A/N: This came out when I saw the latest E/O Challenge Drabble word: wrench. It's not an official drabble, but I posted it anyway. It's way too long to be a drabble, and I didn't wanna cut it. It's not a double drabble, either. Too many words. It's a ficlet, I guess.

Word count: 784

Summary: "Aw, come on, Sam. Older women are like fine wine. If you don't know that you're missing out on a lot."

Disclaimer: I don't own Sam or Dean. This is all in fun.

Sam blinked as he stepped out onto the front step. Damn sunlight. Too bright. He still felt a little light-headed, dizzy. If he didn't look too close, it looked like the Impala was eating Dean.

"Uh, Dean?"

Dean stuck his left hand straight out, palm open.

Sam just stared owlishly. Why did Dean want to shake his hand at a time like this?

"Dude," Dean's voice was muffled. "Since you're out here, make yourself useful. Hand me the wrench."

A minute later: "Uh, Sam? That's a screwdriver. Maybe you better go back inside and lie down."

Sam stepped back, and luckily the steps broke his fall as he sat down with a thump. He scrubbed his face with one oversized hand as he leaned against the railing. "How long was I out?"

Dean pushed himself back with both hands out from under the Impala's hood. He shrugged. "Three days. Had a hell of a time gettin' your fever down."

"Oh." Okay. Now, that was better. The world stopped doing that slow, queasy, whirly-gig thing. Sam could see.

Sam started frowning.

Wait for it, Dean told himself. Sammy's bitchface in five…

"Dean, where the hell are we?"

"West Palm Beach."


Sam blinked. "Wait a minute. We didn't have any money." He looked around, confused. This wasn't a hotel, or even a motel.


This was a residential area. Manicured lawns. Mansions. Rich. Like Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous Rich. "The credit cards are….this isn't…."


"Oh… huh, the owner and I came to an agreement," Dean purred, and just then, as if on cue, a tall older woman came slinking out of the main house, followed by a chauffeur dressed in a black suit. She was dressed in an expensive looking pale blue suit and her silver hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail that framed her face. She was sixty.

She was gorgeous. Her light grey eyes sparkled as she turned and looked at Dean, smiled, and winked.

Sam's mouth dropped open. " That's…that's…" Sam kept whipping his head back and forth, from her back to Dean.

Dean winked back at her, waved, and she waved back. She blushed a little as her chauffeur opened the rear door to her gold Rolls Royce and she slid inside.


"You sold your body just to get us a place to stay?" Sam hissed.

Yahtzee. Dean thought. Bitchface. We have bitchface.

It wasn't like that, of course. Dean didn't mention the fact that while Sam was gone to Stanford Dean and Dad worked a job in Hollywood. Haunted soundstage, usual stuff. That was the first time Dean met Sally, and they'd hit it off from the very first time they laid eyes on each other.

It tickled the hell out of John Winchester.

That was all information Dean was going to save. For later.

"That's…Sally Gentry. Star of stage, screen and television…" Sam saw her movies. Sam liked her movies. Majestic Interlude. Cleopatra and Marc Anthony, The Bank Job…

Images of Dean and Sally Gentry, of all people, flooded Sam's head. They were together. Doing God only knows what.

Dean and Sally Gentry in the shower together.

Dean huffed. "Actually it was a bubble bath. In that big old indoor hot tub she's got. She tried to count my freckles," Dean added smugly.

Sam flinched. Was he that freakin' obvious?

"Yep," Dean nodded solemnly. "You are, Samantha."

Sam really did feel like clawing his eyes out. Dean and Sally Gentry in bed together.

"Dean...yess, Dean, yesss!!!"

She was a two time Oscar winner, for God's sake. And Dean was…well, Dean.

"Little old for you, isn't she?"

"Aw, come on, Sam. Older women are like fine wine. If you don't know that you're missing out on a lot. Geez, leave it to you to take something beautiful and make it sound downright dirty." Dean grinned crookedly. "Of course, dirty's fun too."

They both turned and watched as the Rolls backed down the driveway and into the street.

Sam groaned. "I think…I think I'm gonna go lie down." He turned and decided that walking was too much damn trouble. Sam stayed on all fours and slowly crawled up the stairs.

"Uh…Sam…" Dean said slowly. "She's got a sister. She thinks you're cute."

Sam crawled faster.