"Well, if it isn't the Blues Brothers."

"You gonna let us in?" Dean asked curtly, a smile starting on his mouth. I stared at them for a moment, contemplating whether I should or not. I sniffed and opened the door a bit wider for them to come in.

"How've you been doing, Max?" I gave Sam an exasperated look.

"What are you two jackasses doing here?"

"Who's she calling a jackass? She doesn't even have beer." Dean said, getting defensive.

"It's in the icebox, dipshit." I snapped.

"It's called a fridge, dumbass." I smirked, he hadn't changed one bit.

"So, what, you on a mission from God, now."

"No," Dean started before Sam could, popping open his newly found beer. "We saw that piece of crap you call a car and decided to come see you in all your infamous glory." He meant the musty old motel room.

"Hey, respect the Charger. My baby's got a 440 Magnum V8 engine…375 horsepower, bitch!"

"She's got a point Dean."

"Come here, hippie." I held my arms open to Sam for a hug. "Dude, are you trying to hug me or swallow me?"

"Sorry," Sam pulled away quickly. It was nice to be with my brothers again. I felt kinda whole again. I hadn't seen them in, what, seven years? I left a few months after Sam up-scrammed to Stanford. Gosh, that had been such a long time ago.

"I'm glad that here isn't a strange man in your bed."

"Yeah, why is that Dean-o?"

"I don't have to waste my bullets." I smiled. Yup, he was still the same. You'd think Dean would lose his big brother touch after seven years but I guess he compensated with Sam instead.

"How's Bobby?" I suddenly asked. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"Bobby's fine." Sam replied, tucking his hair behind his ears. "He's still grumpy."

"Well, that's Bobby. We wouldn't want him any other way."

"What do you use these days, Max?" Dean asked, settling down in a chair and kicking his feet up onto the table with a thud.

"AMT 1911A1 Hardballer. It's a doozy. You still use that shotgun?"

"Yup. I thought Dad changed you into a 9mil type of girl."

"WE can't all be what we want, Dean-o."

"That's kinda sick, don't you think Max?"

"You know what's really sick, Sam? The fact that you can't take out a friggin' Jefferson Starship with a friggin' Smith and Wesson."

"Which model?"

"1066." Dean nodded approvingly.

"I'm gonna get some food." Sam stated for the door, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Chinese, good?"

"You still remember Jefferson Starships?" Dean asked after Sam had left.
" Hideous bastards." I smiled, sitting across from him at the small table. "How've you two been holding up Dean?" I took a swig of his beer.

"Sam's been a pain in my ass."

"What else is new?" He reached out for his beer and I handed it back to him.

"Where the hell have you been, Max, huh? You don't call. You don't go to see Bobby?"

"I have my reasons, Dean."

"Oh, yeah, your reasons—"

"Yes, my reasons. Often described as an argument with logic."

"What are you reasons then?"

"I joined the Marines."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up with surprised anger.

"I thought I could take a chance at that new life. But it didn't work out. I did my four years, Dean." My voice was pleading for him to understand. "I'm done…I'm back, aren't I?"

"Did dad know?"

"Yes, of course, he—what do you mean: did dad know?" He took a deep breath, getting fidgety all of a sudden.

"Dad died Max. That's why we're here. It took us two years to track you down so we're a bit late on the news."

"Oh," I whispered, waves of sorrow crashing into me all at once. "Were you with him?"

"Yeah," I nodded, clenching my fists tightly to let out the anger. Dean came over, putting a hand on my shoulder and kissing the top of my head. "It'll be alright, monkee." I smiled despite my blinding tears. He had been calling me that ever since I was ten. "Cheer up sleepy Jean. Oh, what can it mean to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?" I hugged him then. I cried into his shoulder and hugged him while he sang to me. I mean, Dean was no Frank Sinatra but he did alright for himself and for me. "You once thought of me as a white knight on a steed."

"And I still do, Dean." He smiled down at me, past him own tears, and kissed my forehead. He was a proper big brother Dean was. I stepped out of his embrace feeling peculiar all of a sudden. I dried my face and straightened myself out. I wasn't worried that Dean would tell anyone about my moment of weakness. I was worried about him. I was scared at how easily he poured him emotions out to me. He was always the strong one. The world must really be screwed if Dean Winchester is putting his feelings out onto a plate. It isn't a bad thing…it was just different. I brushed my tears off his shoulder awkwardly before handing him another beer.

"What does the Impala have that the Charger doesn't?"

"Manliness, for one. Not to mention a four barrel engine." He managed a wry grin. I squinted in irritation. I have to admit, I did ask for it.

"Screw you." Dean chuckled. "Are you still wearing that chastity belt?" He nearly choked on his beer and sat there laughing for a good five minutes. Suddenly he sat up straight, his face totally serious.

"Yes, I am." He admitted, sending the both of us into a fit of more choking and wheezing.

"What're you two laughing about?" Sam asked, a bag full of nice smelling food in his arm. Dean stood and started empting the bag.

"Don't worry about it Sammy."

"Yeah, we'll tell you when you're older." I patted my little brother's face and went straight for the fortune cookie.

"What does it say?" Dean asked, taking the strip of paper from me as well as half of my cookie. "'The hard times will begin to fade. Joy will take their place.'"

"Here's hoping." I murmured and had dinner with my family.


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