Dean awoke slowly, still feeling exhausted and temporarily bewildered by his surroundings. He flailed around awkwardly, everything sore and tight after hours of lying prone. The clock on the nightstand toppled and hit the floor with a loud bang.

Sam bolted awake from his cramped sleep on the futon. "Dean?"

His brother coughed, half awake. "Sam?"

"I heard a sound, are you okay?" The voice was groggy.

Sleepy, startled green eyes turned in his direction. "Sam!" Surprise was followed immediately by the shadows of remembrance. "Uh sorry, knocked the clock..."

"Oh..." Sam fell back and held his head. "Ugh. Startled me awake. What time is it?"

"Um... 7 mebbe?" Dean scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

"Right..." Sam said blearily. Then rose up in a panic. "Fuck! I have a 7 am class! Shit." He cast around for a shirt, didn't see one.

"Right. You better get goin' then..." Dean pushed himself up slowly onto his feet, catching at the wall as he swayed. He shook his head to clear it, wincing a little. "You'll be back later, right?"

"It's 7:45." Sam knocked into the TV and glanced at the time on the digital readout of the DVD player. "I missed it. Dammit!"

Guilt flooded over his brother's face. "I'm sorry dude. I shouldn't have kept yapping…" He trailed off miserably.

Sam switched gears. "No." He said, regaining his composure. "No, that's okay, man." He scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "It's my fault. Shoulda set the clock."

"Mebbe you can catch the end of it or somethin'?" Dean pulled himself more upright, squaring his shoulders a bit. "Don't hang around for me; I'll get some coffee and watch TV."

"It ends at 8:00."

"Uh." Dean wilted a little, looking awkward. "I'm in your way here, dude. I'm gonna…" He gestured vaguely in the direction of the door.

Sam swallowed and sat on the arm of the futon, his shoulders rounded. "Well...there goes my grade." He paused, thinking. "I'll just say I was sick. Not really allowed to miss any classes because they would yank my financial aid." He looked up. "No. No. Dean stay, it's fine."

"No." Dean's jaw was set now. "You've got school stuff to do, and me, I gotta be getting back to it y'know." He turned away towards the bathroom. "Just gonna clean up a bit and I'll head on out."

Sam followed him and stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Don't go, man. I'm gonna put on some coffee, okay?"

"I took enough of your time already, Sammy." Dean closed the door firmly in his face, his voice muffled behind the barrier as he continued. "Yeah coffee, good."

Sam jerked his head back to avoid being hit in the nose. The sounds of Dean running water, flushing the toilet and scrubbing his teeth drifted through the door.

"Coffee." Sam ran a hand through his sleep messed bangs. "Right." He headed to the tiny semblance of a kitchen and put the coffee pot on to boil.

Dean considered a shower, then dismissed the thought and flopped down on the toilet lid instead. He put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees, deep in thought.

"You still take it black?" Sam's voice called loudly.

Dean started, raising his head. "Huh? Oh yeah. Good and strong."

Sam contemplated the clear glass coffee pot a moment and then leaned both hands against counter and took a deep breath. He found Dean's leather jacket, fished out the Impala's keys and hid them in the drawer under the dog-eared phone book.

Dean emerged slowly. He stared around at the apartment, almost as though he hadn't seen it the day before. "Nice place you got here, Sammy."

Sam snorted, looked at the chipped ceiling and paint scuffed from years of too many college students. "Yeah. Palace. It's all I could afford," he halted. "but at least it's mine, you know?"

"You like that, huh? Somewhere permanent?" Dean looked genuinely curious, studying Sam from under raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. Yeah I do. It's kind of nice actually." Sam conceded. "The rent here is really high though. I've been surviving on Ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese."

Dean grinned. "Same old, same old, dude."

"So by the time I get out of here I'll probably be malnourished and well on the way to having cancer but at least I'll have a law degree, right?" He gave a nervous laugh.

"Good to see you're still thinking positive." Dean lowered himself gingerly onto a kitchen chair, shuffling around to get comfortable.

The quirk to Sam's eyebrows revealed that he'd gone into Worried Sam Mode but he didn't say anything as he poured Dean a cup.

His brother was already back on his feet, an almost palpable tension seeping out of him.

"I have some eggs. You want breakfast?" Sam offered. He saw that wasn't working. "There's a diner down the road. We can actually go grab something there. It's really cheap. It's like a dollar for eggs, bacon, and toast."

"No, I'm gonna get out of your hair. Coffee is good."

"I also have that leftover pizza." Sam said, grasping at straws, even though judging by last night's empty box, it was gone. "You didn't really eat last night."

"Not really hungry, Sam."

"Dean, please stay." Sam noticed a tremor running through Dean's frame, almost a shiver. "You cold?" He tossed him a charcoal hoodie.

"'M'okay." Dean caught the hoodie anyway, holding it in a loosely folded bundle against his chest for a while before slipping it on.

" I think you need something to eat."

Dean dropped his eyes. "Not feelin' like eating." A haunted expression ghosted across his face. "Coffee's great."

"Dean..." Sam's voice shifted into lecture mode. "You've been here for like 18 hours and haven't had anything. Not one thing."

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?" His brother sounded frustrated. "Okay, you want to eat, let's eat." He searched around for his keys.

Sam frowned and went back to the little fridge. "Look! A non-moldy apple! Here." He whipped it at Dean's head.

A look of horror appeared on Dean's features as he caught the apple reflexively. "What! That's not food."

"For some reason when I'm sick to my stomach apples don't bother me... Why not? It's perfectly good fruit."

Dean was suddenly awkward. "I'm not sick dude. And it's fruit! Fruit is for monkeys."

"It's actually local," Sam said with a touch of pride.. "There's an orchard here where you can pick your own stuff."

His brother snorted, putting the apple down with a decisive thud. "And your point is?" He rolled his eyes. "Will you listen to yourself? Farmer Sam!"

"You know a piece of fruit now and then would not kill you. I promise."

"Might though." Dean's mutter had a dark sound to it.

"Yeah," Sam retorted, "the half an ounce of fiber might explode your intestines... Since they've probably never actually seen any fiber."

Dean froze, a nauseous look appearing on his face. "Let's talk about something else, okay." He swallowed heavily.

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Sammy. Stop mother-henning. I'm fine." He was hunting around for the Impala keys with an anxious look on his face. "Have you seen my baby's keys?"

"Hey." Sam tried to distract him. "Lets walk to the diner, okay?"

Dean ignored him, still casting around for the keys and muttering unhappily.

"Chill out." Sam put his hands on his hips. "I know where they are." He went to the other room and pulled a t-shirt on, padded back, still clad in his drawstring cotton sleep pants.

"Where?"

"They're in a safe place right now. I didn't want to turn my back and have you take off on me."

"Hand 'em over." Dean's tone was as stony as his expression. "Now."

"No."

"What!" Dean stared at him, incredulous. "Dude! What is wrong with you!" He started hunting with more vigor, his face suddenly paler than before.

"Dean, come on. Let's spend some time together, okay?"

Dean ignored him, his movements becoming increasingly desperate as he dragged open drawers, shoved things aside.

"Dean..."

"What! Sure I'll spend some time with you, Sammy. Just as soon as you give me the goddamn KEYS!" Dean's voice deepened, his expression pissed.

"It's okay, dude." Sam kept his tone even. "They're fine."

The answer was as unexpected as it was sharp. "Don't try and shut me in here!"

"Why are you scared that I have them?" Sam raised an eyebrow again at the outburst. "I'll give them back. Let's go eat...You just need some food. You'll feel so much better when we get your blood sugar stabilized."

"I'll come and eat, whatever you want. Quit treatin' me like I'm friggin' four! Just GIVE ME THE KEYS before I rip you a new one!" Dean swept a pile of books onto the floor, wincing a little. "Fuck my blood sugar!"

Sam withstood the tirade quietly, ever the bulwark in the storm. "You'll feel better. I promise. Let's go for a walk and get some fresh air."

"I don't need a GODDAMN WALK! What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"Just said you don't want to be trapped in here. So a walk will be good right?" His eyes tracked Dean's movements. He remained patient. "Dean. What's going on with you, man?"

An icy calm descended over his brother. "Nothin'. Not a problem Sam, I'll just jump-start her." He slammed his way out of the door.

"Dean..." Sam jogged after him and down the stairs on his bare feet. "Where are you going?"

"Outside. I thought you wanted to go out, SAMMY." The sarcastic bite drifted over Dean's shoulder. "You might want to get dressed there."

"Yeah. I do. But ..." He kept pace with him. "Let me get dressed, okay?"

Dean came up hard against the side of the Impala, physically slamming into the bodywork as he leaned his arms on the roof and dropped his head on them.

Sam approached from behind, his tone soft.. "She's right here, dude. She's not going anywhere."

"Get dressed, Sam."

"Come on in with me."

"No." Dean turned to him with a glare, parking his butt against the hood and crossing his arms.

"Please."

"I need a few minutes, dude."

Sam eyes pleaded silently. "Please."

"I'm not going anywhere." Dean's voice was exasperated. "My jacket is still in your room."

"I know you. I'm going to go in to change and come out and you'll be gone."

His brother stared at him, deflating as he absorbed the misery in the hazel eyes before him. "Dammit, Sam." Reluctantly he trailed slowly after him back to the apartment.

"Thank you."

"For what? Bringing all this shit here?"

"No, for coming in with me." Sam replied, hurriedly slipping to a pair of jeans, socks, and jamming his feet into his blue tennis sneakers.

"I should've kept driving."

"Don't say that." Sam replied, fumbling with his laces.

"You don't need this crap."

Sam's voice was still calm but he was starting to get a fine tremor in his hands. "I can take it. Broad shoulders and all. Let's go eat. Catch me up on what's been going on."

His brother's expression was not encouraging. "Yeah sure."

Sam grabbed his own set of keys and wallet and headed out the front door, holding it open for Dean. "So what have you been up to? How is Dad?"

Dean squinted at him as though he'd grown a second head. "I've been hunting, what else would I be doing?" He shrugged. "Dad's fine, pissed at me."

Sam gave a derisive huff. "I just don't understand him. How can he be pissed at you?"

"Because I screwed up, that's why. Got a man killed."

"Even if you did fuck up, you paid for it in spades. You don't need him throwing extra baggage on you." Sam kept his pace slow enough so that his brother could stay astride with him. They walked shoulder to shoulder. "That's just the same bull crap he always does."

Dean's jaw clenched. "I deserved it. I shouldn't have gone in there half-cocked."

"He always has to rub your nose in it. He can just never let it be."

Dean swung in front of him and halted so abruptly that Sam nearly ran into him. "So what are we doing here, Sammy? We goin' for breakfast or we having some big chick flick therapy session?" There was a warning tone in his voice.

Sam stepped around him. "We're on our way. Just trying to make ..." he shoved his hand is in his pockets, seeming to grow physically smaller at the rebuke. "You know what, nevermind. Dad sucks, we've already established that. How's Bobby? Is he even talking to you guys after the whole big fight with Dad?"

"Bobby's fine. Him and Dad, no, not so much."

"Didn't think so. Dad has to make enemies with everyone." Sam lifted his head at the approach of a couple of students. "What's Bobby up to?" He asked suddenly aware.

The brunette noticed him. "Sam. Hey Sam! Where were you this morning?"

Sam slowed, turned to face her. "Eve!" He said with a false smile that did not touch his eyes. "Ummm." He gestured to Dean. "Dean, Eve. Eve, this is my big brother."

"Hey there." Amazingly, despite everything, Dean still managed to put out a cheeky grin and make eye contact.

"We had a late night and I wasn't feeling too well so I missed class this morning"

Eve's counterpart halted, seemed to be silently sizing Dean up. "Hope you're not leading our Sam astray here. He's quite the genius, you know."

Sam blushed.

Dean's grin faded as he directed an intense stare at the man before turning back to his brother. "Well come on, genius; I thought you were going to buy me breakfast."

"I am."

Dean was already stalking off. Sam caught a mutter of "Your Sam…" as he turned away.

Sam looked back with an apologetic smile. "Guys, he's had a really rough night so I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Maybe he should cut down on the alcohol a little."

Sam winced. "He's...it's not that. He's military. Just came home." His face grew a little harder. "Cut him some slack. I'll catch you two later."

Dean paused, waiting for him; he looked pissed. "More friends of yours there?"

"More like acquaintances."

"Best thing for acquaintances like that is a bullet between the eyes." The lazy drawl held a razor-sharp edge.

Sam turned into a small alley, held the door open to a little diner with about a dozen tables. "Oh come on. They're not that bad. You weren't exactly friendly either."

Dean ignored him, working his way carefully into a booth in the back corner of the diner. His face was a picture of expressionless and symmetrical perfection, only the white tips of his fingers betraying his discomfort.

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