A/N: I'm currently posting my friend's story for her and she made me feel guilty so Chapter 11. Hope you enjoy. This one was really hard to write for some reason so please forgive if OOC. PLEASE REVIEW. I've read a lot of fics recently and confirmed I am a crappy writer so I'm sorry I can't tell this story how it deserves to be told.

After Sam had gone to his smart people, complicated, lawyer class thingy (yeah, I didn't know what it was called. I had trouble just remembering the names of my owns classes and I had less than Sam.) I sat on the crappy couch decided to phone Dean to ask about the salt. There had to be a reason for it. Sam couldn't have just woken up one day and been like, hey, I want to pour salt all over the place. Hopefully Dean would know. I was so sick of all the damn secrets. Why couldn't Sam just trust me? I reminded myself that no matter how close me and Sam had gotten, it was really none of my business. I would still phone Dean though. Despite wanting to play the 'find out Sam's past' game fair and square with Sam telling me his history himself, I wasn't above cheating. Probably because of the no patience thing.

"Is Sammy ok?" Dean sounded, well, not tense exactly, I'd describe it more as alert.

I rolled my eyes. "He's fine apart from having a salt issue. Care to shed any light?" I cut straight to the chase while fiddling with the cushion tassels, eager for the response.

To my surprise, Dean was hesitant, wary even. "What salt issue?"

"You know, the one where he creates a line of salt on window sills and along the walls." I was hoping Dean did actually know or I'd be on my own.

"Oh. He… thinks it wards off snails and crap?" Dean sounded notably unsure of his answer. Yeah, I may not have been as smart as Sam but that didn't mean I was stupid. I did still get into Stanford. And I studied psychology.

"Cut the crap, Dean. If that was true he would have just told me that when I asked." I sounded more sharp then I intended. I just wanted a straight answer for once.

"You asked Sammy about the salt?" Dean sounded incredulous. "What did he say?" OK, now Dean sounded way more amused then the situation called for.

"Practically nothing." I told him dejectedly. "Stop changing the subject. What's the real story?" The more they dodged, the more curious I got.

He sighed. "The truth?"

I smiled. "Always."

"Sammy's superstitious."

That was a pause in which I expected him to tell me he was joking. "No way."

"Yes way." There was another pause. "He believes it wards off spirits and demons."

"Why wouldn't he just tell me?" I asked whilst trying to wrap my head around the idea that Sam, the most level headed person I knew, was superstitious.

Dean laughed. "My guess is he is embarrassed about it. I mean, come on, evil spirits?"

"I guess that makes sense." I was slightly disappointed. Did Sam seriously think I would make fun of him? OK, maybe I would but I would be joking and certainly wouldn't think any less of him.

"Jess?" The rare use of my name had me paying full attention. "Is there any chance you could leave the salt? Y'know, for Sam's peace of mind?" He inquired hesitantly and almost, for the first time since I'd spoken to him, nervous.

"No. No way. The gun I can just about understand but the salt…it's just a stupid superstition." This was not up for debate.

"I understand. Salt isn't exactly a practical ornament." He sounded resigned. Thank God. I didn't want to have a repeat of the argument with Sam.

"Thanks Dean." Dean was much more laid back than Sam. Sometimes after a day of stressing about classes with Sam, a conversation with Dean was just what I needed to relax.

"Sorry, sweetheart."

He apology shook me from my thoughts. "What? Why?"

He laughed again. "For having to break the news that your boyfriend is a girl."

I giggled slightly. Dean had helped me put this back into perspective. We had both over reacted. It wasn't that big a deal. "I've suspected as much ever since I saw his pink tooth brush…"

"Didn't the hair tip you off?"

I felt guilty about making fun of Sam when he wasn't here to defend himself but, well, Dean was Sam's brother.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go. Bye, sweetheart." He said suddenly but apologetically before ending the call.

I glared at the phone. He'd hung up on me. Again.

TBC…