Happy Wednesday! Here is a chapter with (almost) no angst! What?!
Chapter 37
Dean woke up the way he usually did after sleeping during the day: groggy, overtired, and regretting ever lying down in the first place. Pushing himself up, he realized he hadn't moved more than an inch from where he'd initially flopped down. Obviously, he'd needed the sleep. The clock display read a bit after six and Dean's first thought was how Sam and Arla's walk had gone.
His second thought was to go hunt for food.
Since his stomach was growling at the second thought and his head was worrying about his brother, Dean pushed himself to his feet. The other bedroom was empty and he hoped it was a good sign. A gentle rain was falling and he wondered if they'd made it back before the rain started. Reaching the main floor, he saw Tommy standing by the table, a handful of papers in his hand.
Turning, Tommy waved him over and Dean realized he was wearing a nice shirt and dress slacks. Eyebrows raised, Dean joined him at the table and asked, "What's the occasion?"
"Hot date." Tommy grinned.
Dean smiled. "Really?"
"Yep." Tommy set the papers down and Dean realized they were take-out menus. Tommy set a credit card down on top of the menus, then said, "You boys get the house to yourselves this evening. Dinner of your choice."
There was no point in saying no. Dean didn't have any cash left and he doubted Sam had much if any. So he nodded. "Thanks. Where-"
"Sleeping on the couch."
Dean looked toward the living room, then back at Tommy. "I was going to ask where you were taking Arla."
"No, you weren't." Tommy smiled knowingly.
"Fine. You're right." Dean rolled his eyes. "How long's he been sleeping?"
"Not long."
"Was he ok?"
"Tired. Struggling with the headache again, but he was ok. I think the walk did him some good."
Feeling a little better, Dean asked, "So where are you guys headed tonight?"
"Dinner then dancing, but she doesn't know that yet. It's a surprise," Tommy said, tucking his shirt in and looking very pleased with himself. He paused and asked, "You think you boys will-"
"We'll be fine."
"Well you better promise Arla six ways to Sunday you'll call if you need something," Tommy teased. "It took me an hour to convince her to go out with me in the first place. I told her we were just gonna grab dinner someplace nice and she finally agreed."
Dean smiled as Tommy adjusted his shirt and ran a hand over his head.
"Getting ready is a lot easier these days," Tommy said with a smirk. "Arla doesn't have to spend ten minutes trying to tame the mess of my hair anymore."
"What about a mess?"
They both turned at the sound of Arla's voice. She walked into the kitchen with a questioning expression. Dean's jaw dropped. Wearing a light blue, sleeveless, summer dress and heels, Arla looked like a different person. Her hair was curled and he'd never seen her so dressed up. She was putting her earrings in as she walked, but paused when she realized they were both staring at her.
"What's wrong?" Arla glanced down, then put a hand to her hair. "What are you staring at?"
"You, babe." Tommy crossed the space and pulled her into a hug, leaning down for a kiss.
Arla kissed him, then pushed him away. "Stop that. Does my hair look ok?"
"It looks great," Dean said at the exact same time as Tommy.
They exchanged a glance and Arla laughed. "Well, if you both think so, I guess it'll do."
"Oh, it'll do." Tommy snuck in another kiss, then said, "You look gorgeous."
"Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, Mr. Pender." Arla patted him on the cheek, then turned her attention to Dean. "How are you feeling?"
He gave her a thumbs up. "I'm good."
Arla was analyzing him carefully, but seemed to believe him. "Good. Now, we're going out for awhile, but you-"
"Go have fun," Dean interrupted her. "We'll be fine. Take-out and a movie. We'll call if we need something, but if you don't hear anything, assume we fell asleep. Because we probably did."
Arla smiled as she put her second earring in. "That's not a bad thing."
"I know."
Tommy grabbed a set of keys from the counter and said, "I'm going to go pull the car up to the front door."
"Ok, I'll look for an umbrella and meet you there."
Dean hovered by the table as Arla dug through a closet. It was a little ridiculous, he knew, but there was a part of him that did feel nervous at the thought of not having her nearby. He knew she expected a call if there were an issue and would no doubt come running back, but he hated the thought of bothering them on their night out. Heaven knew Tommy and Arla had already lost most of their vacation thanks to them.
It's fine, Dean told himself. There was no reason he should need to bother them. He was fine and Sam was doing better and-
"Wow."
This time it was Sam's voice that had him turning in surprise. His brother had walked into the room at the same instant Arla had stepped back from the closet. Dean couldn't help but smile. Sam was disheveled and didn't look completely awake, but he hadn't taken his eyes off Arla since he'd walked into the room.
"You look beautiful," Sam continued softly, hovering a few feet away.
"Thank you," Arla said, turning a little red at the compliment. Embarrassed or not, she was still a doctor and Dean could tell she was assessing Sam. From her expression, he decided he didn't need to be worried. A horn honked outside and Arla said, "That'll be my man."
Dean pointed at the door. "Go. Have fun and don't worry about us."
Arla rolled her eyes, but hurried toward the door.
Once the door closed behind her, Dean was ready to focus on the food. He started looking through the menus, then realized Sam was still staring in the direction Arla had gone.
Frowning, Dean asked, "What's up? You alright?"
"Do you think Mom and Dad would have been like them?"
Dean had to take a slow breath. It was a little much to be thinking about Mom and Dad at a time like this, when the pain from Bobby's death was still so overwhelming. But he nodded and said, "I'd like to think so."
"Me too."
Hoping that was the end of the discussion, Dean asked, "What do you want for dinner?"
It took another minute before Sam finally turned and looked at him. He seemed confused. "What?"
"What do you want to eat?" Dean told himself to be patient because he wasn't at his best when he first woke up and it was clear Sam wasn't either.
Sam stared down at the menus and shrugged. "Chinese?"
"Works for me," Dean said without hesitation.
Honestly, he couldn't care less what they ordered; all he cared about was the fact that Sam had made the choice. They looked the menu over and Dean realized he wasn't the only one choosing a less exciting dish than his usual. The way his stomach felt, he was all for plain and bland and Sam didn't seem to be in the mood for anything spicy either.
Once they'd made their decisions, Dean reached for the phone to place the order. He watched as Sam walked back into the living room and couldn't help but smile. It felt like one more thing had fallen back into place when Sam hollered for extra egg rolls.
"Was this not one of my best ideas?"
"Top ten at least," Arla said, head resting against his chest as they danced. She shifted and looked up at him. "I needed this."
Tommy kissed her forehead and said, "I think we both did. And I think it was the best for the boys to have a little time to themselves too."
"I know you're right, but I still feel bad for leaving them."
"They can handle a few hours on their own." As the song ended, Tommy asked, "You are preparing yourself for when they leave, right?"
Arla didn't want to think about it. And, until just now, she'd been doing a fairly good job of ignoring the subject. She didn't want the boys to have to return to the life that had nearly destroyed them; the life that probably would some day. Tommy tugged on her hand and she realized a new song had started up. Allowing him to lead, Arla's heart wasn't quite in it anymore.
"I'm aware they aren't staying forever," Arla finally answered. The lights, the music, the happy faces around them at the VFW dance all faded to a blur. It seemed so unimportant now. "I'm trying to accept the fact they'll be going right back to fighting the things that have nearly killed them."
"Yes, they will."
For the rest of the song, they fell silent. When the music changed to something much more upbeat, Arla was ready to walk away. But Tommy wouldn't let her and, for a moment, they faced off on the dance floor.
"I'm really not interested in-"
"I know," Tommy interrupted her. "But you're going to anyway. Because it's vacation for one thing. For another thing? Those boys saved our town, saved our lives, all those years ago."
"What's your point?"
"My point is, we're alive because they're out there fighting monsters. They don't do what they do for fame or because it pays the bills. They do it so the people they help - like us - can go out dancing and enjoy themselves. So the people they help can keep living their lives. I don't like it anymore than you do, but I feel a whole lot better sleeping at night knowing someone out there not only knows what goes bump in the night, but knows how to kill it."
Arla sighed, seeing - but not necessarily liking - his point. The crowd around them was getting more rambunctious as the song went on and they were still standing in the middle of the mess. Of all the times to have this conversation.
"It's not what we want for them," Tommy continued, "but it's their job. It's their life. And they need to get back out there doing it."
"You're very annoying when you're right." Arla smiled a little as they started dancing again.
"So you think I'm right?"
"I think you're annoying."
He guided her across the dance floor and said, "I thought I was a genius."
"That too."
By the end of the song, they'd finally gotten into it and she couldn't deny she was having fun. The fun continued the rest of the evening. When the band finished its final set, though, Arla was remembering why she'd given up wearing heels for the most part. She limped out to the car, each step more painful than the last. Once she was in the car, she tossed the shoes into the back seat and put her feet up on the dashboard with a groan.
Tommy started the car and smirked, "I told you to wear your tennis shoes."
"I'm not wearing tennis shoes out dancing."
"We could've kept dancing longer if you had."
"The band was packing up their instruments, dear."
"Well, we probably could find a nightclub."
"In Cedrina, Indiana?" Arla laughed, glancing at her watch. It was much later than she'd realized. "Tommy, it's almost eleven!"
"Remember when we thought eleven was early?"
Arla rested her head on the seat back. "That was a long time ago, wasn't it?"
"Seems like it now, doesn't it?"
"Mmhm."
"Let's get ice cream!"
"The shops are all closed." Arla smiled at his childlike enthusiasm.
"The 24 hour drugstore isn't," Tommy said, clearly thrilled he'd found a loophole. "Tub of Blue Moon and we go eat it at the scenic overlook?"
"Chocolate chip and you have a deal."
"Perfect." Tommy nodded, turning left and heading toward the other end of town. "After the ice cream, you wanna do a midnight movie?"
Arla slid closer to him and whispered, "I can think of other things I'd rather do."
"Such as?"
"You."
"Oh boy." Tommy grinned. "Skip the ice cream?"
"Ice cream first." Arla winked. "You later."
Sam heard the back door open and braced himself; fingers tightening around the notebook he'd brought out with him. It was just after one am and he knew Dean wasn't going to be happy to find him outside at this hour. Tilting his head, he looked over his shoulder and saw it was Tommy, not Dean, coming toward him. Turning back to the fire, he didn't try to hide the notebook. Tommy'd already seen it so there was no point.
"Hey, Sam," Tommy greeted as he walked over. "Ok if I join you?"
"Sure."
Tommy sat down and briefly glanced his way before looking at the fire. "Nice fire."
"Had to raid your supply under the porch for some dry wood."
"Glad you found it. You boys have a good evening?"
"Yeah." Sam smiled. It had been a good evening. An evening that had felt about as close to normal as anything had recently. "You?"
Tommy grinned. "We had a great time."
"Speaking of great times, I think Dean was having a great time helping you with the car earlier."
"He did seem to be getting into it, didn't he?"
Sam nodded. "He doesn't do well with sitting around. Or being sick."
"Oh really? I hadn't noticed." Tommy laughed, leaning forward and adding another log to the fire.
Running his fingers along the side of the notebook, Sam watched the sparks fly. "He doesn't like it when he can't control things."
"I don't think most of us do."
And it was the truth.
Sam didn't like it either and every single thing in his life had been out of control for so long that it still felt like a miracle when he was able to make a choice for himself. Dean wouldn't like it if he knew Sam hadn't gone to bed and he really wouldn't like it if he knew what was in the notebook.
But Sam needed to be out here right now.
What he planned to do with the notebook was something he could control. Could choose to do. After dinner, he'd made Dean go upstairs. Ensured he had gotten into bed and would be staying put. And then Sam had gone to the other bedroom and dug out the notebook and all the crumpled pages from the bottom of his backpack.
Taking the whole mess downstairs, he'd sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee that Dean would have vetoed. But he'd wanted a cup of coffee even if it had been late at night. So he'd made a cup and it had felt amazing to do what he wanted without any comments from his overprotective brother or the peanut gallery in his head.
The fact that he would need to get used to the silence would have made him laugh back when the devil had been driving him up a wall with the never ending chatter. The honest truth, though, was the silence was one of the things he was still struggling with the most.
Sam looked down at the notebook and thought about how he'd flattened out the pages and read them all as he drank the coffee. It had been painful. And terrifying. Now that he was thinking clearly, Sam was in shock at what he'd written. How screwed up he'd been. The notebook was an awful reminder of the harsh reality of how close, how very close, he'd been to the edge. It bothered him to think about it and the last thing they needed right now was for Dean to find the notebook.
Glancing over at Tommy, Sam said, "I needed to come out here tonight."
Tommy turned and held his gaze, waiting.
"I need to put this behind me." Sam looked down at the notebook.
"I think that's a good idea, Sam."
He looked back up at Tommy. "Why'd you come out here?"
"I saw you." Tommy smiled. "I didn't want you to have to be alone."
"Thanks," Sam said, tapping a finger against the notebook. "Dean doesn't need to know about this."
Tommy studied him for a long moment, then said, "No. He doesn't. But he needs to know if you ever feel like that again."
"It wasn't me." Sam leaned forward and dropped the notebook into the flames. "Not really."
"Are you sure?"
Sam watched the flames lick the edges of the notebook. Thought about the words he'd written. It had been him; some of it. But not all of it. Not the parts that Tommy was talking about. Not really, he repeated to himself. He sat back in the chair and smiled at Tommy. "I'm sure."
"Good." Tommy nodded and he looked as relieved as Sam felt.
Glancing back at the fire, they fell silent for a few minutes. Sam thought about how much the Penders had been doing for them both. How much they'd helped in so many ways. He turned to Tommy and tried to put his gratitude into words.
"I wanted to thank you. For a lot of stuff, but thanks for...being here. Those first couple of nights...I'm not sure...if you hadn't-" Sam floundered. Words seemed inadequate. "-and you didn't make me feel...I just felt real. When you talked to me. I didn't feel broken."
Tommy nodded. "I never went through anything like what you did, Sam, but I do remember feeling broken. It takes time to get over stuff like this. And it takes time to begin to accept that the damage done to you wasn't your fault. No matter what you did or didn't do. No matter what bad - or good - choices you made that might have set the course for how things turned out. What happened to you wasn't your fault and it wasn't because you deserved it."
Sam took a shaky breath and closed his eyes to hold back the tears. So many bad choices had been along the path that led to what happened. Decisions he could never undo. Choices he couldn't unmake. He'd spent so much time trying to figure out where he'd first gone wrong and he still wasn't sure.
Sam wanted to believe Tommy. He really did.
But Tommy couldn't understand. It was Sam's fault. Maybe not all of it, but most of it. And he did deserve it. At least some of it. All he could hope now was that he'd learned from his mistakes. That the future would be different.
That someday, maybe, he could find a way to redeem himself. To fix what was still broken inside him and make things right.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam didn't open his eyes. He focused on controlling his breathing.
Tommy's voice was soft, understanding. "You don't believe me, do you?"
"I'm trying to."
"How was he?"
"He was alright," Tommy said, pulling up the covers.
He'd come back inside to find Arla asleep but, by the time he'd finished getting ready for bed, she'd been awake and waiting for answers. He lay back against the pillow and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she rested her head against his chest.
Once they were settled and comfortable, Arla asked, "He was alright? Sitting outside alone at one in the morning doesn't sound alright to me."
Tommy stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath as he considered her words and what had just happened outside. After a moment, he said, "It's going to take a long time for him to work through everything."
"But you think he's-"
"I think he's working hard to get better. He's finally rested and recovered enough to maintain momentum. Before he couldn't even keep his head above water. Now, he's gaining ground."
Arla nodded, but asked, "So why was he out there?"
"Because he was taking another step forward." Tommy explained what had happened outside. "Sam threw that notebook into the fire to release some of the burden he's been carrying around."
"You think that was a good thing? For him to keep it from Dean?"
Tommy had wrestled with that same issue when he'd first found out Dean wasn't aware of the notebook. And he'd wrestled with it briefly tonight. But things had changed quite a bit since the day he himself had inadvertently discovered the notebook.
"I think Dean knows most of what Sam had written anyway," Tommy said after some consideration. "It's not necessary for him to need to go through the pain of reading it."
"I suppose you're right. I can't help but worry about him, though. About both of them."
Tommy was worried about both of them, too.
Arla snuggled closer to him and asked, "You didn't let him stay outside did you?"
"No. I think he might have been planning to, though. Something tells me he's not going to sleep well tonight, but he came inside with me."
"Good."
Tommy yawned. He closed his eyes and said, "I'm thinking we should take a vacation."
"I thought this was our vacation."
"Has it felt like a vacation to you?"
Arla laughed softly. "Not even a little. Well, maybe a little. Tonight was fun."
"Yes, it was." Tommy kissed her and said, "But I think on our next vacation we should do a lot more sleeping."
"Mmmhmm."
"Good night, babe," Tommy whispered, but she was already asleep.
It didn't take him very long to follow her example.
It was a little after seven in the morning when Dean began to wake up. A little after eight before he was all the way awake, out of bed and dressed. He automatically checked the other bedroom, found it empty, and headed downstairs. The house was quiet, but he caught sight of Tommy sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He had his back to Dean and was staring out the window.
Once he was closer, and Dean could see what he was staring at, he sighed and asked, "He been out there long?"
"Not quite an hour," Tommy said softly. "Come sit down and have something to drink."
"I should probably-"
"Sit down and have something to drink. I've been keeping an eye on him. He's fine."
Dean wasn't so sure, but sat down and looked at the glass of water Tommy placed in front of him. "Trade this for a cup of coffee?"
Tommy shook his head. "Sorry. The ban hasn't been lifted."
Sighing, Dean's gaze wandered back to the window and he asked, "Did he eat anything?"
"No."
"Great." Shaking his head, he turned back to Tommy.
"It's ok, Dean. He's not always going to feel like eating right away. And he's not always going to want company. He's not always going to want to talk."
Dean nodded. He knew Tommy was right, but it didn't make him feel better. Yesterday had been such a good day and he found himself disappointed at the mere hint that today might not be as good.
"How about you eat something and give him a little more time, then you can go check on him?"
"Fine."
Tommy smiled and went to the refrigerator. A few minutes later, Dean was staring down at a plate of food he had no interest in eating. But he ate it anyway because he knew Tommy wasn't going to let him go anywhere if he didn't. And he'd have trouble convincing Sam to eat anything if he himself hadn't even tried.
"Sam said you boys had a good evening last night."
Dean nodded. "Chinese and a few hours of classic Westerns? What could be better?"
It had been a good evening, in all honesty. They'd eaten their fill of the food, managed to have a few conversations along the way, and didn't get into a single fight. They also hadn't talked about anything of any consequence, but maybe that hadn't been such a bad thing after all.
For the next few minutes, Dean chatted with Tommy about how their dinner and dancing date had gone. It was good to hear that they had gone out and had a good time. Made Dean feel a little better about imposing on them. Finishing everything on his plate, Dean took the pills that Tommy set out, then steeled himself for what was to come. He walked outside, not sure what to expect.
Sam was wearing his jacket, sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs by the fire pit and Dean wished he'd thought to grab his own jacket. It was a bit nippy. Then he thought about the fact he never had taken the bottle out of his pocket to hide in the bottom of his bag. Maybe it was just as well he'd left the jacket where it was.
Dean sat down in the chair next to his brother and looked over at him, not caring whether Sam liked it or not. From his first glance, Dean could tell Sam hadn't slept well at all. Which was disappointing, but not entirely a shock. Wondering if Sam had taken any pills, Dean decided not to ask that particular question. At least not yet.
"Hey," Sam said softly, his glance brief before he went back to staring at the lake.
"Morning."
And that was the sum total of their conversation for the next five minutes. Dean spent those five minutes trying to think of something, anything, to say. But he didn't know what to say. Didn't know how this whole process was supposed to work. He was still muddling through all of that when Sam broke the silence.
"You sleep ok?"
"Yeah. You?"
Sam shook his head against the back of the chair as if it were too heavy to lift.
"Why?" It was a dumb question and Dean regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth.
"Didn't think that through, did you?" Sam asked, and at least there was some amusement in his tone.
"Not really."
Sam sighed, staring up at the trees above them. "It...wasn't as bad."
Sensing his brother wasn't finished, Dean didn't rush him.
"It's getting better," Sam said, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"Is it?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes on the lake and wondering why he could never learn to keep his mouth shut.
This time the pause went on a lot longer and Dean started mentally kicking himself all over again.
Then Sam said, "It's getting better."
Even though he had repeated the same statement, he sounded like he believed it this time and Dean could breathe a little easier. His thoughts returned to his main purpose in coming outside: getting Sam to go back and eat something. Ok, so his main purpose had been to make sure his brother was doing alright and then get him to eat something. Dean was trying to think of a tactful way to get that accomplished when Sam spoke up again.
"I feel like I could fall asleep again already. How crazy is that?"
"It's not crazy. If you need to sleep, sleep. Don't push yourself."
Sam shot him a glare. "How long's it been? Huh? How long have we already been here, eating their food, taking up their time?"
"Hey, don't even go there." Dean held up a hand. "I don't like it any more than you do, but the fact is we needed this. Needed a place just to deal with everything. To recover. And we're stayin' here till we're both on our feet again. Got it?"
"Yeah."
Dean should have felt more victorious about winning that argument, but he didn't. "Good. How about you come back inside and eat something?"
"Not hungry."
Dean sighed even though he tried not to. "Sam-"
"Just...back off, will you?"
He didn't sound angry; he sounded like he was pleading. Dean didn't know what to think. Had he done more damage than he'd realized simply by coming outside? The need to press for details overcame him, but Dean knew he had to keep his mouth shut or risk destroying every bit of progress Sam had been making. If he needed a little more time to himself, then Dean was going to give it to him.
Pushing himself forward in the chair, Dean said, "Ok."
He was surprised when, as he started to stand up, Sam asked, "Can you stay?"
Dean froze, staring at his brother. Sam shot him one quick glance, then looked away. Dean settled back in the chair, stunned to silence. He thought he'd been dismissed, but obviously not. So he sat there, waiting and wondering.
Without knowing what was going on, he was at a loss to even attempt to help. But then, as he sat there staring at the lake, Dean realized maybe this was exactly what he needed to do to help. Maybe this was one of those things they didn't solve with words.
Ten minutes passed in silence. Dean was keeping his gaze carefully on the water, not his brother. The sun warmed his chilled skin and he had to admit that, if he closed his eyes, he'd probably fall asleep. Sleep hadn't come easily for him the previous night, although it seemed that he'd slept better than Sam had.
He'd fallen asleep just after ten, right in the middle of an exciting stagecoach robbery. Despite the action and the gunfire on the television, he'd been out like a light. At the time, he hadn't been pleased when Sam had shook him awake and prodded him until he'd climbed the stairs and fallen into bed. He'd felt perfectly content to stay on the couch.
Once he'd hit the mattress, though, the couch didn't seem anywhere near as comfortable. More asleep than awake, he hadn't moved as Sam had walked out. As tired as he'd felt, his mind wouldn't settle back down for quite awhile. Now, he wished he'd paid more attention to his wandering, worrying mind and forced himself to get up and make sure Sam had gone to bed. To make sure Sam had been able to sleep.
"I didn't take anything last night," Sam said suddenly.
"What?" Dean floundered for a minute. Obviously, he'd been a little closer to falling asleep just now than he'd realized. Blinking and trying to shake himself out of the stupor, he looked at Sam.
"The pills. I know you were going to ask."
Dean couldn't deny that he'd been wondering about the pills.
"I'm sick of taking them."
It wasn't exactly breaking news. Dean opened his mouth to attempt to say something supportive, but clearly Sam intended to handle the conversation by himself.
"I'm going to get some coffee."
Or maybe he just intended to end the conversation. Dean frowned, more than a little thrown by what had just happened. Sam was on his feet and about to walk away and Dean almost let the subject go. Almost let him go. But he couldn't.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam didn't turn to look at him, but he stopped moving.
He had no idea what to say. At. All. Dean stared at his brother's tense shoulders and told himself this was all part of the process. Just another step along the way.
"Let's go get you some coffee," Dean said, pushing himself up. Sam turned and shot him a confused look.
It might not have been the right thing to say, but it was the best thing he'd been able to come up with. Sam had brought up the pills, but he didn't want to talk about them. Not really. Dean could tell he was feeling defensive and when either of them were on the defensive, conversations typically didn't go well. Dean hadn't started anything, so he could only guess that Sam was fighting himself on the issue of the pills more than he was fighting anyone else.
Avoidance wasn't ideal, but they'd made a lifelong habit of it, so why stop now?
The tactic seemed to leave Sam floundering this time. Maybe he wanted to fight about something. Maybe he was just looking for something, anything, to go back to normal. So Dean elbowed Sam in the ribs (the uninjured ones) as he walked by.
"What are you standing there for? You think I'm going to bring you a cup on a silver tray?"
He didn't stop moving or look back, but he heard a familiar huff of annoyance behind him and Dean couldn't help but smirk as he led the way back to the house.
Hope you enjoyed! Ch 38, 39, 40 are all finished and in revision stage. Ch 41 is in progress but it's going slow mostly because I'm dreading actually writing the scene where the boys leave. :( Ch 42 is actually longer than 41 right now heehee. And...in case you couldn't tell by that...um this story isn't over at ch 40. sorry!
Have a wonderful rest of your week. :)