You guys and your reviews are the reason I write! (Plus the fact i LOVE hurt Dean!)

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Chapter Four

"You pissed yourself!"

"Did not!"

"Little Sammy pee'd his pants!"

"DID NOT!"

Sam pushed the motel door open and stalked inside, barely waited for Dean to cross the threshold then swung the door closed with a crash.

"Did the bird scare ya Sammy?"

"Dean!"

Sam stood red faced as Dean walked past him making squawking noises. He settled himself on his bed and waited for Sam to switch on the TV.

After what seemed like hours Dean motioned to the black screen with a bandaged hand.

"Dude, the tube"

"Only if you stop mentioning the bird"

"Which one?"

"What?" Sam looked at his brother quizzically.

"The one chatting me up or the one running you down?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. Failed him completely. He grabbed the keys and some money and stormed to the door.

"I'm getting some soda's. To get away from you!"

"Dude?"

Sam slammed the door shut against Dean's whining. He caught the last words though and couldn't help but smirk.

"The tube!"

It was like living with a five year old.

The park had been beautiful, full of old elegant trees which seemed to look down on the visitors with an all knowing, protective gaze. They must have all been a hundred years old at least. The park was full of lush green grass and in the middle a beautiful, shimmering, clear lake that stretched across the horizon. The place reminded Sam of Central Park in New York. Thankfully this park hadn't needed a banshee banishing to be enjoyed.

The brothers had walked around the lake for a while, enjoying meaningless chatter about passers by, music and movies they wanted to see. It was so relaxed that both had felt their muscles un knot. Sat on a bench by the lake attempting to drink a coffee while holding it between his sore finger tips, without dropping it down himself Dean had been approached by a twenty something woman who had sweeping red hair and a kind smile. She'd asked him if he was ok, if he needed help. Sam had smirked from his place by the shore as Dean had nodded gratefully and flashed that lady-killer smile of his. The woman was captivated by his lips as he drank and had kept her hand on his shoulder, more so to steady herself than him. The two quickly became engaged in conversation. Sam tuned out after he heard the word 'dancer' and instead focused on throwing the bread he'd bought at the baby swans. It had occurred to him that he'd only once fed the ducks at a park when he was little. They weren't allowed to roam free the open spaces as often as other kids but Sam hadn't known that at the time. All he had known was that big brother had taken him out in the sunshine with some bread and stories about ducks that could talk. Sam smiled as he remembered Dean's impersonation of Donald the Duck. He'd been pretty good too. To five year old Sam he'd been pretty much perfect.

Sam failed to notice the adult Swans swimming his way, failed to notice them herd their offspring to a safer distance from the breadgrenade throwing human. Failed to notice as one walked right out of the water to stand before him on the shore.

Sam was no midget, hell he was taller than just about everyone he had met, but this swan, this swan was a huge freakin thing. He'd looked up and straight into it's black eyes. Black eyes peering down at him demanding an explanation.

Sam carefully edged back from the shore and began to stand. The Swan moved further forward and raised it's neck higher. It's eyes never broke the hold with Sam's.

He threw the bread to the right. Other swans ran for the feast. But not this one.

He stood and readied himself, stood to his full height and rallied himself for the battle. Backing up slowly Sam tried to trace his steps back to Dean. With every step back the swan made a waddle forward.

Sam moved to his left.

The swan moved to it's right.

Crap.

With all his strength Sam threw the last remaining lump of bread at his snow white attacker, it bounced off the delicate head and the swan advanced.

Sam ran.

Dean doubled over in laughter, spilling coffee all over himself and his new lady friend.

After staring at the black screen for five minutes Dean reluctantly pushed himself off the bed and turned on the TV. He flicked through the channels but stopped when he caught a weird smell.

"What the hell?"

He sniffed again but the smell seemed to have vanished, as he raised his arm to flick through more channels Dean caught the smell again. He sniffed his arm pit and crumpled his face in disgust.

"Oh man that's nasty"

He sniffed the other arm. Just to be sure.

Yep.

He was a stinker.

He studied his hands for a few minutes. Tried to think of ways he could clean himself without getting them wet. Plastic bags. He raised his eyebrows as the thought came to him. He frowned as his genius was suddenly overtaken by practicality. He wouldn't be able to hold anything. Wouldn't be able to scrub his body of the sweat and smoke. The coffee cup at the park had almost got the better of him until Suzi had arrived to save him from having to ask for Sam's help.

She was a dancer.

He smiled and wet his lips.

He had her number.

He was meeting her for a walk in the park the next day.

His throbbing hands mocked him and the daydream quickly evaporated as he remembered he smelled.

Badly.

Can't get the groove on with a dancer if you smell Dean.

Can't get your groove on with a dancer when you smelled and couldn't use your hands.

He smiled and licked his lips again as he thought of what she could do to help him. Reality came crashing back through the door, bearing soda's.

Sam glared at Dean but the elder Winchester caught the smirk on the younger's face.

The vision of Sam leaping away from an attacking Swan was going to tickle Dean for months to come.

He smiled at his brother and motioned to the TV.

Sam glared at Dean, then glared at Donald and his stupid waddle.

TBC.

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We're almost there, almost to the bubbles! So hands up who'd prefer stinky Dean to clean Dean?