leather jacket and got into his trusty metal steed, accelerates everything he could and left the place like a whirlwind.

He had been half a day on these, wandering through unknown paths without a map in hand. Lost or does not care that John came to his room without finding it, or him, or the Impala. Looking for an outlet for that betrayal and will not stop until he finds. After all, Sam, little Sammy has left them. He quit. I urge to vent.

After all, there were three, and now felt that he had only himself and the Impala.

- But that will not happen, not if I can help - whisper to himself, with more security than actually felt.

Because from that day, Dean Winchester would be the best hunter after his father, would end with ghosts, zombies, werewolves and every creature that he crossed his path. John Winchester would continue until the end, and would do everything possible for Sam to return to his side. But something was true, from that moment only have yourself.