Three days. That was their agreement.

Dean and Sam had been traveling together too long. They were used to bickering...that was a natural sibling thing. But lately, their arguments had been more bitter, deeper and more hurtful. It was just as they say…familiarity breeds contempt. Well in this case, it was closer to breeding a brawl. They knew they were over-reactive after such a long period of close contact while traveling. But they were also aware that they were on the verge of violence, and it was time for them to separate.

Nothing serious...nothing long-term. They just needed a breather from each other.

They were back in Texas, heading for their intended target of Mexico. Sam had planned that particular destination. He had seen his brother suffer having to leave behind a close companion in Louisiana, and had seen him experience terrible things at the hands of both human and ghostly adversaries. And he'd had some rough times himself. He wanted the two of them to forget about the supernatural, at least for a little while, and instead concentrate on the sun, surf and nightlife offered by the Mexican coast.

But along the way their tempers peaked. And they knew they were angry at so many things, but the convenient targets were each other. A little time away would be good for both of them.

Sam decided he wanted to be let out in Houston. There were things there; cultured places. He could see museums, art galleries...freaking libraries. These were things he pined for. He felt like his mind was shriveling like a raisin, and he needed to re-hydrate it. It terrified him that he was actually starting to like Dean's mullet rock...he had to be losing his edge.

As for Dean—he was dangerously stir-crazy. He was deathly tired of sitting sideways in the front passenger seat. He'd tried to take his share of the driving duties but he couldn't stand the position for any length of time. Thanks to the damned Deputy back in Bethel County, his back and ribs still ached relentlessly and it left him in a foul mood. It was decided that Sam would fulfill his need for the urban experience while Dean would take his car and find what ever it was that entertained him. And in three days they would re-unite and continue on. It was a simple solution. Far better than throttling each other.

"You have enough cash?" Dean asked gruffly, as Sam retrieved his gear from the back seat.

"Yeah, for the tenth time. I'll be fine. What about you? Can you manage not to piss anyone off for three whole days? I don't want to have to come rescue you from a jail cell. You didn't give me enough for bail."

"Don't worry about me, Samantha. I can take care of myself. You're the worry here, out alone in the big city...nobody to look out for you."

"I told you a hundred times, Dean, you don't have to take care of me, alright?" he said, irritated.

"Fine!" Dean persisted. "How about a little wager then? I'll bet you fifty bucks you'll be the first one to call. Not counting real life or death emergencies."

"Yeah, well, that kinda leaves it wide open, doesn't it, Dean? You think it's an emergency when you're out of whiskey or you can't find your keys!"

Dean ignored that, instead faking a patient smile for his brother. "Have a nice time. Three days, remember."

"Uh huh. Ditto."

And with that heart-warming exchange, they parted ways. Both sighed deeply in relief as the other disappeared from view.

Sam shouldered his backpack, taking a deep breath. He felt a little bad about the circumstances of their parting, but at the moment his feeling of freedom washed away any negativity. He felt like a hundred and eighty pounds had been instantly lifted from his tired shoulders. He stood on the street corner, reveling in the tall cityscape sprawled before him. There was so much he wanted to see and do, he hardly knew where to begin. It was a delicious dilemma.

Dean heaved a deep sigh himself. He'd been this close to clocking Sam. His younger brother was becoming increasingly uppity in the last days. Dean hated feeling that he was being patronized, and for the last part of the trip he felt that nothing he said was right, or bright enough, or educated enough, or, well...good enough, for Sam.

It made him feel like a clueless lout, and it wasn't fair. Yeah, Sam had a more refined sensibility, and a better education. But Dean felt like he was being judged and found wanting, and the fact that he was different from Sam didn't mean he was less.

He probably wouldn't have taken it all so personally under different circumstances. But he was still harbouring a deep resentment over Sam's little exchange with the Deputy Jessup back in Louisiana. The one where he divulged, insisted, that Dean was too weak to face the deputy's assault. It didn't help the situation, for one thing. It wasn't like Jessup was a sensitive individual. And all it did was add to the humiliation Dean felt, being dominated and beaten by the corrupt lawman. He hadn't taken his brother to task over it but he probably should have. It would have avoided this build up of anger, this resentment.

But the world turned, and time progressed regardless. Dean knew deep down that Sam was trying to help. He had to get over this himself. But that was a hell of a lot easier without the person in question in his face 24/7. Three days of freedom were going to be great.

Sam thought he should arrange some accommodation for starters. He went through the phone book, and being fairly skilled by now in figuring out the cheapest bed, he located and secured a room for the next few days. With that solved, he went to a trendy little café for some dinner. There were numerous flyers available there, touting the best places for those seeking some more cerebral entertainment. He leafed through them, setting aside a few that advertised some avant garde theatre.

"Looking for a good play tonight?" the waitress asked.

"Yeah, actually. Or anything. " Sam answered. "Any recommendations?"

"There's a fringe festival style production at the Sweet Onion Stage. It's a little out there, " she laughed. "But you might like it."

Sam sat back, assessing the person recommending the production. She was interesting, hair in a very random cut and dyed in colours not necessarily part of nature's palette. She was definitely an individual. "Sounds about right. Got directions?"

She looked at him coyly. "I'm off at eight. If you want some company, I was going tonight anyway. What's your name, by the way?"

"Sam."

"Well, Sam. Meet me here at 8:15 or so. I'll show you what should be seen in this town."

Sam was intrigued. "Ok. See you then, um…."

"Esther, don't laugh."

"Ok then, Esther-don't-laugh. I'll be by after eight."

Dean whistled as he drove. He had fond memories of a little place on the edge of the city. Years ago, he'd had a great weekend at this bar. Or so he was told, he had only vague memories. But they seemed good.

It was called The Hopping Flea. He remembered several things about it. It was fairly isolated, surrounded by scrubland, which offered plenty of space to stumble and hurl. And there was no danger of offending the delicate sensibilities of any yuppie neighbours. It was rough, though, in his hazy recollection. But rough meant fun, and without the polished millstone of Sam hanging heavily around his neck, he could have an entertaining night in a manner that suited him.

And that meant bourbon, beer and chicks, and maybe a swing or two at some local yokel. All in good fun. Christ, it was Texas after all. Real men didn't sue each other. He smiled widely to himself. He had three days of unobserved, unfettered and unjudged shore-leave in Deanland.

Dean acknowledged that Sam almost always had good intentions, but those four years apart...well, they had sharply defined the differences between them. But he loved his little brother, even when he wanted to pummel him.

Sam was soft where Dean was uncompromisingly hard. And Sam's ideals were the product of educated intellect, whereas Dean's were the result of hardscrabble experience, pain and the heavy weight of ugly reality. Neither was wrong, but they were vastly different perspectives. And sometimes Sam had a way of making Dean feel stupid and inferior. Maybe it was his own problem, but still, it was nice to be out from under his scrutiny. Dean drove on in happy release from his cage.