Author's Note: Thanks for all of the reviews. I'm so glad that everyone enjoyed my 'humor'. A side note to those who are interested. Becky, Chuck's Wincest loving girlfriend has a REAL site listed on livejournal. If you search, like Yahoo, type in samlicker81 and you'll find her. She's listed as "Becky" on the site, and YES, that story that I adapted was hers. I just changed Sam to Mac. She really wrote a slash fic and posted it online. She even goes so far as to describe the day she met Sam and got to "touch" him. It was truly one of the funniest things I've ever read in my life. Check it out, if you want a good laugh. - Thanks to Tidia for the name of the college.

The first line nearly made his heart stop. "Congratulations, Mr. Winchester." The rest of it offered him a full baseball scholarship upon the completion of his senior year to Louisiana State University; he'd been secretly coveting going there ever since Damien's surprise baseball summer camp. He'd dreamed of playing in the big leagues and this was his one shot. The problem was that he just didn't know what to do! He wanted it so bad that he could picture it: he could do what Caleb had done. Hunt on weekends and breaks... his family could visit him at college.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, staring at the piece of paper until he heard a knock at the door. "Dean?" Sam's voice called through the closed door, "Dad called again. We've got to be ready to leave as soon as he gets here. He's got another hunt. He says he needs backup this time; and he's making us go with him."

He rubbed his head. There was just no way, he thought, crumpling the paper in his fist before stuffing the evidence back into his bag. He couldn't leave his family. They needed him; he was just being selfish in dreaming like a stupid little kid who wanted Santa to bring back his mother from the grave.

"Yeah. I'm coming." Dean pulled out his bags, putting them on the bed, ready to go. "I'll help you pack, Sammy."

He put his hand on his little brother's shoulder and listened as he complained, nodding in sympathy when the need arose. As they walked passed the living room, he could hear Dr. Ames yelling on the phone. Dean didn't need telepathy to figure out that his father was on the other end. There was only one person on the planet that could make the even-tempered neurosurgeon lose his cool. He'd caught the end of the conversation; his name had come up. "Your son is not a robot! He needs to rest. Send someone else, John." Not wanting to know what his father's response was, he pushed Sam into the bedroom and shut the door behind them both.

Sinking into the bed, he leaned over and stared at the floor. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him. He was f'ing tired. His eyes stung and he quickly reached up to wipe at them. The bed creaked as a familiar weight rested against his side. A tentative hand touched his back, "Dean? Are you alright?"

Looking up with now bloodshot eyes, he nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You still mad at me?"

Dean turned and took in a breath, "No. I'm not, Sammy. I just - sometimes I need a breather, you know?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I know. Me too."

"You know, I don't mind that Dad rides me. I know that he's just doing what's best for us, trying to protect us, especially after Mom." Dean bit his lip. "He needs us, you know. The both of us are all he's got."

Hesitantly, Sam asked, "I know. But, I just can't help but think... is this really what mom would've wanted for us?"

There really wasn't a good answer to that question, so he just shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, Sammy. I wish I did."

There was a soft knock on the door, before it creaked open slightly. Dr. Ames poked his head around the door, waiting until they looked up at him before walking over. Mac ran his hand through his hair, "I'm sorry, boys. Unfortunately, our visit has been cut short. Your father will be here in a couple of hours, so that'll give us time to enjoy our dinner."

"That's great, Mac." Sam sarcastically replied. "Wouldn't want to toss those steaks out..."

"Perhaps, I can convince your father to stay the night and get some rest." The doctor suggested.

Even Dean had to laugh, albeit weakly, at that, "Don't hold your breath, Mac. You can't change dad's mind once it's made up. You should know that by now."

The older man wrapped his arms around both boys' shoulders and gently pushed them towards the dining area. "I suppose that I should, but I can dream, can't I?"

They all sat down at the table and slowly ate; trying to prolong the time they had left together. The meal was one of the best either of the boys had in a long time. Steak, real steak, not tube-steak or canned beef was expensive. Honestly, Dean couldn't remember the last time they'd eaten anything but fast food or meals from highway diners. There was wine on the table, and the doctor had poured them each a sip-sized amount in their wine glasses. After they'd savored the meat and potatoes, Mac lifted his glass in a toast.

"To Family. I believe that Desmond Tutu once said that 'You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them.' You boys are my family and I treasure the time we've spent together, however brief." With that, he clinked their glasses together and watched as both boys dissolved into giggles.

"That was so corny, Mac!" Dean complained, with Sam nodding his head in agreement. "Caleb's right. I think you've been hanging around Josh's mom too long. You're turning into a chick."

Mac had to roll his eyes, "What else has Caleb been telling you about me?" He leaned forward in his chair, arching his eye brow in fake-seriousness. His eyes glimmered with mirth; they could all tell he was teasing.

"That you're in loovvve." Sammy crowed, laughing. "With Josh's mom! Eeeww."

Dean smirked at him, "The other stuff would just make you blush, Mac."

"Well, I was planning on serving you homemade peach cobbler for dessert...but, I've changed my mind now." Mackland taunted.

"Dessert, huh?" A voice from behind him grumbled, "I hope you haven't been letting them slack around the entire time, Mackland. They should be training."

John Winchester turned towards his children, "I'm pretty sure I gave you a clear order, Sam." His arms crossed over his chest, his eyes dark and accusing. "You should be ready to leave; not keeping me waiting. So, what exactly have you been doing here since I've been gone?"