Sam told himself it wasn't envy. He would not succumb to such a base, vain emotion as that. Whatever he was feeling was green and bitter and ugly like some kind of slime that coated his tongue and wormed its way down into his gut. It made him want to throw up or run or both.

The door to the guest room shut quietly behind him. The muffled laughter grew louder as he approached the living room. There were glasses and a mostly empty bottle of wine on the coffee table. As far as Sam knew, Dean had never drunk wine in his life. Beer, sure. Jack, hell yeah. But a Shiraz so fragrant Sam could almost taste it halfway across the room? So not his brother.

Dean and Cassie lay on the sofa, wrestling and giggling. He had pinned her hands at her sides and was mercilessly nuzzling her neck with his face. A low growl sounded in his throat and she squealed. Diverting his eyes from them, Sam cleared his throat and announced, "Um, I'm going to go check out the neighborhood. Maybe meet up with Zach and Becky."

He didn't actually think they'd heard, until Dean emphatically waved him off with one hand. Sam nodded and ducked out of the front door, closing it softly behind him. No matter what else he felt, he was glad that at least one of them was happy.

Hearing the door shut, Cassie whispered, "He's sweet."

"He's a pain in my ass." Dean brushed his lips across that spot on her neck again, loving the way she shuddered.

The vanilla oil was fading from her skin, but when he took a deep breath, it blended with her sweat and sent a warm thrill right to his bones.

"You never told me your baby brother is a giant." She laughed and tried to break free again.

Suddenly serious, Dean gazed into her dark eyes for a moment. "Hold on a second. I want to show you something."

He made a little show of straightening his stiff dick in his pants and hobbled back to the bedroom to dig the photos out of his stuff. When he returned, Cassie sat up on the sofa to get a better look. She took the pictures from his hands. "Wow, Dean, your mom was gorgeous. Wait, you said everything was lost in the fire."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He smoothed a dog-eared corner.

"Where'd you get these?"

"The old house."

Cassie's jaw dropped, "Whatever happened to 'never going back to Lawrence'? It was like your mantra."

"Things change." Dean shrugged and studied the image like he was seeing it for the first time. Like he didn't take these out and look at them at least once a day. "I saw my mom while I was there."

She squinted and earnestly tried to wrap her mind around what Dean was saying.

He looked directly at her and repeated, "I saw my mom."

Considering that a racist ghost truck had just killed her father, his best friend and even the mayor of the town where she grew up, Cassie decided she didn't require further explanation. She huffed out a breath. "Wow."

"You know, I had pretty much forgotten what she looked like?"

She nodded. "I remember you saying so. Did she tell you she was proud of you? She must be. What you do… you help a lot of people."

Dean lowered his eyes. He was going to kick his own ass if he cried. "No. She, uh, apologized to Sam."

"Apologized?"

"I guess that she wasn't around for him." He gave the best answer he could think of. The same question had been plaguing him.

Cassie shook her head, dissatisfied with his explanation. "But that wasn't her fault. It's not like she chose to die in that fire."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe he just needed to hear it. I don't know. It was over really fast."

Cassie caressed his thigh. "You must feel better. It always seemed like you needed closure on her death."

"'Closure.'" Dean tasted the word. "Must be the word of the day."

She smiled, not sure what he was talking about and gazed absently at her plants for a moment. "Do you think I'll see my dad?"

"I don't know. It's possible." Dean chose not to say how much he hoped she didn't see her father.

In his experience, ghosts were never a good thing. He had purposely neglected to talk about the poltergeist that had taken over his childhood home, figuring Cassie had dealt with enough nightmares already.

She examined the photo in her hand again. "You were kind of funny looking, weren't you?"

"Why do people keep saying that? All kids are funny looking."

She laughed. "Look at your dad. He looks so happy."

Dean leaned in. He had been so busy memorizing his mother's face that he hadn't really noticed that before. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he?"

"How's he doing, anyway? He's got to be glad Sam's back." Holding the photo by the edges, like the treasure it was, she returned it to his hands.

"He's, uh … hard to say. He's kind of off doing his own thing right now."

"Hunting? A ghost?" It was still a little odd for Cassie to be talking about this stuff like it was normal. But knowing it was true, after all these years, it felt like she had a lot to make up for not believing him in the first place.

"Something else." Again, Dean opted not to go into detail.

"You weren't very specific about what that meant… back then." She pretended to pick lint from a pillow on the sofa.

Dean figured 'back then' was always going to be a sore topic between them. He picked up and emptied his glass in one swig. This stuff they were drinking was never going to be his favorite, but at least he was a little buzzed. "You didn't want me to be more specific back then. Do you want me to now?"

Cassie peered up at him and rolled her lips together.

"Well, more specifically, we took down a shapeshifter a couple miles from here just a few months ago. Nasty fucker. If I'd have known you were here, I'd have invited you to my funeral."

Cassie nodded, realizing how deeply she was in over her head. That had not been what she expected. In fact, she didn't know what she had expected. Everything with Dean was always uncharted territory. "Am I going to have to get used to you saying things like that all the time?"

He smiled, liking the sound of that. "Yeah."

She lowered her head and snickered; she knew exactly what he meant. "I didn't expect you to come back. Figured you had more hearts to break across the continental US."

"Nah. Just the midwest."

Cassie laughed and hit him in the chest with a pillow.

"Actually, I haven't…"

Instantly, her smile faded. There was no way she would believe it if Dean tried to tell her he hadn't been with anyone in all the time they'd been apart.

Sensing how heavy the air had suddenly become, he chuckled, "Oh, come on. You know me better than that."

Cassie seemed relieved to hear him say he was getting around. To his own horror, he heard himself keep blathering. "Just haven't… there hasn't been… Jesus, you know what? Forget it."

His throat was so tight, he wished he had another drink. This was the problem with Cassie: she always made him feel exposed. Talking about feelings was fucking horrifying - worse than taking on a wendigo unarmed.

He shook his head and left the couch. Needing something to do with his clammy hands, Dean searched through her music again.

Cassie watched him from the couch, giving him space, but not ready to drop it. "Dean. What were you going to say?"

Without turning around, he finished his damn thought, "Haven't had anything like what we had."

She walked over and stood beside him. She took the CD from his hand and rested her palm on the coarse stubble on his cheek. He'd probably shave tomorrow. She wanted to be there to watch. Maybe help.

"But hey, I never had to buy any birthday presents." Dean forced a chuckle at his own flat joke.

Cassie frowned. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't do that. Don't pull away from me." You know I love you. She thought it, but couldn't bring herself to speak the words. The last time she had said those words to this man, she'd been made to regret them immediately. Instead, she looked down and toyed with the leather cord around his wrist. "I'm glad you're here."