They had been in Saskathewan Ohio for almost 6 months now. Originally the plan was to stay for 2, but then Dean was attacked by a Wendigo. Between the blood loss caused by bone deep lacerations to his chest and stomach and the severe concussion he sustained hitting the ground before Sam got a clean shot, the doctors said he was pretty lucky to be still breathing. They also warned him that there was lot of residual damage in his right knee, which was going to take a while to heal.

Then Sam had SAT's coming up and he persuaded Dad to let them stay for a while. Dad didn't say much, but he rented a house in a pretty okay part of town, with a lawn in the front and one out the back, there was even a porch with a couple of easy chairs.

"Straight out of the fricken Waltons" was Deans disgusted remarks upon hearing Sam's description of it. Sam didn't know what he thought of it just yet, which was probably because he hadn't spent much time there. Most days were spent in school, finals were only three months away and most evenings he was camped out in the hospital trying to figure trigonometry whilst humming along to Metallica or trying to block out whatever Dean was watching on TV.

Of course Dean kept telling him to go home, that 'Dude, you are totally ruining my Karma here, these nurses keep flopping over those damn puppy dog eyes of yours. I keep telling them you're a geek but they won't listen.'

And Sam would come out with some caustic dry remark and continue with his chemistry and Dean would turn the TV up and try to hide the smile that Sam always managed pry out of him somehow.

Dean was 3 weeks in hospital before the doctors reluctantly allowed him home and warned him off any strenuous activities for at least 5 weeks. Dean merely raised an eyebrow as Sam turned his wheelchair towards the door and asked what exactly they meant by strenuous and 'Would it be okay as long as he wasn't the one on top?' which earned him a whack on the shoulder from Sam but was "Dude, totally worth it" to see the expression on the doctors face as they exited the front door of the hospital.

Dean didn't say much on the way home, and Sam knew what was bothering him. That house and the idea of staying there with nothing to do but sit and think; that was freaking Dean out. This was fine because it totally freaked Sam out too. His whole life all Sam wanted was 'normal', having a normal life and now he had it or at least the Winchester version and it was just plain weird.

Life was a motel room, sometimes a trailer park and sometimes in the summer just a tent. Life was tossing with Dean to see who got the roll-out bed or fighting over who cooked dinner. Life was waiting for Dad and Dean to come home from a hunt or hunting out the needle from the first aid box and figuring which gash was the worst. Life was sitting a library somewhere, homework pushed to one side, researching demons in Denver or Shape-shifters in Indiana.

Life was new schools that became old, new friends that went the same way, new towns, and old clothes. Life was about movement, never about staying still.

And now they were staying still…..for 6 months they had stayed still.

It was the longest Sam ever remembered.

Then one Tuesday after school Amy Sheppard asked Sam if he wanted to meet some evening to go through some Latin grammar because he was 'Like, totally the best in the class' and Coach Stevens told him that with practise he would probably get his place on the school basketball team….and a week later he got a small part in the schools production of 'A Midsummer's Night Dream'; not Puck or any of the main characters but still it was a part, his part.

And suddenly normal didn't seem quite so bad.

And so for a while, this new kind of normal continued, albeit without their father. In true John Winchester fashion and once he knew Dean was going to be okay and just need rest and time to recover, Dad had pretty much disappeared. He instructed Sam to watch his brother and the house and do his schoolwork, not to draw attention to them…and to call him if anything went wrong.

Sam went to school and rehearsals and came home. Dean watched TV or did research and cooked dinner for them both. They fought over what to watch on TV and Dean helped Sam with his maths because "Dude, you seriously suck with numbers'

Everything was fine, until Dean ran out of tin cans and assorted 'For Sale'signs to shoot and started to get seriously bored. It was inevitable, he wanted to go find Dad, but Dad wouldn't tell him where he was, saying he needed to rest. He wanted to go into town and pick up girls but he couldn't drive his car yet because his left knee was still twice its normal size.

The only thing he could do with any success was annoy his little brother. Because after all, that's what they were there for, right?

"Sam, lets go shoot some pool or something huh?"

"I have to study, Dean"

"Come on Sammy, I'm bored."

"You've been saying that for the last week Dean. You're not meant to move around too much, remember. I think pool constitutes movement, not to mention the fact that it will probably end up in a row…"

"Sammy, you wound me...not every pool game turns into a fight you know."

Which was technically true. And besides his brother was injured and Sam had school the next day. It was just one game.

Four hours later when he was carrying his brother back out of the bar and into the car Sam knew that he shouldn't have given in. One game, two beers, a lot of pain medication and some inappropriate flirtation later there had been a row, and even though it was three on two and normally they could have totally taken them, Dean was far from his best and Sam was just anxious to get his brother out of the bar in one piece.

They would have to go back to the hospital, some of Dean's wounds looked like they had opened up, and Sam knew his own nose was broken.

Dean knew he was in trouble when he woke up the next morning to the familiar sounds of hospital trolleys and the over bright morning sunlight shining in the window. The doctors were pissed.

"…could have seriously injured yourself, set back your recovery….mixing medication and alcohol…."

Even the pretty red headed nurse that had previously slipped him candy bars refused to be taken in by Dean Winchester charm.

Dad came back without any warning and he was pissed too, so mad he took the keys of the Impala and threatened to give the car to the first homeless person he met on the street. But he didn't, because he had just been given a lead on another job about 500 miles south, something big, something that paid, and they were moving the following week. And since Dean had managed to ps off the locals and land himself in hospital twice in eight weeks, getting out of town quick seemed to be a good idea.

And so normality returned, not Walton house - front porch - school play normality but Winchester normality. Another town, another hunt. It was no different than any other time they moved, except that maybe this time they'd stayed a bit longer than usual. Dean knew that Sam would be pissed; pissed with Dean and pissed with Dad. But maybe he hadn't realised just how pissed.

"This was one time Dean, one time when I wanted to stay, just for another little while…"

"Dude what is with you and this NORMAL bullshit. You knew we'd have to move, just like every other time. Why is this time such a big deal?"

But Sam wasn't listening; Sam was walking down the front steps and Dean's knee hurt so badly he knew he couldn't follow him. And Sam knew that too.

"Where the hell are you going now, Sam?"

"Rehearsals Dean. A Midsummer's Night Dream, remember? It starts in two weeks"

And Dean had sighed and eased himself down on the top step of the porch. "Don't do this Sammy; you know this was only temporary."

Then Sam had stopped and looked back at him, those damned eyes so full of anger or pain or whatever it was, anger that Sam couldn't control even though mostly it wasn't aimed at Dean and Dean knew that, but he still hated it nonetheless.

"Dean, this house, you being injured, us being here, I never knew what it was like to stand still like that before."

And Dean had held his breath, sensing there was more.

"Maybe I wanted to stand still for a little while longer.

And yet again Dean Winchester was left sitting there watching his brothers retreating figure, caught in the middle again although deep down he already knew which side he would choose.

4 hours, 2 painkillers and 3 beers and Dean Winchester figured life wasn't so bad after all.

He watched Sam's freakishly long legs as he clambered out of the black Sedan, the easy laugh and glint in his eye as he waved the car off. This was quickly replaced with that perpetual 'Sam' look, somewhere between angst ridden teenager and old man. It had lightened a bit however, by the time Sam climbed the steps and realised his brother was sitting on an easy chair in the front porch without any weapons and on his way to being totally wasted.

"Hey Grandpa….want me to fix some rockers on that chair?" Sam had stopped on the top step, leaning over the blue railing, dislodging a mound of peeling paint in the process.

"Want me to fix some rock-salk in your ass?" Dean had mumbled as he lay back in the chair, eyes almost closed as the mix of alcohol and painkillers kicked in.

He did however open his eyes long enough to snag another beer from the cooler by its side and casually hand it to Sam. And Sam had caught it just as casually and eased his long frame into the chair opposite his brothers.

"Who was that" Dean had motioned to the car which was almost out of sight.

"Just some girl from rehearsals."

"Some girl, huh?"

"Yes SOME girl Dean…"

"Whatever dude, chill."

"Where's Dad?"

"He took off." Dean had closed his eyes again, partly because his head felt decidedly fuzzier than he wanted to admit, and partially because there was no way he was playing touchy feely at this time of night.

"He took off? Thought we were all going?"

"I busted my knee again saving your ass in the bar, remember? I can't hunt. Dad figured I should stay here. That's all."

"Dad said you should stay?"

Dean had known by Sam's voice that his brother totally saw through him and that he was sitting there eyebrows slightly raised, with that 'you are totally lying but ill go along with it cos I love ya but would never admit it' expression written all over his face.

He was going to come out with some suitably caustic retort, but he was tired and it didn't matter anyway. Sammy would get his play….and Dean would get another few weeks of Sam-torture time.

Maybe it was borrowed time, but right now he'd take what he could get.