Dean was frantic. He'd expected Sam to be sitting stubbornly in the Impala, reading or brooding or some such shit.

But he wasn't.

Sam was hell and gone from the car, the diner, and anywhere else where Dean could find him.

And Dean was terrified.

All those years of Dad drilling into him how important it was to take care of Sammy, and he'd fucking lost him in fucking Bumfuck, Delaware. Even worse, Sam had stormed out of the diner leaving his jacket behind with his cell phone in the pocket so Dean couldn't even call him.

Dean had wandered up and down the strip mall twice, looking in windows and entering any stores that he thought might interest a moody, pissed-off teenager, but he'd had no luck.

No luck at all. And it had been over an hour. What if someone had pulled Sam into a van or something when the kid wasn't paying attention. Sam got like that, especially when he was pissed. And he'd been plenty pissed when he'd stormed out of the diner.

Dean had almost gone after him, but then he figured maybe Sam just needed a little space. Dean knew he could sure use some. Dealing with a teenage Sammy was never easy. Dealing with a teenage Sammy hopped up on hormones was a freaking nightmare.

Dean thought he might not survive this newest phase.

But then, all of a sudden, there was Sam. He was walking up through the strip mall with his face buried in a book. He carried a bag in his hand and was completely oblivious to anything going on around him.

That alone made Dean furious. Sam knew better than to lose himself like that out in public. The kid was so involved in the book that he stumbled right into Dean before he saw him. He looked up then, and grinned - happy excitement flowing off him in waves.

"Dean! You'll never guess what I fou …"

"Where. The. Hell. Were. You?"

Sam took a step back. "Wha - what?"

"You heard me. Where the hell were you? I've been looking for you for over an hour!" Dean was pissed.

"I'm sorry. I got caught up looking at books and …"

"Nice, Sam!"

"What?"

"You were looking at books? You were looking at books, and I was fucking losing my mind! You didn't even take your fucking phone!"

Suddenly, Sam was angry. "Oh, like you even noticed I was gone! How was she Dean? Did you do her in the bathroom stall? I have the feeling she gets that a lot!"

Dean's eyes flashed, "You miserable little ... Maybe I did, Sammy. Hunh? What do think of that? Maybe I did shove her up against the wall and fuck her til she was moaning my name. What's it to you anyway? Why do you care?"

Sam meant to make a flippant reply, but suddenly, to his horrifying embarrassment, his eyes filled with tears. He just stood there, looking at Dean, unable to form words, and feeling like he'd lost his best friend in the whole world.

"Well …" Sam managed to huff, 'I - I hope she had fucking VD!" And he stomped away, stuffing his lanky frame into the Impala and almost slamming the door.

Dean just stood there, fuming and feeling like an ass at the same time. Were those … tears … he'd just witnessed in Sam's eyes?

Dean suddenly felt like the biggest jerk in the history of jerks. He knew he should probably apologize, but he was still too pissed. Maybe they both just needed some time to cool off.

So he climbed behind the wheel and handed Sam a foam container. "Got yours to go." He said shortly, pointing the Impala back to the motel.

Sam just took the container and held it in his lap, saying nothing. He stared out the window for the entire ten-minute drive.

When they pulled up in front of room number 17, Sam climbed immediately out, unlocked the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him.

Dean sat in the car, thinking. This was the shitty part about sharing a motel room - you couldn't get any space from each other when you really needed it.

And right now, Dean really needed some space. He put the car back in gear and pulled away, heading back down the way they'd come. He'd seen a store a few miles back, and they needed to restock the med kit and the laundry supplies. He'd run a few errands and then he'd head back. Hopefully, by that time both he and Sam would have had time to work off a little stress.

###

Sam rose to look out the window when he heard the Impala pull away. He sighed and placed the salt line in front of the door. Then he placed his omelet and hash browns in the microwave and pulled out his new books.

And he smiled. Even when he felt his loneliest - and that was quite often of late - books had always been his friends.

And that got him thinking about Jeremy. He seemed like a cool kid. Sam sort of wished he'd gotten his phone number or email or something. He thought about Jeremy's fascination with monsters and caught himself grinning when he thought how cool it would be if he could clue the boy in to a few of his own adventures - if they could become best friends and he could take Jeremy on a hunt sometime.

And wouldn't that freak Dad out?

Wouldn't that be something? Talking to someone his own age about things they had in common?

Sam couldn't even imagine it.

Then he had an idea. It was a long shot, but what the hell? He pulled out his laptop and looked up the comic book store. Sure enough, they had a website and a "Contact Us" link.

Before he'd had much time to think about it, he'd sent an email asking if Jeremy could send his contact information.

And surprisingly, he got an almost immediate reply.

"Hi Sam."

"Hi. Is this Jeremy?"

"Yeah. This is cool, man. I'm glad you emailed."

"Is this a good time? Can you talk?"

"Hell yeah. Dad's got the granny brigade here, looking for books on local history. Just kill me now. Please. Hey. You got unlimited text? Be a lot faster."

"Yeah. I'm at 303-555-2231."

"Cool. Texting you now, dude."

Jeremy: "So cool. This is much better."

Sam: "So, how's the Beetle?"

Jeremy: "So good. You'd love it. You know anything about werewolves?"

Sam: "A little."

Jeremy: "Well, I always thought you needed a silver bullet. But the one in Beetle is a hybrid. You gotta shoot it with a silver bullet first and then cut its head off."

Sam: "Yeah, That's total bullshit. A bullet is all it takes."

Jeremy: "I know, right? They're cheating. So, you just passing through or what?"

Sam: "Yeah. Following Dad's job. We'll be moving on soon."

Jeremy: "That kind of sucks. You do that a lot?"

Sam: "Yeah. All the time. School is kinda hard. Being the new kid every other month and all."

Jeremy: "Well, if you get a chance, stop back by the shop before you go. Maybe we could go grab a pizza or something?"

Sam heard the distinctive roar of the Impala.

Sam: "Gotta go. My brother's home."

Jeremy: "Okay Dude, Cya.

Sam: "Later."

Sam tossed his phone on the nightstand and retrieved his food from the microwave. He sat down at the table and took a bite of omelette. It was surprisingly good. Suddenly Sam felt a bit better. The conversation with Jeremy, the new books, the good food - all of it was putting him in a better mood, and when Dean stepped inside, Sam's anger was mostly gone.

Dean's wasn't, however.

"You need help with bags?" Sam asked.

"Nope." Dean said shortly.

"Dean …"

"Shut it, Sam. Just give me some space, okay?" Dean occupied himself refilling the med kit.

Sam fell silent. Suddenly his omelet didn't taste so good anymore, and he ended up throwing most of it in the trash. Then he moved to flop on his bed and open up his new book. He sighed. If only books were humans, he thought. Then he'd never have to feel all alone ever again.