"Dean, how many times do I have to apologize?" 15 year old Sam threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Huh, I don't know Sammy. Does the Impala still have a dent in it?" Dean replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Switching tactics, Sam said in a supplicant tone, "Look, it was an accident. I didn't see the pole until it was too late."

Dean snorted, "Yeah, 'cause you're so damn short!"

Dean struck a nerve. As soon as he said it, he almost regretted it. But it was so funny when Sammy got mad.

"No, Dean, it was because of you! You were chatting a mile a minute and blaring your ACDC crap. Whatever happened to 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole.'?"

"Hey! Leave ACDC out of this. And you can hardly be called a driver yet, Permit Boy."

Sam's jaw was clenched tight and his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was balling his fists. Dean decided it was time to do damage control.

In a softer tone, Dean said, "I was just trying to train you to drive with distractions. You never know what the job is going to entail."

Sam was silent as all his anger drained away at Dean's words.

"…Can I try again?"

"What, driving?"

"Yes…" Sam thought it should be obvious.

"In the Impala?"


"Ha! You're so funny!" Dean guffawed, "The only way you're driving the Impala again is if I'm dying, and maybe not even then."

"Then how am I supposed to learn how to drive?"

"You can wait for Dad to come back from the hunt in Minnesota."

"What about at Bobby's place?" Sam would choose anything over learning how to drive from his Dad. They had been butting-heads fro awhile, and he couldn't imagine being confined in a truck with him.

"Ha! Don't you remember how Bobby said if he ever saw Dad again he'd fill him full of buckshot?"

"You don't think that applies to us, do you?"

"Of course it does. The only reason we went to see him was because Dad needed something."

"But Bobby loves us. We may have dropped the 'uncle' bit but…"

Dean sighed, "I get what you mean, Sammy. We can't go see him though. Bobby's stubborn and paranoid, like Dad. He'll just think Dad's using us to get something from him."

Sam and Dean quietly reflected on this before Sam piped up, "Can you at least teach me in Dad's truck?"

Dean laughed, "I don't know Sammy. I'm afraid you might hit something."

"Very funny Dean. Will you teach me or not?"

"Sure, Sammy," Dean said, giving up the ruse and affectionately ruffling his brother's hair.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam's eyes lit up with joy as he said this.

"Yeah. Back up into my car and I'll kill you though," Dean said, dispelling the moment and bringing about what he liked to call the 'Bitch-face.'


Notes: Well, I hope you liked this piece. Please drop a note telling me what you think.

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