Tag to 6.13. I just had to. There were so many moments in this episode that reminded me of the way the boys used to be; they would take a step in that direction, but not follow through. Yes, I know they are both different now. But I wonder if the writers will ever let them get some of that feeling back – or are they always going to hesitate on the brink? Reviews are welcome if you have the time/inclination. And many, many giant thanks to T.L. Arens for reading. You rock!

Disclaimer: The story idea is mine, the rest belongs to the actors, writers, crew, and producers who bring the show to life. Giving me something to watch on tv.

Bristol disappeared in the rearview. Sam twisted in the seat of the Impala to watch the welcome sign reading "Where Memories are Made" retreat in the distance. As he faced front, his brother spoke.

"Are you sure you're okay? 'Cause lying on the ground, twitching and staring into space? Not your best look." Dean glanced at him. He didn't want Sam brooding. Brooding Sam led to Over-Thinking Sam. And that would lead to Sam scratching at the damn wall. Which was the complete opposite of what they needed.

Sam said, "It's fine. I'm fine."

Lie.

Dean took odd comfort that he could tell again. Sammy-Plus-A Soul couldn't lie to him; not to save his soul. That made Dean smile a little. Then he frowned, because Sammy having a soul was kind of what got them into this mess in the first place. The mess in Bristol, not the mess of their lives. With his soul, Sam wanted to fix things, atone for his past. Damn. That could be a problem. Suddenly the whole adage of 'be careful what you wish for because you might get it' made more sense to Dean. He'd wished for Sam's soul back, but with it came Sam's conscience. Which got them in trouble in Bristol. It was still worth it. Except Sam was going to mope unless Dean fixed it.

"What?" Sam demanded.

"What what?" Dean played dumb for a moment.

"First you smile, then you frown. You're obviously thinking about this mess I made. So... what?"

He didn't answer Sam for a minute, trying to organize thoughts in his head. Time to get this train on a different track. "You know what, I'm just going to say it. I told you so." Dean smirked, to lighten the rebuke.

Groaning, his brother slipped down until his knees pressed against the dash.

"Is that a groan of guilt or one of annoyance at me?" Dean asked.

"Both, I guess."

"So I was thinking..." Dean started.

Sam interrupted him, "I'll alert the press."

"Haha. Not funny. I was thinking about what Roy said tonight."

"Yeah, what's that?" Sam hunkered down more. Dean wondered if he was trying to fit into the glove compartment.

"How come all the monsters want to make you like them? Tonight with Roy, he was thinking about making you an arachne. That Alpha vamp a few months back wanted to turn you. Everybody wants to make you their bitch."

Sam sat up and turned to stare at Dean. "Are you kidding me?"

"What? It's a serious question. How come all the bad guys want a piece of you? Are you made of candy or something?"

The stare continued. Apparently Sam couldn't think of a response. That was a first.

"You want to know what I think?" Dean nudged after a minute of Silent Sam. "I think the idea of turning such a Gandhi into a monster gets their panties all in a wad."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "A Gandhi?" He shook his head. "I started the Apocalypse, Dean. I think they all want me because they know that deep down I'm evil." He stared morosely out the windshield. "Just like them."

Dean pretended to consider this. "Huh. Ya think?" Sam continued moping, so Dean proceeded to phase two of 'Operation Un-Emo Sam'. This next part would be tricky. If he pushed too much, or struck the wrong tone, he'd be a jackass. Worse, it would hurt Sam, not part of the plan.

"Hey, you remember Chuck and his girlfriend, Becky?"

Sam looked confused. "Uh, yeah. I guess so. Why?"

"I looked at that website once. The one Becky wrote her stories for? And before I was forced to scoop out my brain and scour it with Ajax... those people are way too fascinated with us sharing motel rooms," Dean paused to shudder dramatically at the memories, then continued, "I noticed something."

"Really. What was that?" Flat voice, no emotion. Yep, Sam was driving the over-think bus. Time to disembark.

Praying that his brother wouldn't think of Jess, or even Madison, Dean said, "Banging you is hazardous to a chick's health."

This time Sam's head swiveled in Dean's direction. He choked out, "What?"

"A couple of the stories pointed out that, well, bad things tend to happen to women you screw around with. They might get changed into something nasty – like the new arachnes that are out roaming the world. They all had a piece of Sammy. Maybe we should go check on that hippie chick from the fairie case we worked. Although I'm not sure you actually did the deed before I got back to the motel. I didn't look close enough to tell."

For the second time that night, Sam just stared at him.

Dean plowed ahead. "Hey, at least things are looking up. Apparently you were going for a place in the record book while you were soulless, and most of those girls are probably just fine. Which means you've passed through that phase in your life. The female population is now safe from your devastating charm."

"God, sometimes you can be such a jerk." Sam shot him a bitchface. Okay, it was a step in the right direction. Pissed Off Sam was better than Depressed Sam.

The proper response was on the tip of Dean's tongue, but he stopped himself. Earlier, when he'd told Sam not to be a bitch, he'd been surprised Sam hadn't responded with a muttered, "Jerk." For whatever reason, Sam held back. It had been a long time since they'd teased each other. Dean didn't blame him for not saying the right thing, but it was enough to change his response now.

He grinned widely at his brother, and said childishly, "I know you are, but what am I?"

Sam was incredulous. "Are you kidding me?" His eyes widened and he pushed his fingers through his hair. "Really, Dean? You're going to bring up some of the worst moments in my life and taunt me like a middle school kid? What the hell?"

"I'm your brother. If I can't tease you about them, no one can. Besides, my point is that we got through everything that happened before. Sometimes it was a crapfest, but we got through it. Together. We survived the Apocalypse, Sammy! I think we can manage to deal with whatever comes next. But you, little brother, need to cheer the hell up, cause that face," he circled his hand in front of Sam's head, "could out fugly a chupacabra." Mentally, Dean crossed his fingers, hoping this wouldn't go sideways and make his brother more depressed.

A mile marker passed by as he waited for Sam's response.

Finally, Sam said, "I better not chase all the chupacabra away, since they're the only things left that would even consider screwing you." The corner of his mouth quirked up a bit as he glanced slyly at Dean.

Once he stopped laughing at the joke, Dean still kept grinning. He reached over with a loose fist and gently punched his brother in the arm.

"Actually," Sam continued, "I read a few of the stories on that website too. According to the writers, it might not be just chupacabra. They seem pretty certain that you and Cas ... Ow!" He stifled a yelp as Dean poked him hard in the ribs.

"Hey!"

"Don't go there, Sam. I'm outta Ajax."

"Maybe when we stop at a motel, I can read you a few stories." Sam's dimples appeared as he teased his brother in return.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Careful what you wish for," he muttered. At least Sam was a little happier.

"What was that?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, bitch. Shut your mouth so I can concentrate on driving." He flipped on the radio.

Sam leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, preparing to nap. There was a slight grin on his face. "Jerk," he whispered.

Next to him, Dean smiled.