A/N: It's been 5 years now, and I am fucking sorry, that I stopped writing without any further information to you ... I just lost the feeling about this (writer's block and shit, LIFE) I needed to reread the story.

I had the plot, but somehow I can't find my book where I noted THE PLOT (it's been 5 years, guys, 5 years).

But HERE WE GO AGAIN ;)

Let's have a little fun with Dean & Sam and get the story back on the road.

So, if I missed something, or something's doesn't wrap up propperly, I'm really damn sorry ...

So, you girls & boys - what do you think? Thought about a showdown in Detroit? ;) What would you say?

It's a short one, but I PROMISE, this time around I will get this to an end.

I don't have a beta. My english got crappy while not using it. And I'm a bit out of practice ...

Fields Of Jasmine

Chapter 38 ~ Roast Beef and Candles

Sam was nervous about this.

He hasn't been hiding such a thing from his mate so far.

Not that he had intended to in the first place anyway.

Then again ... wouldn't it be a surprise if he had told Dean?

Because this damn well was supposed to be a surprise.

He'd been plotting this for an entire week, and on thursday – finally – he had made up his mind. He'd gotten his guts together to do this. To ask him ...

Sam took in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second as he stood in front of Bobby Singer's front-door. When his eyes opened again, his pupils were blown wide with nervosity, his hands were shaking.

He knew that Bobby had to be home for an hour or so longer than usual. At least Dean had told him that.

So this was his chance to get to talk to Bobby without having his mate around.

What – at itself – already felt like betrayal to the omega. Doing something without Dean knowing it – more specifically hiding it from his mate – hadn't been on his to-do-list at all.

But he didn't see any other way to pull this off.

Eventually – after ten more minutes – Sam made himself knock and walk into the house after hearing Bobby mumble an invitation.

The grizzled hunter stood by the counter close to the coffee-maker. When he turned around and caught Sam's frame in the doorway of the kitchen, his ears perked up and his eye-brows rose in surprise.

"Sam?", he asked curiously and turned around to face the omega.

Sam pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and mumbled a soft "Hey". His cheeks had a faint touch of pink on them, when he looked aside shyly.

What made the older man even more curious. He could tell that Sam wanted – maybe even NEEDED – something.

"I ..." After a few minutes of silence, Sam managed to actually speak. "... I'd ... I need a job." And just like that it burst out of him. "I ... I actually came to ask you for a job ..."

The grizzled man's eye brows knitted together. "You do?"

Sam nodded, meeting Bobby's gaze for a couple of seconds. "I ... I need to make some money." To bring himself in in their family.

He couldn't remember ever asking someone for something. Most of all not begging someone for something. At least not for a job ...

"You need to make some money.", Bobby repeated, his voice flat and his expression even more curious now. "Oookay ..."

"I need to buy something.", Sam tried to explain himself, but didn't want to give away too much.

Bobby's eye brows shot back up and lowered down slowly as if he understood all of a sudden. "A job ... so ... at the shop?"

Sam's eyes opened wide and his head snapped up. "No.", he barked out a lot harsher than he had intended to. "NO. - I mean ... No ... It's ... complicated. I ... need a job where Dean and I won't cross paths ... so ..."

Bobby also understood that. Sam said, that Dean shouldn't see him working. What actually meant that it wasn't about Sam not wanting to see Dean. It was supposed to be a secret.

"You could ... always have some money from me. - You know that, right?" He needed to be sure, because he knew how important this had to be to Sam.

There was this very present thought in the back of the older man's head. That Sam was thinking about going out there, among other people. Because where else could he possibly 'work' without Dean finding out?

The Salvage was huge, but Bobby had no clue where he could let Sam work. Then: Where could he get a safe place to work? Specially for Sam?

There were still demons out there. Monsters. Creatures which may were after Sam.

Dean'd kill him if he'd get Sam in danger.

But Sam had to know about that too. He wasn't stupid.

Sam shook his head at Bobby's suggestion. "I know ... but ... I don't want to ..."

"Sam ...", Bobby sighed. "About how much money are we talking here?"

The omega's shoulders sloughed. He mumbled something intelligable.

"What?"

"Fifty dollars. Or sevently ..."

Bobby's eyebrows shot up again. He'd been thinking about a whole lotta more bucks than that. He huffed out a laugh.

"Boy ... That's ... not even that much money."

Sam gave the old man huge eyes. For him it was a lot, since he actually had any by himself.

"What do you need it for?"

The omega's lips twitched. He opened his mouth ... and shut it again. There was no way he could tell Dean's syrogate father about his plan.

"Okay ..:"

Awkward silence.

More awkward silence.

"It's fine. You don't need to tell me, kiddo." Bobby's beard twitched. "I'll give you seventy bucks and I'll take you wherever you want to get whatever you want. Understood?"

It wasn't in Bobby's intention to sound that hard. Nor to let it sound like an order. But it actually kind of did.

And he regretted it instantly.

Sam ducked his head.

The older man sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a brief second. "Look.", he breathed. "I don't say you can't handle a job. I'm just sayin' that I think that it'd be better if I lend you the money until all this is over and it's save out there."

The young omega blinked at him surprised. He hadn't really thought about that. That it may was not safe outside the Salvage. That there may still were creatures out there who were after him.

Sam bit down on his lower lip, then he pulled it over the upper one thoughtfully. "You're right.", he murmured, seeing his plan shatter before his inner eye.

"So ... how about my offer? I'll take you into town and you go and buy whatever it is you need?" Bobby smiled warmly at the man before him with risen eyebrows.

Only hesitant, the omega nodded.

"Good. - So what do you say? I'll get done here and we'll head out?"

~ 67' Chevy Impala ~

Bobby left the dishes as they were and went to get into his boots and a clean shirt. He drove Sam to the mall, where he let him hop out of the car.

The grizzled hunter waited for him there, watching the surroundings carefully. Specially the entrance.

After thrity minutes, the older man became slightly agitated and doubted his decision to let Sam go in there all by himself.

What if he'd have a panic attack?

What if a demon had followed them and just waited to get Sam alone?

But before another fifteen minutes were over and before he could think about other what-ifs, Sam came back out with a plastic bag, his cheeks tainted a dark red.

As soon as the omega entered the car, Bobby could smell the younger man's nervousness with a side of shame and a hint of pride.

"All done?", he asked as he reached for the car-keys.

Sam nodded furiously and breathed a relieved sounding "Yes."

~ 67' Chevy Impala ~

It didn't happen the same evening though.

Sam didn't want to rush things.

And he wanted it to be perfect. To be planned – into the very smallest detail. He wanted it to be a surprise. A good one.

A perfect one.

A week after Sam's shopping trip it was about time to get his plan going.

It was a warm friday.

Sam was cooking.

The kitchen was a total mess.

There wasn't a single square on the counter which showed it's usual brown. There was fluor. Eggs. All the things Sam needed for the menu he had planned.

He checked on the beef in the oven once more, before he went to knead the pastry for the pie.

All in all it took him another three hours until the meat was due and the kitchen its own self again.

There was no sign that something had been going on.

Well ... except for the smell. The sound of boiling water in which the dumplings were cooking and the faint light of two candles on the kitchen table.

~ 67' Chevy Impala ~

Dean was done.

Like real done.

His day at the garage had been horrible.

Old lady Manson was one whiney bitch, trying to annoy the youngest Winchester permanently. Though, if it hadn't been for Caleb, he might had been tempted to dump her stupid old car on her.

Anywho.

He was glad it was over and that he could FINALLY get under the shower and in front of the TV. All he had in mind was to relax and may cuddle the living shit out of Sam.

But then again ... may he even felt too tired for that too. Might as well he'd just go to bed ...

Dean sighed and rubbed over his face with both hands, before he rested them on the steering wheel again. He stared at the front door for a long time, whishing that someone'd just come and carry him inside.

His leg and hip were hurting again. Actually everything hurt. But specially his old wounds. The onces which reminded him of why he was no longer a hunter. Those wounds, which reminded him that he had been brought here by his own flesh and blood.

That it had been his father's fault. John's fault. His alone.

His father was the reason why he was living a life like any other civilist.

Well not, exactly like other civilists, but his current lifestyle hit pretty close to home.

He somehow missed the old times, where he'd been saving lives. Where there had been a reason for his pains and aches.

But now?

Now he was a freaking mechanic and not even that properly.

The ex hunter had no clue why he was thinking like that today. May because of old lady Manson.

Maybe because his hip was giving him shit again.

Maybe because all of this was not what he had wanted for his life after all? Maybe a regular job wasn't his thing? Maybe the hunter inside of him yelled at him for blood and gore?

And then again. Where'd he be now if it hadn't been for his father's failed plan?

He might not ever had met Sam.

He might would be dead and six feet under right now ...

Another sigh fell from his lips.

Nope. He wouldn't go there.

He was too freaking tired to start thinking about shit like that. It would probably go down real bad.

Dean gathered all the strength he had left and made himself move. He got out of the car. He climbed up the steps on the porch with much lesser condition than he thought he had left.

Without sparing a thought on something else but the shower and his and Sam's shared bed, he went inside. He didn't look left nor right. Dean went straight for their bedroom.

Not smelling crusty brown, amazingly baked meat. Not seeing the warm light of candles coming from the kitchen. Not hearing the soft music play.

Nor did he see the one person who had made up an evening in the believe to make it a unique one. Dean Winchester didn't see his mate standing in the doorframe of the kitchen, wearing the most pretty dress he had been able to find.

He only muttered an exhausted "Hey, babe." before he vanished behind the bedroom door.

Sam stared after him. His face blank. Arms hanging loosely down his sides.

Dean hadn' even as much as glanced into his direction.

Which – in fact – wasn't something new.

It meant that Dean have had a pretty hard day and high likely wouldn't want anything but to take a shower and crash in front of the TV. High likely with Sam.

~ 67' Chevy Impala ~

The Winchester took a shower. Long and hot and wet. Dean took his time. In fact he wasted all the hot water, for once not thinking about his mate.

All it was that he wanted was his bed. Or the couch. Sam. And a pillow. Hells yeah, a pillow and a blanket. Or Sam as his pillow – and his blanket.

That was all he was currently asking for.

So when the water started to cool down, Dean turned it off and climbled out of the shower. Feeling a bit more fresh and lively, he dressed in his every-day-jeans and a shirt.

When he left the bathroom, his gaze landed on the bed.

There were fresh sheets.

Candles on the nightstands. A package of lighters. Two glasses with water.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the scene before him.

He KNEW he was supposed to know what that meant.

But he couldn't get his brain to work for the hell of it. Not by a long shot.

Had he forgotten something?

Something important?

Nope, he didn't think so ...

Dean Winchester sauntered around the bed, staring at it curiously. Then he made his way back around at his side. Still thinking of what could be going on. Of what he had been missing.

That was, when his olfagory-system finally managed to translate the smell.

"Roastbeef ...", he murmured surprised. "Sam's cookin'.", he added after another moment of thinking aloud. He couldn't go out there without having a clue ...

Hell, he hadn't even spared a look at his mate when he'd came home. Maybe if he had, he'd gotten a hint of what had to be so special tonight.

Dean Winchester shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. "C'mon.", he grumbled to himself, trying to remember what he'd missed.

Though, nothing occured to him besides the smell of food. And more food. Holy hell, was he starving ...

"Fuck it.", he muttered to himself with a deep sigh.

Sure he still felt tired as hell. Though, curiosity was overweighting right now.

... to be continued