Well, I'm sorry I kept you all waiting. Suffered from a major writer's block. But here's Chapter 3! And I promise I'll update more often. Hopefully there are still people who're waiting from this chapter and are waiting from more!

Chapter 3: Sam's Flashback and Trudy's Picture

Dean had no idea how it had come to this.

"Do you like broccoli?" Monk asked, his head appearing from the kitchen.

Sam and Dean looked at one another. They were both sitting on Monk's couch. The two looked awkward in all of the right angles and straight lines. "I do," Sam said, "He doesn't."

"Kiss ass," Dean muttered under his breath. Monk nodded and his head vanished. Dean exhaled and leaned back, raising his leg as though to put it on the coffee table.

There was a hiss, and he looked up to see Monk's face. His eyes were unreadable, but Dean thought they were almost dangerous. He slowly lowered his leg and sat up. Monk's head disappeared yet again.

Sam choked on his laughter.

"Shut up," Dean muttered, "Would it kill this dude to bring us a beer?"

"Actually, I don't drink," Monk's voice said.

Dean stared in the direction of the kitchen. "Pardon?" he asked, "You don't drink?"

"No."

"Perfect," Dean said, glaring at Sam, who looked ready to explode with laughter. "Enlighten me. Why did you insist on having lunch with this guy?"

Sam's smiled faltered as the memory came back...

--

Dean had broken free of Sam's grasp and started walking towards Monk with an expression of pure fury on his face.

"What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With . YOU?!" Dean said in fury. Sam had seized the back of his jacket.

"Dean, just calm down..."

"You don't just go and wash a person's car with out permission!" Dean was saying, completely ignoring Sam and his struggle to restrain his brother from kicking Monk's ass.

Monk placed a hand on the shiny, clean car, which made Dean cringe. "You should have seen it," Monk insisted, "If you really loved this car so much, you should have washed it months ago.

This had shocked Dean to silence. Sam took control of the situation. "Mr. Monk, why are you here?" he asked, moving in front of his brother, who was still trying to comprehend what Monk had said to him.

Monk shifted his balance. "Well, I couldn't help but feel you two weren't very honest with me yesterday. We need to find the person who killed Mr. Sanders, and if you have any information, the police would greatly appreciate it." The Winchesters were trying to look as innocent as humanly possible. Monk went on, "Now, I was thinking that maybe talking in the station was making you reluctant to talk, so I thought maybe being out of the interrogation room might ease your nerves. Would you care to join me for lunch? Maybe we could discuss Mr. Sander's death then."

Dean snorted. "Oh yeah. Eating lunch with a cop is so much better than sitting in a room with cameras with...COPS."

"I'm not a cop," Monk said, "I was, but... I'm a police consultant now." Dean just stared with his mouth slightly open. He looked as if he was still trying to make sense out of this. Sam, on the other hand, looked intrigued.

"We would be very happy to have lunch," Sam said, with a slightly confused smile, "Right Dean?'

"Mmmmmmaguuuaaaaaahhh," Dean said, still out of it.

"Is that a yes?" Monk asked.

"Sure, I guess so," Sam said.

Monk nodded. "Excellent. An even 12 then?" Sam nodded and Monk nodded again. After giving Sam the necessary information, he turned and walked off, touching each of the parking meters as he passed them.

--

And that's how it had happened. Dean had spent the rest of the morning arguing with his brother, but Sam had insisted until Dean had given in.

Dean was now taking a self guided tour of Monk's apartment. He stopped to look at a picture of an attractive blonde woman. He glanced around and saw that her picture was everywhere. Dean raised his eyebrows as Monk came into view.

"Who's the babe?" Dean asked, jerking his head towards the picture. Monk stiffened.

"That's Trudy. She's my wife," he said in an expressionless tone. Sam had been looking at Trudy's pictures.

Dean looked at the picture, and then at Monk, as though he couldn't believe Monk had scored a woman as pretty as Trudy. "Well, why isn't the Mrs. here making lunch for us?" he asked.

"She died." Monk's face was dead serious. Dean closed his mouth, looking ashamed.

"How...?" Sam started.

"Car bomb," Monk said tonelessly, "I was on the force at that time. The police still haven't caught him."

"Look, man," Dean said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

"It's fine," Monk said, moving towards one of the pictures, "You didn't know."

Sam was beside Monk and was staring at the picture, too. "She was very beautiful," he said softly.

Monk nodded sadly. "Yes. She was."

There was a long period of awkward silence between Monk and the Winchesters. Dean sniffed and suddenly said, "Is something burning?"

Monk snapped out of his trance and hurried into the kitchen. Sam followed him, saying, "I'll help you Mr., Monk."

Dean stood in the middle of Monk's living room. Trudy was watching him from all around the room. He looked at the picture again and felt a moment of guilt as he realized how much pain he must of cause Monk by bringing up Trudy. He shook it off as Sam called for him. He had to stay focused. He didn't want Monk interfering with their investigation.