Just some Sam thoughts on having his brother back.

What makes the Man

Sam climbed into the Impala and sighed at the little hole in the dash, his technological improvement having already been ripped from its home after only two days.

He turned the engine over, ejected the tape that was playing and opened the glove box to place it in with the others. The box of neatly stacked tapes now looked like it had been through an earthquake, the tapes thrown in haphazardly as if tossed about by a great force. He sat the box on his knee and tidied it into some semblance of order wishing briefly again that he had just tossed them when he had the chance. His brother would have had no choice then but to leave his improvement in place.

He dialled the radio away from the classic rock station that he hadn't listened to in four long months and found music to soothe rather than jangle his ragged nerves then he backed the car out of the space and into the street.

The diner was only a mile away but he found himself wanting some 'me' time in the car, it was after all the only thing that had kept him sane the whole time Dean had been down.

He kinda got now why his brother coveted the car so much. He had woke up more than once slumped in the passenger seat with Dean's old leather jacket pulled round him, able to sleep here when the nightmares made it impossible to rest anywhere else. It was the only place in the last four months that Sam had felt safe, protected, close to his brother. He loving ran his hand over the steering wheel as he turned her in and parked her outside the diner.

He looked in the back of the car as he got out and another sigh escaped him. He opened the door and picked up the four coffee cups and numerous wrappers that had magically appear there. Two days, Dean, two. How could someone create so much mess in two days? Whatever else hell may have done to his brother it sure hadn't damaged his appetite. Sam took the trash and threw it in the bin, wiped the crumbs and split food from the back seat and closed her up.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He juggled opened the door to the hotel room and surveyed the place that had been his home for just over a week now and his brother's for two days. Up until Friday night the room had been tidy, organised; now it looked like a tornado had swept through it. Sam pushed his brother's detritus off to one side of the table and placed the coffee and the food down. He could hear the shower running; Dean was whistling something, torturously off tune. Should have done that in hell Dean, they'd have sent you back sooner.

He picked his brother's jacket off the floor where it had fallen from the end of the bed and hung it round the back of the chair then picked the bedclothes off of the floor, untangled them from the knot that Dean had managed to tie them in and made the bed. He took Dean's duffle off his own bed and threw it on his brother's taking the discarded clothes from the floor and placing them down next to it.

"You'll make someone a wonderful wife someday Sammy, d'you know that?" Dean grinned at him as he sauntered out the bathroom, dressed but still towel drying his hair. He threw the towel on the floor, mind now solely on the food and walked to the table and tore open the bag managing to spill some of the contents onto the floor. He didn't even notice.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah and you'll make someone a crappy husband." Sam bent down and retrieved the towel and the spilt food from the floor chucking the food in the bin.

"That depends on what they're looking for in a man." Dean raised his eyebrows and shoved the roll filled with an 'all day breakfast' into his mouth. "You not eating?" Food flew at sam as he spoke.

Sam watched Dean push the escaping food back into his mouth, mayo dripping down his chin, and shook his head. "Lost my appetite."

He headed for the bathroom.

The shampoo was on its side creating a snail trail into the bath and the shower curtain was hanging over the edge luckily dripping water onto the other discarded towel which lay on the bathroom floor. Sam cleared up the mess and turned to the mirror to clean his teeth. The top of the toothpaste tube was cover in the excess that had escaped while Dean had obvious done his, the edge of the glass tumbler marked where his brother had drank from it. Sam felt his annoyance building and turned to go give his brother what for when it hit him, this was what he had missed most during the last four months.

Sure, he had missed his brother fighting at his side or helping, comforting him when he was hurt or sick. These were the things he loved his brother for.

But, he had missed his brother's bad habits that drove him crazy more. These were the things he loved his brother in spite of.

He had missed the little daily things that just made Dean, Dean.