Author's Note: This one is my least favorite of the one's I've written thus far, but it set things up for another one. Eh, whatever.

Special Delivery

"Dean, why am I getting email from some place called 'Hardrockforever?'" Sam asked his brother. As was often the case Sam was utilizing the local WiFi connection of the motel to check his email. But what usually wasn't the case were pieces of spam from some mom and pop shop attempting to go online. "Were you using my computer?" Sam practically demanded.

"It was an emergency," Dean instantly defended, or in other words…yes. But then to Sam's surprise his brother practically pushed him out of the way to look at the email, frowning slightly as he tried unsuccessfully to open it, managing only to start a reply letter instead.

"What are you doing?" Sam shoved his brother back before he could really mess things up. With Sam's luck he'd end up on every spam list available. But as Sam was about to close the email down he realized it wasn't spam at all. Quirking an eyebrow at his brother he questioned, "You ordered something online?"

"I told you, it was an emergency."

Sam just stared at his brother waiting for more. Dean squirmed slightly, and then motioning to the laptop, demanded, "So what does it say? Is it coming or what?"

Sighing, Sam scanned through the email. Apparently item 'MET MoP' had shipped yesterday with 2 Day Shipping. "Ah, yeah, tomorrow."

Dean's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Cool! That means it should get here just in time."

"In time for what?" Sam asked, confused. If it was an 'emergency' than he expected it had something to do with a hunt, but they'd just solved the local haunting that night. There wasn't anything else to do here in this little town. "We were planning on leaving tomorrow."

"Exactly!" Dean's grin only made Sam frown even more.

Finally he just asked the obvious question. "Dean, what did you get?"

"You'll see." Dean told him, the grin now reaching his eyes.

Usually after a successful hunt, and if they weren't too badly injured, Dean would wander off to the local bar for a congratulatory drink, but tonight Sam watched his brother change, pack, and flop onto his bed without even turning on the TV. The whole time the grin hadn't left Dean's face and with hands clasped behind his head he very much looked like he was lost in some sort of daydream.

Shaking his head, mystified, Sam finally pushed it out of his mind and went back to his laptop. He had four emails to respond to, and he wanted to check the web for any leads to another hunt. They never liked to hang out in town after a hunt for long, but far too often they'd hit the road only to discover they had to go back the other way.

Sam didn't know when Dean actually fell asleep. He wasn't used to the complete silence in the room and had himself worked till he fell asleep at the table. For that matter, Sam wasn't sure when Dean had woken up, either, but when he finally realized it was morning the clock said it was closing in on their checkout time.

Dean was nowhere in sight.

With a sigh and a good long stretch, Sam wondered if Dean was off getting his parcel. He only hoped it came in time. He didn't want to pay for another night at the motel if they weren't going to stay. Then Sam frowned, murmuring out loud, "Where did Dean have it shipped?"

But the questioned was answered a moment later by a knock at the door.

Sam cautiously peered through the eyehole and then finally opened the door to see a rather confused UPS employee on the other side. "Ah…I'm looking for a Cliff Burton?"

Sam almost chuckled at Dean's chosen alias, but clearing his throat, he schooled his features back to normal and replied, "Yep. That's me."

Looking somewhat relieved, the delivery man handed him an electronic clipboard and stylus pen. Sam scribbled a vague semblance of the name and with a forced smile took the offered package. The man turned to leave, but at the last minute turned back and with a hesitant expression, questioned Sam, "If I can ask, do you actually live here?"

"Yep." Sam immediately lied. It was becoming habit.

Blinking, startled, the delivery man finally just shrugged and left. Closing the door, Sam walked back into the room, turning the small package over and over in his hands. It wasn't very big. It barely had any substance to it at all. And shaking it only proved it was well cushioned. But it was all Sam could do not to give in to his curiosity.

Finally, just setting the small box down on the table, Sam grabbed some clothes and headed for the shower. Dean was back by the time he was done, and the little box sat empty, the small bit of bubble wrap lying next to it, completely popped.

"Hey sleepy head!" Dean cheerfully greeted, handing him a hot cup of coffee. The good kind, with cream, and a shot of chocolate. The kind Dean usually refused to get on account it was too girly. "I thought you'd sleep forever. Ready to go? I heard about a gig up in North Dakota. Some sort of string of murders where the victim's eyes are gorged out. Sounds promising."

Sam frowned, sipping carefully at his sugar coated caffeine to see if it had been dosed with anything. Other than tasting abnormally good, it seemed fine. "Dean, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great. Let's go. I want to get on the road as soon as possible."

"Okay." But even the five minutes it took Sam to finish packing seemed to be too long for his brother. Dean all but dragged him out of the room, practically bouncing on his toes the entire time. It wasn't until they'd settled into the car that Dean finally started to act normal.

"We've got a nice long ride ahead of us, but don't worry baby, I got you something special," Dean told his car, patting the Impala on the dash with a deep fondness. And then he pulled a cassette tape out of his pocket and pushed it into the player. The rhythmic sounds of Metallica immediately began to reverberate through the car.

Sam blinked, realizing something he should have guessed the night before. "Wait. This was your emergency? Buying a cassette tape?"

"The old one was all stretched out. It was making James Hetfield sound like Fat Albert!" Dean complained. "Do you know how frickin' long it took me to even find someone who still had a copy?"

"Yeah, that's because they stopped making cassette tapes years ago!" Sam argued, but trying to get Dean up to date on modern technology was a slow and futile process. "Look, just…" Sam sighed with frustration. "Next time you want to buy something online use your own email."

But Dean just returned, "Why would I have an email? I've got yours."

Sam let his head hit the back of the seat with a sigh. Like he said, it was futile. "Never mind."

And yet, as the Impala pulled out into traffic to the beat of the music, Sam had to admit the new tape did sound better than the old one. They were halfway to North Dakota before they discovered the missing eyes murderer was your typical serial killer and already caught by the police. Their long ride became even longer as they found another hunt and once again had to backtrack to get there, Metallica playing the entire way.