Ron stared at Dean like he had no idea what the boy was going on about. He glanced at the wad of money clutched in Dean's hand and had to ask him to repeat what he'd just said.
Dean cleared his throat, "Well ... I mean, I know Sammy keeping the room is based on him working for you in the garage. And I mean … he hasn't been able to do that for a while. And now, since he wrenched his neck again the other night, and he's back in the collar, who knows when he'll be able to come back? So I was hoping this might help set things right. If we could just hang on here a little longer, until Sam's okay to travel … I'm just … I'm afraid to move him right now."
Ron smiled, put out his hands in surrender and took a step back. "Dean, when Sam first came here, he was my employee, and we had an agreement - the room in exchange for lower wages. That much is true." He paused.
"But that was a long time ago. Sam's family now. Heck, you're family now. You two boys can have that room for as long as you want it." He got a thoughtful look on his face. "In fact, you two wanna stay over my garage forever? That's perfectly fine with me. Kinda gotten used to havin' you around." His voice got gruff. "Gets lonely all the way out here sometimes, you know? Sure, Danny comes around about every day, but looking out across the yard at night and seeing lights on in that old loft makes a man feel a little less like an island. Am I making sense?"
"No, Dad. You're rambling." Danny intervened from the porch, where he'd just heard the last part of the conversation. "You being an island again?"
"Can it, son." Ron drawled affectionately. "I'm old. I can be anything I want. I've earned the right. Right?" He looked at Dean.
Dean smiled, "Right."
"Of course," Ron started again, "I have heard a bit, on occasion, about your abilities under the hood - if 'on occasion' means nearly every time your brother opens his mouth - and if you ever get a hankering to step in and help me and Danny roll some cars out of here, well, ain't nobody going to turn you away."
Danny interrupted, "I got an old beater out there right now that I could sure use some help on, Dean. Guy wants miracles, and I'm about to put my magic wand someplace he probably wouldn't like."
Dean snorted. "Well, how can I refuse an offer like that?"
"Good!" Danny crowed, slipping an arm around Dean's shoulders and pulling him toward the garage. "Cause he's expecting one of us to call him this morning, and I nominate the new guy." He grinned evilly.
"I'll be out as soon as I get the breakfast casserole in the oven." Ron called behind them, as they drifted away.
Twenty minutes later, he was turning to put the egg bowl in the sink when movement out the window caught his eye. He glanced up to see an irate Sam stalk out of the garage, followed immediately by Dean and Danny - both looking shell-shocked.
"What in the world?" He worried, striding quickly to the door in time to catch the exchange of angry words on the wind.
"... snake my job, Dean?" Sam was asking, angrily. "When were you going to tell me?"
"Sam!" Dean pleaded, "That's not what's happening here."
"Really? Cause when I come down the steps and see you neck-deep under the hood of Mr. Hartford's car, what am I supposed to think? What? The hood just popped up, and you just magically fell in? God forbid we let the crazy guy work on cars, right?"
"Sam …" Danny tried to interrupt, but was silenced by the younger man's glare.
"Don't Danny." Sam warned. "Just don't make excuses for him. Dean's been taking things away from me all his life. It's what he does."
Dean was floored, and it showed. "Sam, when did …?"
But Sam was having no explanations. He cut his brother off coldly. "I'm so sick of living in your shadow, Dean." He turned and strode angrily up to face his brother. "So sick of always being the younger brother - the one who doesn't know as much, who can't do as much. I've spent my whole fucking life trying to grow roots in your shade, Dean, and you know what? I'm sick of it! Do you hear me, big brother?" He suddenly threw a left hook that landed the older boy on the ground. "I'm DONE!"
And with Sam's final words, Dean's epiphany came. He scrambled up off the ground and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. 'Sam! Look at me! What are you feeling right now?"
Sam wrestled away from his brother's grasp. "Dammit, Dean, get off me!"
But Dean was relentless, "You feel annoyed, don't you? You feel like you have to hit something, and you don't know why. You feel like if you have to look at my face or listen to my voice for one more minute, you might do something you'll regret, right?"
Sam stared.
"Right, Sam?" Dean shook him gently. "Tell me!"
"Yeah .. okay. I guess. Whatever you say, Dean."
"Sam, when did this start?"
"What?" Sam growled.
"This feeling … this … this anger. When did you first start feeling it? Do you remember?"
Sam pulled away, 'You've been pissing me off since yesterday, Dean. Is that what you want to know? Well, unless you add in the last 17 years."
Dean looked his brother up and down, thinking. And then he saw it. Dammit, he saw it. "Sam, give me the collar."
"What?" Sam took another step back.
"The collar! Give me the damned collar, Sam!"
"Get away from me! You're crazier than I am!"
But Dean knew. Suddenly, he knew. He stepped forward and, with a single move, ripped the cervical collar right off his brother's neck.
"Dean! Ow! Dammit, that hurt!"
Danny and Ron both took steps forward as if to intervene, "Dean!"
"Wait! Just wait!" Dean muttered, pulling out his knife and drawing it across the fabric of the collar. And when the hex bag fell out, it was like an instant replay in Dean's mind. He saw it lying there on the ground - the source of so much pain and misery - and he just wanted to cry. He wanted to cry for Sam and to cry for himself - to cry for the year of each other's lives they'd lost for nothing.
For nothing more than someone's twisted idea of revenge. He looked up at Sam and could tell that the spell had broken the instant the foul thing hit the ground. His brother looked lost and broken - just like Dean had felt during that long ago moment in Bobby's kitchen.
Tears welled up instantly in his brother's eyes as they met Dean's, and Sam's voice broke, "D-Dean? Dean, what … did I just … hit you?"
"No Sammy." Dean moved forward and met him as Sam literally threw himself into his brother's arms.
"God, Dean! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean any of that!"
"It's okay, Sammy." Dean comforted his grieving brother. "Believe me, I know just how you feel, little brother." He worked his lighter out of his pocket and tossed it to Danny.
"Burn that son of a bitch, please Danny?"
Sam took a step back, "How? Dean? Where did it come from?" He asked, as he watched the hex bag go up in flames under Danny's careful ministrations.
Dean thought back to who'd had access to the collar in the last day and made the connection. "Son of a bitch!"
"What is it, son?" Ron asked gently.
"She came yesterday, didn't she, Sam? She came when I ran to the store. Was she alone with the collar?"
Sam looked at his brother in confusion, "You mean the doc?"
Dean nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, she did. I thought you called her?"
Dean shook his head. "I didn't call her, Sam. But she's been stopping back in all along, remember? As soon as you stopped all the medications, she started showing back up. Right when the hallucinations kicked back up. I thought that was odd, but I just wrote it off as dedication to the job. I mean, she knows Bobby."
Sam thought back. "She brought a new collar. This isn't the one Bobby brought me. She had a new one in the trunk of her car. That's why I thought you'd called her and told her about my accident with the … the werewolf."
Danny looked from one brother to the other, "The lady doc is the witch?" He asked, disbelievingly.
"I guess that explains all the free house calls." Ron noted.
"I will so end her." Dean promised.
And later that night, as his baby brother enjoyed the first restful sleep he'd gotten in weeks, he did.
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read, follow, favorite and especially to comment :) It means more than you know.