I figured you guys might want just a tad bit more stuff 'n fluff before I go back to therapy and healing. Although, I suppose you could call this chapter emotional healing. I don't expect you to think the jokes are funny (although it would be nice if you did), just know that I'm really not a funny person and I can't tell a joke to save my life, so unfortunately that will come out in their own sense of humor as well. I tried to get it as close to the brother's type of antics and humor as I possibly could. Thanks so much for reading. You guys are all awesome!

A quiet peacefulness settled over the car as they made the rest of the journey back to Missouri's house. Dean seemed unrelenting in the gentle massage of his swollen leg, but while he no longer attempted to hide his discomfort, he managed to push past the pain to revel in the emotional healing that was taking place between the brothers. There was still a ways to go before there were laughing and bantering and pulling practical jokes without forcing it or thinking about it, but that time would come soon enough. For now, though, just knowing they were both healing and ready to focus every available effort into the final stages of Dean's therapy was enough. And if one looked close enough, you could see the small smiles tugging at the lips on both faces, unable to break free into a frown any longer.

"We're close," Sam finally announced as he pulled off the highway and into Lawrence. He looked over to Dean, who looked back, smiling.

"Think they missed us?" He asked, referring to Missouri and Bobby who had been left alone in their absence. He wondered just how much of the outside of the house would look different in the day and a half they'd been gone, knowing there was no way Bobby would have done anything less than occupy his time completely. The man had clearly never been totally comfortable in Missouri's presence and Dean often wondered if, like himself, Bobby feared her insistence to poke and prod through his mind as though it were her own personal gold mine.

"I think they missed me," Sam answered, popping his brother lightly on the shoulder as he tested his receptiveness to some lighthearted teasing. "You - I'm not so sure about."

Something sparked in Dean's eyes and he flashed a wry smile at his brother, eager to encourage his brother's attempts. "How could anyone miss my charming personality?"

Sam snorted. "I don't know, Dean. Moody, broody, sullen - it's a winning combination."

"You haven't been all that much better," Dean rebutted. "Mr. 'I carry the weight of the wold on my shoulders whether I had anything to do with it or not.' It's a wonder Missouri hasn't smacked you upside the head with all the crazy thoughts you've been carrying around with you."

"What can I say, bro? I'm a powerful entity - lot's of responsibilities and all..."

They both smiled, glad to finally be able to joke about each other and about the past several weeks. It felt good. Right. Made them feel whole.

The car stopped in front of Missouri's house and for the first time in a long time there was no preparatory breath before climbing from the car, no ominous look shared between the two. Dean merely reached back to the seat behind him and retrieved the crutches before opening the door and hauling himself up. He worked his way to the front door while Sam remained behind to collect their luggage and the prosthesis, but he waited patiently for Sam to join him before entering the house.

Missouri and Bobby appeared from separate corners of the house to greet them, both slightly apprehensive at what might meet them at the front door. But it didn't take psychic powers to assess their moods. They were happy, content, and Missouri beamed when she realized this, racing forward to pull the boys into one giant squeeze.

"Looks like you two might have some good news," Bobby observed less ostentatiously as he moved forward to relieve Sam of some of his load.

Sam nodded, grateful to get rid of the armful. "He left us some money, so there's no problem with Dean's therapy now. Everything is finally falling into place."

"That's wonderful," Missouri crooned, as her eyes traveled to the stack of items Bobby was currently placing at the base of the stairs. She locked in on the carbon prosthesis and her eyes did a combination brightening and darkening at the same time. She hadn't seen the device yet, and it still saddened her to think Dean would always be reliant on it, but she was still encouraged by its presence.

"Dean, baby, is that your new leg? Can you try it on for Bobby and me - show us how well you're doing with it?"

Biting his lip, Dean shook his head. "I'm still sore from this morning," he apologized, angry at himself for being so stubborn and not listening better to the doctor's orders. "I'll show you later, when the swelling goes down."

Immediately, Missouri transformed into nurse mode, pulling Dean to the couch and plopping him onto the cushions. "Let me see," she insisted as Dean began to protest "Have you put any ice on it for the swelling?" She hadn't even seen the damage yet, and already she was forcing her ministrations on him.

Shaking his head 'no,' Dean turned pleading eyes on Sam, but Sam was as curious as Missouri was to see just how bad it was. He wasn't sure if Dean's newfound affinity for the truth came from their most recent heart to heart, or if he was in serious pain, because Dean's normal reaction was to hide his pain with everything he had. So instead of sticking up for the man as Dean had hoped he would, Sam kneeled down beside Missouri and helped her to pull Dean's jeans up above the residual limb.

The stump was red and clearly swollen, and Sam couldn't hold back a moan for his brother as he took in the result of Dean's stubbornness that morning. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" Sam demanded.

Without saying a word, Dean managed to convey his feelings to Sam. Why the hell do you think I didn't say anything to you?

Sam sighed audibly as he slid his hand over his face. "I'll get you more ice."

By the time he returned with a bag of crushed ice and four ibuprofen tablets Missouri and Bobby had already managed somehow to get Dean to turn sideways on the couch and prop his leg up with a couple pillows. Sam forced the pills on his brother, handing him a glass of water to wash them down with, as he rested the ice on top of the most swollen part of Dean's leg.

Dean rolled his eyes at the three people hovering over him. "I'm fiiine. Really," he insisted yet again, drawing out the 'i' in his aggravation. "I just overdid it a bit today."

"Which is exactly what Dr. Jennings warned you against, and what I tried to stop you from doing," Sam rebutted. "Now would you stop being such a baby and just use the damn ice?"

"Fine," Dean growled out. "I'll use the ice. But I'm not sitting here all afternoon. One hour," he insisted, staring his brother down. "One hour with the ice pack and I'm done."

"What, you've got something better to do today?" Sam questioned, his mouth turning up in a half smirk. "You got a date or something?" The question was clearly forced by the time Sam got out the last few words, as though he had started to say it without thinking and then realized he had to carry it out to the end whether he liked it or not. That particular bit of ribbing may have come too soon in this healing process, especially after what Dean had admitted to him earlier in the morning. But in spite of the recent argument over the ice, Sam had come to believe they had made a great deal of progress after their roadside heart to heart and the question just slipped out before he could stop it. He held his breath, waiting to see how Dean would take it.

"It just so happens that I do," Dean hinted cockily. He watched in amusement as Sam's deer caught in the headlights expression quickly changed to one of shocked surprise, giving his brother a moment to contemplate that answer before continuing. For Missouri and Bobby's part, they had managed to remain stubbornly unaffected, unwilling to join in the bantering that the brother's so desperately needed. If he had to place a guess, he'd bet they would be stealthily sneaking from the room in a matter of seconds. "She's got a gorgeous black complexion and, mmm mmm mmm, headlights like you wouldn't believe, and man is she dirty. Gotta give that girl a bath."

It took Sam a few seconds to realize Dean was talking about his car, and when he did he broke into uncontrollable laughter. "I can't believe you actually talk about your car like that," Sam teased.

"And I can't believe you think I would talk about a girl like that," Dean retorted. "Geez, Sam, what the hell kind of nymphomaniac do you think I am?"

"I'm gonna plead the fifth on that one. And I'm also gonna let you rest for a bit. Give me a call when you're ready to wash the car; I'll come join you."

"I don't need your help, Sam," Dean called stubbornly from the couch as Sam approached the doorway.

Sam turned. "I know, Dean. I just want to spend time with you. Like old times." Like the times when you weren't so angry with the world for losing your leg, he didn't add.

Dean nodded his acceptance of that, instinctually realizing the unspoken thoughts in his brother's subconscious. I want that too. "Fine. You can fill the buckets, then. Two buckets, Sam. I'm not rinsing my car with dirty bathwater."

xxxxxxxxxx

When it came to his car, Dean was like a madman; shouting orders, barking commands, and obsessively spotting unwashed spots. As he had promised, Sam had two buckets of steaming water waiting by the car when Dean emerged from the house on his crutches, one soapy, the other clear. He seemed refreshed, and certainly more steady on his feet, from the nap he had agreed to, and he quickly took the hose from Sam's outstretched hand.

"It on?" he questioned, aiming the nozzle at the dusty car.

"Yeah. I just turned it on."

Dean nodded, and aimed, hitting the car with a fast blast of water and then immediately shutting it off, scowling as he did so. "You didn't check the pressure, Sam."

"The what?" Sam shot Dean a questioning look. The hell?

"The water pressure," Dean repeated. "It's too hard. It could scratch the car if you're not careful."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I didn't know it was so complicated to wash a car. I thought you just scrubbed until the job was done."

"You do, if you plan on reapplying a fresh coat of paint every few years." Dean readjusted the pressure and then turned it back on the car, finally spraying happily against the sides. It had been a couple of months since the car had been washed, three days before Dean's accident to be exact, and Dean really didn't like to go more than a week without a proper cleaning. It was long overdue. The caked on mud began to slowly rinse away. It was a cleansing of sorts, getting rid of the dirt and evidence of their trek into the Algonquin woods. Just one more reminder of horrific times being washed down the storm drain into oblivion.

He hobbled around the car, leaning heavily on the crutches as he struggled to keep himself upright against the strain of a taut hose. It was a good ten minutes before Dean felt his pre-rinse was up to par and he turned off the hose, bringing it back off the sidewalk and into the yard. He approached the buckets where Sam stood, waiting somewhat impatiently for a job he could join in on.

"I think you may have missed a spot just under the fender there," Sam teased, in direct reaction to the unnecessary time spent hosing down the car just to wash it with sponges later.

"You just don't appreciate the delicate art of washing a classic beauty, Sammy," Dean tsk'ed dismissively. "I blame myself for your failures in life."

Sam laughed, reaching down and picking up the soapy water bucket. "Where do you want it?"

"By the front tire," Dean gestured as he leaned over to pick from the selection of sponges, choosing a soft one for himself and a stiff brush for Sam. He handed the brush over as he dipped the sponge into the water. "You do the wheels and the rims," he ordered. "And be careful. Just put enough pressure on the chrome to get them clean, don't scratch the metal."

Rolling his eyes again, Sam decided he might just be better off putting them on an automatic rolling cycle for all the times he'd already made the gesture and all the times he figured he would do so in the future. They were only fifteen minutes into the car washing and already he was beginning to question his sanity at offering to help. But it was well worth it to see Dean so happy and to have him back in the big brother driver's seat. So instead of voicing a complaint that he was a 'big boy, and full well knew how to wash a car,' Sam simply crouched in front of the wheel well and got to work.

For Dean, washing the car was a whole new ball game filled with balancing acts and desires for extra hands, but he was determined to make the most of the situation. From the windows up he was good, managing to balance himself against the side of the car as he stretched across the top and the hood and the trunk to reach every last inch. The lower parts were the doozy's because the crutches didn't really allow him to squat or lean over easily and he finally found that the best way to wash the doors and grille was to just give in and sit right down on his butt, scooting inch by inch around the car as he washed. If Sam noticed, he didn't say anything, and Dean was grateful for that. And he was also grateful for Sam's proffered hand at the completion of the scrubbing process, accepting it willingly and allowing his brother to haul him back up.

Grabbing the hose once again, an evil thought snuck into his mind and he somehow managed to suppress the smirk as he turned the hose once again on the car. Feigning action, he complained to Sam as the water failed to squirt from the hose nozzle. "Sam, that's not funny. Turn the water back on."

Sam turned to Dean, mouth open in protest. "It's on, Dean. I didn't turn it off."

"Well there's no water coming out," Dean accused. "You and I are the only two out here, and I sure as hell didn't turn the water off. Just go turn it back on."

"Dean, I–"

"Sam, just go," Dean ordered.

In a huff, Sam stormed off to the water hook-up on the side of the house. He returned seconds later looking perplexed and annoyed. "Dean, the water's on. Try it again."

Once again, Dean aimed the hose at the car, taking care to conceal his hands as he faked pressure on the lever again. "See, it isn't working. There must be a clog in the nozzle or something." He looked into the nozzle himself, squinting to 'see' better inside before handing the hose to his brother. "You look. I can't see anything."

He couldn't believe how easy it was to trick Sam with the water, and Dean bit down hard on his lip as Sam grabbed for the hose and held it up to his face, peering inside as he searched for an obstruction. In one swift motion Dean grabbed for the lever, squeezing his own hands down over Sam's, laughing uproariously as the water squirted forcefully out of the hose, hitting Sam square in the face.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Dean laughed, doubling over on himself. "Oldest trick in the book; and you fell for it."

"Funny, Dean," Sam smirked, wiping the water out of his eyes before turning the hose on Dean, dousing his brother from head to toe with the streaming water.

"Sam, Stop!" Dean ordered, still laughing as he tried to get away from his revenge seeking brother. He turned, hopping away as quickly as he could to escape the spray of water and when that proved not to work he turned back on Sam.

"I said stop!" Dean cried again, grabbing for the hose with one arm, dropping that crutch, as he steadied himself on the other. They struggled, two brother's play fighting and laughing and just plain having fun, until Dean slipped and went down.

Sam's eyes widened in fear as he saw his brother lose his footing, landing hard on his back. He stopped the hose, throwing it to the ground in frantic motions before he realized Dean was still laughing from his spot on the muddy ground.

"Dean, are you alright?" he gasped, beginning to laugh himself. His brother's mood was contagious.

"I'm fine Sam, unless you count my ego being bruised. Damn, that's twice today that I've fallen flat on my ass."

"Getting a bit clumsy in your old age there big brother," Sam teased, reaching out his hand to pull Dean up once again.

Dean glared at Sam in mock anger. "Hey! I'm lot's of thing's, Sammy, but clumsy and old are not two of them. So just watch your mouth."

Sam shrugged. "I call it like I see it."

"Well then you need to get your eyes checked. If you hadn't pushed me–"

"I didn't push you!" Sam denied, incredulous. "You started it with that damn trick with the hose."

"Well if you weren't so naive in the first place you never would have fallen for such an obvious trick."

Ready to shoot back with another retort, Sam stopped mouth halfway open when he realized this could go on forever if someone didn't put a stop to it. And clearly it would have to be the adult in the equation. He held up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, I give," he said with a twinkle of happiness in his eyes. "Clearly this whole situation is my fault. I obviously made you fall both times. And surely, if I hadn't fallen for your trick I would never have gotten sprayed in the face with the hose. And it's just good to see you feeling better."

Dean beamed, brushing over the bit of sentiment Sam managed to sneak in there to revel in his victory. "See? What'd I tell you, Sammy. Big brother is always right."

"Yup, always," Sam replied sarcastically, throwing in another eye roll for good measure as he bent to retrieve the hose. The car desperately needed to be rinsed off before the soapy water dried onto it and they had to wash the car all over again. "And since you're so wise and intelligent, oh great one, of course you know that it's Sam...not Sammy."

"Huh? What's that Sammy?" Dean asked, cupping his hand around his ear as he insinuated he hadn't heard Sam's proclamation. "The water's too loud, I couldn't hear you."

Sam just shook his head. Dean would always be Dean. And it was good to know that his brother was still there.