May 29, 2006

Dean did not enjoy sleeping in strange places. He especially did not enjoy sleeping in strange places with a person he did not fully trust or know in the room next to him. Needless to say Dean didn't sleep much when he finally conceded to just get up. Sam was still in bed, It would take a meteor strike to wake him up. So Dean propped himself up on the fold-out cot and flipped through the book he'd brought with him. It was about a guy who sold his soul so he was immortal and had a painting of him age instead. Not a bad read, actually.

It was around seven when Sam got up. Dean had already showered and changed at that point, making sure to avoid Bobby. As it turned out that wasn't too hard, as the man was downstairs working on something all night.

"Morning sunshine, finally decided to get up?" Dean smirked as he watched his big-little brother rub his mane of hair into something resembling his normal style. Sam sent him a pointed look and got up.

"Well, in any case, I'm starving and I'm guessing your friend hasn't made anything-want to get breakfast?"

"Sure, give me a few minutes." Sam yawned as he plodded lazily toward the shower in the attached bathroom.

Fifty-three minutes later the two were seated in the diner of the closest town. It had a charm not much different from Gert and Cal's back in Lawrence. After sitting down in a booth with faded blue vinyl seats Dean started flipping through the menu before he cocked his head, realizing something, and lowered the menu to the table.

"Wait-you didn't have a nightmare last night." He pointed at Sam.

"No, I didn't. I didn't dream at all." Sam said, holding up a small amulet. "Bobby said this would help stop the visions for a while, but it wouldn't get to the root of the problem."

"I told you, a therapist-"

Sam gave Dean the most bitchy bitch-face he'd ever seen. And that included the time when Dean accidentally threw out the only copy of his final paper for 11th grade English.

"Fine." Dean relented, When we get home Father Daugherty is going to hear one helluva confession.

After breakfast the two returned to Bobby's where the bearded man was waiting for them. "Alright, after some reading and a few phone calls I think I have something…"

"What is it?" Sam asked, hopeful to finally get an answer.

"Yeah, what is it?" Dean asked, Because if it's some weird shit I am dragging you out of here right now.

"I've already made the solution, all I need to do is add a single drop of blood and we'll know for sure what's going on."

"Woah, there. Blood?" Dean placed his arm in front of Sam, holding him back.

Sam pushed Dean aside, "Knock it off Dean. It's just one drop, and it's not like he's forcing me to." Sam grabbed a pin from the table, then pricked his finger, dropping the red fluid into the dark green concoction on the table.

Immediately the mixture turned bright blue and started boiling. "What the hell?!" Dean shouted, grabbing Sam as the two leapt behind the sofa as the glass shattered.

Bobby stood silent at the other end of the room, silent and solemn. "I was afraid of that happening."

"What? Your junior chemistry set exploding and nearly killing us?!" Dean replied, standing up and helping Sam to his feet.

"No you idjit! I was fearing your brother having demon blood! That's what the test was for!"

Dean was silent a moment before he spoke, "Sammy we're leaving. Get your stuff."

Sam looked at his brother, then at Bobby, then back at Dean, "I…"

"Now!"

"Boy, you might want to stay so I can explain what the hell this means!" Bobby shouted as Dean climbed the stairs.

"I don't want to hear the ramblings of a crazy old guy who is trying to convince my brother he's secretly evil! We're leaving!"

The door to the rental car slammed as Dean peeled out of the junkyard. Sam was in the passenger seat.

"You are not talking to him again. He's clearly deranged and you are in a fragile state right now because of what's going on. I am going to make you an appointment with a therapist. You are going. I love you and I don't want you to end up some nutjob who thinks that the supernatural is real. I don't care if you hate me right now, you need help and I am going to make sure you get it. Real, professional, medically sound help." Dean clenched the steering wheel as he drove. Sam was silent, his head pressed against the glass of the passenger window as the two sped into the mid-afternoon sunshine back toward Kansas.