Okay so this one's on the shorter side and there isn't too much action- kind of a set-up chapter more than anything, so apologies for that, but hopefully it's still enjoyable! (I know, I really oversold it).

Terrance O'Malley
Willow Creek Cemeter
Dunbar, Nebraska
 Another one dead. Get here now.

"Shit," Sam muttered, staring at the text on his screen as he walked into the kitchen. He opened the door to the fridge and perused its contents before settling on a bottle of water and a leftover chicken sandwich and letting the door swing shut behind him. With everything that had happened in the last few hours, Sam had completely forgotten about his earlier conversation with Sherry Adler.

"What?"

Sam started in surprise, unaware that Dean had been anywhere in the same vicinity. He had disappeared into his room the moment they'd arrived back at the bunker, much to Sam's despair. Sam had been intent on having the chance for some kind of intervention, plus he'd been hoping to have some backup in the form of one Castiel, but the angel had also retired almost immediately to his old room and was unconscious within seconds. On top of everything else, Cas's behavior was, quite frankly, terrifying. Sam knew the angel hadn't been the same since he'd stolen another angel's grace, but the signs were becoming more and more apparent. All Sam knew was that Cas was freaking him out. And so was Dean, but by this point that was almost nothing new.

It was funny how the roles between them kept reversing and re-reversing. Not long ago it had been Sam who had been unwilling to talk, not willing to accept the things his brother had done to keep him alive. Not willing to forgive. And now it was Dean who was shutting Sam out. Only maybe he wasn't. Not completely anyway, because here Dean was, moving slowly into the kitchen to stand beside his brother. Like Sam, he opened the fridge and took a quick glance inside. But he slammed it shut again a second later, empty-handed. Sam took a bite of his cold sandwich. They were never as good by the third day in the fridge, but Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had time for a meal that involved an actual source of protein, so he ate greedily.

"What?" Dean asked again, staring at Sam expectantly.

"Uh it's...a case," Sam replied, mouth full as he handed his phone to Dean. Dean scanned the text and handed the phone back.

"And?"

"And this lady named Sherry Adler says she knew Dad. Needs our help."

"Sherry? Seriously?"

"Yes, Dean. She got hurt. Can't finish the hunt on her own."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Dean shrugged. "Go finish it."

Sam shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere without you. We're both going."

"You do realize how stupid that is, right?" Dean growled, immediately on edge. His moods shifted so rapidly nowadays that after a while, Sam had completely given up trying to predict when the newest onslaught would occur. Dean's voice rose as he spoke, his words cutting sharply across the space between them. "I mean we literally just decided that Abaddon is priority number one, and now you wanna go galavanting off to Nebraska to hook up with Sherry and the Four Seasons? You really want to, you go right ahead, but I'm gonna go kill me a Knight of Hell."

Once upon a time, Sam might've chuckled at the Frankie Valli reference, but now he just shook his head. "No Dean, you're not. At least, not yet. Look, I know you're all 'one track mind' right now, but people are dying, and for the first time in what feels like forever, we can actually do something about it," he argued. "This is what we do. And I don't fucking trust you at all right now, so you're coming with me, and we're doing this together."

"Sammy..." Dean's voice broke over the nickname all wrong.

"No, see, this isn't an argument," Sam said, trying to ignore the lump that formed in the back of his throat. "You wanna take down Abaddon your way? Great. But someone needs our help now. We've already got the name of the spirit, and the graveyard where he's buried. Simplest salt and burn there is. So we go to Nebraska, and we go after Abaddon after."

Dean sighed, long and deep, rolling his head back to look at the ceiling. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days, always looking anywhere but at his little brother. "Alright here's my compromise," he said after a while. "We do this case, and then we're done."

"And what the hell does that mean?" Sam asked.

"It means we go to Dunbar and we barbecue this son of a bitch for old times sake, and then I'm gone," Dean said, raising a hand before Sam could interrupt. "No, listen Sam. I'm...this Mark...It's..." he paused, started again. "Abaddon is all I can think about. I can't stop any of this until I find her. And we can't keep doing this to each other."

"Doing what? Dean, come on. We've been in situations like this before," Sam insisted, stepping toward his brother. Dean skirted back, shaking his head.

"No Sam. You said it yourself. God, you keep saying it. We're not brothers anymore. We're just a mess. A huge fucking mess."

"We've cleaned up messes before..."

"Not like this Sam," Dean pressed. "Not like this. Look, we'll do this salt and burn, okay? We'll go to Nebraska and then if you want, we can talk about it again after, but I'm telling you right now, there's nothing more to be decided. I'm not changing my mind."

"Dean..." Sam pleaded, just as he felt another text from his phone. He paused to check the screen:

You better be on your fucking way.

"Fine," Sam finally said, resigned. "But don't bring the Blade." He spoked distractedly, simultaneously typing out a quick response to let Sherry know they'd be there. "You won't need it for this, and honestly I'd rather you didn't skewer me with the damn thing. You've come close enough."

"Sam, I wouldn't..." Dean started, but Sam looked up from his phone and caught Dean's eye, expression hard and disbelieving. "Yeah. I won't bring it," Dean said instead, his eyes bouncing down to the floor this time.

"Alright," Sam nodded. "Pack your stuff."

If you don't know the song "Sherry" by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, I'd suggest looking it up because it's kind of fabulous and also kind of really famous and it'll get stuck in your head ALL DAY after you watch Jersey Boys. Not that I know from personal experience or anything.

On another note, I have absolutely no idea if there is actually a Willow Creek cemetery in Dunbar. If there is, it's pure coincidence. Anyway, see ya Monday!