A/N: Thank's ya'll who stuck with me through "Vessel of Blood" and tuned in to this one. That means a lot...I'm new to this fandom and am just testing the waters. The series I'm working on is really dark and involved, taking place around season 5...this fic reverts to the lighter days (if anything on Supernatural is light, LOL) sometime during season 2 when the boys lives was mainly about hunting monsters, not fighting destiny. I just needed the release. So here it is:

Sam's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he flipped it open to read the text that appeared on the screen. It was from Dean. He'd gone off with Cora, but had left the keys to the Impala under the driver's mat. Sam smiled despite himself. It was about time his brother relaxed a bit. He was starting to realize that was how Dean stayed sane. The way he dealt with the crap that summed up their lives. He wondered, though, if fleeting and sporadic instances like these could possibly satisfy for long. His brother had never had anything stable or set in his life other than Sammy. What Sam didn't understand was that hunting was also a constant in his life, and in a strange sort of way, the job kept him going—doing the greater good and all that, though Dean never would have put it in such high falutin' words.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice. It was the old man Dean had pointed out as the one who had bestowed the warning.

"You need to leave. Now!" The old man eyes darted furtively around the room. "Before its too late."

"Woa, slow down. What's wrong?"

"I can't stop them, you have to go."

"Stop who? What's going on?"

"I tried to warn your brother, now it is too late." Sam was all attention now. No more time for frantic old men and cryptic warnings. He grabbed the old man's arm and hurried out of the bar. Once outside he said,

"What the hell is going on? What about my brother?"

"I can't tell you. You have to go!" Forgetting the man's age, he gripped him roughly and shoved him into the Impala, got in, and started driving.

"Okay, we're out of earshot. Now tell me what the heck is going on in this town."

The old man was crying in the passenger seat. "Its no good, no good. Now they've seen me with you…"

"Well, then, you might as well talk." When it came to his brother being in possible danger, his normal politeness vanished, replaced with dire necessity.

Out of nowhere a familiar figure emerged, and walked onto the narrow road. Sam slammed on the brakes, tires squealing against the pavement. The pedestrian looked up, made aware of the car's approach by the sound and smell of rubber against asphalt. Sam saw the person's face as he looked up dully at his approaching doom. Dean. For a split second the brother's eyes met before Sam swerved to avoid committing fratricide. Sam closed his eyes in dread, as the car careened off the road. Then he heard the awful sound: A thump against the side of the car.

Dean's world phased in and phased out. He saw her face, golden brown curls encircling her delicate features, her eyes pools of beauty he could loose himself in forever. Reacing out, he wrapped a lock of her hair on his finger, bringing it to his face, taking in its fragrance. It was unlike anything he's smelt before; it wasn't overpoweringly flowery, but more earthy and herb-like.

They had parked the car above a ravine-the landscape of trees illuminated by the bright light of the half moon. Cora watched Dean caress her hair, then touched her hand to his. Dean looked up at her again, her touch waking him from his mesmeration. He held her head at the nape of her neck and pulled her firmly but ardently into a kiss.

Dean moaned, pursing his lips. Then someone's hand was on his shoulder shaking him gently.

"Dean! Jeez, man..." His features were crushed together in worry as he pulled out his phone. He dialed, the phone beeping out three digits. Sam calmly made the phone call, but as he snapped the phone shut, his hands trembled slightly.

Kneeling on the cold black top at his fallen brother's side, Sam's shaking hands looked for a place to touch Dean, afraid to move him. Dean groaned a second time, and his head flopped over to the other side as he moaned softly,

"Cora."