Sam thought Dean had been getting cabin fever. It wasn't that rough of an assumption, but it wasn't that bad. So maybe he organized the Bunker and cleaned a bit more than necessary, but a clean home was a nice home. He just might have hounded Charlie to pick up her damn socks for once and help him scrub the showers, but he needed help and she needed to learn to pick up her socks. He had to drag Kevin out of his room from playing that damned RPG game, and actually eat real food that wasn't a hot dog, but the kid needed to do those things. He did irritate and annoy his brother a bit more than usual, but that's what big brothers are for. The vacation was nice, but Sam said he needed to get out there and hunt.

Some hunter by the name of Ford Harrison wanted their help checking out the, supposedly extremely haunted, Mizbah Hotel in Tonopah, Nevada. Sam had jumped at it, even though Dean couldn't recall ever meeting the guy; let alone what he looked like. Charlie and Kevin had promised no strippers or fires would go on in the bunker in their absence, and even though they were adults for the most part Dean still felt uneasy about leaving them alone, so he set some ground rules before Sam physically dragged him to the Impala out the bunker.

Sam had set out in search of his all time favorite place in town saying Ford was already in town and would either find him or Sam; him more likely if he knew the Impala. Dean got bored sitting in silence all day, so rather than annoy his baby brother more than he had he listened to his stomach and searched for some sort of diner in town. It took him a while to find the Station where the cafe was hidden in, but it served burgers unlike the Mexican restaurant he had found himself in beforehand, so he didn't care.

He had thought the guy had to be a hunter; he just had the edgy soldier against the supernatural look about him. His first thought really had been that there was finally a hunter who wasn't grizzled, insane, hated their guts, young enough to want to hunt, but not old enough to be dead just yet. Blue eyes and blonde hair wasn't his usual for girls, but for guys he did enjoy it on occasion. Dean knew he was picky about men. Sam knew he was picky about men. When he had been young he had some wild escapades, sometimes with hunters, sometimes with a dude he met in a bar who caught on to his signals and followed him to his car rather than punch him in the face.

He was used to one night stands even if he didn't partake as much as he used to in his younger years. Still, he was so much pickier about men than women. Hell, he'd probably have sex with any lady if she was willing to go a few, but men, no way in hell he'd have sex with just any guy. Charlie said particular, Kevin said fastidious, and Sam said captious, and it was true. That didn't mean a good looking hunter didn't do things to him. The guy's plaid shirt stretched tight over his chest and Dean wanted to get those buttons opened up to get a look. His arms were definitely sporting some muscle in those leather sleeves; dude was a muscular guy, but not body builder level muscular. It was also the way he carried himself; calm, a little wary for danger, but trying his hardest to make himself seem less imposing to the young waitress. Add in the shy smile Dean was all for taking the guy back to his car. Hell, even the motel room; Sammy be damned.

Finding out the guy had not in fact been the hunter Ford Harrison, but a former military man by the name of Steve Rogers only deterred him a little. Sam could deal with the real Ford at the library. The guy wasn't just cute, but he'd also supplied a quick quip without a second thought at Dean's blunder. Dean played it off coolly like he usually did and the waitress, Lauren, coming and asking if he wanted anything was just too good an opportunity, The best part being the guy hadn't thrown a fit or extremely uncomfortable about having a stranger join him for lunch, but actually welcomed it. His taste in cars wasn't bad if not really vintage. Steve seemed so openly friendly and earnest it was a refreshing change than what Dean was used to.

Even if the guy didn't seem to openly flirt Dean could know when someone's eyes were watching him. He wouldn't have made it as long as a hunter if he hadn't picked up on it, so while Dean concentrated on his burger he pretended he didn't think Steve had subtly checked him out. He put his burger down so he could try and catch Steve's eye when he looked at him, but instead he had seen Steve sketching what looked like him on a napkin. The guy was not only a fantastic artist, but his speech made Dean happy. It sounded like Steve had probably been exposed to too much I Love Lucy as a kid, but Dean liked it. He liked people who just spoke how they spoke; like the sheriff that had said Okie Dokie. Dean liked Okie Dokie.

Dean wouldn't make the guy feel uncomfortable about it, so he just rolled with it. The drawing of him wasn't just fucking swell, it was beyond awesome. Steve claimed it was just a doodle, but there was so much attention to detail. Dean knew he could be a little full of himself at times, but a guy with Steve's talent with art shouldn't be so modest especially when he used crummy as an adjective; it as just too much. He might have never seen Jurassic Park, but neither had Cas so it wasn't a big deal breaker.

Castiel wasn't exactly sheltered per say, as he was an angel of the lord that wasn't a corporeal being, but celestial wavelengths with a form that wasn't human and would burn out one's retinas. Saving the world and fighting demons did get in the way of Spielburg education, but Steve didn't need to know that.

Steve was easy to talk to. Dean didn't even talk to Sam about his love for Vonnegut. Mostly because when he had mentioned it once Sam had looked at him like he'd decided to become a vegetarian and go out and on a mission to save the whales. Steve didn't know Sammy was the smart one, so Dean could talk to him about his favorite books and authors, and Steve quoted along to Brave New World quotes rather than roll his eyes. The guy had the dorkiest laugh, but making someone actually laugh out of happiness rather than being fed up was something Dean liked.

Wrangling Steve's phone from him had been a split second decision, one Dean thought just might earn him a bloody nose, but no of course not. Steve Rogers apparently hadn't been raised that way. He had given it to him and Dean was sure of his actions under the guise that just in case a monster tried to rip him to shreds he could help, but really Dean was hoping the guy might text him just to talk. It was lame and ridiculous, but totally worth it when Steve's face got all smiley and dopey when Dean let it drop he thought the guy was cool.

As much as Dean wanted to take the guy to his motel and strip him of every last article of clothing, Steve didn't seem to get the memo, and Dean really didn't mind it. It was a bit flattering actually to have a feeling the person liked him, but was an actual complete and utter sweetheart about it. Dean would never ever say that word aloud, but sweetheart was the only word that could peg Steve Rogers down pact. Not to mention the guy complimented Baby, and Dean could recall having a bit of a thing for guys who rode motorcycles. He had wanted one at a time, but it was impractical for hunting and his gigantic brother, and he could never leave Baby.

There was nothing but earnestness in his voice when Steve told Dean he was keen. The rhyme aside, the guy had basically told him he thought Dean was awesome to his face. If that wasn't a confidence booster Dean didn't know what was. Sam had texted him asking where he was, but Dean wasn't going to go back to Sammy on dealing with ghost looking goofy and grinning and the like; Dean was a professional who didn't get happy zapped by a nice encounter with a sweet guy. Maybe he could play it off like he'd got , that could work. Sammy would fall for it.

The real Ford Harrison turned out nowhere as nice as Steve; cooperative, respectful, not bad looking, but he was one of those younger hunters who got flustered around the Winchesters. Dean thought he prefered the vengeful, hate filled, little assholes than those kind of younger hunters. All they probably knew about the Winchesters were rumors from Hunter's gossiping. When you start and stop apocalypses and the like a number of times people in those types of circles start to know your name. The supposed haunted 'Mizbah Hotel' turned out to be a big hoax to bring in tourist. The flickering lights, images, and cold spots were all fake, and there wasn't a trace of EMF anywhere.

Dean couldn't bring himself to be a douche to the kid. He was still in too good of a mood. The case turned out not to be a case, so no having to dig up bones or shot rock salt for the day, and Sam sat the kid down and explained to him what to look for exactly in a real haunting. Charlie and Kevin were working on a database they planned to set up for hunters, but it was slow going.

Ellensburg, Washington actually had a body count and maybe then he'd get a chance to work off some excess energy. They drove in a peaceful silence with Eagles playing at what Sam would consider 'a proper level' on the radio. Dean was feeling good. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, and sang softly under his breathe so he wouldn't irritate Sam. Sam had picked up a salad before getting back on the road, and eyed Dean curiously when he didn't want anything to eat. Dean knew Sam was going to ask, and Dean had his answer already on the tip of his tongue. He could read his little brother like a book. Dean would be cool about it just like he always was.

Sam breathed in deeply through his nose and then huffed with a suspicious smirk on his lips, "What's go you in such a good mood? You didn't even chew Ford out about pulling us into a hoax, and you didn't even yell at him for not finding out if the case was legit or not. I know something's up, Dean."

"Sammy, Had I what sex so-uh."

Fumbling his words definitely wasn't suspicious at all. Nope, not in the slightest. Alright, so it wasn't that cool. He should've at least practiced first.

Sam chuckled, "Dude, if you had sex you would've been bragging as soon as you walked into the library. Also, I know what you're like after good sex and it's not what I'm seeing."

Alright, so maybe Sam could read Dean like a book.

Dean grumbled, "Well, what do you know about my sex life."

"Way more than I should or ever wanted to know, but come on, Dean."

"Can't a man just be in a good mood for once?"

Sam crossed his arms and slumped in his seat, "I just wanna know what put you in such a good mood?"

Dean shrugged as he concentrated on the road, "Nothin' I'm just in a good mood! So uh, after we finish up the hunt in Washington do you think we could go to that one Angeline's Bakery in Oregon."

Sam raised a brow, "That one you said had the most awesome apple pie in the history of awesome? Why are you asking me for permission you're the driver?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah well, I mean you can get something from there if you want, it's just I was wondering if you might be okay with hanging back at maybe the motel and I went by myself."

Sam grinned, "You're meeting someone there aren't you?"

"No!"

"Is it the person who put you in such a good mood? Girl? Guy? Did you just meet them? Oh my god, you're excited about seeing them and you didn't even have sex. Did you have sex with them?" Sam asked.

Dean scoffed, "What is this an interrogation? Can't a man spend some alone time at a bakery with his pie?"

"You want this person to go have pie with you at the place you think has the best pie. That's so cute. Come on, Dean!"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Jesus Christ, if I tell you a little bit will you just leave it alone and quit bugging me?"

"Yep."

Dean sighed, "Fine, his name is Steve, and I met him at a diner I went to before going to the damn library. He's going cross country on his motorcycle. He's headed for California and we're going to Washington so I asked if he wanted to meet in the middle in Oregon. I did not have sex with him. Are we done?"

"Did you give him your phone number?" Sam asked with a grin, " You did didn't you?"

"If the dude gets jumped by a ruguru he'll need help!" Dean replied "We give our numbers just in case someone calls about a case don't we?"

Sam wasn't about to let sleeping dogs lie, "So what's he look like?"

Dean grumbled, "It's not like I have a fucking picture!"

"Is he taller than you or shorter than you?"

"We're about the same height. He's blond and has blue eyes. We're done now, Sam!"

Sam didn't reply. Dean took this as signal that Sammy was finally going to shut his trap , and start thinking about the case rather than Dean's interactions with other people. The kid thought Dean was a hermit or something, which, he was not. It wasn't that big of a deal. The radio went to a softer song, and under the sound Dean could hear the soft tapping of fingers on a phone. Dean demanded, "What are you doing now?"

Sam continued to text away as he spoke, "Telling Charlie about your suitor."

"Suitor! What the hell, man? Are you guys just planning to marry me off to get rid of me?"

Sam shook his head, "The easier option would be to sell you for a goat. Cas, wants to get a goat. I should text Cas too, but he might be busy. We're not getting rid of you, Dean, we just care about you."

Dean huffed, "Don't tell Cas, he'll find the guy and strike the fear of God into the dude. I just met the guy. We're meeting for pie, not getting hitched."

Sam said, "Okay, Okay, I'll stop."

Dean nodded, "Good!"

Sam's singing was atrocious, "Dean and Steve sitting in a tree-"

Dean shouted, "Finish that sentence and you're walking to Washington! I'm serious, Sam. I will drop you on the side of the road!"

Sam slumped in his seat and turned to the window away from Dean. Sam was probably pouting, but it was much better than him singing that song. The little brat was a grown man for god sakes.

"Kevin asked if the guy was big and burly like you and me, and Charlie wants to know if he's seen Lord of the Rings."

"Stop telling the kids about me!"

"So, is he big and burly?"

Dean stopped the Impala in the emergency lane, "Get out right now!"

"Dean! Come on, I didn't mean-Dean! No, quit! Dean!"

The nearly 18 hour drive to Washington from Nevada would've probably been cut down to seventy had there not been at least four attempts to leave Sam on the side of the road. One instance where Sam had been irritating him and Dean nearly went into a ditch thanks to him, and Sam's inquiries only stopped after they stopped for snacks. Gas station burritos did things to Sam. Horrible things. Sam would occasionally quietly chuckle, and Dean would have his head as far out the window as he could while still being able to drive. Actually having health insurance would be nice; Dean was sure the kid needed to see a doctor about it. It wasn't normal.

Getting texts from Steve kept him from throwing Sam out of the car.

Steve:

I've only seen the Golden Gate Bridge in postcards before.

I'm not sure I want to go to Los Angeles after this.

I don't think the Dodgers should've left Brooklyn.

The traffic is ridiculous.

Sorry, you're probably driving. I can do it when I'm stuck in the traffic.

Steve's texts took a while to come one after the other, so Dean assumed he was a slow texter. Sam would jump his ass for texting and driving, so Dean only glanced at his phone every now and again. The drive to Cali was shorter than the drive to Washington, and it sounded like Steve was already getting a taste of San Francisco. Dean and Sam hadn't been to the San Francisco bay area in a long time. It was too close to Stanford, and not even in their usual hunting grounds anyway. They didn't stop to see the sights. On one of Dean's trips to sneakily check on Sam, Dean had rode on of the cable cars for fun, but Sam didn't know about it.

They checked into a hotel and immediately crashed on the beds after putting up signals, placing hex bags, putting weapons within arms reach, and slipping out of their jeans. Sam sprawled out on his bed with his hair in disarray seemingly dead to the world. They would check out the hunt after a bit of rest. He hadn't even taken his laptop out of his duffle.

Dean wanted to do the exact same, but he had to reply to Steve first.

Dean: I've seen it a couple times. My brother used to live in the bay area for a while. I've been to Los Angeles, and buddy trust me the traffic is even worse than San Francisco. You sore about the Giants move too? We're finally in Ellensburg, so I'm not texting and driving.

Dean wasn't an absolute baseball fanatic, but he knew that the Dodgers made their move to LA around 1957 or so. He'd catch a game every now and again, but he didn't have much roots to put down for a team. On occasion he'd look for Royals games since he had watched those with his dad as a kid, but after Mom died those games were more far and in between.

Dean tried his best not to fall asleep as he waited for Steve to reply. He started dozing when he felt the phone vibrate right next to his ear,

Steve: I guess it's not too bad if the Giants and Dodgers are in the same state. You shouldn't text in drive; it's dangerous. About your brother did you live somewhere else at the time? We're you going to school?

Dean: We were apart for a while when he went to school. He's just four years younger than me.

Steve's reply actually came faster than usual: Oh! I'm sorry. I thought he was a kid or maybe even a teenger. It's just how you talk about him I assumed. I apologize.

Dean chuckled quietly as he texted his reply: He acts like it alot especially on a 18 hour drive, but no. I practically raised the kid even though he's not really a kid anymore. His names Sam btw.

Steve: btw?

Dean realized if texting Steve was going to work he'd just have to text like he texted Cas. That meant no abbreviations. It wasn't like he abbreviated a whole bunch anyway unless in a tight spot where it was necessary.

Dean: It mean's by the way. Don't worry about it, man.

Steve: Oh, that makes sense. I hope I'm not getting under your skin. It's pretty late, so you should get some rest if you've been driving for 18 hours. You must be exhausted.

Dean: It's all good, Steve. I probably should at least get four hours in before I get to work.

Steve: Eight hours is a healthier number.

Dean rolled his eyes even though no one could see him doing it: Fine, you can tell me how your trip in San Fran went then tomorrow. You should check out City Lights Bookstore. It's pretty awesome.

Steve: Alright, I will. Goodnight, Dean.

Dean: Night, Steve

Dean laid his phone on the nightstand and slammed his head into his pillow. He was Dean fucking Winchester and Dean Fucking Winchester didn't do something as lame as shorten San Francisco to 'San Fran.' Everything else seemed to go okay with the exception of that.

Sam groaned, "Go to sleep, Dean! You can text your buddy tomorrow!"

Dean grumbled, "Go to sleep then, bitch!"

Sam turned away from Dean and pulled his covers closer over himself. He mumbled, "Jerk."
Dean didn't even care he didn't get the last word. He was too damn tired from dealing with his bitch of a brother all day.

The next day Sam apparently decided he would act like an adult and quit bugging him about Steve. Dean had won the battle, but the war wasn't over yet. It wasn't even that big of a deal, and Sam blew it out of proportion. The case turned out to be a bit more difficult than they anticipated. They tried pulling nearly every trick they had, but no one was talking, and evidence was slim. Four days of basically sitting and trying and trying to talk to people was getting them nowhere. Rather than interrogate they were forced into sneaking into the area they thought Mel's hole might be. Dean didn't want to waste anymore time. None of the locals wanted to talk about it, and they couldn't even get in contact with the victim's family. It was a pain in the ass adding onto the fact is always seemed to be constantly drizzling and dreary in Washington so their clothes ended up very damp throughout their hike. It made Dean wonder how Steve was liking the California sun. It certainly wasn't Dean's friend; his hair lightened, and his freckles multiplied or he burned to a crisp.

"Sammy, I'm tired and bored. There's no cell reception, and we haven't even found this god damned hole yet."

Sam kicked a rock out of the way, "It's around here somewhere. Don't be such a baby."

Dean retorted, "You're a baby."

"That was just such an awesome comeback I don't even know how to respond to it."

"Shut up."

Trudging through the forests was a quiet affair for the most part. Aside from Dean's grumbling, Sam's occasional observations, the only sounds to be heard where from nature. The rustling of leaves, the occasional animal darting in the brush, the sound of bugs Dean complained about nearly every five minutes. They were too far from the highway to hear any cars. It was pretty peaceful, if not extremely boring, or it was somewhat peaceful until all the sound stopped. There were no more animals like rabbits or frogs in the area, and not a single bug could be heard; not even a mosquito. It made the hairs on the back of Sam and Dean's necks stand on end.

"I think we found the hole." Sam said, "It should be close."

Sam continued to walk on keeping his eyes on the trees for anything suspicious. He wouldn't of noticed his feet almost step into a deep abyss of a hole in the ground has Dean not grabbed onto the back of his shirt, and pulled him back, "I think we found it!"

Sam slowly moved away from the edge. The last time he had fallen into a endless pit hadn't been all that fun. He asked, "How far do you think it goes?"

Dean offered,"Hock a loogie and listen for a little splash. There's got to be water down there, right?"

"Only if you do it."

"Fine."

Dean and Sam both made the most disgusting sounds as they collected spit in their mouths. At the same time they spat into the hole. They both leaned a little closer while keeping their hands onto the other so they wouldn't fall. They listened for a splash, but none came. There wasn't even an echo when Dean shouted into it. They moved away from it a bit for safety's sake. Dean shrugged, "Maybe it's some government thing. Maybe it's just a hole in the ground. Maybe the victim was attacked by animals, and the other animals were too."

Sam tugged on Dean's sleeve, "Dean-something's crawling out of the hole."

Dean and Sam stared at the hole and watched as a pale flesh looking creature crawled out of the hole. "Fucking Gollum's coming out of there! Shoot the damn thing!"

Sam shot the creature between the eyes, and it went down. Dean watched as more pale fleshy hands reached out of the hole, "Sammy, I don't think that's the only one."

"Shit…"

Dean had scrubbed down nearly four times, and he didn't think he'd ever get the feel of the creatures, he'd dubbed Gollum's brethren, spit off of his skin. They'd been chased, scratched, bit; shooting one Gollum Brethren after another. Dean had hurt his wrist slamming one of those fucker's skulls into the ground, and he knew Sam had taken a rough tumble after being chased by the son's of bitches. Dean eventually decided he didn't care anymore after dealing with the Gollum Brethren drool and running out of bullets. They weren't as tough as Wendigos, but the damned things were pests. Sam always said they would never have a need for hand grenades. Dean always wanted to blow something up, but never got the chance. His chance came in the form of Gollum like pests with sharp ass claws.

Sam wanted some sort of back up plan, so after the batch of Gollum Brethren on high ground were offered they rolled a concrete slab, which looked as if it was for the hole and some dumbass took it off, towards the hole. Dean threw down two of his grenades and helped Sam slam the concrete right over the hatch. The surrounding area shook beneath the feet, and while the slab shook too it didn't blow off. They ran the whole way to the Impala, but had to take a breather once they got to the Impala. The little gremlin monsters wiped them out, tore into them, drooled all over them, but if anyone else felt the ground shaking the brothers didn't want to be around for the discovery. They packed up their duffels and moved to a town a few miles over just in case.

Dean took four showers, while Sam had gotten all the way to six. He found no major injuries other than bumps and bruises and small scratches, except for a claw mark across his collarbone that bled a bit too much and a bandaid wouldn't fix. Sam stitched it up for him, and Dean took care of one on the back of his neck. Charlie would have to put Gollum Brethren down in the books as one of the most irritating monsters ever. His muscles protested any movement, but he still checked his phone.

Steve: The Coast Redwoods in Del Norte are really something.

Dean: I think Del Norte's the place the Patterson Films went down. It's something where this guy tried to get footage of Bigfoot in '67. Same day my baby rolled off the line. Don't worry though, Bigfoot isn't real.

Dean snickered when he read Steve's reply.

Steve: Thank Goodness. I was worried there for a second.

Dean: Closest cousin to Sasquatch is probably my brother. We finished up the job, got pretty banged up but nothing too bad. Sammy just bitches about his too long hair. Sammy also wants to hit up a bookstore in Sisters, Oregon. You wanna head up?

Steve: Are you sure Sam wants to go to a bookstore and Sister's Oregon doesn't have the bakery you were talking about.

Dean: Alright, so maybe it's there, but they've got some of the best damned pastries on the West coast.

Steve: I wouldn't drive six hours for just any pastries. You should rest up if you and Sam just got done with a job. I don't think you're brother would want to get right back on the road.

Dean groaned as he got up and slammed his hand on the bathroom door, with his uninjured wrist, "Hey, Sammy? How would you feel about hopping in the car and going for a four hour thirty minute or so drive to Oregon?"
Sam shouted back, "I'm going to sleep right after I get this shit out of my hair! Steve can twiddle his fucking thumbs for all I care! I'm sore and I'm tired!"

Dean huffed at the door and mumbled, "Well, okay sunshine."

Dean texted back: Well, Sammy wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows about the idea, so I might be a little late. I guess it's a good idea. I don't think I'd be able to make the drive on the highway without dozing a little.

Steve: For your, other driver's, and your baby's sake I think that resting up would be a very good idea if you're that beat.

Dean thought his reply would make Steve laugh: I'll do it for Baby.

Steve: I'll see you later, Dean.

Dean: Back at ya, Steve.