Okay, this story is becoming more and more fun for me. My apologies to those following Murphy's Law for a lack of updates this week. I needed some planning time. So - on with the weird!!

Chapter 7

Sam noticed that as his brother relaxed and just talked to him, the evening warmed. Now logically the later it got the chillier the night should be, but tonight did the exact opposite and somehow it did not bother him. A part of him knew it was all right, even it was strange.

As the night wore on and the sky turned a rosy pink in the East, Sam felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. He found himself leaning heavily against Dean's shoulder as the topic changed from metal bands to holidays. Oddly, Sam did not feel tired or sleepy even though they stayed up all night. He just felt warm and comfortable, like he was at home curled up with a good book. Instead he sat in a parking lot with his brother, which just might be even better.

"Come on," Dean pushed off the tree to stand. Sam tried not to forget about Dean's back, but it had slipped his mind after experiencing that nightmare. That whole incident with Dean's back had been pretty scary, to say the least. He made of point of carrying the heaviest stuff they had, and trying to arrange it so his brother would not have to bend over too often. Neither was particularly easy, especially considering how stubborn Dean was, but he tried. Right now Dean moved a little stiffly after sitting on the ground pretty much all night. "Don't worry about it," Dean said, motioning for Sam to follow, "the kinks will work themselves out in a minute."

Sam opened his mouth to answer, then stopped in his tracks. He suddenly realized that he was not blocking Dean's thoughts. The realization turned him cold, despite the warmth he could still feel on his skin. How long had he been allowing Dean's thoughts and emotions to flow unchecked through him? Had Dean gone all night without any privacy whatsoever?

A sigh from Dean attracted his attention. "Come on, Sammy. It's not like I really mind." His brother's head turned and he saw those gently glowing green eyes. "Maybe I prefer it like that."

Sam caught up with his brother in a couple of quick steps. "How's that?" He could feel Dean's amusement.

"Well," Dean's eyes glowed a little brighter, "I think I get it. It's nice knowing that you aren't thinking about ditching me and taking off on your own." He shrugged as a fresh wave of guilt washed over Sam. "Dude, you know it's one of the things I worry about. When you're open like this, it doesn't even occur to me." A bright smile flashed over his brother's face.

Sam chuckled. He guessed his feeling of amusement flowed from big brother, but he could not be sure. "Okay, Dean. Whatever you say."

"Now that's more like it!" Dean perked up. "After all, I am the oldest. That means I'm always right."

Sam rolled his eyes as he followed Dean to their room. "Yeah, right. That's exactly what I meant."

They packed in an easy silence. Sam felt better than he had in a long time. He understood now that he had not been blocking Dean just to give his brother privacy, he had been afraid of Dean's thoughts. He feared that Dean still held a grudge and blamed him for leaving for school or picking all those fights with their dad. The fact Dean didn't, and he would have, showed just one of the things he admired about his brother.

"That's because I'm an awesome big brother," Dean said, slinging his duffel over one shoulder. "You ready yet, princess?"

Sam grinned, unable to restrain these goofy emotions. "Just about. Let me check the room one more time."

Dean rolled his eyes, as though this was Sam's most annoying trait, but Sam knew it really did not bother his brother. He scanned through the room again, finding only an old razor next to the sink. Sam threw it in the trash before following his brother outside.

"Hey, Dean!" Sam closed the door behind him. "What do you want to do for breakfast?"

Dean stood by the car. "Let's see what we spot," he hollered back, waving for Sam to get a move on.

Sam jogged to the car and threw his bag in the back before sliding into his spot in the passenger seat. He relaxed into the black leather, waiting for Dean to fire up the motor. As the soothing roar of the Impala filled the car, he grinned to himself.

"No place like home, huh, Dorothy?" Dean asked with a chuckle as they backed out of their parking space.

"So who does that make you? The scarecrow who needed a brain or the cowardly lion?" Sam teased.

"Tin man," Dean stated instantly.

Sam frowned at him. "Dean, you don't need a heart."

Dean shrugged. "He thought he did. The scarecrow was really the smart one and the cowardly lion was probably the bravest of the group."

Sam sat, stunned, listening to his brother's take on The Wizard of Oz. "Dude, when did you get deep? Come to think of it, when did you ever watch past the part with the flying monkeys?"

Dean shrugged. "I read the Cliff Notes for school."

His brother's amusement came over him in waves. "You saw the whole thing, didn't you?" Sam turned to watch Dean's face. "I was the reason you never watched after the flying monkeys showed up, right?" That amusement intensified.

"Well, they scared you when we were kids. I guess I kind of got in the habit of turning it off at that point, even after you were older." He chuckled. "Then you just assumed it scared me, so I kept it up."

Sam, caught up in his brother's amusement, laughed. "So this is a joke you've kept up for twenty years?" He shook his head. "Dude, sometimes you're really something else."

"Yeah," Dean replied, "I know."

Sam resisted the urge to zap his brother in the shoulder again. At the thought, he felt a fresh surge of glee. "Stop it," he warned, "or I'll do it." But he laughed as he said it.

"That looks like a good place." Dean pulled into one of those places that specialized in breakfast all day. "I'm starved, let's go."

Sam noticed the twinkle in his brother's eye, along with something else. "Dean!" he hissed. He motioned to his own eyes.

"Oh." Dean paused, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they looked normal. "Better?"

Sam nodded, falling in step with his brother. "So, how much farther to Seattle?" Dean asked, pushing the door open.

Sam frowned as he stepped inside. "We should be there by evening. Dean, you're the one driving, don't you know where we are?"

Dean slid into a far booth. "I know exactly where we are, Sammy." He shrugged. "I'm just not sure how long it'll take to get where we're going."

Sam frowned. That was not a Dean-like statement. Dean could normally give him a fifteen minute window for their arrival. "Dean, you can't be serious!"

"Here ya go," a waitress who had seen better days slapped plastic coated menus in front of them. "I'm Sheryl, your waitress. What do ya want ta drink?"

Dean smiled that bright smile. "Just coffee for me and my brother." Sam nodded in agreement so she would leave.

"Sam," Dean said in an undertone, "I can't lie. Why wouldn't I be serious?"

Sam wanted to laugh at Dean on that one, but he knew it would not be appreciated. "You've been driving all over the country pretty much your entire life. How could you not know how long it'll take us to get to Seattle?"

Dean shrugged again, looking out the window. "It's not important."

An unsettled feeling came over Sam. "How is it not important, Dean?"

His brother studied the menu, not looking at him. "It's just not. Drop it, Sam."

Okay, now that was downright disturbing. Dean's irritation was visible now, a distinct glow settling around his brother. Kind of creepy, to be honest. Sheryl, the waitress, returned with their coffees. "Ready ta order?" she asked, not bothering to make eye contact.

"Eggs and bacon," Dean replied, handing over the menu. His eyes settled on Sam and one eyebrow lifted.

"Oh, uh, the same." Sam handed back his menu, too.

"Scrambled?" she asked. Dean nodded, still staring at Sam. Sam nodded too, more to get her to leave than because he preferred his eggs scrambled.

"Then you should have ordered what you wanted," Dean snapped as she walked away.

"Come on, Dean," Sam muttered, leaning across the table. "I just want to know why it isn't important for you to know how long it takes to get to Seattle."

"Because," Dean mumbled, looking out the window. He sighed. "Great, here we go again." Dean stood, glaring at Sam. "Wait here, I should be back by the time the eggs are ready." Sam moved to follow, but Dean's glare seemed to pin him in his seat. "If you leave, they'll think we just took off and I'm hungry." He pointed a finger in Sam's face. "Stay."

Dean walked outside. As Sam watched, his brother appeared to be studying the air around him. Then he followed an invisible line into the parking lot. A little nervous, Sam waited. Even though he no longer blocked Dean's thoughts, Sam was discovering that his brother could be just as enigmatic as ever. What the hell was all this about anyway?

A large man walked through the door Dean just exited. Sam ignored him, trying to keep a fix on his brother. He could sense Dean was not far. A hand waved in front of his face, breaking his concentration. Annoyed, Sam looked up into perfectly chiseled features and wind-swept, curly hair. This was really not helping.

"Now, Sam, don't be like that." Mike chided, slipping into Dean's seat. "He's starting to do some good work."

Sam clamped down on his emotions, throwing up his personal walls to keep Mike out. "We've been doing good work," he said defensively.

Mike held up both hands. "I'm not saying you haven't, I was just commenting that Dean is starting to do well with his new responsibilities." Mike smiled and Sam's irritation doubled, and this time he did not bother to hide it. "Now, Sammy, it was supposed to be a compliment."

"It's Sam!" he snapped. "Only Dean gets to call me that and you know it." He took a deep breath, trying to settle his rising anger and block precious-Mike. "So what are these new responsibilities?"

Mike rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Sam. "He should have looked away, you know. Everyone else does. Brought it on himself."

"You're avoiding the question." Sam leaned his head to one side, seeing Mike in a new light. "You can't lie either, can you?" When Mike just cleared his throat, Sam tried again. "Are these new responsibilities similar to yours, Michael?"

Mike shook his head. "More of a novice level, to be honest. I have a bit more experience."

"At being a windbag?" Dean's voice floated in gently. "Relax Sam, I'll be there in a sec. Stupid dog won't quit leaving his calling card at the tree."

Sam glanced around, but no one else appeared to notice anything out of the ordinary. "What was that?" Sam whispered.

"Uh, your brother. Don't you recognize his voice?" Mike smirked.

Sam glared at the archangel sitting across from him. An image of Michael with white wings and harp floated through his mind and he could not suppress a chuckle.

"I don't do that," Mike snarled, eyes flashing with blue fire.

Sam chuckled again, trying to hide behind his menu. He knew it was hopeless, so he hoped to stall long enough for Dean to return. "What's up, Michael?" Sam managed to sputter. "Come to ask Dean to tune your harp?" At that, Sam doubled over with laughter, leaning across the table. His coffee was in imminent jeopardy, but fortunately it slid out of the way in the nick of time. Speaking of the nick of time, he felt Dean's presence.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Sam looked up into Dean's broad smirk. "Hey Mike." Dean motioned and Sam scooted over. His brother slid into the spot next to him. "What's up? The Impala not fast enough for you?"

Mike glared at them both, his heated gaze finally settling on Dean, much to Sam's relief. "I take it this was your doing?" Mike tilted his head toward Sam.

"I wasn't here," Dean replied innocently, but Sam recognized that tone and the fact his brother really didn't answer the question.

Mike groaned, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. So, Dean, how are the new duties coming along?"

Sam felt Dean bristle beside him. "Fine."

Mike smiled, and it seemed almost sympathetic. Almost. "I just came to see if you still wanted the Seattle job."

Sam felt Dean lean over and their shoulders touch. Sam had the image of a run-away dog being herded back to his owner, a distraught boy searching feverishly. "Why wouldn't we?" Dean demanded in his usual take-charge voice.

Mike shrugged. "You might be a little to busy for spirits these days."

That irritated Sam, from the roots of his hair right down to his toenails. "Uh," Dean motioned to include both of them, "you're talking to Winchesters here, dude. Now, unless you're here to be helpful?" Dean pointed out the door.

"Fine." Mike pushed off the table, standing. "Just trying to be nice. See if I make that mistake again." He shot a glare at Dean which was returned with equal vehemence.

Sam waited until he was pretty sure Mike was way, way, way out of earshot. Dean moved to the far side of the booth, where Sam supposed Dean could watch the door. "I take it the wings and harp thing was you?" he asked, grinning.

Dean shrugged, but the hilarity of the moment returned to Sam in full force. "I thought so!" he crowed as the image of Mike playing a little gold harp while perched on a fluffy white cloud blazed in his mind. "Stop it," Sam pleaded, unable to catch his breath. "Dean!"

A swift pat on the shoulder and Sam could breathe again. He glanced into his brother's beaming face. "Pretty awesome, right?"

Sam grinned. "I'll say."