For the Sake of Happiness

"We're in for it, Sammy," The gas petal of the '67 Chevy was pressed full-down, and the night was slowly beginning to creep up on the driver and his accomplice. "I really messed up on it this time, little brother."

"Dean," The 6-foot-4 brother's chair was leaning back, one leg angled so that it was sprawled on the dash-board; he'd been over this conversation four hours ago. "It'll be ok," Sam groaned as he moved his leg off the dash, remembering that he'd left the silver in his pocket.

"Sure it will," Dean muttered, fiddling with the Impala's radio. "Then tell me why this thing isn't working?" His face was now red.

"Might be because you just messed with the air button, Sherlock."

"Dude," Dean shot back, changing the subject. "Look on the map for some sort of motel; I have a strong need to take a shower."

"Why?" The corners of Sam's mouth lifted up in an evil smile. "Did the Mandroid get some robotic-polish on you?"

"No," The responding voice came out in a whimper. "The Night Shifter got some of its self leaking goop on me. And," Dean scowled at the next thought. "It's not that often that I have to hustle the SWAT team and steal their junk."

"So," Sam tilted his head, a half-smile, half-frown forming on his face. "How often do you have to hustle the police and steal their clothes?"

"Shut. UP," Dean's teeth were clenched as were his fists on the wheel. "I swear Sammy, find a motel. Now."

"Fine," The twenty-four-year-old swallowed a laugh. "You're thinking about Ron, aren't you?"

No response.

"Dean?" Sam's half smile slid all the way into an indented frown. The freshly innocent dead-man really did dislike him.

"I just," Dean shook his head, leading the car to veer off to the right lane for the next exit. "I think he would've been a great guy, you know?"

Sam nodded.

"He seemed to understand that it wasn't a Mandroid; he didn't even fight. He said thanks."

"That's nice, Dean," Sam slowly nodded his head. The thought that Dean actually respected this guy was hysterical to him.

"I think he had a big life ahead of him, you know?" Dean pondered as he finally did find an exit. "He kind of reminded me of that one actor on that show. The one with the plane crash, you know?"

Sam bit his lip, he'd never heard his brother ask so many 'you knows' in such a short period. "Hurley from Lost?"

Dean nodded, a grin forming on his tired features. "That's the one," His grin faded. "Kind of his twin, but not as cool."

"Dean," Sam was now speaking through gritted teeth as his brother drove past a Holiday Inn. "He is in a better place."

"I've comprehended that," There, a change had been made, just to shock Sam a little more. "Sam."

Sam's face shifted to look at his brother's profile, his voice was at the serious level. "What?"

"I think we should get a dog," The response was flat, and a little too serious for the hysterical-laughing response that came from the passenger seat.

"You're serious?" Sam calmed down and looked at his brother full on, then out the windshield; the road was pitch black and the moon was hidden behind the clouds.

"Well," Dean nodded. "They're man's best friend, perfect for traveling, and have a good hunting sense."

"You're joking, aren't you?" Sam glared at his unresponsive brother. "Why?"

"It's just…" Dean's lower lip protruded into another frown. "We never had one when we were kids."

Sam nodded for continuation.

"I thought it might make us happier," Dean was currently gullible, Sam very well noticed that.

"Dean," Not to hurt your feelings, but- "It would just be too hard on us," And I really don't want a dog right now.

"Yeah," Dean's head was bent down. "Then how 'bout that trip to the Grand Canyon?"

Sam's face flicked to the left. "Would that make you happy?" Dean never got this way when Dad died…

"Yes, it would."

"Then we'll go there," Sam watched his brother's face brighten; to Sam, Dean was acting like he was five. For some odd reason…

"Good," Dean's 'depression face' clung back to his fingers. "I think dad would have wanted us to do that."

Sam inhaled through his mouth, and turned to face his own private window. Dean was currently mourning their father, and when his brother mourned it only came out like this; in short but strong doses.

Later that night

The rain was lightly tapping on the roof of the motel outside, bushes and trees making ghost-like forms dance across the carpet. For all the paranormal, it would be perfectly normal to have a Shtriga appear just about now. And, with much reluctance, it probably wouldn't even phase the brothers' sleeping habits.

Instead though, what appeared in the window in one brother's dream was another man, living out his. It was a robot, per say, in the form of a slightly overweight, shoulder-length haired man. The man, previously that day, had said the word 'Mandroid' with much, dare he admit it, exuberance.

This dream led the one brother to hope that Ron would have some influence on the evil turning into good. Be the one that all the other Mandroids envied – if there existed such a thing.

And even unconscious Dean Winchester also hoped, that if his father was right, if all Hell really did break loose, that Sam would be one to turn the evil into something good; that Sam and John would somehow find a way to come back and haunt him.

Author's Note: Once again, a quick thanks to my beta, Rae Artemis!

This musing was provoking me right after the episode. They really have come up with some amazing guest stars for this season - wonderfully written characters!