"Take it easy, son. That there's the last of it" said Bobby without heat. Dean tipped back the half-empty bottle once more before placing it pointedly back on the table.
"Damn witches," he muttered.
Sam returned from the kitchen with a small smirk on his face. "So how exactly is it that she managed to get the jump on you?"
"I was… distracted" Dean said, trailing off.
"Uh-huh" Sam smiled, "More like seduced". He plopped down on the couch next to Dean holding out a bag of frozen peas. Dean shrugged, immediately wincing at the flare in his shoulder. Sam slowly positioned the frozen bag over Dean's right shoulder. Dean hissed at the contact, but threw a grateful glance Sam's way.
After they'd exhausted the best of their insults, and Bobby threatened to "kick their asses five ways from Sunday", the three fell into a comfortable silence. Bobby sat at his desk, flipping through news articles and lore books. Sam sat on the edge of the couch reading a book on Latin with Dean sprawled out across him, snoring lightly.
Sam's phone broke the silence. Dean shifted, muttering something unintelligible. Sam laughed and reached over to graph his cell off the table. "Hello?" he answered.
"Sam?"
Sam lurched forward like he'd been kicked in the stomach. His phone dropped to the floor. His breathing became shallow. Dean having been awoken by the movement mumbled, "What's your problem?" Sam remained frozen.
"Boy?" Bobby said worriedly from across the room. Dean recognized the tone and sat up. He eyed Sam, fear slowly creeping in.
Chatter from his phone on the floor finally shook Sam out of his state. He lunged for his phone and, standing upright slowly, turned his face from Bobby and Dean's.
"Hello Mrs. Moore" he spoke into the receiver. Bobby and Dean exchanged looks. No matter what this phone call was about, it was going to send Sam spiraling. Of course, they had no idea why Jessica's mom was calling Sam, because Sam's side of the conversation consisted mostly of "mhm", "good" and "okay"s.
"Um" said Sam shifting uncomfortably, "Really?... Yes ma'am I remember…. I'll see you tomorrow then".
He hung up and turned back around. His face was blank but his eyes shown with grief. Sam started towards the kitchen but Dean caught him by the arm. "Sammy…" Sam gave a weak smile.
"It's okay, Dean. I'm okay."
"Sam what did she want?"
Sam sighed and sagged back onto the couch next to Dean. Looking at his baby brother, Dean was struck by how old he looked. Of course the life aged every hunter beyond their years, but this Sam sitting before him seemed so tired, as if he'd seen it all.
When did this happen? When did my Sammy get so old?
"She has something for me."
"What is it?" Dean asked.
Sam emitted another exasperated sigh. He really needed to stop doing that.
"I don't know Dean. It was something of Je.." he cleared his throat. "It was something of Jessica's."
"Oh." There was a beat of silence. All he wanted was to say something, anything to make it all better.
Dean reached out to lay his hand on his shoulder. "Sammy—"
Sam cleared his throat again and shrugged off Dean's hand. "I…ahem… I'm gonna go get some stuff together".
Dean frowned, running both hands through his spiky hair. "Dean, don't get your panties in a twist" Bobby said. "Sam's gonna deal with this and he's gonna be just fine. He always is."
"I know but, God! Why Sam? Why is all the crap always piling up on him? I mean I knew he loved Jessica, but I kinda thought we were past.. I dunno, the pain?"
"Poor kid just can't catch a break" Bobby agreed. "But Dean, love don't go away. Ever. Once it's there, it's there for good. Like it or not."
"Well thank you Lucy, that was beautiful" Dean sneered.
"Don't sass me, ya idgit." Bobby went back to reading.
Dean trudged out into the yard to work on the Impala. It really could use a tune up, especially since Sam was about to take it out a few hundred miles. If it broke down, Sam wouldn't know how to fix it. At least not the way he could. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and got to work.
Though the whole touchy-feely talk wasn't his favorite subject, Bobby had got him thinking. He loved Lisa. And Ben. And no manner of time could ever change that. Maybe it was just all the crap Sam had recently been put through had been a more prominent source of pain, though recent included the last several years.
"Aw crap" Dean exclaimed. He knew what all this meant. It was chick flick time.
Slowly, Dean climbed the stairs, counting each one, stepping on each familiar place that creaked to announce his presence. As he approached the guest bedroom he and Sam usually shared, he raised a hand and knocked lightly and whispered, "Sam?"
"Yeah?" came a meek reply. However, what struck Dean was that it came not from behind the door he was knocking on, but the one across the hall to the bathroom. Dean turned and opened it. He found pretty much what he was expecting: Sam slung over the toilet having no doubt just paid tribute to the porcelain god.
"Sammy" Dean sighed heavily.
"Dean", Sam lifted his head slightly to meet Dean's gaze, "I don't feel so good".
Dean barked a laugh. "No dip Sherlock!" His rough voice didn't match his wandering eyes, searching Sam for any other injuries out of pure habit. The big brother gig would never wear off.
Dean sat next to Sam slowly rubbing his back as another wave of nausea hit. He pulled a glass from the counter and filled it with water from the tap. "Drink", he ordered. Sam rinsed his mouth out a bit and attempted to drain the whole glass, but Dean tugged it from after only a few sips. "Slow down! You're gonna make yourself sick again".
After a good fifteen minutes of puke-free Sam, Dean rose. "Up you go gigantor." Dean pulled Sam to his feet, slung Sam's arm over his shoulder, and brought his arm around Sam's waist.
"I can walk Dean" Sam protested, but Dean knew he said it only out of embarrassment. Dean drug Sam to his bed and pulled the covers up over him. Sam's feet still hung off the end of the bed, and Dean couldn't help but remember when they so tiny that he'd hear their light steps across the hardwood floor as Sam came to crawl in bed with him.
"Thanks" said Sam.
"Dude. It's just an afternoon with an old lady. It'll be fine."
"Yeah."
Dean retrieved the glass from the bathroom and brought it to the nightstand.
"Just get some sleep. I don't want you driving my baby into a ditch."
"Yeah, yeah." Dean turned out the lights and left the room. A soft, "Dean?" immediately called him back.
"Yeah kiddo?"
"Could you come with me?"
Dean stood a moment without speaking, just looking into his pleading brother's eyes. Damn how he had him wrapped around his freakishly large finger.
"Sure thing, Sammy."