Dean faces his fear.
Closing the door behind him, Dean swallowed nervously and held his gun out in-front of him as he slowly walked closer to the beds.
"Come on, I know you're in here," he whispered, eyes narrowed as he scanned the room for any movement.
Dean gasped when he saw a sudden movement beside him. Quickly turning around, aiming his gun, he saw it was just his reflection in the wardrobes full-length mirror.
"Frigging idiot," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. How he could mistake his handsome self for a vile ugly little rodent, he didn't know.
"I'm brave," he whispered, sounding like a child.
He cocked his head slightly as he listened for any sounds. "Be vewy vewy quiet. I'm hunting wats." Dean chuckled to himself, but it was nervous laughter rather than amused.
Dean hoped the rat was not as smart as Bugs Bunny, because being outsmarted by a rat would be embarrassing. Quickly reminding himself this wasn't a cartoon, he continued searching for the rat.
As he got closer to the bed, he whacked his foot on the leg. "OW! DAMMIT! Yeah. Well done on the being quiet thing."
Limping over to the TV, Dean looked behind it, and sighed in relief when he saw nothing there but dust and rat droppings. "Thank g-" His breath caught when he heard squeaking and rustling coming from the other side of the room.
Jumping on his bed, he scanned the space between the beds, but he saw nothing. Crossing over onto Sam's bed, his gun held in both hands, he waited for the furry little pest to show itself.
Outside the motel room, Sam stood with his ear to the door, listening for any movement. 'Maybe I should go in and help him.' But even as he thought that, he shook his head. Dean would never get over his obvious fear if Sam ran in there and saved him like a damsel in distress.
Sam felt awful when an image of Dean being chased around the room by the rat, screaming came into his head, making him laugh.
No matter how much he made fun of Dean being afraid of rats, he knew what it was like to have a fear of something.
It was the same way he felt about clowns. And there was no way in hell he would ever want to be stuck in a room with one.
Dean took a deep breath, trying to stay calm even though his heart was beating so fast, he thought it was going to explode.
"I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid, I'm not afraid," he whispered repeatedly, trying to convince himself it was true.
The little scars on his fingers started tingling, bringing up horrible memories for Dean. Memories from his childhood, which he had tried desperately to forget.
Just as he was thinking about doing a head-dive out of the window and running as far away as possible, the huge rat came running out, making Dean cry out and jump backwards.
If anyone heard the noise, he would quickly deny it was a scream and claim it was the sound of a warrior.
The ugly little rodent ran back and forth, each time Dean swore it was getting closer and closer to him.
He looked at the wardrobe, and was thinking about jumping on top of it in-case the rat climbed up the bed frame and started nibbling on his personals, when the rat stopped and looked up at him with its tiny black eyes, baring its small but sharp teeth at him.
Dean swore it was grinning at him, which freaked him out even more.
"Okay, I'm going to die. It smells fear, it's going to rip my throat out. Sammy, if you can hear me, make sure everything is attached, throw me in the Impala, and bury me somewhere nice," Dean rambled, hoping his brother could hear him.
Dean gritted his teeth when the rat started squeaking.
'EEK-EEK EEK-EEK,' squeaked the rat, reminding Dean of the Psycho shower scene music.
"Ugh," he shuddered, taking a step back on the bed, but he kept his gun on the rodent. His hand shook, making his aim waver slightly when the rat shot forwards unexpectedly.
"WHOA!" he yelled, jumping across back to his own bed. "Crap crap crap."
Regaining his balance, Dean sank back against the wall with his eyes closed, breathing rapidly. All he could hear was the thumping of his heart pounding violently against his ribcage as if it was trying to break free. "Sonofabitch."
To calm himself down, he softly started singing the first few bars of the last Zeppelin song he was playing in the Impala. "There's a lady who's sure, all that glitters is gold. And she's buying a stairway to heaven..."
Sam frowned when he heard muffled singing coming from the other side of the door. He knew the only reason Dean would be singing is if he was scared, and he felt guilty for making fun of him.
He really wanted to go in and help his brother, but he knew it was his fault that Dean was stuck in there with a rat in the first place. He was just trying to prove a point to Sam that he was not afraid, even though he obviously was.
Placing his hand against the door to lend his own support to his big brother, Sam whispered, "It's okay, Dean. I'm right here."
But if he wasn't back in five minutes, Sam was going in. He could not stand the thought of Dean being scared in there.
"...In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings. Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven." Now feeling a little calmer, Dean opened his eyes, and nodded. "Okay, I can do this."
The man and the rat stared at each other, reminding Dean of a shootout in a western. The rat squeaked up at him, twitching its whiskers, and tilting its head questioningly.
"This is ridiculous. I'm Dean fricking Winchester, dammit." Dean took another huge shuddering breath, and released it shakily to steady himself. "I'm not scared. I'm a bad-ass demon hunter, not a pansy-ass bitch who's afraid of a fugly overgrown mouse," he told the rat in a voice which only trembled the slightest bit.
Tired of being afraid, Dean stood to his full height, squared his shoulders, and clenched his jaw. "Enough of this crap." Steadying his trembling hand and holding his breath, he quickly took aim at the rat.
"Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway," he quoted, before pulling the trigger. "Bye bitch."
Blood sprayed from the rat, and coated the grey carpet as its head exploded from the impact of the bullet.
A cold, deadly look crossed Dean's face as he pulled the trigger repeatedly. The sound of four rapid shots from the colt 1911 echoed through the room.
By the time he finished, the only thing that remained of the rat was blood, fur, and laid in the middle of the pool of blood was the huge tail, which twitched once before laying still.
"I-I did it," whispered Dean proudly, his arm dropping to the side. He laughed, and fell back against the wall, trying to get the trembling to stop and his heart to slow down.
Hearing the gunshots, Sam jumped back from the door. "Dean?"
Receiving no answer, he opened his bag, and grabbed his own gun. Just as he was about to turn the handle, the door opened to reveal a pale, shaky Dean.
"Dean. Oh my god, are you alright?" asked Sam, dropping his gun to grab Dean's shoulders when it looked like he was about to fall over. "Dean?"
Dean shook his head, and looked up at Sam with huge green eyes. "I-I did it," he repeated, bringing up a shaking hand to wipe his mouth. "Oh god."
"Hey, talk to me." Sam was seriously worried about Dean, he had never seen his brother like this before. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Are you okay? Did it bite you?" he asked frantically, running his hands over Dean's body to check for injuries.
Dean stood unmoving while Sam felt him over. He didn't know what worried him more- The fact that Dean still seemed to be in shock or that he didn't make a comment about him feeling him up.
Sighing in relief when he found no bite marks or injuries, Sam put his hand under Dean's chin, and lifted his head slightly so he could look into Dean's fearful eyes.
"Dean, are you alright?"
Hope you like
The quote 'Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway' was by John Wayne, I just thought it fitted the moment.