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AN1: WHOO! I can't believe you liked this so much! I was so surprised to see so many reviews for this! Thank you SO much :DD To all my reviewers: snseriesfan, Laura's-eyes, tvj12, Paulathe Cat, Lady Chekov, Halit, LeighAnnWallace and annonwrite! Your reviews totally inspired me to write faster! WH0000 *boogies*

AN2: I don't know why, but I always pictured Sam as the more sneakier of the two of them… if one of them had to learn or practice pickpocketing or such, it'd be Sam. *shrugs* dunno why ;P

AN3: This takes place a little while after 1x12 "Faith". I wanted this also to take place especially after that episode, because it's the most likely time (barring the last few episodes of Season 1) that Sam would attribute Dean's 'moodiness' to the heart attack-healing from the Grim Reaper (aka. "he's been moody since the heart attack"). Meh, seemed the most plausible ^.^

AN4: As with all my fics, be prepared for some major OOC-ness. You have been warned!

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Dean's not a Pacifist

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They stop in Boston for a late lunch, also opting to switch sides. The outskirts of town were the least crowded and they choose the first best looking take-out restaurant.

Sam opts to take the run and before Dean can even think of a reply, Sam's out the door. Dean scoots over to the driver's side and slides his hands over the steering wheel with a content smile, 'Oh how I missed you, baby!'

One part of Dean is slightly peeved at being left in the car like a friggen four-year-old, and the other half is so loving this. It was nice. Sitting in the car. Like a boss. Arm out the window and feet on the dash, soaking up some Vitamin D till he's pretty sure he's got a case of sunburn. Of course, it isn't hot in Boston, but the sun takes no prisoners.

The older Winchester feels himself relax even more with each minute. The sun was like a whole-body hot water-bottle. And it feels good.

He looks over to the side, winking at a passing pair of heels. The blonde scoffs with feigned anger, but Dean spots the rosy rouge her cheeks suddenly acquired. 'Tired, in pain and medicated, but I still got it!' he thinks with a smirk and an appreciative stare as she walks down the road.

A grumble from inside the diner attracted Dean's attention. He looks over and spots Sam frantically patting his pockets with a frown.

'Of course he'd forget his wallet… typical' Dean thought for a second, then finally laughed at the latter part, 'So NOT typical'

Big brother Dean gets out the car, revelling in the feeling of being able to stretch both legs for the first time in what feels like weeks. He slams Metallicar's door shut and waltzes over. 'Big brother to the rescue… ' he can't help but think with a bubble of pride. "Forgot your wallet, Sam?"

"Dean?" Sam exclaims, seriously not having expected Dean to join him.

"How much?"

"I just left it in the car… I think it's still in the gloveb-"

"How much?" Dean repeats, already pulling a hundred from his wallet.

The teen cashier 'Josua' seems to being enjoying Sam's flustering, even trying to worsen it, "Oh, sorry sir. Only the person who ordered the take-out can pay for it. If you can't pay for it right now you'll have to wash the dishes in the back…"

Sam doesn't seem to be catching on, but Dean's finding this funny as hell. "Damn, sorry, dude. I just locked the keys in the car-"

"You did WHAT?" Sam shrieks in a mild panic.

"Locked them in the car… I thought I could use the phone to… but if you have to play dishwasher, we're going to be here a while," Dean says, crosses his arms and shakes his head.

Josua nods sombrely and winks approvingly at Dean.

Sam catches that though, and causes both guys to laugh their heads off. Sam pays the guy and grabs the take out irritably. He can't keep it up the charade though, and finally relents a smile before walking off with Dean next to him.

Dean's back in the driver's seat, loving the feeling of being able to drive comfortably for the first time since forever. It doesn't feel like his right leg will rip out of its socket each time he rides the clutch and even turning a corner doesn't cause so much pain that stars start to dance in front of his eyes.

They know they're a bit behind schedule, if this really is a werewolf, then they have to make it to River Falls by tonight. It's the last week before a full moon, and that's when wolves really get into the sport of killing.

A few minutes out of Boston Sam gets a call from Bobby, he switches on the speakerphone and drops it on the console between himself and Dean.

Bobby fills them in on the rest of the information he could scrounge up about the case in River Falls while the gulp down the pies and chips they ordered. The elder man sends a couple of picture messages of photos and documents from the case to Sam's phone. They both yell their goodbyes before Sam finally hangs up.

"I actually forgot how much he loves to talk…" Sam mumbles with an amused smile, looking at the time duration of the call. 18:56 minutes. Wow. For them, who practically live on coordinates and a maximum of half-a-minute phone calls… this was… well… wow.

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting his right leg on the clutch, "Yeah… ". He slowly eases the brake on when Sam all but dives into the backseat to get his bag. When Sam finally sits again, he speeds up, no questions asked.

Sam digs out his laptop from the bottom of his bag and pushes back the screen before starting it up. He syncs the Bluetooth and sends all the info to his desktop. One by one, each received file announces its arrival with a chirpy 'TING' that's just a tad too cheerful for the guy sitting next to him.

By the ninth 'TING', Dean looks like he's about to toss Sam's laptop out the window.

Either Sam's really psychic, or Dean can safely scratch off 'observant' on the list of things that Sam lacks in general once and for all, since Sam just pressed some friggen contortionist keyboard-shortcut and muted the damn thing.

Sweet solitude. Whispers of gravel crunching below and the wind flying by them. It's not often that the older Winchester would enjoy silence. Silence would usually be drowned out by a well-placed Metallica or Black Sabbath. Somehow though, today, the idea of music is killing him.

Or, he's about to kill.

The pounding sound of some shitty rapper blasting through the speakers of some idiot driving behind them suddenly filled their ears. The bass alone was enough to rattle their eyeteeth. Constant four-squared bass pumping with the odd sound effect of electricity crackling was enough to drive them crazy.

Only, Sam's the only one who isn't going crazy. "DEAN!" he yells, grabbing Dean's hand, just in time to stop him from firing a string of rounds from his Taurus into the tone-deaf idiot behind them. He also makes a grab at his laptop –which had been upset with Sam's saving dive.

"WHAT?" Dean snaps at Sam, trying to aim at the moron with one hand and drive straight with the other. He hates sitting twisted like this, it's making the stitch in his side worse. He clenches his jaw, biting down the pain.

"Dean! You can't just shoot anybody!" Sam yells and manages to wrestle the Taurus from Dean's hand just in time. He shoves -tries to shove- it into the overfull glove-box. The latch doesn't want to close with the piece inside, but it doesn't stop Sam from trying to slam it shut a couple of times before finally giving up and shoving the pistol under his seat.

Dean angrily hits the steering wheel, and clams up like an oyster. Lips pulled to a line and his eyes narrowed, as if anything else would leak out whatever he didn't want Sam to know.

"Here, take a look at this…" Sam says in an effort to distract Dean from his murderous intentions. The photo was of a crime scene in River Falls. It's a picture of the fourth victim this thing caused. A young woman, actually quite attractive with auburn hair and a model's body… but it was hard to tell, mostly because blood covered most of the scene.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Rookie?"

"Yeah," Dean says and makes sure to keep an eye on the road this time, "Seems like a pretty ritzy place though… where'd the report say she was killed?"

"It kinda looks like a Vegas hotel room, but the report says she was killed at home. The neighbours opposite her called the police when they heard screaming," Sam says, reading the report.

"Well, what do the over victims' places look like… 'cause I totally get a jealous werewolf," Dean says with a grin.

But, Sam's not stupid. That is not Dean's grin. That was the grin Dean hands him each time he had to tell 'Sammy' that they had to move at the end of the week. That was the grin Dean had on when he had to let Sam know that their Dad would miss his birthday, again. That grin, was not normal.

Sam's not convinced… in fact, he is seriously considering taking Dean to a shrink. Or a doctor. Or maybe Bobby. Yes, Bobby will sort him out. A glance at Dean tells him to wait on this little plan of action until after the hunt. Somehow hunting always calms Dean down, 'cause if Dean keeps fidgeting… hunting might be the best bet for a quick fix. Sam does ask if he can take over driving, but unless Dean can't hear him, he's definitely not interested in that option.

Dean's not looking at the top of his game though. He tries to stretch it out, but a side stretch does nothing to relieve the pain in his side. Trying to stretch out his legs only sends spikes of pain shooting up his spine. It suddenly hits him though. It's been four hours since he took the meds. Shit. He looks over as non-chalantly as possible, trying to see if Sam's awake or just gazing at the scenery. When he sees Sam's eyes open and alert he silently curses, because this means he'll have to wait until Sam falls asleep – or they reach River Falls- whichever comes first to take the next round of meds.

What's worse, the humidity in the car's killing him. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it on the backseat. He rolls down his window and fans some air into his shirt. "Damn, hot enough out here for you?" he says and puffs.

He's actually been considering getting his jacket from his duffle in the trunk, and Dean's hot? He's sick. He shuts his laptop and twists in his seat to set it down on the backseat, not missing how Dean once again slows down the Impala just enough to make Sam's job easier. "Hot…?" Sam finally says disbelievingly, blinking a few times.

"You're not?" Dean says incredulously, suddenly jumping on the horn of the Impala when the driver in front of him stops out of the blue.

Sam, a bit surprised that Dean would blare the horn at someone stopping normally at a Stop-sign, only shakes his head, "Uh… no… you did see that sign, didn't you?"

"What sign?" Dean growls and blares the horn when the Toyota in front of him takes too long to drive off again, "Stupid mooks who don't know how to drive…"

Being a younger brother sometimes comes with innate knowledge. One example of that knowledge is: knowing when to shut up. So, Sam shuts up and lets Dean drive.

When wiping the sweat of his forehead becomes too annoying, Dean finally pulls over. He parks on the side of the road and climbs out.

"Geez, it's boiling!" Dean puffs in frustration, walking to the trunk and propping it up.

Sam opens his door and gets out and lazily stretches out, allowing Dean a couple minutes alone. He knows there's something wrong with Dean. He guesses it's maybe a torn muscle, or could always be IBS considering how many cheeseburgers Dean eats within a week.

Dean, taking full advantage of Sam's yoga session, to medicate himself with another of those glorious little lifesavers. He grabs one of the water bottles in the trunk and downs it. Yes. Work your kickass magic.

Sam joins Dean at the back a few minutes later, grabbing the half-full water bottle from Dean and chugs down the rest of it, "Thanks!"

"I think we're about three hours away from River Falls…" Dean says and rubs his eyes. He couldn't help it, the pain was wearing his down.

"I'll drive!" Sam chirps and walks around to the driver's side without a blink.

Dean shrugs, not really wanting to not drive, but not really wanting to drive when he's feeling like his insides are nom nom-ing at the rest of his body each time he moves. "Here," Dean says and digs in his pocket for the … keys…?

"Got it!" Sam practically sings and jingles the pickpocketed keys in the air before climbing in.

"Bitch!" Dean yells angrily, scoffing before he takes his seat and slams the door shut.

Sam chuckles with a good degree of smugness, "Don't be so jealous!" and the Chevy roars to life.

It looks like Dean's feeling a bit better though, 'cause it's not half an hour later and he turns the A/C back down and grabs his leather jacket from the back and drapes it over himself. A few times when they hit a pothole or a bump in the road-levels, Dean's breath hitches and he grabs his side, but otherwise he seems to be okay.

It's late afternoon when they finally reach River Falls, slowing down to a crawl as they drive through the town looking for a motel, or in, or anything. Or, at least, Sam's looking… Dean's still sleeping.

After a good twenty minutes, a couple of detours, Sam finally finds a pretty good-looking inn. Considering how Dean's been acting –and looking- for the past few days, he's guessing Dean's coming down with something… so being in a place where they don't have to worry about disinfecting the showers or bedding –not that they ever do, but that's not the point… being in an actual decent inn for once, would definitely shorten the recovery time… and if this is really a werewolf case, then they'll need all the help they can get.

"Two separate beds, please," Sam says and nods gratefully at the elderly woman behind the counter. She takes Sam through the grand tour through the Inn and finally stops in front of their room, "You have a kitchenette, bathroom en suite, two beds… the telephone on the drawers is linked to the front desk. You can give us a call if you need anything, honey," she says and smiles sweetly before handing over the keys.

Sam forces a smile, hoping she won't tell him another story about her sons or her cats or anything else. When she does leave, he sighs in relief and unlocks the door before heading back to the Impala.

Dean's so out of it that he doesn't even realise they've stopped. Even when Sam's finished unpacking the duffels and took them to their room, he's still sleeping. Only when Sam knocks on the window does he startle awake, "WAH-"

"Hey, I already booked us in…" Sam says and opened the door for him, "I booked the room for two weeks… I'm not sure how long this hunt'll take…"

Dean smiles weakly and climbs out. Or, at least, he thought he was going to. His right leg doesn't take, and buckles under him as soon as he stands on it.

Sam's on the ball though, and grabs Dean by the arm just in time.

Dean bats his hands away again and slams the door shut, "Touchy-much?" he grabs the room keys from Sam's hand and stalks off before stopping halfway, "Which.. way?"

It doesn't both Sam to simply catch-up to Dean and shows him where the room is, no smugness, no quips. Dean's got both eyes trained for some form of witticism from Sam, but it's nowhere in sight. That just makes this worse.

Once they arrive in the room, Dean heads to the bathroom while Sam starts unpacking. Dean doesn't seem to be registering the size or style of the room – which is a much more comfortable than usual.

On the one hand, Sam's feeling a bit annoyed, because, HELLO! Doesn't Dean notice how awesome this room is? On the other hand, he's relieved, since now, he won't get the 'don't pay over fifteen dollars on a room, ever'.

Halfway through packing, Sam a bit surprised that Dean's still in the shower. It's still only been twenty minutes. Nonetheless, Mrs. Hall arrives with the dinner Sam ordered. There had to be a reason why Sam ended up paying over fifty dollar for the suite: the beef stew, rice stack, veg-plate and jell-o pudding was looking enchanting.

Indubitably, it had to come with a side-salad of 'how family reunions are always a wonderful blessing' from Mrs. Hall.

Sam turns on his 'smile and nod' function and waits it out until Dean emerges from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. Sam takes the opportunity of a -stunned – to apologize and quickly shut (and lock) the door behind him.

"You know, now she'll probably think we're gay," Sam deadpanned and walked to the kitchenette with assorted tray of awesomeness.

"Don't hate the towel-skirt, Sammy. Tarzan's loincloth stayed in fashion for a reason," Dean says, and uses the towel to whip to Sam's behind.

"Ow! Shit!" Sam yelps, almost dropping the tray, he sent a back-kick to Dean, but missed him with an inch, "You're such a jerk!". He also wanted to add, 'AND you're acting more normal than you've been in the last few months,' but he stays silent and simply smiles. He decides to ignore that stark-naked Dean and dish up their dinner.

Dean, finally gets dressed, albeit carefully, "Hey, where'd you get the grub?" he asks, buttoning up his jeans and dresses one of his red v-neck shirts. He pads his hand carefully his right side, but the third round of those 'beige beauties' he took while he was in the bathroom seemed to be kicking in, even his fever was receding.

He sits down on the bed, shuffling back until his back hits the headboard. He sighs and rolls his neck, trying to get rid of some of stiffness, which he chalks off to sleeping in the car for so long.

"Hungry?" Sam calls from the kitchen. By the sounds of it he's already dishing out.

"Yeah," Dean says and tries to catch a glimpse of dinner, "Was that beef stew I saw?"

"Mmmhhmmm…" well, by the sound of it, Sam was currently sampling said stew. And if it tastes half as good as it sounds, then this'll be heavenly.

Three-quarters of the way through Centre Stage, Dean's asleep, his bowl of stew tilting dangerously in his hand. Sam leans over and slowly tugs the bowl from his hand, setting it down on the table between them. He doesn't lower the volume of the movie though, since even the slightest change'll wake Dean up… something Sam's not willing to risk at the moment, not when Dean's been sleeping as shitty as he's been the past few months.

Sam slowly clears out the rest of the leftover dinner and stashes it in the fridge. Depending on how research and the interviews go, it's possible this dinner will hold them over for about two days. A couple of dollars go a long way.

When Sam does finally get back to the room, something stops him dead in his tracks. He's used to seeing some weird shit. When witches, vampires and nymphs become normal, then weird shit kinda just doesn't rate anymore. Somehow, this just tips the weird-scale.

It's not normal that Dean's doubled-over, gripping his stomach, his face twisted in pain. He's mumbling anxiously in his sleep, just like he did when he fell asleep in the car earlier today. And that's got Sam worried, since Dean practically never gets nightmares. Causes them, yes. But doesn't get them.

Last time he's seen him like this… well… it's probably been just about four years ago. And last time, Dean ended up in hospital.

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Thanks for reading!

Next time we'll get started with the interviews and research leading up to the hunt…. Plus some sleepy! Dean kickass! Sam - both of which will come with a healthy dose of fluff!

I really hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think!