Whisphers of the Heart

Dean liked cars. He liked the smooth lines and sleek designs, and he could appreciate the newer models as well as the classics. He enjoyed the beautiful women that sometimes came with a car-on a strictly no touch basis of course. He especially enjoyed working on cars. Dean had always imagined that if he wasn't a hunter then he would be a mechanic, like his dad and Bobby.

Half a year of working in a garage was beginning to shift his views, though. Just the part about being a mechanic, not the rest of it, although his own business sounded pretty good, damn authorative bosses. Then there were the idiots who swore that it couldn't be the altinator, it's just a spark plug, not because years or even months of mechanical experience told them, but because they just knew. Freakin' dumbasses.

Dean was in a foul mood and it was showing. Ben was becoming a rebellious pain in the ass and Dean and Cassie were arguing more and more, mostly about how Dean needed to stop moping around and get over it, 'it' being five months of Sam gone.

Five months, three weeks, and six days actually, he though grimly while pulling roughly on a socket wrench.

Not that he was keeping track or anything.

Dean was itching to get into the Impala and just drive somewhere, anywhere, as long as there was open road in front of him. He wouldn't necessarily hunt, maybe a few salt and burns, just go to some shows, see the Grand Canyon. There had been a few road trips, but nothing out of state and nothing longer than a week. Dean couldn't handle the empty passenger seat, and he definetely couldn't handle seeing the Grand Canyon by himself, not when it had been something he and Sam had always planned to do together.

So it seemed he was doomed to stay in this town with a job he hated a little more each day, a woman who was beginning to resent him a little more each day, and a kid who was fond of reminding him that Dean wasn't his dad everyday.

Life sucked big ones at the moment.

"You ever find out what was making that ratteling noise?"

Dean raised his head so quickly he almost bashed his head on the hood. The socket wrench was in a white knuckled grip as he replayed the words and voice over and over in his head. It seemed like years since he'd first heard that sentance (it had actually but that was all semantics) and even longer since he'd heard that voice. The wording, the tone, the slight midwest drawl you couldn't always hear. Dean was back to that side of the road, under the hood and drinking a beer with Sam next to him, showing him the how to of basic mechanics, smiling and just being brothers.

It took him a minute to look out in the garage; if it had been nothing more than memory coming back to haunt him, Dean knew he would be heartbroken. The possiblity that it was his brother was practically non existant as it was, why give himself more anguish by proving that? But, deep inside, Dean knew that if he didn't look he'd regret it.

So he did.

There at the opposite end of the garage was a six foot plus man with shaggy hair, stripped button down with the sleeves rolled up, and faded jeans. Even from that distance, the man's voice carried and Dean could hear it clearly. When that shaggy head turned and Dean saw the familiar face, he knew.

For a moment, Dean had no idea what to do. He could only stare in shock and wonder and-thank you thank you thank you, thank you!- as he watched Sam move to a car with the mechanic, gesturing and doing the tilt of the head that meant he was a little confused. On autopilot and still reeling, Dean started moving.

"...don't know why you'd have to charge so much for something like that, if it's so small," Sam was saying and Dean's knees nearly gave away.

"Well, it's the shipping and stuff, and labor you know," the mechanic replied.

"You've got an autoparts store in town, don't you," Sam asked, barely glancing at Dean, attention solely focused on the man in front of him.

"Yeah, well," Pat started to say but he was cut off.

"And if this part breaks down commonly like you say, then they should have it there."

"Yes," came the guarded response.

"So...why do you have to order it in again, when you, or me, even, get that part from the store and it would save time and money on my end and possibly yours?" Pat's eyebrow twitched and Sam gave that little smile he always got when he'd found the right answer or won an argument. "Or maybe, that's the whole point, huh?"

Pat muttered something and stepped away but Sam stopped him dead with a chilly voice. "Don't bother, I'll call them myself, thanks."

The other mechanic stormed off. Sam shook his head, sighed, and pulled out his phone. Everything was so Sam, the movements, the way of speaking, the voice, even the way his sleeves were rolled just screamed Sam. Dean stepped forward, grabbing the younger man's attention.

"Sammy?"

There was that head tilt again, and the little furrow he got. "I'm sorry, I think you've got me confused with someone else."

Black-Angel-001: yeah, soo...worth continuing? are you intruiged enough to want to keep reading? will i just be wasting my time? review and let me know! feedback = creative processes= more chapters! it's a proven mathamatical formula!