"Ashley?" Sam tried visualizing the young girl they had met at the diner. Replace the long dark hair with soft blonde tresses…Sam gasped as the fuzzy picture in his mind became clear. "Wow."
"I don't get it." Dean said mostly to himself. "Why would she do it? How would she do it?" He still recalled the seemingly innocent teenager who kept sneaking glances at him when she though he wasn't looking. Sure, she had seemed a bit upset at times, but he had assumed that was due to her father keeping her away from the mansion. Now he began to wonder if there had been more to these looks.
"I guess there's only one person who can answer that question." Sam said.
"You're right. Let's go." Dean said as he grabbed his jacket.
Sam held up a hand. "Hold on a second. Why don't you go and find out exactly what she did, and I'll stay here and get everything ready."
Dean arched his eyebrow in surprise. "You'll do what now?"
Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I just figured Ashley might be more open discussing it with you. I'm basically a stranger to her; you might get more accomplished without me. And I can start getting the supplies ready, you know…the holy water, the readings, and um…"
Sam squirmed under Dean's intense gaze as the elder's eyes seemed to see right through him. "What's this really about, Sam?"
Sam had been both anticipating and dreading this conversation. He knew it wouldn't be easy, especially given the events of the previous night, but they'd been avoiding things long enough. Sam chose his next words carefully.
"I get that the last few weeks have been really tough on you. I do, but you haven't given me a moment alone since we left Minnesota. I appreciate you looking out for me, but we can get more accomplished if we split up. The quicker we finish up here, the quicker we can get out of this town." Sam played on Dean's wanderlust, hoping to defuse the argument before it even began.
"Oh gee, Sam, I'm so sorry I've inconvienced you!" Dean exclaimed earnestly. "Let's hurry and get to the next town so you can get kidnapped, attacked, or possessed." Dean's eyes narrowed on the last word.
Sam opened his mouth to argue that technically, he wasn't possessed yesterday. But seeing the dark look Dean was sending his way, he decided that probably wouldn't be his brightest move.
"Look, I'm sorry for all that I've put you through, ok? It wasn't exactly my choice to get beat up and taken by some country hicks, but it happened. And as for the other stuff, well, that's bound to happen in our line of work." Sam rationalized.
"I know that, Sam!" Dean spat angrily. He hated being patronized, although Sam spoke the truth. Dean knew the consequences they faced from the life that they choose. Or rather, the life that had chosen them. Hell, he himself had almost died a couple months ago. But that didn't matter. He was the older brother; it was his birthright to watch over and protect his little brother. He could barely accept the fact that he had no control over the supernatural things that were out there in the dark, but he had taken for granted that human beings could be even more terrible foes.
"If I had just left when you did, been in the parking lot with you…" Dean broke off as Sam took a few steps towards him.
"What, Dean? You think you could have prevented it from happening?"
Dean also stepped forward so that the brothers were only a few feet apart. "Yes! Hell yeah! I could've stopped them! Beat the living crap out of them! If I had been there--"
"If you had been there," Sam interrupted, "they might have taken you, too."
"Oh, please." Dean scoffed angrily.
"You think you could have fought them off? Come on, you couldn't even handle that little girl!"
Oh crap. As soon as the words left his mouth, Sam knew he was in trouble. The last thing he wanted to do was to pick a fight with his brother, but the words were out there, and no apology was going to help.
Dean wanted desperately to make a grand exit; to storm off and slam the door so hard it would fall off the hinges and crush the painful words Sam had just spoken. The guilty look that flashed across Sam's face pushed his anger into overdrive, and he spun around and kicked over the chair.
The silence was thick as the two Winchesters struggled to get a handle on their emotions. Sam felt horrible. Sam knew that Dean's anger wasn't directed at him. Dean blamed himself for every bad thing that happened to Sam; he had ever since he'd carried a six month old Sam out of their burning home. Dean was always going to be overprotective of him; Sam figured he should just learn to accept that and move on. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Dean, look. We're a team…one hell of a team, as you said. You've always had my back; don't think I don't know that. It's just…" Sam broke off, unsure what he wanted to say. Why was this so hard? "If we spend the rest of our lives joined at the hip, we're gonna go crazy. Besides, you're going to have an awfully hard time getting chics with your little brother always hanging around."
A small smile ghosted Dean's lips as he felt his bitterness slowly ebb. Using humor to diffuse a bad situation was a tactic he usually used; it felt weird having the tables turned. Besides, Sam did have a point. After all, the kid was twenty-three years old and had certainly proved his worth time and again, saving Dean's own life many times. He remembered how irritated he got at Sam during his small but potent bout with heart disease. Never having a moment to himself, Sam always trying to help him do everything. Well, he thought to himself, I guess I know where he got that instinct from.
Dean used his hand to wipe the grin off his face and turned to face Sam. Though his face was serious, his green eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Let's get one thing straight, Sammy boy. I've had to deal with lugging your sorry ass around my entire life and despite that I've managed to do just fine with the ladies. More than fine, actually. Maybe if you stopped referring to them as 'chics' you might have a shot, too."
Sam laughed more out of relief than at his brother's lame joke. There was still one piece of baggage he had to unload. Once again he had to apologize for hurting Dean while under the influence of a supernatural being. He was beginning to feel like he should have a warning label put on him: Do not operate any weaponry or vehicles while under the influence of ghosts. He began to laugh harder as his thoughts became more absurd. They could start their own organization, Brothers Against Demonic Driving. Or how about Winchesters Against Demons, W.A.D.
Dean was looking at Sam as if he'd completely lost his mind, which just made Sam laugh even harder. Tears were streaming down his face as he struggled to get himself under control.
"What the hell is wrong with you? It wasn't that funny." Dean tried to act like he was still annoyed. But he couldn't help crack a smile as he watched Sam gasp for air through his guffaws. He hadn't realized how much he missed hearing his little brother laugh until now.
"I've said it before, but it bears repeating. You are such a dork." Dean chuckled as he put on his jacket. Just before he opened the door Sam's laughter finally died down.
"Dean, wait." Dean turned back around to see Sam's face still red from laughing, but his eyes were grave. "About earlier, Dean, I'm sorry I attacked you..."
Dean cocked his head to the side. "Now are you referring to the time you shot me, or to the time you knocked me out and stole my car?"
"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" Sam noted dryly.
Dean opened the door, determined to get the last word in. "Not by a long shot. Get to work; I'll be back as soon as I can. Oh, and try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone or I won't baby-sit you anymore."
"My brother the comedian." he muttered to the empty room. As he flipped though his father's journal a feeling of confidence swept over him. Together there was nothing the two of them could not accomplish.
