Disclaimer: Sad to say, I own nothing Supernatural.

A/N: Yay, an update! This one's not too exciting, but it is a necessary component. I just want to say thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! I love it when you guys tell me how you really feel, both rewarding and inspiring...not to sound too incredibly cheesey. Anywhoo, go on and read now, and leave me a little input when you're done!

Sam's POV:

Who came up with Go Fish? I mean, it doesn't even make sense, grammatically speaking. You can fish, and you can go fishing, and you can go and fish, but you can't go fish. Can you? Maybe you can, but I don't think you're supposed to. I think it's just managed to leak its way into colloquial terminology because of this stupid, stupid game. "Go fish," she says again, for the thousandth time. And I do. And I don't get what I need. And she, of course, does. And I lose. To a little girl. Again.

"Come on Cal-girl," Sal says as she sweeps into the room. "Time for bed."

Callie, who's now standing on the chair with her arms raised above her head cheering victoriously says, "But I'm winning," and begins to pout.

Sal picks her up and sets her down, giving her a tap on the butt while telling her to brush her teeth and change into her PJ's. "So," she says, falling into the chair across from me, "she kicked your ass, huh?" I lift my head up off the table just long enough to nod self-consciously. "Well, don't feel too bad about it. She's a little card shark. Now if only she could teach her daddy some of her tricks, maybe then he wouldn't be losing money every time he plays anything." She laughs, that great, light, wispy laugh, and before I know it I'm joining in. "So where's you brother?" she asks while gathering the cards laid out across the table.

"Oh." I'm not really sure what to say. I don't know, but I'm sure he's fine, everything's fine. Or maybe, I don't know and I'm starting to get worried. Or I could use, I don't know, even though if I were a better brother I probably would. I go with, "I don't know," and leave it at that.

She shuffles the cards, does the bridge thing perfectly, over and over again. Expert. I watch her hands move fluidly over and in between the cards, doing tricks I've never even seen before. Her fingers perfectly, methodically, fall into place exactly where they're needed. I just watch, and she shuffles, and neither one of us says a word. Until she finally looks up at me and smiles. And I can tell it was all a show, even though she doesn't want me to know. I can tell she was perfectly aware that I was watching the whole time. "I used to be a dealer," she says with faux modesty. I laugh.

"That's where Callie gets it from then," I say, no longer quite as embarrassed about being hustled by a kid.

She puts down the deck and turns to me, her mood obviously shifted. "You two have a fight?" I look at her for a minute, try to figure out how she knows. "I saw him storm off earlier, out to his car." She shrugs. "Just figured." I nod, not really meaning to acknowledge anything beyond an understanding of what she's saying. "I thought about coming down and talking to ya then, but Callie beat me to it."

"She's good company to have," I say, and it's true. Something about being with kids…I don't know if it's mind numbing or mind clearing. But either way it takes your mind off of things.

"Black Jack?" she asks, already dealing.

I look at my cards, a two and a…five. "Hit me."

"You know," she says as she lays down my next card, "when Dean was here, back in the day, he talked about you a lot."

Another five. "Really?" She nods, looking at her cards, probably just to avoid looking at me. "Hit me again," I say finally, and she gives me a you sure? kind of look before handing over another card. King of spades. "Fold. What did he say?"

"Little things mostly. Callie was real young then and every so often she'd do something cute or just plain stupid, you know, baby stupid, and he'd just laugh and say that was just like Sam." She deals again. "I assumed he meant when you were younger, not that you were still at that point giggling about puking on people."

"Actually…" She laughs while I check out my cards. Ten and…nine. Nice. "Call." She flips hers over, Queen and King. I always hated monarchies.

"He really missed you. That's what I remember most about him talking about you. That look he got, you know the one…longing." Another hand. Ace and…five. "But he was so proud of you. Every chance he got he'd mention Stanford. Name dropping like that, terrible trait." I laugh and nod when she offers me another card. Seven. "He mentioned you didn't call much."

I look up at her, meet her eyes and immediately see that she didn't intend to be accusing. But it still feels that way. "Hit me," I say, looking away. "We kind of had a falling out," I try to explain. "Not me and Dean as much as me and my dad. He was just kind of caught in the middle." I fold again. She collects the spent cards and shuffles. "I should have called him more. But he was with Dad a lot…and I didn't want to…I couldn't…"

"You know what they say, you can't control who you fall in love with." What? I look at her questioningly, but she doesn't even glance up from the deck. She just deals and goes on. "I learned that when I met Jake. We're very different, ya know. Maybe that's why I love him so much, or part of it anyway. But we come from very different backgrounds, different places. But, oh, do I love that man." She sits back for a second and is silent, like she can't come up with any more words, like there just plain are no words for what she feels. My chest tightens, right in the middle, right where I know it's nothing, just anxiety or stress. But it's close enough to my heart that I can pretend it's the ache of it. No-words love. God, I want that back.

I feel her eyes on me and instead of looking up to meet them I glance at my cards. "Hit."

She lays down an eight. Eight, eight, and eight. What are the odds of that? I fold…again, and she goes on. "When I left home for college, it was tough. Being away from Mama and Daddy like that. But it's just school, ya know. I figured I'd probably come back. Maybe go somewhere else, but that was all in the future. Then, in school…well that was just it. I wasn't gone, I was just away at school." This time she deals me a ten and a Queen and I feel my back straighten in anticipation. "Anyway, when I met Jake and we fell in love and decided to get married, we chose to come here and build our life here. Our Life. Then I really was leaving home, and Mama and Daddy. For good."

"Yeah, but you can still visit, and they can come see you."

"Oh, we do all that. And we talk all the time. Mama writes us all letters, she's very ladylike like that. Says it's a lost art form." She shakes her head sadly. "But it's not the same." I notice her appraise me quickly before saying, with a crooked smile, "Call." I lay out my cards and she lays out hers, a four, a six, and an ace. Damn.

"That's life though, right? I mean kids grow up, they move out, have families of their own."

"Yes they do. That is life. But no one ever said life ain't tough." I nod while she deals again. "Thing is, Sam, you don't get to pick who your family is either. And that…well, that…"

"Sucks," I finish for her.

"Very much so. Sucks." She lays down the cards and puts her hand on top of mine. Warm and soft, it's exactly what I imagine a mother's hand to be. "I know y'all had it rough growing up. Dean mentioned that. But you had each other too." She pats my hand gently before pulling away to look at her cards. "Thing is, with the two of you…well, I don't know about you, but Dean…I'm fairly certain that if you could actually pick your family, he'd choose you. Even with everything…you know. And that's saying something, I think."

I have two Jacks. She has a King and an Ace. What the Hell?

"You're not very good at this," she says, trying to hide a laugh. I sit and watch as she gathers up the cards and puts them back in their box. "I'm gonna go tuck my little monster in."

She leaves the room and I can't help but notice how empty it suddenly feels. Sal's the kind of person who somehow manages to fill a room up just by being in it. She steps away and not two seconds later you can actually feel her absence. Dean is like that. It's what draws people to him, women, children, everyone. Me, I have to work to get stuff out of people, put on some fake charm and work the whole puppy-dog pout. But Dean, even when he's being a total ass, he exudes this kind of magnetic…well, charm. Shit. Note to self: never tell Dean you think he's charming. He's got a big enough head already.

I know Sal's right. I know he'd always choose me to be his brother. I'm not sure why. All my life he's whined about how embarrassing I am, what a dork and a loser and a pain in the ass. And I know he's not lying. I am kind of a dork. Growing up I definitely was a loser. And to him, usually on purpose, I can be quite a pain in the ass. That's my job as a little brother though, not sure what his excuse is. But even with all of that, I know he loves me. And I know he'd choose to love me, if he had the choice, no matter how much pain it might cause him.

I just wish it didn't…cause him pain.

"Hey." Speak of the devil. I jerk my head up and see him standing in the doorway, soaking wet.

"What happened?" I ask, getting to my feet.

"Rain," he says simply. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

"Didn't get wet enough?"

"You have no idea," he says with a smile and I feel my head cock to one side in confusion. He just laughs, which I take as a good sign. He's in a better mood. And he doesn't reek of alcohol, so at least I know it's not just that he's drunk.

"Listen, Dean," I start, but he cuts me off, throwing his hand up to stop me.

"We only got a couple days left, Sammy. I suggest you start thinking about what you want to do here, other than chilling with sci-fi geeks and, you know, almost getting yourself killed by flying chunks of wood." He smiles that awkward crooked smile and…I don't know what happened, where he went, or…but I can tell he's really trying. Really trying to be okay with all this. So I smile back, even if it somehow feels wrong to do so.

"Sam!" Sal runs into the kitchen in a frenzy. Her feet are only in socks and as soon as she hits the wood floor she starts slipping and sliding, skidding right into Dean's arms. She looks up at him for a sec, I guess just registering that he's there, that he caught her. Then she pulls away with a disgusted look washing quickly over her face, her fingers gingerly pluck the sopping shirt from his chest. I can see that she's curious about his…condition, but it doesn't last. Whatever brought her in here is clearly more important.

"What?" She whips around so fast to see me that Dean catches a clump of hair in his mouth. He sputters and picks at a loose strand of it while she makes her way over to me, eyes wide.

"Is this yours?" She speaks so fast that all the syllables cram together and I barely understand her. "I found it in the bag with the bread and I just watched and…" I look down as she presses a piece of paper into my hand. "You won. Ten minutes ago I would have told never to gamble for as long you live, you're terrible. But you won."

"Won what?" Dean asks as he moves closer.

I look at the piece of paper Sal gave me. It's the lottery ticket I bought yesterday. I'd forgotten all about it. "You didn't get all the numbers," she says, prattling on like before. "But you got enough. I'm not sure how much exactly, but at least a few hundred. I think it should be that, at least a few hundred."

"Huh," Dean says as he grabs the ticket from me, "Nice Sammy, few hundred bucks."

"No," Sal almost bellows, loud and deep. "No. A few hundred thousand bucks."