A/N: Here we go, the second chapter in my double update!

Hope you enjoy!

It took a few days for Sam to find a place he deemed suitable for his brother, which put a strain on their relationship, not to mention Dean's back. Sleeping in the Impala was turning out to be a nightmare. Neither of them got much sleep; Dean because his back hurt, his legs cramped and the Stolax kept deciding to stab him just as he was dosing off; Sam wasn't much better off because Dean felt that if he couldn't sleep, no-one would.

On the 4th morning of sleeping this way, they were passing through a small town when Sam stopped at a gas station to fill up the car and his brother. As he went to pay for the fuel and Dean's various snacks (thankfully, he hadn't craved raw meat since the last time), Sam saw an ad on the noticeboard: 'Cabin for rent. Ask manager for details'.

"Hey, is that cabin still available?" he asked the cashier, as he dumped the basket on the counter.

The young woman blushed when she looked up at him. "Um, I'll- I'll just… go and check." She smiled shyly and scurried around the counter and through a door into the back of the station. Sam only had to wait a few moments, before a squat, elderly gentleman appeared, the young cashier walking silently behind him.

He was fairly portly and only just came up to Sam's shoulder. His hair, once brown, was now mostly grey and thinning on top, although he tried to disguise this fact by combing the hair that remained over his balding skull in a way that was painfully obvious. He had small, watery green eyes, a squashy looking nose and a big, bushy moustache that was also grey.

He waddled up to Sam and took his hand and smiled. "I'm Mr. Percy Ringle, manager of this fine establishment," he told Sam in a cheery voice as he wrung his hand. "Sally here," he gestured to the cashier, who blushed again, "tells me you're interested in my little cabin."

"Yes sir," Sam replied.

"I knew someone would be interested," Mr. Ringle said, letting go of Sam's hand and barking out a laugh. "My wife said it was a waste of money, even for a fixer-upper, but I knew my property fishing line would get a nibble eventually, and here you are!"

"Uh… here I am," Sam said uncertainly.

Ringle laughed again. "I like you, my boy." He smiled warmly. "Now, how long will you be wanting to rent it for? A weekend away maybe? There's a nice little fire place, perfect for cuddling up in front of on cold nights." He winked and nudged him in the ribs. Sally looked down dejectedly.

"Er… no," Sam said. The cashier seemed to perk up. "You see, me and my brother have decided to take a little break from everything and go on a hunting trip." He chuckled internally at the irony of his statement.

Ringle nodded. "Ok, sounds like fun. A bit early to be hunting though, mind you. All you you're likely to find in the forest this time of year are a couple of pheasants, and that's if you're lucky."

"I'm sure we'll find something," Sam smiled.

"How long will you be staying?"

"The next three months or so… as long as there's no problem with that?"

The manager's eyes seemed to bulge out of his fat head when he heard that. "That is completely fine by me, my boy! Superb! Will that be cash or card?"

"Cash." Sam fished his wallet out of his pocket. "How much?"

"Seven-hundred and fifty dollars, if you want to pay for the three months up front."

"Ah," Sam muttered, his heart sinking. "I've only got enough for one month." I'll have to find somewhere else for the last two months, he thought, unless I can find a bar with a couple of rubes to hustle. "Will that-?"

"Wait! We've got a job going?" Sally seemed to have found her voice. She scurried out to stand next to Mr. Ringle. "Don't we sir? Since Robbie got bitten by his neighbours snake, we've been short staffed."

"You know, Sally, you're absolutely right." Ringle turned to Sam. "I'm going to make you an offer, son. You can keep your money and if you come and work for me for the three months you're here, the cabins yours."

Sam couldn't believe his luck. "Really?"

He nodded. "Nine to five, Monday to Friday, ten to four on Saturdays and… what the hell, you can have Sundays off." He smiled, as if he was the most generous man on Earth.

Sam had no idea how to work a normal job, but with money being tight and time being even tighter, he couldn't afford to let an opportunity like this pass. "Where do I sign?"

"That's what I like to hear," Ringle boomed, clapping Sam on the shoulder. "Let's see, tomorrow's Sunday, so you can start on Monday. If you could get here for around eight o'clock, we can get you debriefed on procedures, polices and your duties and whatnot. Oh and here's your cabin key." He pulled a large keychain out of his pocket and slipped a small brass key away from the rest and placed it in Sam's hand.

"Thanks," Sam said, putting it in his own pocket.

"Just take a right out of the gas station and there's a dirt track on your left just up the road a little way. The cabins about half a mile up, you can't miss it." He gave a smile that scrunched up his face, reducing his eyes to pudgy slits.

"I really appreciate it, Mr. Ringle," Sam said, gushing a little.

"My pleasure, Mr…?"

"Oh," Sam said, "Dawkins. Gary Dawkins."

"I look forward to working with you." With that, Mr. Ringle turned and waddled back to his office, a spring in his fat stride at having secured a free worker for the next three months.

Sam turned back to his items on the counter, a large smile on his face, and saw Sally grinning shyly at him. "Thank you, Sally. A place to stay is really what we need right now. Thanks."

She giggled nervously. "It's ok." She scanned his items through. "And staff get a twenty percent discount too."

"Great," Sam said, handing over the cash.

Sally frowned. "You won't have much time for hunting if you're working all the time." She sounded apologetic.

Sam smiled. "My brother was always more into hunting than I was. I'm sure he'll have fun without me."

She smiled. "See you on Monday."

"See you then," he replied, and left the shop.

"Jeez, what took you so long?" Dean complained as his brother got back in the car. "This thing has been using my bladder as a trampoline!" He was lying down to try and stop the ache in his back.

"Well, I've just sorted out our accommodation problem," Sam told him cheerfully. He started the engine and pulled out of the gas station, turning right as Ringle had instructed.

The dirt track was a few minutes down the road and Sam winced when he saw it. It looked extremely tight and even more over grown than the path that had led to Scott's house.

"Sam," Dean said warningly, sitting up in the back seat, "how far ahead is this place?"

"Um… half a mile or so."

"Crap," Dean muttered. "I swear to God, Sam, if you scratch her, I'm gonna swing for you."

"Do you wanna just hit me now then?"

"Don't test me, Sam!" he snapped. Dean looked again at the brambles and protruding branches and groaned. "Just… be careful, ok?"

Sam sighed. "Ok." He took a deep breath and started forward as slowly as he could.

Dean groaned again. "I can't look." He closed his eyes and placed his head back down on his jacket, which he'd been using as a makeshift pillow.

Sam drove the Impala along the track at a snail's pace, trying his best to prevent Dean's baby from getting scratched. His anxiety levels were rising with every passing second and his nerves were not helped due to Dean hissing threats under his breath whenever long twigs scraped along the windows or paintwork.

Finally, after a tense five or ten minute drive, although Dean would later swear it was longer, they reached their new home for the next three months. Sam pulled up in front of the cabin and shut off the engine. Dean opened his eyes and sat up clumsily. They both started at the small building, mouths hanging open. Dean let out a low whistle.

"Wow," Sam muttered. "That guy wasn't kidding when he said this place was a fixer-upper."

"Looks like it could still use a little more fixing, if you ask me."

Sam scoffed. "You said it."

"Man, we are gonna be like sardines!"

The "cabin" that Sam had procured for them turned out to be little more than just a shack. The wooden panels seem to be only just holding the tattered roof aloft, with its missing tiles and rusted chimney pipe.

The younger of the two brothers sighed. "Maybe it won't be so bad on the inside." He didn't even bother hiding the doubt in his voice.

They got out of the car, Dean with a little difficulty, and made their way to the front porch… or what was left of it. Sam unlocked the front door, which was sturdier than he thought it was going to be, and swung it open.

Thank God for small mercies, he thought.

The interior was a little less disappointing than the exterior, but was still of a poor standard. There seemed to be three separate rooms; a small living space that incorporated the living, dining and kitchen areas; an even smaller bedroom with one bed, which was at least a double; and a bathroom that was only just big enough for Dean to move around in, and the whole place had that musty, unlived in smell.

"Well," Sam said, "it could be worse, I guess."

"Yeah, but it could also be better, Sam," Dean complained. "How much did you pay for this piece of crap anyway?"

"I didn't," Sam replied. He moved to the 'kitchen' and started checking the appliances. Thankfully, they worked. "I made a deal with the manager of the gas station. I work there and he lets us stay here for free. Would've been seven fifty for the three months otherwise."

"Seven fifty? For this dump?" Dean's tone was incredulous. "What a rip!" He looked at the sofa and gingerly lowered himself down onto it. It groaned under his weight but didn't give way.

"Look, it could be worse. This way, we can keep out money, we have a place to stay and I get a staff discount at the gas station so we can get our food there. Plus, it's only about a ten minute walk away."

"Which is a good thing," Dean said quickly, "because there is no way you're driving my car down that track again, until absolutely necessary."

Sam smiled. "Ok, I'll walk to work." He suddenly frowned.

"What?"

"I've got a job… a job, like a regular guy."

Dean laughed. "There's nothing 'regular' about you Sam. Or me, for that matter."

Sam laughed as well. "I've got a co-worker and a boss… I've got a job." He was a little weirded out by the whole thing after thinking about it.

"What's head honcho's name?" Dean asked in an attempt to bring his brother back to the present.

"Huh? Oh, Ringle. Percy Ringle."

Dean smirked. "Seriously?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah, why?"

"Percy Ringle? His name is P. Ringle."

"So?"

Dean snorted a laugh. "Dude, he's a 'Pringle'!"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's corny joke, but couldn't help laughing a little himself. "It did look like he'd eaten a tube or two in his time."

Dean was laughing in earnest now. "You're… you're working for… a potato chip!" He was getting hysterical.

"Dude, it wasn't that funny," Sam said, chuckling at his brother's mirth.

It took a while for Dean to calm down, but then when Sam came in from the car carrying the snacks he'd bought earlier, he cracked up again when he saw the family size bag of potato chips. Sam stared as his brother dissolved once again into fits of laughter, until tears ran down his face.

Luckily, by the time everything was away, Dean had calmed down. "You ok now?" Sam asked, taking a seat at the small, round dining table.

"Yeah, I'm good" Dean replied. He hissed and put a hand on his side. "I might have given myself a stitch though."

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Anyway, it's getting late. We should turn in soon."

"Ok, I'll crash here," Dean said lying back on the couch, which groaned a little more.

Sam frowned. "You do know there's a double bed in there." He jerked his thumb toward the bedroom door. "That's where you're sleeping. And don't start arguing like last time."

"A double? No arguments from me." He sat up.

"… Really?" Sam had expected more of an argument with him, like when they were at Scott's.

Dean all of a sudden seemed tired and resigned. "Really." He sighed. "My back is freakin' killing me! I love my baby," he gestured out the window, "but man, does she give me one helluva kink in my back!" He paused thoughtfully. "And not the good kind either."

Sam pulled a face. "Dean, that… that is wrong on so many levels."

Dean smirked. "You just don't understand me and my baby."

Sam opened his mouth for a retort concerning his brother's sometimes unhealthy obsession with his car, but decided against it. "Just… go to bed."

Dean chuckled at Sam's embarrassment. Well, Dean thought, being the older brother comes with the I-am-allowed-to-embarrass-my-little-brother-in-any-way-I-see-fit perk, so why not use it? "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Samantha, I'm going."

"Good… we both need a decent night's sleep."

"Amen to that." Dean scooted to the end of the small sofa and managed to struggle to his feet.

As much as Sam wanted to help, he knew Dean was too proud to let him, so he stood back. When Dean was clear, Sam plopped down on the sofa and shut his eyes when a grunt from the bedroom snapped them open.

"Dean?" He stood up and rushed to the bedroom, which was about two strides for him. "What's wrong?"

Dean was staring at the bed sheets, a disgusted sneer on his face. "Dude, seriously?"

Sam frowned, glad he was ok, but confused as to what the problem was. "What?"

Dean lifted up a corner of the duvet. "Look at it!"

All Sam could see at first was the garish pattern, but upon closer inspection, he saw that there were spots of mildew peppering the fabric. He scrunched up his own nose in disgust. "Ew."

"Yeah," Dean said, dropping the covers, "ew."

"Well, we've had worse."

"Yeah, but for three months?"

Sam sighed. "I think I saw a Laundromat in town. I'll get them cleaned tomorrow."

Dean huffed. "Good. We… I mean, I'm not spending three months with these sheets."

"… Who's 'we'?"

"This little, parasitic son-of-a-bitch inside me; it's including itself again!" Dean yelled angrily. For all the good it did him to vent his anger and frustration, Dean regretted his outburst; the Stolax stabbed him for the insult. He grunted and put a hand on his stomach. "Little sucker's getting stronger." The Stolax seemed to wriggle as if pleased with its growing strength.

Sam wasn't sure what to say, so he settled on something that would please both his brother and the monster inside him. "I'll get the sheets cleaned tomorrow. In fact, this whole place could use a clean, and I doubt it'd take me very long." He offered a smile to Dean, who returned it.

"Thanks, Sammy." He sat down on what he deemed the least disgusting part of the bed and sighed. "A bed's a bed, I guess." He grimaced and lay down.

"I'll get you the blankets from the car," Sam said, turning and walking out of the room. He returned quickly and handed the over the covers. "Here."

Dean took them. "Thanks," he muttered sleepily.

Sam paused at the door for a moment. He opened his mouth to offer Dean a few words of comfort, but stopped when he heard his brother snoring softly. He sighed.

"Just three more months to go."

Like I've said before, humour doesn't really come naturally to me when I'm writing, so if the pringle thing was really bad I apologise lol.

Anyway, let me know what you think and you'll be pleased to know (or not, depending on what you think of the story) that there are only a few chapters left. And I am setting myself a goal to get this thing published before the new year!

Again, I want to thank everyone who has been reading this story and reviewing and for being patient with my lack of updating, I really appreciate it!