Hello again! Sorry about the long wait between updates, real life, other stories, and writer's block all got in the way, but now we're back. Thanks to Paleogirl47, imtheonewhofeelinglost, Ninja Violinist, Kathy, and Kay Baker for your reviews! Important A/N at end of story, so keep a look out!

I still don't own Supernatural.

James was tired. He'd had a lot of late nights recently, it was to be expected with his schedule, but this was getting ridiculous. For the third time that week, he was stuck working the graveyard shift at the bowling alley. It wasn't like he didn't understand, low guy on the totem pole new hire got the worst shifts, but he was also a college student, and he needed his sleep. But he also needed the extra cash to help pay for his student loans, which were already stacking up and he wasn't even done with his junior year yet.

Whatever, he would manage. He ran a hand down his face and surveyed the bowling alley. There was an older gentleman, a regular even at these times of night, on an end lane, but that was it. His pin strikes were the only noises in the whole building aside from the slight hum of the air conditioner. Nights in May in Arizona weren't known for being cool, even past midnight.

James checked the clock again. He still had almost two hours until the alley closed, for whatever reason. He knew it was because the owner figured people would stumble in from the nearby bar after drinking, but it honestly didn't happen often. Staying open until two in the morning, even with a discounted price, just wasn't worth it. Of course, he didn't bring up his opinion, as he still needed the job. With a sigh, he looked back down at his textbook and tried to force his bleary, sleep deprived mind to make sense of the statistics word problems in front of him.

"Hey, kid," a gruff voice said. How long had he been staring at the book? Or dozing off, apparently, because the time was now closer to twelve thirty and the older gentleman was gone, having left his shoes on the counter with a few extra bucks under them.

James looked up, finding not one but two men, giant men at that, standing by the counter.

"Sorry," he apologized, and closed the book. Why they wanted to bowl this late, he had no idea, but they were customers, so no questions asked.

"No problem. Though you may want a quieter place to study," the taller one brought up with a bit of an understanding smile.

"You're telling me," James replied, and nodded in agreement. "You guys here to bowl?"

The shorter, though still tall, man nodded. "That's what the sign says, right? Throw some balls, hit some pins, screw sleep," he looked back to the other man, who looked about done with the comments.

"One game or two?" James asked.

"One-"

"Two-" the shorter quickly corrected.

"Dean, come on, it's late."

"Awh what, Sammy, you got a bed time?" the short one, Dean, said, and cast a glance over his shoulder. "First is a warm up before I kick your ass with my record score."

"Sure, whatever," Sammy replied with a bit of an eye roll, but a smile all the same.

Just by their conversation, James could guess they were close friends, maybe brothers. "Shoe size?"

"You got anything that fits a sasquatch?" Dean asked, amused, which Sammy and James both weren't. Upon seeing this, Dean made a face and sighed. "Eleven and a…twelve then." There was a bit of something in his tone that suggested maybe he was trying too hard, but again, paying customer, so James didn't ask.

James grabbed the appropriate shoes (he never would be able to get the smell of the aerosol spray out of his nose) and punched in the two games and shoe rentals onto the computer. "Ten bucks even," he read off the amount.

"See? Discounted post midnight bowling is worth it," Dean said and nudged Sammy before he handed off the bill. Apparently, Dean was trying to get his friend, brother, whatever, on board with his idea.

"We'll see," Sammy shrugged. He took the shoes and waited for Dean to get the receipt.

"You're on lane three, have fun," James said, picking a random lane a few over from the desk but still within eyesight and earshot, and handed the tall man the little slip of paper.

Dean rapped his knuckles on the desk and smirked back. "Oh, hey, Sammy, you need bumpers?" Sammy rolled his eyes and went down to lane three, Dean taking a few longer steps to keep up with him.

James watched for a few seconds until they got settled before he picked his book back up again. They had tons of oddballs come in after midnight. He really just wanted to study and sleep, but if neither of those could happen, maybe at the very least it would be entertaining.

For most of the first game, it did indeed appear to be a practice round. Aside from a few muttered curses, excuses, or seldom shouts of triumph, the men were quiet as they threw their balls down the lane. By one in the morning, they had apparently finished their first game and were on to the second. And yeah, James knew this because he found that watching them instead of his textbook was both more entertaining and was keeping him awake.

Dean had been throwing first, following a game of rock paper scissors, and that continued. The first few throws on both their parts went by fairly normally, seven, eight pins with an occasional spare. However, when Dean got his first strike on the fourth throw, he threw his hands up in victory.

"Yahtzee! It's in the hole!" he shouted, apparently not caring who heard him. The grin that spread on his face was matched with an eye roll and a smirk from Sam, who got up after Dean clapped him on the back. "Match that," he challenged.

"You sure you want me to, Dean? I'm up by four," Sam pointed out. He was right. In both games, Sam had been ahead, but not by much. While he got a spare on the next throw and was still ahead, James expected it to change.

"It was a lucky extra point."

"It was a split and one pin hit the other one, that's calculated-"

"Lucky," Dean said with a shake of his head and readied his ball to throw again. Nine, and missed the last pin on the second throw. "Stupidfrigginball," he muttered as he went to sit back down.

"Oh what, not lucky?" Sam shot back and got up, obviously pleased with the turn of events.

They were definitely brothers. Anyone that couldn't see that would have been blind. James and his older brother had the same rapport when they were younger, before his older brother escaped off to college. He still called…sometimes, but it wasn't the same.

James turned back after Sam threw, knocking down seven pins. Dean let out a low whistle at that. "Gotta do better than that, Sammy."

Sammy, seeming to take it as a personal challenge, threw the ball a bit harder. Instead of knocking the pins over, the ball careened into the gutter and Sam grasped at one his sides as if the action had hurt him.

James leaned up against the desk, trying to see if anything was seriously wrong, but Dean beat him to it. He was over by his brother's side in an instant, checking him over. The words were too quiet to hear, but eventually Sam sat back down and Dean took the ball, casting him just one more glance before he took his next shot.

For the next four rounds, they were either tied or up a point or two. At the end of the ninth, Dean was up by two and apparently very pleased with it, though the game had been going a bit quicker and more serious since whatever had happened with Sam.

He hit another nine and lined up the last one, taking a few extra seconds before he threw…and missed. Dean muttered a curse but shrugged it off, since he was up by eleven and Sam would need a spare or a strike to win.

Man, James really needed a life outside the alley.

"It's the final countdown, Sam, hope you've got your pins in a row."

"Damn right I do," Sam countered. He had been taking more time with his swings, and this one was no different. He threw, hitting eight, and threw again for a spare.

The look on Dean's face, openmouthed 'did that really happen?' made James laugh to himself. Sam threw his last ball and knocked over a few more, it didn't matter how many, and came out on top. When he made his triumphant return to the little table, Dean granted him a high five and asked if he was a cheater, to which Sam rolled his eyes again and laughed, though the look on his face afterwards said it pained him.

They returned to the counter a few minutes later, in which James had been intently studying his book. They probably hadn't noticed he'd been watching, they'd been too tied up in their game. When they set down their shoes, he looked up and smiled a bit at them.

"Have a nice night," he said, as it was the customary send-off, even past one in the morning.

"Yeah, yeah, a car ride with this gloater," Dean jerked a finger towards Sam, "nothing nice about that." He was obviously joking, and Sam shook his head at that, but didn't say much. If it was possible, they both looked a bit…lighter and happier than when they came in, which was what James supposed to be the purpose of the alley in the first place. They then turned around from the counter, speaking quietly to themselves, opened the doors, and then they were gone.

There was no way in hell James was getting any more studying done after that. He may have been bone tired, but at least there was a story to tell the guys when he came back to work the next day. The tale of the two giant men versus the bowling pins. Yeah, James definitely needed some sleep.

Half an hour later, the lights in the bowling alley shut off, the door was locked, and James headed home, never knowing what happened to the brothers after that.

Hopefully you guys enjoyed. Now for the A/N. This was my first shot at an outsider perspective, so please please let me know if it worked out okay. On the other hand, I DO have an idea to write this from the Winchester's perspective like normal for another chapter, maybe with a bit more angst and background about why they're a bit sad and banged up. What I need to know: would anyone want to read it? Again, let me know!

REMINDER: Happy prompts are always needed and welcome via PMs or reviews!