A quick inquiry at the motel office directed the elder Winchester to a little bakery about a mile down from the Silver Pines Motel. Considering the size of the Village of Pine Lake and the fact that it looked like it had seen better days, Dean was surprised to see this modern and pleasant little shop. The instant he entered the Sweet Tooth Bakery, Dean's mouth began to water. The combined aromas of rich coffee and buttery pastries nearly brought him to his knees. His stomach growled uncontrollably.

"Good morning, young man. May I help you?" inquired the fifty-ish looking woman behind the counter. Her eyes held a merry twinkle and her sunny smile was infectious.

Dean couldn't help but smile back.

"Um . . . yeah . . . uh, I know I want two large coffees—one black and one with cream and sugar. Not sure what else." He covetously eyed the confections displayed behind the glass.

"We have a lot to choose from. Do you have a favorite or would you like to try something new?"

A long-forgotten memory flooded through Dean's mind. It was a happy one of his mother cooking—cooking something extra special for him and Dad on Saturday mornings. A wistful expression crossed his face.

"Do you have . . ." Dean stopped for a moment and swallowed.

Mattie Sullivan eyed the young man across the counter. For a fleeting moment, the expression on his face looked to be that of a hopeful five-year-old.

"Do you have Lemonade Muffins? My . . . my mom used to make something she called Lemonade Muffins."

"Well, I don't have any with that exact name. But I have Lemon Streusel Muffins that I took out of the oven not five minutes ago. Would you like one of those?"

Dean nodded. "Two. My brother's back at the motel."

"Anything else?"

Dean looked longingly at the other baked goods but shook his head no.

"No . . . ma'am. Unfortunately, cash is a little tight at the moment." Dean's stomach growled, loudly, in protest of his words. He ducked his head and muttered, "Sorry about that."

Mattie smiled and said, "No need to fret." As she spoke, she again assessed the handsome young man in front of her. He had an oddly gaunt look about him despite his size and dark circles under his eyes. In truth, though he appeared to be good at hiding it, he looked done in. Instinct and intuition told her that underneath it all, he was a good man. And her husband, Daniel, always told her she was an excellent judge of character.

"Tell you what, I'll throw in a couple of extras for you—no charge. Let's see, how about some Peach Praline Muffins and Dark Cherry-Cheese Danish? That oughta tame that growl of yours."

Dean instinctively started to protest, but Mattie would have none of it. A few minutes later he was on his way out the door with two super-sized cups of coffee and a white paper bag that he carried as if it held a sacred treasure.

The lemon muffins never made it back to the motel.

(SN) (SN) (SN)

Sam looked up from his laptop when he heard his brother come through their motel room door. Dean hadn't been gone long enough for Sam to be completely over his irritation about the shower, and he scowled at his brother.

"Dude, that was so not cool. Next time I leave you with nothing but cold water."

Dean had the grace to look a bit sheepish. "Hey, I didn't do it on purpose. I just needed a little more help getting going this morning."

Something in Dean's tone was off. Sam eyed his brother. "Hey, if it was because of my dream and me waking you up . . ."

"It wasn't," Dean answered, feeling the sting of the scratches hidden from Sam's view.

His words and tone were firm but just shy of convincing and Sam was left wondering.

"Here, I brought a peace offering. Coffee—" Dean held up one of the cups, "and the best damn tasting things we've had in a long time." He reverently placed the white bag down on the table in front of Sam. The coffee cup landed a second later.

"Things?" the younger man raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah—you know—muffins, pastries—those things."

Sam reached into the bag and pulled out the four items inside. He had to admit, the breakfast baked goods looked better than many of their recent meals. With a sigh, he happily took a giant bite out of one of the cherry-and-cheese filled Danish.

"Aren't you going to have any?" he mumbled around the food in his mouth.

Dean took a long draw on his coffee before answering, "Nah, I've already had two."

"Really?" Sam eyed the food in front of him, "Why did—or make that how did—you get so much?"

His brother shrugged. "The woman behind the counter liked me, I guess."

"Let me guess—blonde bombshell in a mini-skirt who fell for your so-called charm," teased Sam.

"Nope, more like 50 and in a sweat suit. Now shut up and eat, I wanna get to the lake. In fact, grab what you want and let's go."

Holding the half-eaten pastry in his teeth, Sam stuffed the remaining food back in the sack, shut his laptop, grabbed his coffee, and followed Dean out of the room.

Sometimes peace offerings were worth a little irritation.

(SN) (SN) (SN)

TBC . . .

I apologize that not much excitement happened in this chapter. I promise—more exciting chapters are on their way!

Hope I'm not boring everyone too much.