Chapter 8: Bonding

Author's Notes: Oh my god, I can't believe I have 100+ reviews. I've been writing fiction for years and I've never had a story so well received as this one. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. It may sound silly, but reviews and feedback really do motivate a writer to keep going. Now with that said, on to the story.

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Sam sat in the small office listening to the weather report. His heart sunk when he heard that yet another storm was coming tonight and it was expected to drop and additional ten inches. Dean was definitely going to freak out when he heard that, especially after all the work they put in today. Still, at least it wasn't another twenty coming like yesterday.

Sam went to the kitchen and microwaved himself a plate of spaghetti and took it up to his room. He was starving after all the work he'd just done and he wolfed his food down in a matter of minutes.

He set the dirty plate on the bedside table and stripped his clothes off. He saw the clothes hamper in the corner and threw them in. The hamper was pretty full. He'd have to do a load of laundry, but that could wait.

He needed a shower in the worst possible way. He walked to the bathroom in his boxers and turned on the hot water and waited for the shower to get nice and steamy. He saw that Dean had put all their personal items in the bathroom already. He grabbed the shampoo bottle, the bar of soap, and a wash cloth.

He stepped under the powerful spray and let the water glide down his body. He turned his back to the spray and let the water beat into the sore muscle in his back where he got hit by the pool ball.

He took his time soaping up and scrubbing the sweat from his body. Because most motels had a check out time of ten o'clock he never really got to relax in the shower like he used to in school, so he was enjoying just standing there. The hot water was quickly removing any chill he may have had from working outside. He shampooed his hair and closed his eyes as he rinsed the lather out.

He stayed in the shower until the water literally began to run cold and then he finally stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off. He walked over to the sink and picked up his razor. He hadn't shaved in two days and he was looking a little scruffy. Usually he just ran Dean's electric razor over his face but today he decided to have an honest to god shave. After that was finished he grabbed the scissors and chopped off a little bit of the hair on his forehead. He had done it before and he knew what he was doing.

Finally he walked back to his room and pulled out some clean clothes and got dressed. He laid the blue jeans he had been wearing this morning over the back of a chair so they could dry since they were still clean, just wet.

He should go downstairs and do a load of laundry but he decided it could wait until tomorrow. He flipped on the television and grabbed the remote.

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Dean awoke with a start. For a second he didn't realize where he was but the crackling of the fire quickly reminded him. Damn, this was two days in a row he had fallen asleep in the middle of the afternoon. That just wasn't his style. Sam was usually the one who needed naps because he nights were so messed up. He looked at his watch and saw it was almost two.

He sat up and stretched his muscles. He was glad to see that his head didn't hurt, but the back of his head was still sore to the touch. He stood up and walked to the window. He looked out and saw that Sam had finished all the shoveling. Damn, he hadn't meant for Sam to get stuck with all that work. Oh well, there was nothing he could do about it now.

He wandered into the kitchen and saw the pot of left over spaghetti and filled a plate and zapped it in the microwave. He dumped a small mountain of cheese on top and went to find Sam.

He had to admit, he like the concept of having a kitchen with food it in. Not that he was willing to give up hunting mind you, but still, a fridge was nice. Maybe he would buy one of those mini fridges they made for cars now. Since neither he nor Sam smoked they wouldn't mind losing the cigarette lighter in favor of a fridge.

Although how Sam would be able to continue cooking while on the road would be another problem. He guessed he would just have to enjoy this while it lasted.

He heard Sam laughing out loud and decided to go and see what was so funny. He found Sam stretched out on his bed watching a movie.

"What are you watching?" Dean asked.

"Hey, how's your head?" Sam inquired.

"It's fine," Dean replied. "So what's this?"

"National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation," Sam answered. "I've seen it before but it's still hysterical. Have you seen it?"

"No," Dean replied.

"I can restart it if you want. I'm only about twenty minutes into it."

"Sure, okay," Dean said and had a seat next to Sam on the giant sleigh bed. Sam scooted over and propped his pillows some more and got comfortable once again and then used the remote to restart the movie.

Dean set his empty dish on top of Sam's discarded one on the table and laid back too. For the next hour the two of them would bust out laughing every time Chevy Chase would do or say something funny.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked when Sam paused the movie.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he answered.

"So you stopped the movie for that?"

"I don't want to miss anything."

"But you've already seen it," Dean complained.

"Oh quit whining, I'll be back in a sec."

"I do not whine," Dean mumbled. Once more he stretched out his legs and arms while he waited for Sam to get back.

It suddenly dawned on him how normal their lives were at the moment. They had jobs, a house, and were watching a DVD relaxing in the middle of the day. Dean even had to admit that it wasn't totally awful, either. He definitely didn't want to spend the rest of his life this way, but having this short break wasn't all bad, except for the snow part. That definitely sucked. Still, over all he was enjoying the little bit of domesticity with Sam, and even better, Sam was really happy.

Sam came back into the room, hopped on the bed and turned the movie back on. Dean continued to watch the movie but every now and then he would glance at Sam.

"What?" Sam asked after the third time.

"Nothing," Dean replied.

"There must be something. You keep looking at me. Do I have food on my face or something?"

Dean laughed. "No, its…nothing, really." Dean turned back to the movie and again laughed out loud when the Christmas turkey suddenly imploded.

Sam looked at the turkey and hoped the one he was planning on cooking next week didn't come out looking like that one. As he watched the movie he realized he would have to think of something to get Dean for Christmas since the holiday was next month. It was too bad that they probably would be back on the road by the time Christmas came, but there was nothing he could do about that. It wasn't like he hadn't opened his presents in a motel room before, providing there had even been any presents to open that year. Most Christmases had been spent like any other day. Holidays and birthdays had just never been a priority to John Winchester. There had been no cakes and hardly any presents. He had never been allowed to believe in Santa or the Tooth Fairy or any of the other magical things that made childhood special. 'No Sammy, there isn't a Santa Claus, but we better hurry and kill the monster under your bed.'

Sam sighed and forced the depressing thoughts from his mind. It didn't do any good to look back. The past was the past and there was no changing it. Dean was right. He was 22; it was time to let it go. Of course that was easier said than done. But even if he couldn't change the past, he could make an effort to improve the now, and maybe even the future. He and Dean would always be hunters, but maybe he could teach Dean a thing or two about life. He could show him that things like presents and birthdays and watching movies weren't so bad. Maybe he and Dean could reach a compromise. They could still kill the bad things, but they could also do other stuff too.

"Those people are idiots," Dean laughed when the family suddenly got attacked by a squirrel. "It's just a squirrel. I mean, shot the damn thing and be done with it! At the very least just give it a good kick across the room. Hell, throw a blanket over it and then bash its brains in."

Sam grinned. Okay, he would have to take baby steps with Dean, but he was sure he could get his 'shoot first and ask questions later' brother to see that taking a day off every now and then could be a good thing.

When the movie ended neither one moved at first. Finally Sam ejected the DVD and put it back in the case.

"They have 'Home for the Holidays' here if you want to watch it. I saw it with Jess. It's also funny."

"When did you find time to study with all the movies you watched?" Dean teased.

"I'm good at multi-tasking," Sam joked. "Really, it was Jess mostly. She liked movies, especially funny ones. She used to love to laugh." Sam stopped talking as he became lost in the memories. He closed his eyes and immediately saw her face, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes. He was surprised when a smile came to his face instead of tears. It was the first time he had thought of her and remembered only the happy, and not the sad.

Dean realized Sam was taking a trip down memory lane and he didn't want to see his brother hurting again.

"Put the movie in," he suggested. "It's not like we have anything more pressing to do. Hey, you never made that hot chocolate you mentioned this morning."

Sam smiled at him. "I'll make it now. Then we can watch the movie." He walked out of the room.

"And bring back the Twinkies when you come!" Dean shouted.

"Okay," Sam called from the stairs.

Dean mentally patted himself on the back. Now that Sam had a task to do he wouldn't get all moody and depressed again.

He got up and threw another log on the fire and walked to the window. He was shocked to see that it was snowing again. It wasn't a blizzard, thank god, but still, large downy flakes were quietly falling from the sky. Actually, the seen out the window reminded him of a snow globe. It was quite beautiful.

He headed downstairs to tell Sam to look outside but there was no need. From the stairs he could see Sam standing in the open door way watching the snow fall.

"Hey," Dean called. "How are we supposed to keep this place warm if you leave the door open?" His voice sounded gruff but since he had a huge smile on his face Sam knew he was joking.

"The snow is so perfect it almost looks fake," Sam said.

"That's why I came down. I was going to tell you to look outside."

Sam pushed the door to and headed for the kitchen with Dean trailing behind him.

Dean had a seat on a stool while Sam measured and poured milk in a small pot on the stove. He set the fire and dug through the cupboards till he found the box of cocoa.

"Dean, I want to say thank you," Sam spoke up as he continued to make the hot drink.

"For what?" Dean's eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

"For bringing me here," Sam replied. "At first I couldn't understand why you took this job, at least, why you chose it now, this time of year, knowing we'd get stuck and all."

"Sam, I don't know what you're talking about," Dean protested. "We hunt ghosts. This place is haunted. Hence, our being here." He had no intention of admitting to Sam that they were here because Dean was worried about him and figured Sam needed a little bit of stability.

"The answer isn't that simple and you know it," Sam insisted.

"Then tell me, genius, why are we here?"

"Because of me," Sam replied. "Because of what happened in Stars Common."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Dean, you picked this place so I could have a break from the road," Sam stated. "And…I appreciate it. I'll be honest, that last job…hell, the last few months, it's…it's been a lot to take…all at once."

"Sam, don't go getting all emotional on me," Dean exclaimed. "I picked this job because people have died here. That's all. The end!"

"Okay, whatever," Sam finally relented. Dean wasn't about to admit the truth and have a girly moment. He poured the hot milk into the mugs and stirred in the chocolate. He passed one cup to Dean.

"What? No whipped cream."

Sam laughed. He walked to the fridge and pulled out the can of Readi-Whip and put a swirl in Dean's mug.

"Better?" Sam asked.

"Much." Dean took a sip of his chocolate and put the cup back on the counter. "So, you really like being here, huh?"

"Yeah, I do. I mean, I wouldn't want to stay here forever, but I am enjoying it for a while."

"Good," Dean said as he awkwardly nodded his head.

"Listen, why don't you go back upstairs and take it easy. You were knocked unconscious earlier today."

"I didn't get knocked out," Dean argued. "I was simply dazed that's all."

Sam ignored him. "I'm going to go get the light house turned on."

"It's not completely dark out yet."

"I know, but the snow is falling and the sun will be setting soon enough. I might as well get it done now instead of later."

"I'll come too."

"Are you sure you should?" Sam asked. "What if you get dizzy on the stairs?"

"Sam, I'm fine. You worry too much."

"I just want you to be okay," Sam said. It had shocked Sam to see Dean hurt earlier. Dean was supposed to be invincible. Dean never got hurt.

"And I am," Dean replied. "Let's go turn on the light."

Dean led the way to the stairs and true to his word, he climbed them fine. It only took a moment for them to get the light on once they made it to the top. Both of them stood at the window for a bit and stared out.

"I forgot to tell you!" Sam gasped.

"Tell me what?"

"About Caleb."

"Who's Caleb? Wait…you mean the ghost, Caleb? The one Tina was talking about?"

"Yes, I saw him last night. He talked to me."

"You talked to a ghost?"

"Well, we didn't have a conversation or anything. He was standing kind of where you are and he said he loved it up here. Then he looked at me and told me to lure it up here."

"Lure what up here?"

"He didn't say. But he was very adamant that what ever he was talking about, it had to be lured up here. He said it was the only way."

"Christ, what on earth does that mean?"

Sam was quiet for a minute. "I think he's talking about the other one. You know, the one everyone talked about as being the mean one."

"Okay, I get that, but we've yet to see this 'mean one', and if we're going to lure it up here then that means we need bait, but since we don't know what this 'mean one' is even after we don't know what to use for bait."

"Have you experienced anything odd since we've been here? I mean, I've had contact with Caleb, Mike, and Daniel, but unless the mean one is the one who threw an 8 ball in my back, I haven't had a run in with him yet."

"I think I have," Dean said.

"What? How? What happened?"

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I think it has been trying to confuse me."

Sam looked baffled. "I don't understand."

"For the last couple of days there have been these…thoughts…popping into my head, but they're not my thoughts. At least, I don't think they're my thoughts."

"What kind of thoughts?" Sam asked.

"It's not important."

"What do you mean it's not important? It's the first clue we have about this mean ghost. So what are the thoughts?"

"They're angry thoughts."

"You're going to have to tell me more," Sam insisted.

Dean was getting frustrated. How in the hell was he supposed to tell Sam that he was having thoughts about being angry at him, thoughts that Sam was a burden, thoughts of kicking his ass. No way, Sam would be devastated if he actually voiced it out loud.

"I can't tell you more," Dean said, "because I don't understand them myself. I just know that lately I've felt angry when I shouldn't have felt angry. The anger wasn't natural."

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Sam asked.

Again, another question Dean didn't…couldn't…answer. "Because I wasn't sure. I'm still not sure."

Dean turned toward the stairs and started to march down them. He suddenly needed a little space. Unfortunately, Sam was right on his heels following him down.

"I don't understand how you can't be sure. Either something is affecting your thoughts or it isn't. So which is it?"

Dean entered the kitchen and continued right though to the hall.

"Dean?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"I told you about my visions," Sam retorted.

"Yeah, after keeping them a secret for years!"

"Dean!"

"Damn it, Sam. I don't know! Now stop pestering me! You always want me to have the answers. You always want me to tell you what to do or how it's going to go down. Well sometimes I just don't fucking know! Sometimes I don't have the answers! Sometimes it would be great if you could just take care of yourself!"

Dean looked at Sam and immediately regretted his outburst. Sam was crushed. His brother actually looked as if he were about to be sick.

"Sam…I'm…I didn't…shit."

"No, it's okay," Sam choked out. He cleared his throat and continued. "You're right. I do rely on you too much. I'm sorry. Um, I'm…I think I'm gonna go and read for a while. You…you can watch that movie if you want. I'll probably watch it later."

"Sam, wait!" but it was too late. Sam was already dashing up the stairs. Dean watched Sam go into the single bedroom he had selected on the first night and close the door. Dean sat down hard on the stairs and put his head in his hands.

What the hell had just happened? Why did he say those horrible things to Sam? Especially since he didn't mean it! The truth was he liked taking care of Sam. Besides hunting the only other thing Dean truly knew how to do was be a big brother. Sam was his responsibility and he took it very seriously. He had to fix this. He stood up and climbed the stairs two at a time.

"Sam!" he called and knocked on the door. "Sam!"

"I'm busy," Sam called through the door.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Dean said. "This is what I was talking about. Something has been making me angry for no reason. I didn't mean what I said and you know that."

"Okay, it's all right. You know what, let's talk about it later."

"Sam, come on, open the door. Please!"

"If you don't mind, I just want to be alone for a while," Sam replied.

A new surge of anger welled up in Dean. "Sam, don't be a baby! Open the door. Let's talk about this."

This time Sam didn't even bother to reply. "Damn it!" Dean growled and punched the wall with his fist. He drew his hand back immediately and quickly checked his knuckles to see if he had broken any of them. They were sore but they were all right.

They had been having such a nice time. Why did this have to happen? Something was making him act this way. He needed to find out what this 'mean' ghost wanted and he needed to get rid of it. He wouldn't let this thing ruin the bond he had with his baby brother. Sam was too important to him to risk losing him again.