"You boys need to take a break. Go out to the lake or camping or something."
"We're fine."
Bobby scrutinized them. They looked haggard, tired, like zombies on auto pilot. "You're fine? You've been workin' yourselves to the bone, non-stop now, for close to two months straight! Ever since your dad passed-"
"I said we're fine!" Dean took a last swallow of his beer and then looked at the empty bottle in his hand as if he had no idea where it's contents had disappeared to. He set it on the counter behind him and crossed his arms across his chest.
"Really? I know full well what it means when you say you're fine. When's the last time you had any decent sleep?" Bobby looked from one brother to the other, daring them to lie.
"Last night." Sam finally answered.
"Last night? You were on the road for ten hours straight."
"Yeah. I slept in the car." he said, knowing it wouldn't satisfy Bobby.
"You call that sleep?" Bobby muttered under his breath. "And what about you?" He asked, glaring at Dean. Dean just glared back. "Dean? When's the last time you slept, boy?"
"Tuesday, okay, but I'm fine! I rarely ever sleep every night anyway." Bobby couldn't believe his ears.
"That was five days ago! No! That's it! You two are officially on vacation!" Bobby mumbled something about idjits.
Dean pushed himself away from the kitchen counter he had been leaning on. "Aw, c'mon, man! There's got to be tons of cases out there for us!" Dean looked to Sammy for support, but Sam knew well enough to stay out of an argument with Bobby.
"Not for you, there ain't! You get your dad's camping gear and get outta my sight for at least two weeks!" Bobby headed for the door outside, argument over.
"But, Bob-"
Bobby turned on his heel. "Zip it, boy! Now git! The world ain't gonna come to an end if Dean Winchester takes a break from hunting. There's some MRE's downstairs you can take with you. Now go." Dean heaved a sigh and tried to stare Bobby down, but he was unwavering.
"Fine. Fine! If it'll make you happy, we'll go." Dean huffed out with an accompanying eye roll. He stormed off into the den and Bobby slammed through the back door. Dean flopped down onto the couch, set his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands.
Sam followed, quietly, into the den and sat on the corner of the desk. He just waited for Dean. No point in pushing him.
After a while Dean sighed and looked up at his brother. "So... I guess if we're gonna do this, then we're gonna to do it right. Where do you want to go?"
Sam was surprised by the question. Dean usually took lead on most everything. He thought for a moment. "You remember that place Dad took us, when we were little...the place where I-"
"The place where you tripped over your own shoelaces and then you needed, like, ten stitches?" Dean grinned to himself remembering back.
Sammy frowned. "No, Dean. The place where I-"
"The place where you fell over that log and gave yourself a black eye?" Dean chuckled.
"Damn it, Dean! No! The place where I-"
"Oh, I know. The place where you shaved off one of Dad's eyebrows because I said if you did it and said some magic words, that you'd grow chest hair?" Dean let out a full on guffaw, complete with knee slapping. "Damn, man...Dad tore you a knew one! Thought you were a dead man...ahhh." Dean continued to laugh, missing Sammy giving him a most classic bitch face.
"Damn it, Dean! No! The place where I caught my first fish!" Sam crossed his arms over his chest, pouting.
"Oh, yeah. There's also that..." Dean smiled at him, the twinkle in his eye, his apology for hurt feelings. "Yeah... I think I know the place. Pacific northwest somewhere." He slapped his hands down on his thighs and stood up. "Okay, you go check out those MRE's Bobby mentioned and work out what we need food-wise and I'll head out to dad's storage and get the gear."
Sam watched as Dean headed out, shaking his head. Dean may fight tooth and nail against something, but when he finally decided to do it, whether he originally wanted to or not, he went at it 100%. Sam got up and headed down to Bobby's basement. He wandered aimlessly for a bit before he spotted what he was looking for. Back under the stairs was a large shelving unit. Stacked on it, taking every spare inch, were so many MRE's that Sam thought they could eat for a year. They were all the same nasty tan color. Nothing fancy. He picked one up and looked at it. 'Chicken and Rice'. He looked at another, 'Eggs and Sausage'. Could be worse, he supposed. He could have to deal with Dean's attempts at cooking the whole time. He looked around him and noticed an empty box. He grabbed it and started loading it up. After he got it all upstairs, he borrowed Bobby's car and went into town for some fruit and other perishables they could take along.
Dean hesitated at the lock to the storage unit. He hadn't been in here for years. Long before dad had died. Stuffing the emotions into that little box inside, he opened it up and went in. The place looked like a survivalist's bunker. Canned goods filled a shelf to one side, camping gear, tools enough to build your own house, and even one of those push lawn mowers that had the spinning blades and no motor. Of course, there were also 'other' tools in here. In a locked cage at the back were enough weapons to outfit a small militia, two five gallon buckets of salt, two five gallon buckets of blessed holy water, and a filing cabinet with notes and newspaper clippings. He hesitated at the cage, wanting to go in and poke around the weapons, but reminded himself he was on a mission.
Dean collected the tent, sleeping bags and pads, a rain tarp, cooking supplies, some tools and other necessities and loaded up the car. He decided to go back in and grab some of the canned stuff. As he was clearing a spot from one of the shelves, he noticed something back behind the cans. Frowning, he grabbed an armload of cans and set them on the floor at his feet. When he stood back up and looked through the hole he had made, he saw a few pictures stuck to the wall behind the shelves. He reached through and pulled them off the wall. They were pictures of Dad, Sammy and himself from when they went camping as kids. Camping doesn't sound like something a hunter would take the time to do, but to dad, it was just another training exercise.
Dean looked at the first two pictures. He didn't remember dad taking these. They were of he and Sammy goofing off. The first was taken looking up into a tree where he and his brother were attempting to build a fort. From the looks of the picture, it wasn't going so well. Dean smiled. The second one was better. He was standing knee deep in a creek in his underwear. He had to have been maybe twelve years old. The best thing about the picture, though, was Sammy. He was in mid-fall. Dean chuckled. He had probably pushed Sammy and Dad had caught it on film. They were both grinning in the picture. Happier days.
The last picture was of dad. It brought a wash of memories back to Dean. They had been hiking somewhere and Dean had gotten a hold of the camera and was pretending to be a spy. He had been trying to sneak up on his father and brother off and on throughout the whole hike and pretending to take photos of them. Little had he known that he was really snapping pictures until after this last picture had been taken. He chuckled again. He had gotten quite the ass whooping, but it had been worth it. The picture was horribly crooked, as only a kid could do, and was of his father standing at a bush. He had his back turned but was looking over his shoulder at Dean with a look of surprise, mixed with anger. Dean had caught him taking a leak and snapped a photo. He laughed to himself again and wondered at why his dad had kept this photo.
He took one last look at the pictures and then set them on top of the cans on the shelf. He picked up the cans he had set on the floor and replaced them. Grabbing the last of the supplies, he headed out to the car, locking up as he went.
Back at Bobby's, Sam and Dean loaded up their backpacks and then packed everything into the car. Inside, they poured over maps, figuring out exactly where they wanted to go. There was some back country in the northwest that they could hike into and camp. There were several small lakes and ponds in the area, so water wouldn't be an issue. Two days there, a day hiking in, a day hiking out, and two days back. That left eight solid days of just camping out. Bobby should be more than happy.
"Are you boys still here?" Bobby asked. They turned at his voice and he handed them each a can of pop. Dean looked at it with distaste. "What? You're gonna be drivin', ain't ya?" The boys just grinned, tapped cans, and chugged it down.
"We were just leaving, by the way." Sam said. He proceeded to point out on the maps roughly where they were headed. "Doubt we'll have cell service out there. We'll be completely out of touch."
"Good." Bobby said with a grin.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, that just means you won't be able to call us for help when the shit hits the fan and you need a couple extra hunters."
"I think we'll manage." Bobby said sarcastically. The boys gathered up a few remaining items and headed for the door. "You boys take it easy and get some rest!"
"Yeah whatever. Later old man!" Dean said, laughing, as he went out the door.
Sam turned and smiled at Bobby. "Later, Bobby."