Dean Winchester stared at the mini zen garden decor that Summer had taken from the shelf and placed infront of him. It was late. After they got back being patched up in the hospital, explaining the situation to Dr. Washburne and grabbing dinner, all Sam wanted to do was go to sleep. He didn't blame his brother. He was tired too.

In fact, he was so sure that the Dr. Summer McKenzie was equally down for the count until she said, "I'm going to show you something," when Sam disappeared upstairs.

So he had stayed, sitting by her dinner table, waiting for what she had to show-- a plate with a mini rake, white sand, a few black stones and a reed standing on one corner. "Om?" he said, confused.

The girl placed two glasses on the table and poured them a little whiskey from an almost empty decanter before taking her seat across him. "Pan's pipe had seven reeds. Five were destroyed with their owners during the Inquisition. One was the Pied Piper's Pipe and..." she lifted her glass and toasted to the mini zen garden.

"That's the seventh pipe?" Dean gaped in disbelief.

"We found it in Crete," she confirmed, with a tired smile.

"Shouldn't that be in a safe or something?"

"I've been taught to hide things in plain sight. Robbers go for the safe not living room decor."

"So?"

"So you can have it," she replied simply, leaning back on her chair.

"Say what?!" Dean leaned forward shooting the girl a surprised look. "What the hell am I going to do with that?"

"Whatever you want," she shrugged. "The titans would've invaded Olympus if it weren't for Pan playing music that caused them to panic. That made them easy pickings for the Olympians. The ones burned at the stake used it to control living things. Pied Piper used the pipe for rats and kids and parties, Paul Leslie used it on everybody..." she recounted.

"And?"

"And it was made by a god. It will work on every being under creation. Animals, children, adults, vampires, shape shifters, demi- gods, ..." she trailed on.

"Angels, demons and the devil himself?"

"It's a weapon."

"And the only guide is the Golden Rule," he mused.

"That's the only catch," she sighed. "I've never used it. I've never had to nor do I ever intend to. But then, I'm not the one warding off the apocalypse." she confessed, taking a sip of whiskey, "I'm not saying to use it to confound anything that picks on you because that's your decision to make. I'm just saying that if you want it, you can have it."

Dean eyed the reed then the girl across him curiously. Summer was beat up, tired and hurt yet she sat across him, an easy smile on her face and a glass of whiskey in her hand-- like she had ended up like this so many times before. Behind her, her living room shelves were filled with adventures a nomadic childhood. There were probably lores of creatures there they've never even heard of. But she sat there all the same, no judgment in her calm blue eyes. She's probably seen stranger things happen and probably some of the worst humanity had to offer. But she was still... nice. Not angry like Sam and definitely nothing like himself. "So you're Bobby's goddaughter, huh?" His curiosity finally bested him.

"That's me," she replied.

"So what happened? Bobby's not the type to kick strays to the curb," he asked.

"It's a long story." Summer smirked. "What happened to you? Uncle Bob's not the type to let people cross the line if he can still shoot you," she shrugged,

"Oh, look at the feist in you," Dean grinned, "I'll tell if you tell," he challenged.

She laughed and stood from her seat, "Lucky I have another bottle in the kitchen."

-- --- --

Sam looked out the Impala's window watching the green scenery of Washington state turn into a blur. He had to admit he would rather spend a few more days in the relative safety of Summer's house as their wounds heal but there was disturbing signs popping up all over the country. Whether it was apocalypse related, they weren't sure. It didn't matter. They had to check it out anyway. That's just the way they were.

He heard Dean chuckle at nothing in particular, a small smile playing on his face. Curiosity got the better of Sam when his brother snorted. They had seen nothing but trees, mountains and concrete for miles. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"She was named after a Sinatra song," Dean answered, grinning. "Good thing she never went to school. She would've been picked on from sun up til sun down."

Sam was now utterly fascinated. He saw the half empty bottle of whiskey on the dining table when he came down for breakfast and figured the two had some time to themselves. But Dean was fast asleep when on the twin bed beside his when he left the room. Summer was down a few minutes after him with an empty bottle of Gatorade in her hand. They had talked while breakfast was cooking. However, he suspected his brother had the more in depth conversation. It amused him to say the least-- Dean after all, wasn't the kind to write his life story on paper. "Well, look who had a heart to heart with Summer," he teased.

"It's not like that," Dean stated suddenly on the defensive, "Get your mind of the gutter, Sammy."

"Right, because she's Bobby's goddaughter," Sam continued unconvinced. "You hit on Jo," he pointed out, silently adding a prayer for the young girl's soul.

"She reminds me a bit of someone, alright?" Dean replied.

"Really?" Sam shrugged, mentally going through his brother's old girlfriends and numerous one night stands that he knew about. "She doesn't really seem like the type you like. She kinda reminds me of Bobby though," he offered, crinkling his nose at the idea of a female Bobby with a shotgun.

He saw his brother give him a sideways glance. "She reminds me a bit of you, chuckles," he finally said. "Trying to do the right thing, absolutely convinced that there's a better way to go about things, thinking twice before hurting a fly--- a walking encyclopedia of freak," he enumerated. "That was you. After Stanford."

Sam paused for a second, thinking about what he had just said "Things change," was all he could say.

"Awwww, so sad. Poor little Sammy," Dean shot back with a tell tale smirk. "Cry me a river."

Sam rolled his eyes and resumed looking out the window with a small smile. Somethings did change but some just don't. Riding shotgun in the Impala while his brother drove down blacktop was sort of comforting that way. This is what they've always done together.

And whatever happens or until something better comes along, he plans to keep it this way.