DISCLAIMER: Nope. Don't own 'em. Don't make any money off them. And really, considering the amount of time they spend in my head, they should be paying me rent at the very least!

A/N: I wrote this after Fresh Blood first aired and posted it… elsewhere. In light of tonight's re-run, I thought it might make for a nice epilogue…

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BROTHERS FIRST

"Reckless, Sammy. I think you need to start listening to your own advice." Dean winced as he tried to increase the pressure on his neck to stop the flow of blood from the bite on his neck. It was probably gonna hurt a whole lot more later, when the pounding in his head wasn't quite so distracting.

Dean followed his brother out of the warehouse. Both brothers were moving more slowly than usual. Sam was stiff and sore from his fight with Gordon. He was limping slightly and kept his arm tucked into his side. His face hurt from being used as a gavel on the workbench. His hands stung where the razor wire had dug into his hands despite the leather he had grabbed to protect them. Thank God there were no actual breaks in the skin; the last thing they needed right now was Sam vamping out. As bad as Sam felt, he was pretty sure that he was better off than his brother.

"You ok, Dean?" Sam glanced around at his older sibling. Dean was still weaving slightly and there was no question that his pupils were blown and unequal.

"'M fine, Sammy."

Why do I even bother to ask? Sam thought, not for the first time, and rolled his eyes.

"Think maybe I should drive?" Sam broke the silence as the two made it back to the Impala, stopping at the trunk to deposit their weapons.

"Mm." Dean grunted in the affirmative as he came beside his brother and inserted the key in the trunk of the Impala. Sam looked at his brother in concern. Dean's answer was even less verbal than normal. Sam was shocked at the pallor of his brother's face. A fine sheen of sweat also coated Dean's skin. Dean's right hand gripped the edge of the lifted trunk, and Sam was pretty sure that was all that was keeping Dean on his feet at the moment.

"Dammit Dean! You look like shit. Shit on a bad day at that," Sam hissed.

"Yeah. I…I …don't feel too g…" and Dean's eyes rolled up in his head and he would have hit the pavement like a ton of bricks except that Sam was right there to break his fall. But damn if it didn't feel like catching a ton of bricks to Sam's already battered frame.

Sam gently eased his brother to the ground and then lightly patted his cheek. Sam noticed the wound on Dean's neck was still bleeding slowly but steadily. Dean's eyes fluttered and opened. Again, Sam noted the pupils. His brother had one hell of a concussion.

"Welcome back," Sam smiled down at his brother.

"Crap."

"Yeah – that's what you look like, dude."

"Help me up. 'M fine."
"Your credibility is seriously lacking, man," Sam couldn't help but chuckle and given the circumstances – lying in his brother's lap in a freakin' parking lot – Dean couldn't suppress an answering chuckle.

"Just stay put for a minute, Dean, while I put at least a bandage on your neck. I don't like that it's still seeping blood."

"Dude. That is the mother of all hickeys…"

Sam stared at his brother for a heartbeat before shaking his head and laughing yet again. Sam stretched up and reached for the med kit in the trunk. He quickly located the bandages that he wanted and applied them to the wound on Dean's neck. Unfortunately, the added pressure on Dean's neck had one negative side effect. The concussion had been making Dean feel nauseous anyway, but he'd been able to suppress it. Until the added pressure on his throat…

"SSammmy. G..g..gonna… hurl," Dean managed to choke out in time for Sam to roll Dean off of himself and onto his side.

Stars exploded in Dean's head with each heave. Even as he shifted into dry heaves, the explosions kept up, accompanied by a white hot pain which seemed to radiate from one temple to the other. Finally, Dean's body was satisfied that it had expelled anything that it was possible to expel in that manner.

"Thththat ssuccked out lllloud, SSSammy," Dean's speech was slurred and was further punctuated by tremors caused from his now chattering teeth.

"Let's get out of here. I can't say that I am too impressed with how you've chosen to redecorate the place," Sam manoeuvred his brother's arm over his shoulder and let his other arm snake around Dean's torso, grabbing the belt loops on his jeans and then heaved his brother to his feet.

Dean groaned at the change in altitude and swallowed hard several times in an attempt to keep the nausea at bay as the world swam dizzily around him.

"Easy, bro. You know the drill. Breathe through it. Stay with me," Sam murmured encouragement to his brother as he guided him to the passenger door of the Impala. He didn't like the way his brother's eyes kept trying to roll back in his head. Not good, not good, kept repeating itself in Sam's head. This was turning out to be the mother of all concussions. Sam briefly contemplated driving to the hospital, but ruled it out when he considered just how pissed Dean would be. They'd been doing a really good job of staying off of Hendrickson's radar and needed to keep it that way. God help them if Bela found out about Hendrickson – he'd, no doubt, be willing to spend money for their location.

Sam managed to get the passenger door open and slide Dean into the seat. His head immediately sought the seat and his eyes drifted shut.

"Dean!"

Dean's eyes flew open at his brother's shout, and he tried to surge upwards. The pain that sliced through his head caused him to groan and clutch at his head.

"Sorry, dude, but you have to stay awake for me."
"Tired, Sammy."

"Soon, Dean. Soon you can sleep."

Sam carefully closed the passenger door and then hobbled as quickly as he could around the front of the car and slid behind the wheel. He glanced at his brother. He was much, much too pale.

"Still with me, bro?"

"Yeah." It was breathy, but at least Dean was still awake.

Sam shuddered as he thought about Gordon feeding on his unconscious brother. Dean's pale skin and shaking body as Gordon pressed him against the warehouse wall and fed on him. Gordon's head lying on the ground severed from his body. Just as Gordon's sanity and humanity had left his body years ago. Sam wanted to feel the guilt. But now he considered it an indulgence. Dean had sacrificed so much of himself to keep the both of them safe over the years; now it was his turn. This is what Dean had always done, sacrificed the luxury of a clean conscience for the safety of his family. Sam remembered Dean's words from that night which seemed so long ago now. What I'm willing to do for you or Dad. It scares me sometimes. Sam knew that it was past time for him to feel that fear, and he at least had his brother's example to help him through. Gordon had left them no choice. And Gordon really was a monster.

They were almost back to the hotel when Sam realized he had been lost in his own thoughts. He glanced at his brother. Dean's head had fallen onto the back of the seat. He was still pale, and Sam could see that he was shivering in spite of the heater being on high enough to have Sam starting to sweat. Sam reached over and gently shook his brother.

"Dean?"

"'M wake." The words were mumbled.

"We're almost there. Hang on, okay?"

"'M fine, Ssssammy." The words were slurred and Dean's teeth chattered. Sam let it go. It was a fruitless argument.

"Hear ttthatt, Ssssam?"

"Hear what?"

"Th…th…at nnnnoise."

"You mean the sound of your teeth chattering? Yeah, bro. That's coming in loud and clear."

"N…n….nnno. The Impala…she's mmmmakin' a funny sound."

"Sorry, dude. I'm just not hearing it…" Sam pulled into the parking lot of the abandoned motel and parked in front of the room they had been using. He'd move the car later. It wasn't a big deal at this point as they'd eliminated all of their enemies in town now – he hoped.

Sam got out and made his way to the passenger side. Dean hadn't even attempted to move. Sam opened the door and dragged Dean's arm over his shoulder again, sliding his brother out of the car as gently as possibly. Again, Sam tucked his other arm behind Dean's back and grabbed his belt loops. Dean was actually becoming a little more coherent and was able to stagger into the room. Sam lowered him onto one of the chairs.

"Ok. Hang on while I get the med kit. I'll get you patched up and then you can rest. Sound ok?"

"Yeah, Sammy. Sounds like a plan."

Sam quickly gathered the few supplies he would need and grabbed a glass of water for his brother as well. The first thing he did was press three tablets of Tylenol into his brother's hand and offer him the water. Dean's hands were shaking so badly that Sam had to close his own hands over his brother's to prevent all of the water from sloshing out of the glass.

"'K. Your turn," Dean pressed the glass into Sam's hands.

"Huh?" Sam frowned in confusion.

"Wanna see you take s..s..some, t..t..too," Dean's teeth were chattering, but Sam recognized the stubborn glint to his eyes. He sighed and took the damn pills. They both knew his head was killing him. Big brother radar: Sam had lived with it his whole life and knew there was no use in fighting it.

"Ok, I'm gonna take a look at your head first, and then I'll take care of your neck. Then you can get some sleep."

"'K Sssammmy," Dean slurred. It was taking everything he had to remain more or less upright in the chair.

Sam moved behind his brother to examine his head wound. Picking up a damp cloth and the betadine soap, he gently washed the dried blood off his brother's head and out of his hair, exposing the wound. It was a pretty nasty gash that would need a few stitches. Sam also saw the lump from where Dixon had thrown Dean into the wall earlier.

"You're gonna need a couple stitches."

"'S ok."

Sam got to work and had the stitches in in short order with only a few hisses and curses from his brother.

"Let's get a look at that neck now." Sam moved back in front of his brother, scooting the other chair over so he could sit while examining the wound. Sam's own exhaustion was starting to catch up with him. He knew he was coming off of an adrenaline high and it was only his concern for his brother that was keeping him going. He just wanted a shower to try to get clean and then the blissful oblivion of sleep.

Sam peeled the bandage away from the wound. It had finally stopped bleeding. There would really be no way to stitch the tiny holes left from Gordon's fangs. Sam grabbed the holy water first and liberally dumped it on the wound. Dean hissed as the wound smoked and sizzled, the holy water helping to burn the poison out of the wound. Next Sam bathed the wound with hydrogen peroxide to remove the more mundane bacteria, and last but not least, Sam applied antibiotic cream and a new bandage.

"That should do the trick, at least as best as I can."

"There's only so much you can do man. There was bound to be some backwash…" Dean swallowed thickly. Mental note: don't go there. His stomach roiled again at the thought of Gordon feeding on him.

"You know you're gonna feel worse before you feel better. Vamp saliva won't turn you, but it is gonna make you feel like crap."

"Th…th…thanks, geekboy. Wanna help me get tttto bbbbed then?" Dean's teeth were starting to chatter again. Sam noticed the fine sheen of sweat on his face.

Fever's starting then, was Sam's first thought.

Once again, Sam wrapped one of Dean's arms over his shoulder and snaked the other behind his torso, grabbing his belt loops. He could feel the heat radiating through Dean's clothes and the tremors that were wracking his lean frame. Sam gently released his brother onto the mattresses they'd been using to sleep on. Dean sat with his feet in front of him, arms on his thighs and head down. He was swaying slightly.

"Let's get you out of those clothes."

"D..d..d…dud.d..de, that just always sss..sssoundsss ssso wrong when y..y..ou sssssay it." Dean attempted his patented smirk as he looked up at his brother. It would have been hard for anyone other than Sam to understand the heavily slurred words through the chattering of Dean's teeth. Sam couldn't help but smile at his brother, but then he sobered. He really did say that too often. Sam slipped off Dean's boots. Dean did his best to help as Sam removed his jacket, over shirt and t-shirt. When Sam reached for the button on Dean's jeans, Dean swatted him away.

"I g..g..got th…th…hisss. G..g…grab mm..mmme some other clothes." Dean stammered out.

Sam did as he was asked and held a fresh pair of boxers and Dean's sweat pants out to him. Somehow Dean found the energy and coordination to get them on, but the effort cost him. Sam quickly bent down to help his brother pull on a fresh t-shirt and Sam's own hoodie which would be nice and roomy for Dean. Dean was just about out of it as Sam helped him lie down and pulled the covers up to his chin. Dean's lashes fluttered as he struggled against the sleep which was threatening to overwhelm him.

"Th…th…thanks, SSSSammy."

"Just doing my job as little brother, dude. Don't mention it. Sleep now, and I'll wake you in a little bit for some more Tylenol." Sam gently patted his brother's shoulder and ghosted a hand across his short cropped hair.

Dean was asleep, so Sam took the opportunity to get himself cleaned up. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night. Stripping off his blood soaked clothes, Sam stared at his body in the mirror. He was covered in bruises, especially his back where he and Gordon had crashed through the wall and his right side that had taken out the shelving unit. His face had seen better days too. Not for the first time, he wondered what Jess would say if she could see him now.

He was lucky that it was just a few scraps and bruises; there was nowhere that Gordon's blood could have infected him. Yet, still, there was the stain of his blood on Sam's hands. Sam sighed and got in the shower, happy to let the hot water cascade over his shoulders and down his torso, helping to strip away the tension and soreness. Eventually, Sam grabbed the soap to make sure all of the blood was off of him. He scrubbed at his arms until they were red and then lathered his chest and abs. Finally, Sam let the water fall over him and rinse him. He stayed in the shower until he started to feel the water cool. They were lucky to have hot and cold running water. After towelling off, Sam grabbed the change of clothes he had brought in with himself and dressed.

His eyes immediately went to his brother as he left the bathroom. Dean's breathing seemed a bit laboured, and he was restless. Normal for having a fever and a concussion. Sam got as comfortable as he could and fired up the laptop to begin his vigil. As luck would have it, he didn't have to wake Dean, Dean woke on his own about two hours later. Such were the vagaries of concussions – sometimes they made you sleepy and sometimes they made you restless.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was still a little shaky but the chattering and slurring were more or less gone.

"Here, Dean," Sam soothed. He grabbed water, Tylenol, and the thermometer on the way to the bed. Dean looked up at him with too bright eyes. Fever.

"Hey. How do you feel?"

"Like I was tenderized before being the main course at a barbeque," Dean smirked. Sam smiled. He couldn't be feeling that bad if his snark was on full. Sam helped his brother to sit up enough to take a sip of water. He was pale and sweating. He was also still shaky enough to need help with the glass.

After guiding his brother back down to the bed, Sam stuck the thermometer in his brother's ear. The fact that this only elicited a discontented growl from his brother and not a full out dressing down was more than ample evidence to Sam that while it might have been worse, Dean still was not himself by a long shot. Sam was relieved that his temperature was just 100.5.

"How's the head? Your stomach?"

"You know how much I hate a marching band without any cheerleaders, right?"

"That good, huh?"

"And I'm not talking about that other thing…." Dean was having a lot of trouble keeping the nausea at bay. His head was killing him and the room was still spinning. Put that together with a fever and Dean was far from happy.

"You get any sleep, or have you been pouring over that stupid computer the whole time I've been out of it?" Dean frowned at his brother. Sam looked exhausted. He was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes in addition to the bruises from his fight with Gordon.

"I wasn't all that sleepy," Sam lied.

"'M fine, Sammy. Really. The one thing that'll make me feel better right now is if you get some rest. 'K?"

"I'm not the one with the concussion…" Sam started to dig his heels in.

"Sammy. Please." It was barely a whisper. It was only two words, but Sam heard more than that. Dean's plea to let him be the big brother. To care for Sam the way he had been his whole life. And that was one thing that Sam was powerless to fight against.

"Ok. I'll lie down. If you wake up, wake me up Dean. I'm serious." The corners of Sam's mouth twitched upwards as he saw a ghost of a smile cross his brother's face. Sam continued to watch as his brother attempted to get comfortable. Dean groaned quietly (Sam was sure that Dean wasn't even aware that noise had got past him) and rolled onto his stomach. One hand reached under his pillow, and Sam knew he was gripping the bowie knife. Protect and serve. The cops had nothing on Dean. The other hand sought the floor. Classic bed spin counter attack. So, still nauseas then.

Sam climbed into his "bed" and was asleep before the blankets had even settled on him.

Sam was wrenched from sleep several hours later by a series of thumps punctuated by a "Sonuvabitch," a groan, and a barking noise. Sam had been so deeply asleep that it took him a few moments to make sense of what he was hearing.

"Dean?" Sam looked over – Dean wasn't in the bed. The thump. Sam's eyes swivelled to the bathroom - there was a light on. Barking. Make that retching. Shit!

"Dean!" Sam swung up off his mattress, so quickly he had to grab for the wall as the room spun about him. Regardless, Sam was in the bathroom in three strides. Dean was draped over the toilet dry heaving as there was nothing left in him. His short hair was plastered to his head, and Sam noted the sweat running down his face. Dean's body was also shivering uncontrollably. Sam calculated his temperature was either about where it had been or slightly higher. Chills told him there still was a fever, but the sweating, while unpleasant – understatement – was a sign the poison was burning out of his system.

"Dude?"

"Gimme a minute, Sssammy."

Sam made his way into the kitchenette area. Dean had lost a fair bit of blood and a lot more bodily fluids through sweating and throwing up. Sam wanted to make sure that Dean didn't end up dehydrated, so he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and set it by Dean's bed on his way back to the bathroom.

Dean had managed to position himself up against the wall. When he heard Sammy, his head rolled toward the door. He smiled weakly up at his brother's worried face.

"Dude. You look like crap."

"Right back attcha. Let's get you back to bed. Assuming you're finished up in here?"

"I'm good."

Once again, Sam helped his brother back to bed. Once Dean was settled with his back propped up against the wall, Sam took his temperature again. 101.5. About what Sam had figured.

"Think you can keep some Tylenol down?"

"My stomach's not so sure, but my head's threatening to abandon ship if I say no." Dean held his hand out for the pills.

Sam handed him the Gatorade first. Dean grimaced and was about to protest.

"Don't even bother. Just drink the damn stuff."

"Talk about bossy," Dean mumbled and smirked, but after an initial sip to test the reception, he took a long drink of the Gatorade with the pills.

"Sammy," Dean stared at the blankets in front of him.

"Do you need something else?"

"Uh…no…it's….just…I…mmm….look I'm sorry." Dean didn't look up. Sam's eyebrows quirked together as he frowned trying to decipher what his concussed and mildly delirious brother was getting at.

"Sorry for what Dean?"

"Not like we shouldn't expect it at this point."

"Dean. What?" Sam knew that Dean would never get anywhere by the most direct route when the destination was difficult.

"I'm sorry. I…I screwed up again." Dean's voice had fallen to barely a whisper. He still hadn't lifted his eyes to look at his brother. Sam sank down on the mattress beside his brother. Dean was still shaking slightly with the fever and chills.

"Dean, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The way I've been acting. I never get it right." Dean snorted softly. Sam stilled.

"I was trying to make it easier for you. Hell, for me too. It's easier not to think about it, ya know?" Dean stole a quick look at his brother through his dark lashes.

"Dean. I'm sorry. I don't think that there is a right way to act. But…well….I just want you to be you. I want you to trust me to be here for you. I won't think any less of you for being afraid. You'd be stupid not to be." Sam's voice was quiet but firm.

"I am afraid, Sammy," Dean's voice was barely audible and Sam could see the toll it took his brother to admit that. "But not for the reason you think."

"Then, why?" Sam's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I mean, I know I'm not going to club med and that is starting to get to me a bit, but I'm more afraid of what I've done to you."

"What you've done to me…..?" Sam's voice trailed off. He was well and thoroughly confused now.

"I've left you wide open. No one to watch your back."

And no one to do the tough stuff. The heavy lifting of the soul that has steadily been eating away at your soul, Dean, Sam mentally finished what Dean would never say.

"How many times do I have to say it, Dean: I can look after myself."

"You know that I never minded looking out for you, right? I know you think that it was Dad's idea, but it wasn't. It was what I wanted to do. Be your big brother."

"I never minded that you looked out for me Dean. In fact, maybe I relied on it too much. I took advantage of you." I let you do all the hardest things. Even when deep down I started to see the toll it was taking on you.

"Don't say that Sam!" Dean's head snapped up and the fire in his eyes had nothing to do with his fever. "I know you think that I was just an unthinking soldier, but trust me when I tell you that I made choices too. Choices I don't regret."

Dean's shaking had increased and he drew in a shuddering breath.

"Dean. Why don't you lie back down and get some more sleep." Sam tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. As much as he wanted this heart to heart with his brother he felt like he was taking advantage of him yet again. Dean was hurting, and Sam didn't want to make him sicker. Dean drew in a steadying breath.

"In a minute, Sam. Maybe I shouldn't have taken for granted that I'd always be here for you. I don't know. I don't think I ever really thought much about the future. I never thought I would live forever. I sure as hell didn't think that a damn demon army would be roaming the earth." Dean looked up at his brother again with a half smile quirking up his lips. And then the smile faded.

"I'm not afraid to die. But I never planned on leaving you unprotected."

"I keep telling you Dean, I can look after myself. Remember – I've had the best teacher." It was Sam's turn to smile as he rested his hand on Dean's leg.

"Don't be me, Sam. You're better than that."

"Don't start that Dean…" Sam growled at his brother.

"Hey, before you get all bent out of shape, I'm not saying that I think I'm a bad person – bad ass, sure – I'm just saying I never wanted a mini me, ok?" Dean looked up at Sam again, willing him to understand. And hating that this was turning into the chick flick from hell.

"You're smarter than me Sam, and no false modesty," Dean could see Sam start to protest. "You don't have to get the job done the same way that I do. We've always known what our roles were meant to be. You're the research geek, and I'm the muscle. You're stronger than you think Sammy. You're stronger than me." Dean looked up at his brother then, searching his face and pleading with fever-bright eyes.

"I'm only as strong as you've made me, Dean. But I'm stronger with you than without you."

"Sammy," it was barely a breath. Dean cleared his throat.

"Sammy. I'll try to stop this, but you have to promise me that you'll try too."

"I am trying Dean! I've been trying since you made that damn deal."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean you have to go on if I don't make it."

"You're gonna make it. I'm your brother and that's what little brothers do."

"I don't want you to pay the price that I have." Dean's voice was barely a whisper.

Sam knew that his brother wasn't referring to the deal. Sam sighed.

"I wish that you hadn't had to pay that price either, man." Sam wished that there was some way to convince his brother that regardless of what this life had cost them, Sam knew that Dean himself was priceless. He wished more than anything he could show his brother how valuable his life was. How valuable he was.

"Dean, you're my brother. Being your brother is who I am. If you die so does that part of me. I won't be your "little" brother anymore. I won't be anybody's brother anymore. Cuz it's more that just a "label" – being a brother requires a living breathing brother to share it with." Sam paused. Dean's breathing was heavy, and he continued to stare at the blanket.

"I need my big brother, Dean. I need my pain in the ass, smart mouth, bad ass brother. I need that brother who would fight until his last breath. But I need you to fight for you this time Dean. Because if you go down, we both go down, and deep down, I think you know that."

He grabbed the Gatorade and held it out to his brother. Sam recognized that his brother was nearing the end of his physical endurance and needed to sleep.

"Here, Dean. Take another drink, and then let's get some sleep." Sometimes Dean had to be protected from his own demons.

Sam helped Dean get comfortable again. The shaking seemed to be letting up. Sam grabbed the thermometer.

"Let me check your temp one more time, 'k Dean?" Dean's only response was a grunt. Sam was rewarded though when the thermometer read 100. Dean's temperature would no doubt be gone by the morning. In the meantime, they both needed to sleep.

"Sammy?" Sam barely heard his brother as he verged on sleep.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I'm sorry that I hurt you. I know how hard it is to lose a brother." Sam's breathing hitched painfully at his brother's whispered words. There was nothing that Sam could say.

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Sam had every intention of waking in a couple of hours to check on his brother again, but what eventually woke him was the sound of the shower turning off. Off? Sam was a bit groggy but was pretty sure that when he fell asleep he wasn't sharing a room with anyone who could turn the shower on. Sure enough, though, when Sam rolled over, Dean's bed was empty.

Sam groaned as he was assaulted by numerous aches and pains as he rolled over and attempted to get up. He had gotten all the way to sitting up when the bathroom door opened and Dean emerged in a cloud of steam. He had on a pair of clean jeans and was running a towel gingerly through his hair, careful not to touch the stitches or the lump on his head.

"Dean?"

"Hey, finally up there, Sleeping Sasquatch?" Dean smiled at his brother.

"You ok?" Sam couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Yeah, dude. I'm fine. Starving. But fine." Dean moved to his duffel and began to rifle through it looking for clean clothes. Sam hauled himself up and walked over to his brother, raising his hand to check Dean for a temperature. Dean dodged the hand coming for him and quirked an eyebrow at his brother.

"Dude! Personal space!"

"Dean, you had a fever last night," Sam explained.

"Operative words there, Sammy – last night. Gone this morning. I'm good. How's your head this morning?"

"Ok." Sam realized he hadn't considered it particularly. He knew he was hungry like Dean once he thought about it though.

"You're really sure, you're ok this morning, Dean?"

"Yes grandma. Now, get dressed so we can get out of this damn town."

"What time is it?" Sam moved to grab clean clothes out of his bag. He knew that once Dean had made up his mind to move, he wouldn't be happy until the Impala was peeling down the highway.

"It's just after one. I figure we can grab something to eat and make it to the next town anyway." Sam recognized the signs. Dean just wanted to put this hunt behind them. It wouldn't matter if they only went to the next town. It wouldn't be this one and that was enough distance for Dean. Dean's desire to get behind the wheel of the Impala was a good sign. It's where Dean liked to do his thinking. Sam smiled as he made his way to the bathroom with his shaving kit. They'd gotten more than they bargained for when they arrived in this town, but at least he'd be leaving town with his big brother.

Dean was on his way out the door with the first of their bags when he turned and said, "I thought that once we had something to eat, we could pick up a few beers, and we could stop and I could see why my girl was making that noise last night."

"Sure, dude. Whatever you need."

A/N: So? Thoughts? A really nice reader fairy would leave a little review – they're like M&Ms for writers, you know….