Chapter 4
Dean felt the sun beating down on his back and smelled the dust in the air. He felt perfectly content. His baby was finally getting the attention she deserved. Amazing the difference a fresh set of spark plugs could make. Dean wanted to change the oil this morning as well, but he really did not see himself crawling on the ground on his back to drain the oil. Not with the way his ribs felt. He wondered if he could guilt Sam into doing it.
"Dean!"
Well, speak of the devil…
"Hey, Dean! Think you can look for some of these parts later today?" Sam asked as he crossed the yard to the Impala. He held a yellow page in his hand. "I figured since Bobby left this morning, we could get a jump on some of his back-orders."
Dean took the paper from his brother and frowned at it. Sam did like those stupid yellow legal pads. "All of these? Sammy, there must be thirty things on here."
"I said some, Dean, not all," Sam huffed. His brother pulled in a deep breath. "Dean? I just got off the phone with George."
Dean rolled his eyes. "George? How the hell did you get George's number?"
Sam held up a cell phone. "I used your phone. You forgot to put it in your pocket this morning." He held it out.
Dean left the damn phone upstairs on purpose. He did not want anything to ruin his few precious days off, and that included getting checked out. "And?" he demanded, stuffing the phone in his pocket and feeling justifiably irritated.
Sam glared as his voice took on the commanding tone that Dean heard entirely too much lately. "AND George said he'd like you to come in about ten, so we should get going."
Dean groaned. "Come on, Sam. There's nothing they can do for busted ribs anyway."
Sam pulled out the bottle of little white pills and shook it in Dean's face. "You'll be out of these by tomorrow, Dean. There's no reason for you to put up with the pain, so let's go."
"I want to change the oil, Sam." This might be his only chance to get Sam to agree to it.
"So?" Sam shrugged. "Change it."
"I have to get under the car to drain all the oil out." Dean waited a moment. Sam shrugged again. He sighed. "That means I'd have to lay down on the ground and crawl under the car on my back." He mimed scooting on his back, using his elbows.
Sam's eyes widened. "Oh." His brother's eyes darted between him and the car. "I don't think you should be doing that."
"No kidding." Dean rolled his eyes. "So? You going to help me out on that or not?"
Sam grimaced. "Is that the only way I'm going to get you to see George?"
"No." Dean smiled smugly. "I'd love to meet him for a beer."
"Fine." Sam sighed, lifting his eyes to the heavens. Like there would be any help coming from that direction. "After we get back. You ready?"
Dean wiped his hands off on a shop rag. "Ready."
Sam sighed again. Oh, now what? "Dean, at least go wash your hands first."
"Dude," Dean shot a glare at his brother, "you're the one in a hurry."
He headed toward the house when Sam's voice stopped him "Dean? You, uh, haven't seen my toothbrush, have you?"
Dean turned slowly. Yes, Sam looked serious. "Your toothbrush?"
"Yeah. It, uh," Sam paused, looking guilty. "It isn't where I left it."
"No, Sam. I have not seen your toothbrush." Dean turned away, suppressing another sigh or a groan, whatever was trying to crawl up his throat.
"Well," Sam followed him back to the house, "it's just that I can't find it. I know I left it in the bathroom."
"I didn't touch it, Sam," Dean protested as he headed for Bobby's kitchen sink. Fortunately Bobby kept really good hand cleaner in the kitchen.
"I'm not saying you did, I'm just saying it isn't where I left it. I had to brush my teeth this morning with my finger." Sam's voice pounded at him from behind. This was a typical Sam-tactic.
"Whatever," he grumbled under the cover of the water in the sink.
"What, Dean?"
"Nothing." Dean shut off the water, drying his hands with one of Bobby's kitchen towels. "Nothing."
"Ready?" Sam started to sound irritated, like his hands should have been perfectly clean after changing the spark plugs.
Dean rolled his eyes again, heading for the car without saying anything more. If Sam heard how irritated he was at this moment Sam would be annoyed or just plain mad. Silence was safer. He carefully slid in behind the wheel of his car, trying not to jostle his ribs too much. Since Sam already knew, he did not have to pretend everything was fine and normal. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, watching every twinge that crossed his face.
As they pulled out of the salvage yard, Sam opened the glove compartment. "Dean? Do you think George will let us use one of the insurance cards? How good of a friend is he?"
"Don't worry about it, Sam. I think we have a credit with the hospital these days." Dean waved it off. The truth was that there had been a nice sum of money left over after paying all their bills from last time. Bobby stuck it in an account for them if they ever needed it for hospital bills or recuperation at his place again.
"Dean." Sam's voice took on an accusing tone. "What is this?"
Dean glanced over. Sam held up a familiar looking toothbrush. "What the hell was that doing in there?"
"That's what I was going to ask you, Dean. We aren't starting up that practical joke crap again, are we?" Sam glared at him.
"Hey, I did not put that there," Dean stated.
"Just…" Sam sighed, staring at the toothbrush in his hand. "Just knock it off, okay?"
"Sam. I didn't do it," Dean insisted.
"Then who did, Dean?" Sam demanded. "You trying to tell me someone broke into Bobby's, stole my toothbrush and hid it in your car?"
"No." Dean could not push the irritation out of his voice. "Maybe you put it there."
A loud Sammy huff filled the car. "Why the hell would I put my toothbrush in the glove compartment?"
"How should I know, Sam?" Dean snapped, not even bothering to suppress his irritation.
"Fine." Sam threw his toothbrush back in and slammed the door on the glove compartment shut.
"Watch it," he growled. He really did not want to fix that damn little door again. It was a bitch to get to work again after the wreck.
Sam looked away, refusing to make eye contact. Great. Perfect. That was just typical of his life these days. Dean sighed heavily, trying to concentrate on the road so he would not have to think about his brother.
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Dean's sigh pierced right through him, leaving guilt in its wake. Sam could not shake it off. Dean really sounded sincere, and why was he so worked up about a stupid toothbrush anyway? It's not like he couldn't go buy another one. Actually, looking at those splayed bristles, Sam figured he was probably past due for a new one. Maybe Dean hid it as a hint that he should go buy a new toothbrush?
Sam turned to the window so he could breathe into his hand without Dean seeing. He sniffed his hand, trying to determine if he had bad breath from using a toothbrush past its lifespan. If his breath did smell, it couldn't be that bad. Sam wiped his hand off on his sleeve. He noticed Dean eyeing him, so he pretended something out the window caught his eye.
What was it going to take to get Dean acting like Dean again? Sam really did not get it. When Dean started holding back, deferring to Sam on the decisions, he thought it was guilt. After all, no one could best Dean when it came to carrying around guilt. He suspected Dean even felt guilty over their mom's death, even though there was nothing a four year old could have possibly done.
He tried to think back to when this new behavior of Dean's began. It was difficult to pinpoint, this had been a really crappy year. Okay, right after Dad died Dean was erratic, but still did the take-charge thing. Sure, he gave in to what Sam wanted, to a point. Finding that zombie chick proved that. Dean refused to back down on that hunt, to the point of driving a wedge between them. Wait, is that when it started? Because Sam did not believe him?
No, Dean still acted like himself right up to that stupid vision Sam had of Dean blowing some poor guy away. That led them to Rivergrove. Damn it! Rivergrove. That had to be it. As usual, he questioned everything Dean did, right up until his brother actually backed down. Although Sam had been immensely relieved at the time, right afterwards Dean had been so withdrawn it frightened him. Then Dean told him Dad's big secret and, yes, he was beyond angry. He was full blown mad. Took off that night to search for answers. So – between calling Dean a monster and taking off, maybe Dean got the idea if Sam was not in charge that he would leave? Ooooooohhhhhhh mmmmaaaannnnnnnn…
Sam slammed his head against the window. How stupid can he be?
"Sam?" A strong hand yanked at his shoulder, pulling him away from the window. "Sam."
"What?" Did that really sound as miserable as he felt?
"You okay?" The car swerved off the road. Sam felt his heartrate pick up as he looked over into Dean's panicked face. "Sam!"
"I'm fine, Dean," he breathed out, trying to inject some confidence into his voice.
The big car slammed to a halt. "Sam, what happened!" Dean pushed his shoulder, trying to force him to look his brother in the eye. Somehow, he just could not do it.
"My, uh, elbow slipped." Sam shrugged, studying his hands.
"Your elbow?" Dean demanded. "Not some vision or something?"
Sam did look up then. "No. It wasn't a vision." He watched Dean's entire frame relax some as his brother's brow furrowed.
"So what was it, then? Your head hit the window, Sam." Dean grabbed his chin, trying to turn his head.
Sam wanted to push Dean's hands away, but this was the most in-charge Dean acted in over a month. He let his brother examine his head, prod his temple with fingers far too experienced at this type of thing. Finally Dean gave him a quick nod. "Doesn't look too bad. You might have a bruise there later."
He nodded back as Dean put the car in drive. "Won't compare with yours."
Half a smile flickered across Dean's face. "You know, Sam, if you're jealous of how good this bruise looks on me…" Dean waved a hand near his jaw. The red turned nearly black overnight as evidence of the bruise coming to the surface.
Sam punched his brother lightly on the upper arm. "Shut up."
Dean chuckled. "I could help with that."
Sam felt a chuckle escape his lips. "No thanks."
"Okay, little brother. Just trying to help you out."
Sam watched Dean's expression. His brother looked amused. Well, at least it was a step in the right direction. "Yeah, right," he snorted. Dean barked out a short laugh, which sounded wonderful to Sam's ears.