Frankenstein

Lingers

Dean scribbled down the date, showing it to Sam. "Okay, we can stop at the local library and give it a look for your aunt Petey. There are also a pair of…ghost hunters here we are asking, so I'm sure we can get this figured out and give her rest for your family."

The boy on the other end of the phone snorted and snickered. "You mean the crap for hunters?"

"Er," Dean paused. Normally he would give some bull and reassure the family that all was well and handled. "Yeah. Who told you that?"

"You did. And just about every teen our drummer Robs asked about rumors of ghosts around there. The high school has an evacuation plan set up for them, which is the best one. Totally failed when Jake and I tried to get people freaked out and have one at McLain, our school. It was fun trying though."

Dean cracked up laughing at the boy's lighthearted tone of voice. Then he caught Sam's glare and hastily angled so he did not have to see his little brother's disapproval.

"I'm coming up for you again," Petey informed Dean. "Robs and I are gunna head out for Amity Park once we finish up the last of recording tomorrow."

"Dean." He turned at Sam's annoyance and covered the phone at the face Sam had made.

"Bitch."

"Get off the phone jerk. We're still on a case."

Dean rolled his eyes, then ignored his unfun brother to uncover the phone. "We're on a case, you can't be making me smell like the start of a grill out again," Dean informed Petey.

Sam's head spun from the printed out newspapers, eyes wide. "He's coming up here? Petey is coming up here? No, no pranks!"

"It's Petey," Dean stressed and raised an eyebrow. "You tell that kid no pranks at all and imagine what he'll do with that."

Hearing them from the other end of the line, Petey chuckled in demented glee. "Tell me, tell me! Do it! Tell me!"

Sam winced

"Okay, fine," Sam relented. "Nothing that lasts or lingers. God I'm going to regret this. Why is he even coming to Amity Park anyway?"

Dean cackled. "Live a little Sammy. You need to lighten up. See you in a couple of days Petey. We should know more about why you saw your Aunt up here. Bring up the goods. Little Sammy is sure to be watching my purchases like the control freak he is now that he knows you're coming."

Sam's head thumped onto the desk. "Dean. Can you not take a case seriously? Salt didn't even work on that Phantom ghost we ran into earlier."

"Ah, we'll figure it out," Dean responded flippantly as he tossed his cell phone onto the bed. "Now, the real question is, want to team up against Petey this time around and get him good?"

Dean gave himself the credit and invisible pat on his back when Sam actually thought about it.

Oil

Scratching away at the corner, Dean drew the knife back and blew wood shavings off. Scrutinizing for a second, he smiled in minute pride and tucked the pocket knife away. Checking himself, he made sure of his concealed weapons before grabbing the motel key. It was his duty and job to make sure his little brother was safe. Even if the little bitch had started bucking at his and Dad's safety measures.

Dean grinned, whistling. That was Sammy for you. It was good to see his little brother getting a slice of normal in their bump in the night world. He chuckled, "A normal glorified nerd." Complete puppy dog eagerness in wanting the school year to begin.

Dean left the safety of the room sideways, key already poised up as he fell smack on his hipbone. Swearing, he went to push himself up to see what caused him to sleep when reaching the motel door. His hand flew across the yellowed tiles and he finally smelled the cooking oil he was covered in.

Vinegar

"Hey Dean," Sam greeted. His mop of hair didn't look up from the book he was currently reading, absently eating a spoonful of oatmeal. "What took so long?"

"Oh, yuck it up bitch," Dean snapped back.

Irritated at the new nickname from his older brother the past couple of months, Sam scowled up at Dean. A sausage link was speared with extra vigor, Dean grinding away at the unfortunate piece of meat. Marking his page, Sam set aside his book to finish his breakfast. Dean continued to glare across the table. Searching for a topic of safety, Sam carefully took the conversation to where he lately avoided.

"Is the room good? Or…did you need help?"

The offer landed flat as Dean snorted. Rolling his eyes at his brother's sour morning attitude, Sam took a drink of water. One spit spray, coughing, scraping of his tongue with napkins, and another table's dirty looks later—Sam spotted Dean's smirk. "Vinegar," he asked in disbelief. "That's a weak prank."

Leaning back in his chair, Dean crossed his arms. "I got all day free while you're stuck at school. Bring it bitch."

Sam wrinkled his nose and carefully toed his backpack.

"Jerk."

And then he used his other toe to push at his brother's chair before dashing away. Dean's snarls followed the clatter of wood behind him.

Next word, red.