AN: I feel like I should just stop telling you the chapter is coming next week and just go with the flow, because here I am, once again, with more words. Take heart in the fact that I'll disappoint you eventually. Before it comes to that point, however, enjoy another chapter. I know you all probably have lots of questions, and while not many of them are answered in this next bit, they will be soon. Thank you so much to everyone who commented, I really appreciate it.

-GNS-

Chapter 4:

Dean finished composing himself in the bathroom. He washed the blood off from the nick on his neck where the edge of Sam's sharp blade dug in and straightened his shirt before he returned to the table. Their food had arrived while he was gone, and Sam was already halfway through his burger. As he approached his seat, he noticed that this Sam was clearly bulkier than his brother. He could feel the man's strength when he was pinned to the wall, but now, getting a good look at him, Dean could see the clear outline of muscle pressed up against flannel. His physique was a lot similar to Sam when he didn't have a soul, Dean supposed. Back when the man didn't sleep, so he had plenty of time for sit-ups.

He was only a few feet from the table when Sam looked up at Dean with sharp eyes, jerking his head a little in Henry's direction, who was picking at his lettuce. Dean understood the motion, and swiftly slid in next to Henry, before reaching across the table for his cup of coffee.

"Hey there short stuff," Dean chided, bumping shoulders with the younger man. Now that Dean thought of it, however, he wasn't actually sure how tall Henry was.

"I'm a grown man," Henry grumbled back, sticking his fork through a particularly large slice of cucumber. In spite of the grumpy tone, Dean could tell from the quirk in Henry's lips that he'd done something right. Sam acted as if he hadn't noticed the exchange, and continued on with his lunch.

"So um," Dean started, "why don't you tell me about this hunt we're on."

"You know what hunt we're on," Henry sighed, a twinge of annoyance in his voice "you're the one who found it in papers in the place."

"I know that…" Dean lied, "I mean tell me what you got, ya know? The details," he drug out the word with a little flare, and he could have almost sworn he saw Sam smile—accompanied by an eye roll of course.

"Well," Henry began, "what we originally thought was a witch we think is a Qalupalik. It's basically an Inuit water creature that steals children. It lures them close to the edge or out onto ice before dragging them down. It fits the costal town and how the missing children are pretty much unconnected. They feed off of them for immortality—much like a wendigo."

"Alright," Dean said, "now how to we kill it? Up in flames like those leathery sons of bitches?"

"Yeah, actually—" Henry seemed surprised, "how do you know how to kill a wendigo?"

"Ah, must of read it somewhere once…" Dean lied. For the first time he found himself wondering just how different this timeline was than his.

"Well, whatever, we gotta lure it out of the water and light it up," Sam finished, taking a long sip from his Pepsi until all that was left was ice rattling in the bottom of the glass. "We should find a place to say for the night first anyways—gives Dean a few more hours to find his sea legs, and the coast won't be so busy at night."

"Sounds fine to me," Henry said, and Dean nodded in agreement.

"It's a plan, then," Sam declared, leaving the booth to pay the bill. Dean watched him lean over the counter towards the waitress, a sly smile playing across his lips. He slid her a couple twenties, and she handed him back a napkin with his change, no doubt with her number scrawled on it.

"Hey," Henry started quietly, "I don't know what was up with you this morning, but I'm glad you're feeling alright now. I was really worried about you." Dean turned to look at him in his eyes—familiar speckled green just like Sam's.

"Yeah," Dean sighed, he didn't know how to do this—how to get through a chick flick moment that wasn't exclusively with Sam and wasn't immediately after one of them almost died. "I'm alright now," he offered lamely, "sorry for scaring you." Dean climbed up out of the booth quickly, trying to avoid Henry's prying gaze.

"It's alright," Henry replied, following close behind. If he had noticed something strange with the response he didn't seem to show it.

Sam had told Dean to act like the guy's brother. The only problem was, Dean didn't know what the hell that meant for him and Henry. Shit, Dean didn't even know the kid. How was he supposed to be this guy's brother when the only brother he's ever needed was Sam?

"Ready to ride?" Dean asked, walking up behind Sam who was still flirting shamelessly with the waitress. He turned around with a scowl but nodded.

"I'll see you tonight," He threw over his shoulder to Susanne, voice low.

"Sure thing sugar," She smiled back. Then, in true douchebag fashion, Sam, God help him, winked. Dean almost gagged, except after this morning there wasn't much left in him anyways.

"Let's get a place nearby," Sam suggested as they walked out the door, twirling his keys around his index finger.

"Heh, yeah I'm sure you'd like that, Sammy," Dean joked. His tongue caught on the name. Dean saw Sam's brow draw in, and he wasn't sure if he didn't like the nick name, or if he'd outright never heard it from Dean's mouth. The thought of the latter made him suddenly, very mad at his other self.

"You're staying at our motel tonight?" Henry said, interrupting Dean's train of thought.

"Mmm mmm," Sam hummed, "I think it's best to stay close by." His eyes met Dean's for a moment, and there was something in the look that he just couldn't read.