Thanks again to everyone following my bizarre flight of fancy here. If you want canon, go check out Murphy's Law (new chapter is up), but if you're looking for something more off-the-wall, you've come to the right place!!

Chapter 5

Sam paced the room, waiting anxiously for his brother to return. He wanted to know where Dean went in such a hurry and why, but at the moment he could not read his brother. While Sam was pretty sure that he needed close proximity to feel Dean's emotions and hear his thoughts, he did not know how close Dean needed to be and right now he feared that his brother was further away than just a quick walk.

Unable to wait it out, Sam grabbed his jacket and darted out of their room. He headed in the direction he thought Dean went. As he concentrated on finding his brother, Sam noticed luminescent green footprints on the walkway leading away from their room. Frowning, Sam bent down to investigate the glowing footprints. When he swiped a finger through one, he realized that the glow actually came from above the pavement.

"Okay," Sam wiped his finger off on his jeans as he stood, "this is definitely getting interesting."

He began to follow the footprints when an idea occurred to him. Sam looked around for another guest. He found a man carrying two suitcases from the parking lot. "Excuse me, sir!" He pointed down at the glowing footprints. "You see those footprints there?"

The man paused with a loud sigh. His suitcases banged against his legs and he winced as his eyes searched the pavement. "What footprints?" The man moved away, shaking his head with a confused expression.

Sam glanced back down. The green glowing footprints were still there. "Thanks!" he called out, waving a hand as he followed the footprints. "Really interesting," he muttered. A set of glowing blue footprints crossed the green ones, leading in a different direction.

Sam paused at the intersection, wondering which prints he should follow. A shimmering blue butterfly darted in his face, causing Sam to jerk backwards. It followed the route of the blue footprints, not that that should be surprising. Not anymore. Sam followed the shimmering, fluttering wings out into the parking lot. Next to Dean's car stood a large man with wild, dark hair. When he looked up, his blue eyes had that same glow Dean's did now.

"Mike?" Sam asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Michael cleared his throat. "You know, I may have to take that from your brother, but I don't from you."

Sam froze, remembering saying something similar to Michael about calling him Sammy. "Right. Sorry." He cocked his head to the side, regarding Michael. "You have to take it from Dean?"

A rueful smile crossed Michael's perfect face. "Well, it's not like I can make him stop, is it?"

Sam shrugged. He did not have an answer for that and was not sure he wanted to know what the answer would be. "I take it the butterfly was you?"

"From me," Michael held up a hand, "just from me. I needed to talk to you. Since Dean is a little busy right now, I thought it might be a good time."

"Busy?" Alarm bells rang in Sam's head. "What do you mean, Dean is a little busy right now? Does he need help?" He looked wildly around, ears straining for the sounds of fighting.

"Relax," Michael snorted, "not that kind of busy. He's finding some new, um, duties to attend to."

Sam eyed Michael without bothering to hide his irritation. No wonder Dean always acted so annoyed. Was Michael always like this, but Sam was too busy either blocking his thoughts or trying to wheedle information to notice? Did he have some heavy apologizing to do. "What kind of duties?"

"Don't worry about it." Michael waved a hand lazily. "That's not why I'm here. It's the footprints."

Sam glanced back. The green footprints still glowed brightly. "What about them?"

"How long have you been able to see angel tracks?"

Sam's head snapped around so he could stare directly at Michael. "Excuse me?"

Michael looked away, studying the night sky. "So it's new, huh? That's what we were afraid of."

"You mind explaining that?" Sam demanded, advancing on Michael. He felt the regular sensation of being in the presence of a being far greater, far more powerful than him, but it did not bother him this time. Maybe it was being with Dean so much, or the fact Sam knew if Michael tried anything, big brother would have more than words in response.

"Michael," Sam emphasized the name, trying to catch the archangel's eye, "what the hell are you talking about?"

Michael shrugged. "I have to go now. You mind letting us know if you notice anything else like, uh, that?" He pointed to the path that led Sam here.

"And if I do mind?" Sam asked, hoping for at least a smattering of information.

"We'll be watching." Michael waved, fading from sight.

Sam sighed, returning to follow the glowing green footprints. He ran into Dean as he rounded the corner.

"Sammy!" Dean looked startled, like Sam just caught him sneaking an extra cookie or something. "What, uh, what are you doing? Out here?" His hands thrust into his jeans pockets.

"Looking for you," Sam admitted. "Dean, where were you?"

Dean sighed, brushing past Sam. "Why would you be looking for me, Sam? Aren't I allowed out by myself anymore?"

Sam winced. It did look like that, didn't it? And it couldn't be Dean just saying that to make him feel guilty, because Dean could not lie anymore. Sam followed, rubbing the knot forming at the base of his neck. "I was just worried, Dean. I couldn't, uh…"

Dean paused at the next door, glancing back at Sam. "You couldn't what?"

Sam sighed, figuring he should be honest with Dean on this. "I couldn't tell where you were, and I was worried you left."

Dean's eyebrows arched. "Well, that's a switch."

Those words coupled with his brother's calm, amused tone sent another tidal wave of guilt crashing down on Sam. Yes, he knew what that meant without having to hear his brother's voice in his head saying 'You're the one who leaves, not me.' Sam scowled in response. "Just going to keep throwing that in my face, are you?"

Dean took a step backward, clearly startled. "What? What the hell are you talking about?"

Sam huffed, "Never mind!" He stormed past heading for their room. Within a few steps, he realized his brother was not behind him. Sam looked back over his shoulder to find Dean knocking on the door they had paused beside.

Curiosity had always been Sam's weakness. The first time someone warned him that curiosity had killed the cat, he instantly had a desire to know what was that important. As a little kid, he assumed it had to do with the reason they moved around so much. When he was a little older, he decided the cat must have been researching a nightmare thing that his dad hunted. Now he'd like to strangle the damned busybody himself. Some things were not worth knowing, especially with all this crap happening to his brother…

Without realizing what he was doing, Sam now stood right beside his brother in the motel doorway. "Sorry for interrupting," Dean's voice radiated confidence and peace, which sounded and felt strange to Sam. Not the confident part, the peaceful part. He usually thought of his brother more as a storm than a peacemaker. "But my brother and I couldn't help overhearing your argument." Dean's winning smile beamed. "Anything we can do?"

A woman, rather young and plump with a pleasant face who stood no taller than Dean's shoulder, edged around her husband. "You can tell this idiot that my parents are NOT too controlling!" she shouted breathlessly, her face red, as if she had just been running hard.

Sam watched his brother take a single step into the room. The tension in the husband's shoulders eased and the woman breathed easier. That was a bit odd even for them, he had to admit.

Dean chuckled, eyeing the husband. "Not sure I could do that, ma'am. I haven't met anyone else's parents who are more controlling than my dad was." He glanced to the side, a sly smile on his lips. "Right, Sam?"

Sam grinned, filled with peaceful thoughts and feelings. "He threw me out of the house for wanting to go to college."

The woman's eyes widened. "Your dad?"

Sam nodded. That had been pretty much his reaction, too. Of course, since he knew at the time that Dad would never just let him leave, Sam had intentionally goaded his father into throwing him out.

"What's too controlling?" Dean asked, his eyes riveted to the husband.

The man, who was barely a head taller than his wife and twice as plump, stiffened at the question. "They picked out a house for us. It's within walking distance!"

"That's nice," Dean replied. Sam glanced over to see if his brother was serious, forgetting momentarily that Dean could not lie. "So what's wrong with that?"

"See!" the woman shouted back but there was no malice in her voice, just exasperation.

The man's sigh filled the room. "They just did it so they could keep an eye on us, because they don't trust me."

"Trust you?" Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open. "Seriously? That's what you think?"

"You don't think," Dean's words were soft and careful, "that maybe they just miss their daughter?" The man swallowed hard, watching Dean with interested eyes. Dean's head tilted to one side as he studied the husband. "Just because your parents rarely knew where you were and who you were with, doesn't mean all parents are like that. Your wife's parents always knew her friends and their plans and exactly where she was."

"So did Dad," Sam whispered, seeing the point Dean was driving at.

Dean flashed him a small, sad smile and a nod.

"But she's all grown up now," the man protested, but the fire had gone out of his argument.

"Parents still worry about you, no matter how old you are," Sam said, the last arguments with his father filtering through his mind. "You're still their children."

"What about when you have children?" Dean asked, motioning to the woman. "That'll be in, what, six months?"

She blushed furiously, nodding. Her husband took a step back. "I never thought about it like that."

Sam watched and waited as Dean studied the couple. With a satisfied nod, he turned away. "We need to go now. There's a good Mel Gibson movie on channel seven."

Sam followed his brother back to their room. He waited for Dean to say something, but that stubborn brother of his just jumped onto the bed closest to the door and turned full attention on the movie. Sam followed his brother's example, but slow and deliberate, thinking about what he just witnessed. Dean's tone and mannerism was so familiar, he found himself wondering if any of it really had to do with his brother's new abilities.

"You're good at that," Sam finally forced himself to say during a commercial break. Dean just shrugged, taking a long pull on his water bottle. "Is it just from all the practice Dad and I gave you?"

Dean shrugged again. "Maybe I'm just a natural peacemaker." He flashed that brilliant smile again.

"I seem to recall," Sam studied the ceiling, "a certain high school principal who was convinced you were destined for prison."

Dean's laughter echoed in the room. "He was right, wasn't he? Hey, let's send him my mugshot!"

Sam rolled his head to the side, unable to stop grinning. "Nah, the guy was a total jerk. Why let him think he might actually be right?"

The movie resumed, interrupting their conversation. As more stuff blew up, accompanied by bad puns and lots of dead bodies, Sam concentrated on how Dean settled that married couple's argument. Dean really did have a lot of practice at that, always coming between him and Dad. Sam sighed to himself, regretting again wasting all that time arguing when he should have been getting to know the man better, understanding him the way Dean did.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam." Dean's gentle voice cut across his thoughts. Sam realized the room was quiet, the television off. "You and Dad, you were too much alike. You're both stubborn and convinced you're always right. There was no way you two could be around each other without fighting."

"But Dean," they had this argument before, but never to Sam's satisfaction, "the last time I saw the man, I picked a fight."

Dean nodded slowly. "And the fact he didn't fight with you, didn't yell back, should have told both of us that there was something really, really wrong."

Sam blinked back unbidden tears. "It wasn't your fault. You do know that." No response. "Dean?"

Dean looked back at the television, which flickered to life. "Oh, good, the late night talk shows are on. I like this guy, he's funny." Another chunk of jerky arced through the air to land directly in Dean's open mouth.