Sam woke naturally from sleep in a way he felt he hadn't been able to in long, long time. For one, it was the first time he hadn't been disturbed by troubling dreams. He'd been having them for a while, since before Jess and Kyle had gone missing, but since their absence the dreams had become more unsettling and while the substance of them vanished soon after he woke, he was consistently left with a residual feeling of unease. That wasn't surprising now, given that his family was in danger. But it seemed to be more than just latent tension and stress. There was a woman in his dreams, he didn't recognise her, but she was always the same and she always invoked a feeling of primal dread in him. Her wide set blue eyes and Cheshire cat grin set his spine on edge but when he woke, he could never quite recall her name or what she said.

This time when he woke however, he knew he hadn't dreamt of the blonde. It was the first time he hadn't woken to the feeling of urgency and fear tugging at his consciousness, the first time his first thought hadn't been instinctively to reach for his children, the first time he hadn't felt that awful gnawing sensation of horror unfurl and overwhelm him from the pit of his stomach. That sensation was still there, but it seemed tempered somehow, dulled and controlled as though someone or something else was keeping it at bay.

For the first time in what felt like a long, long time, Sam allowed himself a moment within wakefulness to simply let his head rest on the pillow. He knew he had to get up, he knew there was an imminent and urgent need pressing on him to find Jessica and their son, to take action, to save them, to find out what was happening. But equally, he couldn't remember the last time he had been able to rescind that responsibility to someone he trusted so completely and absolutely. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to relinquish control.

In short, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like Dean's younger brother.

He rose from the bed, not knowing how long he'd slept or what he would find. He expected Deanna and Eric to still be sleeping, or at least for them to be in the bed next to his. His alarm rose the instant he realised they were absent, only for it to be sated barely seconds later. He could hear them, hear Deanna at least, and if there was one thing he knew about his daughter, it was that she would never, ever let her younger siblings out of her sight. The fact that Kyle was missing had only made her be that much more protective of Eric. She really was her namesake in that regard; she'd taken on the responsibility of being an older sibling and taking care of her brothers without him or Jess ever having even hinted at her to do so.

He could hear immediately that rather than sounding panicked or erratic, her tone instead was calm, almost content, which told him that both she and Eric must be OK, all things considered. He realised with a twinge, that it was perhaps the first time in a while that she sounded almost like her old self.

He entered the living room to a scene he'd half pictured but one that still made him stall in the doorway.

Dean was lying on the couch with Eric held close to his chest and sleeping soundly, cradled in the crook of his arm. Deanna was sitting near Dean's knee, resting mostly on one of Dean's legs. His other leg was bent at the knee with his foot resting on the floor, the level of the leg jutting up just high enough so that Deanna wouldn't slide straight off the couch. Deanna was colouring in her book which she had leaned against Dean's leg, with crayons presumably spilling on the couch, inhabiting space that Dean's other leg would have otherwise occupied. The TV was on and the sound was low, Scooby running away from a mummy, and Dean was half watching, half sleeping.

Deanna said something, asked a question, Sam didn't quite make out what, but when Dean raised his head and squinted an eye at her, Sam instinctively shrunk back to the shadows, not wanting to be caught spying.

From the cover of darkness he watched as Deanna held up the book to show Dean something, and Sam could see her eager anticipation as she waited for his response. Deanna was already headstrong and forthright, she hardly ever cared what anyone thought, but she wanted Dean's approval; that much Sam could see instantly. Dean grinned and Sam didn't need to hear him to read his lips saying 'awesome'. Deanna beamed and giggled.

Eric stirred at the sound but instantly calmed at Dean's touch, curling into him as if Dean's chest was his own crib at home, and Deanna hummed quietly, contentedly to herself.

Deanna was scarily astute when it came to people, she would call them out, rarely trusting anyone at face value, and she was so cynical, even despite her age that sometimes he and Jess worried about her. But it had taken all of what? Five? Six hours? Less than a day at any rate and here she was, so relaxed with Dean as if Dean had been in her life since day one. She hadn't bonded with any of Jess' brothers the way she seemed to have already bonded with Dean.

Sam didn't know why, but standing there, just watching them, a lump formed in his throat. It hurt when he tried to swallow it down, as if there were a chestnut stuck in his gullet, and he suddenly just wanted to cry.

Maybe, in all those years spent apart, Sam should have tried harder. Hell! Maybe he should have tried full-stop. And there was no maybe about it; Sam should have tried. He should have reached out to Dean because this, what he was seeing right there in front of him, this should have been a part of Dean's life. It could have been Dean's life. Dean had deserved it, and the kids deserved to have had Dean in their lives too. Sam knew without question that Deanna and Eric were already in love with him. The moment Sam had brought them here, he knew the kids would never stand a chance. It was Winchester DNA maybe, or it was all just pure Dean, but whatever the cause, it made a hollow nostalgic ache ripple through Sam.

All the years he hadn't seen him, all the years they'd been absent from each other's lives, it was as though the ache of all those years of absence poured into Sam all at once and he was suddenly overcome by how much he'd missed his brother, how much he'd missed the security Dean could so effortlessly provide. Suddenly, so overcome by everything, Sam felt as though his knees would buckle and his eyes would never stop forming tears.

Before any of the occupants in the living room could spy him, he turned and headed for the bathroom, locking the door and breathing in the privacy it afforded.

The reflection that greeted him in the bathroom mirror stopped him short. After a moment, the initial shock subsided but enough of its residual surprise remained to make him peer at his reflection as though seeing himself for the first time in weeks. It probably actually was, he realised.

He looked awful; haggard and worn, almost unrecognisable to himself. What would have once been a five o'clock shadow had long since given up any pretence of not being a beard and was now colonising his cheeks and the lower part of his face and neck. His eyes were still a little bleary and bloodshot despite his having just woken from the longest session of sleep he'd indulged in days, and his skin was dry. His clothes, despite being the least of his concerns, looked wrinkled beyond recognition and in that same instant he became aware of his desperate and urgent need to wash.

Without even debating it he ran the shower and, seeing a disposable razor (Dean's he assumed and didn't bother to wonder if his brother would mind him using it) did away with the beard. He felt a whole lot better as he stepped away from the hot stream and this time when he wiped the condensation from the mirror, the man who greeted him looked a whole lot more familiar and sane. He didn't like the thought of wearing his travel weary clothes again, but luckily Dean had put his bag near the foot of his the bed, so he quickly slipped into something fresh.

When he emerged, he felt renewed, more so than he had in days.

Dean and the children were in much the same positions that he'd seen them in earlier but again he paused. He guessed from the daylight streaming in through the window that he'd slept a fair amount of time. He also realised that if Eric was sleeping soundly, it must mean that he'd been fed and changed. It made him realise just how much he really didn't know his brother anymore. There was a time when he never would have imagined Dean to have known the first thing about taking care of a baby. He wondered what had changed. He suddenly wondered if perhaps Dean had become a father himself. Sam had secretly always been surprised it hadn't happened in their teens and now, if it had, he wasn't sure Dean would have told him, they had drifted so far apart. They really were strangers now and the sadness of that realisation stabbed at him again.

But he didn't want to dwell and indulge those thoughts any longer, knowing there were more urgent things to deal with. As he took a step closer to the others, he noticed the corner of the rug in front of the door upturned slightly, partially revealing something underneath. He walked over and unfurled the corner back with the toe of his boot to expose some kind of spray-painted markings on the floor underneath. Some archaic yet freshly rendered warding symbol that Sam didn't fully recognise.

But before he could investigate further, Deanna spotted him and jumped off the couch, her knee catching some part of Dean's anatomy and causing him to release an 'oomph' on her departure.

Deanna continued oblivious, bounding up to Sam and grabbing him by the hand.

"Daddy, you're up! Finally! You were sleeping forever! Look what I did!" And she dragged him along back to the couch.

Dean had by now carefully sat up, Eric still protectively cradled in his arms and sleeping soundly. Deanna thrust the colouring book up at Sam and beamed, barely able to contain her excitement, almost bouncing on the spot. It was a picture of a car, with a stick figure family.

"It's the 'pala!" she announced excitedly before Sam even had the chance to ask. "And it's you and me and Eric and Uncle Dean and Sunny and we're having a picnic. See?"

Sam nodded, flicking a glance towards Dean who simply shrugged.

"That's really cool Deanna," Sam said smiling. "You did this all by yourself? That's great."

"It's awfum." Deanna corrected. "Right?" she asked, turning to Dean for affirmation.

Dean nodded, bemused. "Totally awfum."

"Totally awfum." Deanna repeated, taking the book back and settling down with it on the floor.

Sam sighed and shook his head as he carefully perched on the couch next to Dean.

"Barely a few hours in huh… Do I even wanna know what else you've been teaching her?" he teased, only half joking.

"Hey, I didn't teach her anything she doesn't need to know… And what kind of 5 year old doesn't know the word 'awesome' anyways? What kind of kindergarten you been sending her to?"

"A Montessori Head Start program." Sam said and Dean stared at him. "It's the best in the country!" Sam defended, instantly wondering why he even felt the need to justify or defend his choices to Dean, but Dean simply shook his head, doing an admirable job of censoring his opinion and translating it into a lone snort.

Sam frowned, but let it slide, reaching instead for Eric. "You want me to take him?"

"Actually, I'm thinking we put him down for a while so's you and I had a talk…" His eyes flicked briefly towards Deanna, before returning to look pointedly at Sam. "Alone."

With Eric laid down safely in his travel cot, Deanna happily occupied with her entertainment and Sunny curled in between, the brothers manoeuvred their way to the kitchen and settled at the table, safely out of earshot but within sight.

"So," Dean started in a low tone. "You wanna tell me what the hell's going on? Where's Jessica? And Kyle? Why aren't they with you?"

Sam looked at him startled. "How'd you know his name?"

"That's what you wanna discuss right now?"

"No." Sam sighed, conceding the point. "You're right. I…" He sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face, and some of the tiredness that had lifted began to creep back in. "I don't know."

"What d'you mean you don't know? You & Jessica have a fight or–"

"No." Sam cut him off, the desperation and urgency returning. "I mean they're gone Dean. Disappeared. And I don't know where they are."

"And you've been to the police?"

This time it was Sam's turn to give his brother a look and Dean bobbed his head, answering the question himself. "Right. First thing you did."

"For all the good it did." Sam snorted. "The house was unlocked. Security alarm hadn't been tampered with. No evidence of a break in. There's been no ransom demand. No indication of a kidnapping. Nothing."

"Anything missing? Signs of a struggle?"

"No. Like I said, nothing. I mean, we were having some work done on the house, the place was a bit overturned coz of that, but nothing unusual."

"Work?" Dean's eyebrows shot up at that. "What kind of work? Like… structural?"

Sam looked surprised by the question. "Does it matter?"

"Just curious." Dean dismissed, shrugging the question away. "Police checked out the contractors I'm guessing."

"Yeah, came back clean. Besides, they weren't working the day it happened." Sam narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Dean's evasive curiosity about the renovations. "Why'd you–"

"Any EMF in the house?" Dean carried on, his own query cutting off Sam's. "Residual sulphur?"

"Sulphur?"

"Demons leave a trail of sulphur most of the time."

"Right. I forgot… Demons." Sam repeated, taking it in. He knew about demons of course, but he couldn't remember John having ever dealt with any while they'd been growing up. And yet Dean seemed so matter-of-fact about it, Sam couldn't help questioning it. "You say that like it's an everyday occurrence for you. You deal with a lot of those now?"

"Some." Dean shrugged again in that vague nonchalant way that almost fooled Sam, but not quite. "So? Smell any rotten eggs?"

"No. Least none that I noticed by the time I got home. Have no idea about the EMF."

"Hmmm. How about them?" Dean jerked his head towards the other room where Deanna and Eric were settled. "Where were they?"

"Deanna was at day care. That's why I came home early. They called when Jess didn't pick her up."

"And Eric?" Dean prompted when the younger Winchester seemed to stall.

Sam paused uncomfortably before answering, face paling a little as he did so. "Eric was in his crib."

Dean blinked. "In his crib? You mean… in the house? Alone?"

Sam nodded, the recollection seeming to leave him haunted and ashen.

"What…?" Dean stammered. "Like…. Like just… unharmed?"

Sam nodded again. "When I got home, he was there by himself. I don't know for how long. I hadn't spoken to Jess all day, I'd been busy in court. He could've been there alone for hours. It's why the cops think Jess had some kind of mental break or something. All they could do is put out an APB. But I swear Dean, she hasn't had a breakdown. I know she hasn't. It's like she and Kyle simply vanished."

Dean looked away, lips pursed as though he were working something out. "Remind me," he said after a beat, not meeting Sam's gaze. "How old is Kyle?"

"Six months," Sam replied, not liking where he thought it was going. "Why?"

Dean shook his head as if to negate the question as trivial, but Sam caught a look pass over his brother's face. It was gone in an instant, and had Sam not been scrutinising his brother so closely, he may have missed it. But he was used to scrutinising people's reactions, professional habit in his line of work, and the look that had flitted over Dean's face had left a trace, leaving his brother looking darker somehow. It made Sam's throat dry up and his blood run a little colder.

"That mean something?" Sam pushed, sensing Dean was withholding information. "Is it important?"

Dean shook his head again, let out a quick grin as if to brush the enquiry aside. "Nah, just curious."

But Sam wasn't fooled. "You sure? Coz you look like you know something." He waited, then lowered his voice, for the first time saying out loud the thought that had buzzed in his head soon after he'd found his wife and son missing. "I was the same age when mom… When she died. This have something to do with that?"

"What?" Dean looked genuinely surprised, but Sam couldn't be sure whether it was because the notion was truly ridiculous or because Dean hadn't expected Sam to think of it. Whichever the reason, Dean carried on before Sam could pursue it any further. "No, just seems odd," he continued. "You know, that she would take Kyle but not Eric if she was skipping out."

"It is." Sam conceded, still not convinced that there wasn't something else there. He felt a twinge of agitation at the thought of being kept in the dark, but Dean seemed to have moved passed it already.

"Okay." Dean said, settling back in his chair. "How 'bout you start from the beginning."

"What beginning?!" Sam retorted, voicing echoing his agitation. "There is no beginning. They simply vanished!"

"There must be something. Anything. You must have noticed–"

"What Dean? You think I haven't already been through everything? With the cops. In my own head. Haven't gone over everything over and over again. There was nothing."

"So you're saying nothing happened before they disappeared? Nothing on CCTV? No new neighbours suddenly move into the neighbourhood. No weird news stories, pets going missing, strange weather phenomenon. No… Hell, I don't know… disturbances? Anything."

"I told you Dean, no! There was nothing. Jess and I always talk… About everything. She didn't mention anything being off. She would've told me if something had happened to her or if she'd noticed something in the neighbourhood. Even the slightest thing."

"And you're sure she didn't leave? I hate to say it but maybe her car came off the road somewhere."

"It's a gated community, there're only a few ways in and out of the complex, and I checked the CCTV footage myself, in case the cops missed anything. She's not on any of them, she didn't leave. I'm telling you, there was nothing, no sign of her and Kyle having left normally."

"And things between you two…?"

"We're fine Dean. We're good. It makes no sense for her and Kyle to just disappear."

Sam didn't know whether he'd managed to convince his brother or not. He considered telling him about the dreams he'd been having but stopped himself. For one, he wasn't fully convinced it was linked to anything that was happening. For another, there weren't many details he could accurately recount, other than the persistent appearance of a young blonde who definitely wasn't Jess.

When Dean, who for his own part had been quite for the last few minutes, spoke again, it was in a more quiet, measured tone, despite the lack of eye contact.

"You line your doors and windows?"

Sam gave him a look, knowing his brother was referring to salt, and not appreciating the implication. "Don't turn this around to that. When I said I wanted out I meant it. I don't do that anymore."

"Knowing what you know about what's out there? That's just plain stupid."

"So it's my fault?!"

"That's not what I'm…!" Dean took a deep breath, calming himself. The tempo had risen and he was acutely aware of the fact they weren't getting anywhere. "Look." He continued, calming his voice again as it returned to a low whisper. "Right now? We don't know what happened. Maybe it's nothing to do with… you know, our family business. Maybe Jess got tired of your freakishly long hair and just up and left, just like the cops think." He raised a hand to appease Sam before he could respond to that. "I agree, seems unlikely. All I'm saying is, it could happen. And knowing what we know, it would be the best outcome if it is, right? Coz right now? We got nothing to go on. I got nothing to go on."

Sam flopped back in his chair, dejection tugging at the worry lines already reappearing around his eyes. "So what do you suggest we do?"

"We go back."

Sam shook his head adamantly. "I'm not taking them back there."

"Sam if it were any other case, I'd go to where it happened, start from there."

"I can't take them back there Dean." Sam repeated, the earnest plea in his eyes quelling any further argument from Dean. "Deanna's smart enough to know something's not right. If I take her and Eric back home and Jess isn't there… I can't take them back. Especially if it's not safe."

Dean mulled this over, rubbing a weary hand over eyes that stung gritty and tired.

"All right." He said finally. "Then you wait here, I'll go back and check." But Sam was already shaking his head. "What's wrong with that?" Dean demanded.

"You can't leave Dean. You can't." Sam glanced briefly towards the couch, and an expression almost akin to shame flited over his features. "I need you here to… I need you with me to help me keep them safe. To help me figure out what to do. I can't do it alone. I'm… I'm out of practice."

"Out of practice? Practice of what?"

"Hunting, Dean! Demons! Monsters! All of it! Hell, it didn't even occur to me it could be a demon! I didn't even realise you were testing me last night till you went outright and said it! And those markings on the floor? I wouldn't even know where to begin with something like that. All of this stuff, I've been out too long Dean, I'm not prepared… I can't protect them, not without you. Not from whatever's got Jess and Kyle…"

His voice trailed off as he looked away from Dean, shame tinging the hazel green of his eyes.

"Sam." Dean said, leaning in, voice more consoling than Sam had expected. "You got nothing to blame yourself for. You hear me? Nothing. Right now, we don't even know what's happened."

"I know it's something supernatural Dean." Sam said, appreciating his brothers words but unable to acknowledge them. "I know it. And I know it's something bad."

Dean sighed again, weighing up their options. He had to admit, Sam was right; hunting when you were on form was tough enough solo, but to be out of practice with two kids in tow? You may as well stick needles in your veins, walk into a Vamps nest and call out happy hour.

He needed to keep them safe, he realised. That had always been his top priority of course, but he hadn't really thought it through, not the actualities, the practicalities. He wasn't thinking straight full stop.

Because it was Sam.

Any other case, he wouldn't even be debating what to do. But with Sam? That had thrown him off his game. Any other case, he would have urged the family right from the get-go to go stay with a relative while he cleaned up the mess. But it being Sam, and Sam having been the closest thing to a hunting partner Dean had ever had, other than their father. Well…

Well.

He didn't know what he'd been thinking, but whatever it was, he put it firmly out of his head.

He didn't need a hunting partner, and even if he did, Sam was not a hunter. Not anymore. Dean knew whatever needed doing, he'd be doing it himself, alone. As usual. He smirked humourlessly to himself at that before pushing such notions of self-pity aside and refocussing on the case.

He needed a safe house for them, somewhere to leave Sam and the kids, with someone he trusted keeping an eye on them so he wouldn't have to worry about them at least. Once Dean knew that was taken care of, he could go back and investigate the case, like he would do any other. He got up and headed to the fridge, mind already orchestrating their next moves as he retrieved two beers. He was about to elaborate when Sam spoke up again.

"I need you to believe me Dean," he said softly, earnestly. "I know how it must seem. I turn up outta the blue, give you next to nothing to go on, no evidence. But I swear man, I swear. I know something's happened to them, something only you can help me with."

Dean nodded, as if weighing it up. He cracked open a beer and held it out for Sam before he spoke.

"Middle of the night."

"…What?" Sam asked, the non-sequitur throwing him off balance. He declined the proffered bottle and Dean threw him a slightly disgusted look for the refusal before replying.

"You turned up outta the blue, in the middle of the night… In the rain. I mean, dude, seriously," he took a swig from the bottle. "You couldn't be more of a film noir cliché if you tried."

Sam huffed, seeing the humour of it suddenly, and a smile escaped him before he could help it, the contortion of facial muscles feeling foreign and alien to him. It felt like the first time he'd come close to smiling in longer than he could remember.

"You didn't have to open the door if you were scared Dean," he shot back, unable to resist sparring with his brother. It felt oddly good. Felt almost calming, in a weird way.

"Aw, you know me Sammy." Dean drawled, settling back down and taking another deep swig. "I never could resist a damsel in distress."

"Whatever man." Sam replied shaking his head. But then the smile faded as he eyed the beer his brother had already made a sizable dent in. "And isn't it a little early, even for you?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "I thought you lawyers were supposed to be non-judgemental?"

"Look I'm just saying, we need to figure out what to do. And I'm not sure getting drunk is gonna help us achieve that."

"Please! From one beer? You really are outta practice." Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Dean continued without giving him the chance. "And as it so happens I know exactly what our next move is."

Sam tilted his head to the side and crossed his arms over his chest, the gesture almost as much of a challenge as his raised eyebrows were.

"Does it involve getting you sober?"

Dean was about to respond when a child's voice beat him to the punch.

"I'm hungry. Can we eat?"

Both men turned to see Deanna standing in the doorway, her eyes going from one sibling to the other, as if unsure which one would be responsible for answering.

As if on cue, Dean's stomach rumbled and Sam realised that was answer enough.

They ended up in the local diner, which wasn't as rundown or as seedy a joint as Sam had initially feared given the roadside façade and the out in the middle of nowhere locale. It was in fact at least trying to be more cosmopolitan and family friendly than Sam would have ever given it credit for, sporting a highchair, a kids menu and three different salad options, one containing kale no less.

Sam was impressed, Dean was disgusted, but despite their opposing reactions, when the waitress arrived they both ordered coffee in such perfect synchronicity that even the waitress was stalled for a second by their impromptu harmony. Deanna laughed thinking it was a trick, while the brothers exchanged a mutually suspicious glance.

Their food arrived quickly and Dean ignored Sam's protests as he piled a hefty helping from his syrup drenched pancakes onto a separate plate, with a side of bacon for good measure, and slid it sideways in front of Deanna, pushing aside the fruit and muesli Sam had ordered for her. She hesitated, glancing across the table in Sam's direction with eyes as big as plates and Sam sighed resignedly, nodding a 'go on then' in response.

He caught Dean's smirk and couldn't suppress the brief flash of annoyance that spiked in him like a knee jerk reaction.

"What?" he demanded.

Dean looked up. "You," he said, still smirking. "Her," he continued, tilting his head towards his niece. "It's like karma man."

Sam frowned, not following. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on! All those years you used to get your own way by flashing those big puppy eyes? It's only fair you get a dose of your own medicine."

For a moment Sam looked abashed, the slight colour in his cheeks rising. He opened his mouth to respond but Dean cut him off before he could construct any arguments in his defence.

"And don't bother say you didn't," he said smugly, pointing his fork at Sam's face. "I was there, remember?"

Eric started fussing sparing Sam from the inevitable verbal sparring match with his brother. He calmed the toddler, appeasing him with the skilled experience of a loving father who had dealt with child-rearing woes before. His expertise was unsurprising; he was on his third ride on the parenting merry-go-round after all.

"So," he said, after he'd settled the toddler down with sliced toast and eggs, sending a quick glance towards Deanna to ensure she was too engrossed in the child's puzzle place mat to eavesdrop. "What's the plan after we finish up here?"

"I need to make a couple of calls." Dean shrugged casually, avoiding his gaze and looking out of the window instead at nothing in particular of interest that Sam could identify. "Get you and the kids to a safe-house. Then I'll double back, check out your place."

"Safe house?" Sam queried, not liking the lack of eye contact. "Where?"

"I have a place in mind." Dean replied dismissively.

The scarcity of details in Dean's response made Sam uneasy. He couldn't tell whether his brother was being vague because they didn't have privacy to speak openly right then, or because his plan wasn't fully formed, or perhaps because he'd decided Sam simply didn't need to know.

Either way, Sam didn't like how it made him feel. He wasn't used to being left out of the loop. As a lawyer it was his job to find out every little detail of a case, no matter how trivial or seemingly inconsequential, he made sure he knew what was happening before the opposition did. But now he'd suddenly been thrust into a situation where he had no control. He felt as if he were one of the victims he defended, relying on someone else for his security while he just sat and waited, played along with being told what to do.

He realised he didn't like that, not at all. But for the time being, he also didn't have much of a choice; he'd come to Dean for help after all. He'd come to Dean because he hadn't known what else to do.

"How long will it take?" He asked instead, swallowing down his feelings of impotence.

"The drive? Depends. How fast does your ride go?"

"Not sure it could keep up with the Impala." Sam admitted. "We'd be better off riding with you."

"What about your wheels? You're just gonna ditch them here?"

"It just a car Dean… Why? There a problem?" he asked, sensing his brother's reluctance.

"It's just…" Dean squirmed a little. "The Impala's no place for kids," he blurted out finally. "Or dogs. I mean come on! If the child seats don't scuff up the leather your mutts gonna. And what if they get travel sick? It's not designed for them."

"Seriously?" Sam demanded, half amused, half annoyed. "It was good enough for us growing up," he countered.

"Not according to you." Dean shot back.

Sam decided to ignore the remark and stared at his brother in disbelief. "Really? You're gonna make us travel separately?"

He watched Dean struggle with the internal argument.

"Fine!" Dean conceded at last, stuffing a heavily laden forkful of pancake into his mouth. "But the kids better not throw up in my car," he grumbled.

"Then you shouldn't have given her pancakes and bacon."

Dean glared at him.

"And Fido stays off the upholstery."


tbc

Thank you Guest, Long Live BRUCAS, DearHart and Shazza19: I appreciate it :-)

This one's a long story, the answers will be revealed eventually but it may take a while, so I hope you all bear with me. And DearHart, don't flail so much! There's so much story left yet to come, you may wanna hang on to some of those flails for later!

I'll update again soon.

Stay well and as always, thank you for reading :-)

Oh and I still can't help pronouncing it Dean-ah in my head, I know it's wrong but... smh