The small apartment smelt of coffee and cigarettes. The silence of the morning was cut only by the sound of the traffic coming from outside and the high-pitched ringing of the phone. Dean Winchester sat by the bed, leaning on the hard wooden edge of it, ignoring the phone for now. He shifted slightly, yanking the blanket better around himself. He lazily ruffled the pages of old thick book. He ran his other hand briefly through his sleep mussed hair and focusing better on the tiny text on yellow pages.

On his other knee rested notebook where he scribbled most important things up. He looked slightly pale, but maybe it was just because he hadn't done nothing put eaten pie, smoked and drinked at least potful of coffee since he had woken up a few hours ago. He murmured quietly as he wrote, leaning his head on his free hand, eyes travelling on the lines.

A man, taller than Dean, was laying on the bed on his stomach, other blanket covering some of his back and his rear. He hung his other hand over the edge of the bed, a small change in breathing signaling that he was waking up already. Dean's eyes never left the book.

He straightened up little and searched for the last piece of the pie with his hand. Ashtray, coffee mug, plate. He grasped the cold piece and took a big chunk out of it, mouth full as man on the bed grunted and shifted little to reach for the phone which was on the floor, much closer to Dean than what it was to this fling.

Man, still little out of it shifted little, turning his head to look at Dean. "Hey... Phone", he muttered, giving Dean a weak nudge on the shoulder. Dean said nothing back but put the pen down and did the same with the phone than what he had done with the pie and groped around the floor to find the phone.

He glanced at the clock, ending up cursing before he lifted the phone on his ear.

"Yeah?" He shrugged the blanket off from his shoulders and got up, pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder. "'course. I'm on my way", he continued on the phone, grasping black, wrinkled suit pants from his dresser and clumsily, nearly tripping over pulled them over his briefs. He glanced at the man on the bed, then back on the clock.

"I know. Calm down, I know, I know", he assured the one on the other side of the line before cut the call and tossed the phone on the bed. He grasped white t-shirt from the dresser and yanked it over his tattooed chest.

He continued, searching for a button-up, finding one which turned out to be reaonably clean. He buttoned it up. He found the suit jacket. For his misfortune he found it to be stained.

Moving to sink of the kitchen he scrubbed the mysterious stain, probably sauce or something, from the shoulder, wondering how it had ever ended up there with the heel of his palm.

As he got it somehow dried, he yanked it on and rushed out of the door, leaving the brunette man in the bedroom, for his roommate to deal with.


Sun was already high and dazzling his eyes when got out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Tucking his keys on his pocket he walked past the rows of tombstones on the small path created between them. Lots of the flowers had died, apparently land keeper had turned to lazy one and relatives had stopped caring. Dean frowned slightly at the sight but kept walking, approaching the small cluster of people standing before one tombstone.

Mary Winchester, the fair beauty, had the wrinkles of burden on the corner of her eyes. She tugged slightly on the hem of her flower patterned skirt, keeping the forced smile on her lips. Mary never wanted to show sad face to her children or friends. But Dean could easily tell she had been crying; her eyes were still nearly burning red.

"Hey mom, how are you?" Dean said quietly, voice gentle and sweet, comforting. Mary turned to look at his oldest son, lifting her long fingered hand to stroke over Dean's arm. "I'm fine... You look good, Dean", she said softly, quietly, that faint tone of wavering in her voice. Dean leaned in and kissed his mother's cheek before moving to Bobby.

Dean's godfather greeted him with a small nod and pat on the back. Dean gave Bobby a grin before turned to look at the most important one.

Sam stood quietly on the edge of the row of people, hands tucked in pockets and eyes set down on the gravestone. Each and every time Dean saw Sam, he was honestly and utterly surprised how much the kid had grown again. Sam's weight was dragging back little, and six and a half feet tall boy was thin as a broomstick. Dean smiled little to himself before Sam suddenly turned, flashing him a look.

Dean moved to him, settling by his side. Amazed still how he had to look up at him these days. "Thanks for gathering everyone up", he whispered to his little brother. Sam just bitchfaced at him and turned to look away, nose wrinkled.

"You smell of whiskey, cigarettes and something I don't even want to name", he muttered, making Dean laugh out nearly so loud that he received a punch from Sam.

Otherwise it was dead silence by the gravestone. Mary stepped quietly forward and let her hand brush over the cold stone, her self-control being in a test again.

John Winchester stood quietly feet or two away from others, eyes set on the stone. His jaws were clenched together, muscle jumping on his cheek. His eyes seemed pretty much emotionless at the point.

As John shifted slightly closer to Dean, Dean's eyes shot on his father. He quickly observed him through, seeing small streaks of grey in his hair and beard. John didn't even look at Dean.

"You just can't come in time, can't you?" he murmured to his son. Dean bit on his lip slightly. So his father's attitude would never change.

"Had problems with car", he replied shortly. John muttered something about the piece of junk and rust before adding "Who even owns a car in New York anyways."

Dean didn't reply to that.


It was maybe twenty minutes later when the group aws sitting in the booth in the small restaurant where John had booked a table for them. Dean sat on the end of the bench, rolling the lighter on his hand, dropping it few times on the table. Sam had found a ballpoint pen hidden in his pocket and was currently sitting in slightly hunched position across from Dean, sketching on the napkin.

Mary observed the menu closely, clearly trying to hide how nervous family meetings like these made her. Bobby sat by the window, trucker cap on his lap, his eyes tightly away from the window. Bobby never spoke too much when John was around. Their relation had broken many years before and now they couldn't even be concidered as nodding acquaintances.

"This... This is nice. I think it's nice that we still do this, after all the years", Mary started, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen upon them. Sam immediately noticed the stretched tone in his mother's voice and a small frown was drawn on his face. He lifted his eyes from his sketch and looked at Mary, saying "mom" gently as he did.

Mary gave his son a slight smile. "I'm sorry. I just think that Michael would like that we still do this. Dean's face took a slightly more neutral look to hide all the twisting in his guts as his older brother was the subject of the conversation. Quietly he reached for his pocket and pulled out the pack of smokes, slipping one between his lips.

He barely had the time to light it up and took a one long drag before his mother snatched the smoke and snubbed it out in a wine glass, giving him this 'have some manners' like glance before she turned to look at Sam.

"Come on, Sam. Tell Dean what you told me", she said, encouraging smile spreading on her lips. Sam had gotten into drawing again and startled as his mother addressed him, looking completely bemused as he lifted his head, looking between Dean and Mary for a while.

Sam opened his mouth and drew in a breath. A small smile replaced the dazzled look. "She's very impressed about my latest work... Potrait with charcoal", he started, putting the pen down on the table as he straightened his back. His eyes visited on the stub of the cigarette on the glass before he looked at Dean. "And I have good chances for getting a scholarship for college if I keep going like this." He grinned widely, small flush of sheepishness on his cheeks and the tip of his ears that showed from under the hair.

Dean moved his leg to nudge it against Sam's under the table and he lifted his hand, giving him thumbs up. "That's my boy", he said softly, proud smile on his lips. He leaned forward slightly and leaned on his hands as waiter came to bring their brunch. Cheesecake for Bobby, small salad for Sam, mom had only tea, John went with toast and Dean decided to have nothing this time.

"Scholarship, eh?" Dean said after a short while, smile still on his lips despite the heavy atmosphere that had hung above them for hours now. Sam nodded, eating slowly his chicken salad and taking time by times sips from his water. Dean wanted to make fun of him eating his rabbit food again, but he kept his mouth shut.

"I'm thinking of going to law school after this", Sam said, surprising Dean completely. "Law school? Pretty ambitious... I count on you kid, when I fuck up then", he said and grinned, receiving deprecatory glance from his father. He just completely ignored it.

Mary cleared her throat and put down her cup of tea. One sugar and little lemon, Dean recalled.

"His teacher suggested your brother to take part of the exhibition his school organizes... And that's a huge honor. Could easily boost up his points when applying for next school." Mary smiled, clearly proud of her youngest son. Dean found himself wondering how such a good human being as Sam was the result of his good mother and evil father pairing up. He shook his head slightly to shake the thought away.

Sam looked at Dean, searching for reaction, small, still so sheepish smile on his lips. Dean said nothing but lifted his hand and grinned, highfiving Sam so hard his palm was left sore. Mary glanced at John, waiting for him to say something.

"Yeah, I'd be probably the youngest one to be ever granted with scholarship at this po-..."

"Dean, would you pass the salt?" John interrupted, flicking his hand on his son's direction, not lifting his gaze a bit. Mary frowned, the outcome of her urging his husband to speak out. "John, Sam was speaking", she said, not getting any sort of reaction out of John.

Dean straightened his back and turned to look over at his father who was sitting at the other end of the seat from him. He slammed his hand on the table. "Let him talk!" he started, staring at his father. "You can't just talk over him like that."

Mary lifted her hand and touched Sam's shoulder briefly, making younger of the brothers shake it off. He was alright. Bobby furrowed his brows, but knew Dean would be able to handle John.

"Sam is perfectly capable of speaking up if he feels like I'm talking over him. Sam, isn't that right?" he asked, man's eyes cold. God, how could someone look at his own son like that?

Dean clenched his jaws when Sam muttered that he was alright. Bullshit. John ignored Dean.

"I'm sorry, Sam", John said, sounding little forced. "For changing the subject. Please, keep going", he said, but Dean interrupted him this time. "What was the subject, dad?" he asked, still turned towards him.

John turned to look at him, brows arched in surprised glance. "Excuse me?" he asked. Dean shifted. John wouldn't slither out of this now.

"What was the subject we were talking about, dad? Not financials, I'm sure", Dean said back, so irritated that he sounded nearly amused. John narrowed his eyes at his son. "Now is not time to be hero with a cape, Dean", he said, voice clearly tensed. Dean just shook his head and shifted closer. "Now it's a perfect time."

John said nothing, just curled his finger under the collar of his button-up and adjusted it, eyes set away from Dean. Dean stared at him before grunted and leaned over the table to Sam's direction.

"You need a lift? I got Baby parked outside", he said quietly. Sam shook his head, eyes still down on his salad which he hadn't been touching since the argument had started. Dean sighed and got up, pecking a kiss on his little brother's head. Sam, nearly an adult already, didn't complain about the small shows of affection that Dean was giving to him.

"See you after school, then", he said and brushed his hand through Sam's thick, messy hair before heading out in the warm sunlight of the end of the Spring.