"Don't even think about it, Winchester." Voice heavy with irritation, Skyler piped up from the backseat as Dean's hand strayed toward the radio dial, "If I have to listen to the golden oldies for the entire drive, it's a toss-up between whether I'll pull a Cobain or smother you in your sleep."

"And Avenged Sevenfold is so much better. Half of your shit doesn't even qualify as music."

"Okay, and on that note-" Knocking Dean's hand away from the radio, Sam turned the knob firmly to the 'off' position before half-turning in his seat so he could see both of them. As amusing as their squabbling was, Sam's curiosity was starting to eat at him, "How did you two wind up together, anyway? Something tells me it wasn't by choice and Skye, no offense, but you're not exactly Dean's usual type."

"I have a type?"

"I'm thinkin' cheap, easy, and desperate probably qualifies as a type. And silicone. Lots of silicone."

"Guys, really..." Smothering a laugh at the offended look on Dean's face, Sam interrupted before his brother could think of a solid comeback, "What happened?"

"She got us cursed."

"I saved your life." Sounding more than a little miffed, Skye crossed her arms, slouching down in her seat as she glared at Dean in the rearview mirror, "He got us cursed. I don't know what I did in a past life to get this kind of karma, but it must have been somethin' truly horrendous to earn this shit."

"You probably just opened your mouth and your personality popped out, that's more than enough for a few hundred years bad karma. ...and you did not save my life-"

"Words hurt, Winchester. I'm wounded on a deep, spiritual level." Arm draped over the back of the front seat, Sam watched Skye mime pulling an arrow out of her chest, her levels of sarcasm reaching perilous levels. Was this what they'd been like for the entire last week? Sam wasn't sure Dean had ever met someone that could match him snark for snark. No wonder he looked like his head was about to explode.

"-as I was about to say before the muppet so rudely interrupted… I was down in New Orleans workin' a lead on a Voodoo Priestess that was responsible for about a dozen deaths-"

"I'm sorry, did you just call me a muppet, Grandpa?"

"Grandpa?"

"Guys…" Trying to keep these two on track was already becoming a full-time job and Sam had the weirdest feeling that he was going to end up working overtime. A lot of overtime. Too bad it didn't offer hazard pay.

"Right. Anyway, I was down in New Orleans and me and this bitch were goin' toe-to-toe in some dark as fuck back alley on the outskirts of town-"

"-you were right in the middle of town. How the hell nobody else stumbled over you, I have no fuckin' clue-"

"Whatever. As I was saying, so me and this bitch are fightin' it out and right as I'm about to take her down, Skyler wanders into the middle of everything and gets in the way-

"Excuse you? She was kicking your ass. Pretty sure you'd be a John Doe at the local mortuary if it wasn't for me-"

"Fine. She might have been a little bit of a distraction-"

"A little bit? You really are delusional, Short Bus. I gave you enough time to shoot her in the head. In front of me. Which, thanks for the psychological trauma, by the way."

"You're welcome."

Turning away, Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. This was really just too much. He'd thought this kind of thing only happened in cliched straight-to-video Hallmark movies and the occasional bad romance novel.

"Okay, but that really doesn't tell me how you guys ended up in this car together. Dean's not exactly in the habit of taking in random strangers from back alleys." At least, not for longer than a night or two.

"Yeah, well, I didn't kill the bitch fast enough and she cursed us-"

"So you admit this is your fault?"

"For fucks sake, Skyler, would you shut up for two fucking seconds? Jesus."

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. At least, it would be if Sam could stave off the headache these two were threatening to cause. Between the muscle twitching in Dean's jaw and the death glares Skye was shooting at the back of Dean's head, Sam was starting to wonder if they'd come to blows before they came to...well...other things. "So she didn't die fast enough and…?"

"And she cursed us with her dying breath." Swooning over sideways in impressively exaggerated fashion, Skye clutched at her chest and let out a fairly convincing death rattle. Convincing enough to make Dean flinch at the wheel, anyway. Aww, how cute. Propping herself up on an elbow, she flipped her braid over her shoulder and grinned up at Sam, "It was real dramatic. There was Latin and everything. Hollywood couldn't a done it better."

"A death curse?" Sucking in his breath, Sam whistled between his death. A real honest-to-God death curse was some pretty heavy mojo. Like, typically of the fatal variety, but they certainly seemed hale and hearty enough. "So what exactly did she curse you with?"

"I can't get more than thirty miles away from Cheerleader Barbie here without puking my guts up. Literally."

"...and you've tested this out, you guys know for sure?"

"Oh yeah, we know for sure. Dean had to more than prove it before I'd step foot in this fuckin' car."

Sam saw Skye visibly pale at the memory, which was interesting considering she was already the next thing to translucent. If she were a character in a cheap dime-store novel, her complexion would have been described as something between peaches-and-cream and porcelain and just about as flawless. Of course, Sam himself would describe it as 'vitamin D deficient' and 'have you considered making friends with sunlight?', but the former was probably more poetic.

Slouching down in her seat, Skye shuddered and looked at Sam. "Headache, chest pain, heart palpitations, vomiting up copious amounts of blood… It was so much fun, I really can't wait to do it again. Now, I think I'm gonna try and catch some z's because your asshole brother apparently doesn't believe in beds."

Glancing up, Dean briefly met Skye's eyes in the rearview before they both looked away. Oh, come on. It had only been, like, an hour and if these two got anymore absurd, Sam's head might implode from trying not to laugh his ass off. And they were stuck together. This was just too precious.

For the first time, Sam actually felt like he might have made the right decision because come on, no way he could miss this. "Alright. Sleep good, I guess."

"Thanks, Sam."


"...You touch me and it's almost like we knew that there will be history between us two, we knew someday that we would have regrets but we just ignored them the night we met…"

Waiting until he was sure Skye was asleep, Sam reached out to turn down the radio, wondering if Dean was even paying the slightest attention to what was playing. He seriously doubted it. If Dean had been, no way he would have let that play for as long as he had. Unfortunate, the song seemed incredibly fitting, all things considered.

Turning on the bench seat, the dark leather squeaking beneath his bulk, Sam sat with his back against the door. Elbow on the back of the seat, he eyed his brother, not even trying to hide his smirk as he cleared his throat, "So, what's the real deal with Short Stuff?"

"What, Skye? Is she out?"

"No, I meant the Tooth Fairy. Of course, Skye." Like Sam could have possibly meant anyone else. And how about that, it seemed Dean was fully capable of calling her 'Skye', and even did so by default...which meant he was making a conscious effort to screw with the girl. As though Sam needed more proof that he was an idiot.

"Man, I'm tellin' you, she is the most stubborn, smart-assed, sarcastic, know-it-all, bitchy midget that I have ever met-" That seemed to be all the impetus Dean needed to go off, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as he glanced over his shoulder. No way he could see her laying down in the backseat from that angle, but he kept checking anyway. Probably a lot more than he realized. It was adorable. "-doesn't listen to a goddamn thing and she's got a mouth on her like an angry, drunken sailor. Seriously, it puts Dad and Bobby both to shame."

"So you're telling me she's you, just cuter and with boobs."

"Not funny."

"I disagree, that was hilarious. And accurate. So you agree that she's cute?" Sam's smirk had long since turned into a full on shit-eating grin. He probably shouldn't, but he just couldn't resist pressing the issue. After all, there was no way Dean could be as oblivious as he seemed, right? He had to at least admit to himself that there was something.

But then, thinking about it, Sam couldn't think of a single instance where Dean had ever had any relationship with a woman that had lasted longer than three days, and that was a stretch. Not that Sam could blame him, living out of a car and lying professionally, with the occasional slaughter of some creature or other, didn't really lend itself to the whole relationship concept. Still… "Oh my god, she already shot you down, didn't she? That's why you're being such an ass."

"...no."

"Let me guess, you and her, first night on the road, you pulled the old 'well, might as well keep each other warm' bit and-"

"Shut up, Sammy."

Sam wasn't sure if he'd nailed it, but he'd at least gotten damn close if the vein throbbing in Dean's forehead was any indication. Without another word, Dean reached over and clicked the radio back on, refusing to even glance in Sam's direction… at least, not until Sam stopped laughing.

"...Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore, I've forgotten what I started fighting for.. And if I-"

Click.

"...it's not that funny, Sam."