this chappie made me feel iffy D: i hope its okay :

grrrargg... i have a swim meet tomarrrooowww D:

o0o0o0o0o0

Chapter 19: Crossroad Blues Part 1

I rustled around the sheets, trying to head back to sleep, but it wasn't really working. I was probably doing this for about an hour now; trying to find a comfortable position near and/or on Dean's sleeping form next to me. I cursed myself for being one of those people that when they got up, they were up. Unless I was extremely tired I never could just turn right over and head back to sleep. I leaned my head off Dean's chest to peak over at the time on the nightstand. God damnit; did that say 7 AM?

My moving hadn't caused Dean to wake up and I think I was actually a bit mad at him for the fact that he could sleep through anything when a single pin dropping would wake me out of a deep sleep. I threw one arm over his chest and snuggled into the skin between his stomach and pecs. He shifted slightly managing to move his arm out from under the sheets to put around my waist. He squeezed me slightly and for a moment I thought he was awake but as I moved to look at his face he was still sound asleep and I smiled against him, leaving a small trail of kisses. That date last night had been amazing, so amazing that when I woke up I thought it had been a dream. I squeezed him around his waist again and sat up slightly, leaving a butterfly kiss on his lips. I really felt like I should have been doing something for him. Taking him out on a special date or making him dinner; even though I couldn't cook. Hell, something as simple as buying him something he could use for his car or grabbing something special at the grocery store.

He was always doing things for me, showing me how much he loved me and I felt like I never did anything. I ran my fingers over the side of his face, stroking his cheek bone. He'd been doing so well with things lately, because no matter how he tried hiding things, I knew he was still upset over what happened with his dad. The guilt that John had done something to save his life still firmly attached to it. Not to mention this weird demon connection with Sam and I and keeping up with cases. I was proud of him for handling everything with a clear head but it just made me wonder if he was really alright as he seemed to be.

I leaned in close to his face, taking in every little freckle that peppered his cheek bones as I kissed him. I rubbed my nose against his cheek and finally turned over, gently removing his arm from around me as I crawled out of bed. I looked down at myself and widened my eyes.

"Alright," I whispered to myself, looking around the floor. "Underwear. Everyone needs underwear." I spied them across Dean's pants and picked them up to slip them on. Unfortunately, all of our stuff was still in our duffel in Sam's room so I'd need to swing by there if I actually wanted to get fully dressed.

I picked up Dean's dress shirt and slipped it over my shoulders, pausing to push my nose to the fabric and take a big whiff of cinnamon and detergent. Damn, I'd never get tired of that smell. I sauntered on over to the kitchenette, careful to avoid shoes and other articles of clothing. That's all I would need; to trip over something and wake Dean with a scream.

I felt around for the coffee maker, the room incredibly dark for seven AM, and found it. Luckily, our room was basically the same make as Sam's so I knew where the sink was and eventually located the outlet. I made a banging noise, as the coffee ground container fell out of the cabinet and my head zipped to Dean; heart thudding loudly in my chest. He turned over and went head first into my pillow and giggled as one of his ass cheeks was made visible as the sheet fell down at the movement. I rolled my eyes and finished making up the coffee, turning the switch one. It took a moment but it finally made the satisfying gurgling noises that coffee was being produced and I inched back over to where Dean was, eyeing his ass as I re-covered him with the bed sheet.

I stroked his hair for a moment and then made my way to the door, heading down to Sam's room to get our clothes. It was still early in the morning so I was guessing he'd be awake. No one was really moseying around, luckily. Because otherwise people would have got an eyeful of me in Dean's shirt and my laced underwear sticking out ever so slightly around the back. For some reason the shirt dipped way down in the front, the tails of the shirt almost reaching the beginning of my knees, but the back of it was basically raising itself around my waist. I tried adjusting it as I got to Sam's room, but it still sunk low in the front and I finally just gave up. Stupid shirt according to my standards, even though Dean made it look dashing last night.

I knocked on the door just loud enough that Sam would hear and the neighbors wouldn't. After about ten knocks, I was starting to grow impatient. I mean I was standing out in the middle of the hallway in my underwear and Dean's shirt.

"Sam!" I grit, not yelling but a little loud as I put one last pound on the door.

"Can I help you miss?"

I turned around, flipping terrific, to see a man standing outside his own doorway staring me up and down. Thank God he was wearing pants, he looked like one of those people that should have been wearing clothes at all times and I grimaced at an involuntary picture popped into my head.

Wanting to kick myself for not just putting Jo's dress back on, I swallowed and gripped at the bottom of Dean's shirt. Like it mattered how many times I pulled on the damn thing. It wouldn't get any longer that way.

"I'm trying to wake my friend up. My clothes are in there." I said and looked at the floor as a smile grew on his face. "But I guess you figured that." I muttered, extremely uncomfortable.

The guy shifted on the doorframe and adjusted his trucker hat even though all that did was make it more lopsided on his greasy head. Where were all the nice slim attractive guys in the world? Every time I ran into someone he was either fat, greasy, disgusting, perverted or possessed. Lucky me.

"Well if you want…" He moved off the doorframe and towards me. "Since I'm guessing you don't have a phone, you can come in and call the room."

This time I didn't care who the fuck I woke. I pounded my fist on Sam's door and yelled his name. I heard the quick rustling of sheets and the whining of bed coils and suddenly the door opened.

"Andy?" Sam asked me and I squeezed past him and inside, thanking God to be away from that creep. The guy cleared his throat and backed away from the doorway on seeing Sam and Sam eyed him until Angry Trucker Hat made his way back into his room.

"You know with the amount of times that's happened," Sam said, closing the door as I sat on one of the beds. "You should just knee every guy you meet."

I laughed running my hands over my face as I went to lie back on the bed. "Yeah, I can see it now. Me kneeing guys as we walk down the street or into a restaurant. That'll be nice and inconspicuous when we're working a job." I let out a laugh but frowned when Sam didn't.

Okay, so maybe my sense of humor was shot. I looked over to Sam who was staring at me. Or maybe Sam was distracted. I glanced down at myself and realized that my underwear was in full view of Sam and I jerked up, blushing like crazy, and trying to cover myself with the tails of Dean's shirt. Sam seemed to clear his throat and look at everything but me and I was happy to see I wasn't the only one extremely embarrassed.

"Um, my clothes duffel is over there right?" I asked Sam, my voice peaking in strange places.

Compared to mine, Sam's voice was practically non existent. Sam rounded the bed and muttered something about a yeah as I got up. If I hadn't been right next to him when he had said it, I wouldn't have heard him. He handed me the bag, not looking at me.

"Thanks."

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, like he was clearing some sort of fog. "Yeah, sure."

I pulled some of my clothes out, not really caring what I grabbed, I just wanted to get dressed. Now more than anything. I glanced at the table as I passed it with my clothes on the way to the bathroom.

"Did you get hammered last night?" I asked him, seeing the half empty vodka bottle.

Sam shrugged, the action seemed a little off balance to me but I ignored it. "Everyone else was having fun. So I figured…" He looked me in the eyes. "why not me?"

Wasn't that phrase just universally ironic? I nodded slightly, reverting my eyes back to the floor and went to close the door. Way to go Andy. Just when I think Sam was getting back to normal, ya know? He wasn't acting angry or upset around Dean and me. I mean I knew he wasn't over it but I thought his initial wound was at least healing. So what do I do to help the healing process? Accidently flash him my underwear. I groaned, rubbing a hand over the side of my face. I knew that must have hurt like hell; like throwing salt on an open wound. I got dressed and opened the bathroom door to find Sam reclining on the bed, watching TV. I stuffed Dean's shirt back into the duffel and hoisted it over my shoulder, noticing that the vodka bottle was now empty.

I turned to look at Sam, who looked like he'd been run over by a truck and that was putting it nicely. "Needed another drink?" I wisecracked but as he looked up at me I could tell he hadn't thought it was funny. "Look, I'm sorry about before. It was…"

"An accident, I know." He replied shortly, cutting me off without even looking at me. I glanced at the TV he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of. Yeah, I bet a commercial about fabric softener was as appealing as it looked.

"Are we okay?" I asked attentively, because obviously he wasn't.

He sat up in bed, his body and face extremely close to my own. He reeked of alcohol and cologne, his natural vanilla scent gone with the half a bottle of vodka he'd just downed. "We're always okay, aren't we?"

I got up from the bed, almost tripping on the comforter on the floor. "Yeah, I'm just checking."

I had my hand on the handle, ready to leave, and I finally just turned to look at him. He looked like crap. I'm pretty sure that he went to bed wasted and it didn't look like he had much sleep. Three hours total?

"How much sleep did you get last night?" I asked him and his droopy eyes looked towards mine. He suddenly looked very old. Made me want to smack a warning sign on vodka bottles. WARNING: causes drunkenness and aging.

He sighed, shifting in bed. "Why does it matter to you?" He asked me tiredly. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Okay, I knew that straight vodka, especially half a bottle in a short amount of time, was not good for the system. He was already slurring and it made me think that he hadn't been asleep when I was knocking on the door.

"Were you up all night?" I asked him, slumping the bag on the floor.

"I slept for a little."

"A little meaning an hour?" I asked, looking for the remote to turn the damn station off. Suddenly, I was really upset. I had this great night with Dean and Sam goes off and gets himself hammered. All because of what? Because he was jealous, upset, angry? What?

"What do you care?" He spat, leaning down to search under his bed for something. He pulled out another bottle of vodka and had trouble opening it. I scoffed, taking the bottle out of his hands and looked under the bed. Luckily there wasn't a freaking keg under there, like I half expected there to be.

I shoved the sealed bottle in the duffel and threw the empty one away. He must have been working on that bottle of vodka all night and finally crashed to sleep maybe, a few hours before I was pounding on the door? He wasn't asleep, he was hung over.

"I'm your best friend." He seemed to cringe at the word. "And I'm worried that you just finished off a bottle of vodka and you were ready to open another."

"Go. Back. To. Dean." He bit out. Every word was emphasized like it was a threat and he turned around in the bed, burying his head in the pillow. I ran my tongue over my lips and looked around the room, trying to see if he had any more booze lying about.

"So you're just gonna start this up again?" I asked him, throwing pillows at his head to get him to move. "You're gonna be mad at me forever for choosing Dean?"

"I'm not mad at you for choosing Dean!" Sam argued, raising his head off and sitting up. He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "I'm mad because I feel like I'm losing the only thing I ever had with you!"

I looked at him a moment as he embarrassingly brushed away his tears that were stimulated from too much vodka. Also on the warning label: blatantly causes emotions to rise and may act as a truth serum.

"You're not losing…" I trailed off and he raised his head, taking in a pathetic sniffle that made my heart shatter into a million pieces.

He was suddenly incredibly sober. "Nothing, forget I mentioned anything." He said quietly, walking past me and into the bathroom.

I picked up the duffel on the floor and put it back over my shoulder and left, ignoring the slam the door had made when I shut it. Sam's words echoed in my ear like a mantra and the only possible thing that he thought he could be losing was me; his friendship with me. He was wrong right? I wasn't trading one Winchester for the other? I could have both of them; I could have a relationship with Dean and a friendship with Sam. I thought it had been okay, but obviously Sam was still harboring some sore emotions. I couldn't choose; it wouldn't be fair. I couldn't just pick love over friendship. It was never that easy. I wouldn't; Sam wasn't going to make me do that. It was like telling Dean to pick between me and his brother. He could and would never do it. I'd rather lose both of them.

O0o0o0o0

When I opened the door to my room Dean was just starting to wake up. I smiled as I saw him stretch, taking a deep breath through his nose as his arms went over his head.

"Hey you." I said lovingly, going to sit next to him on the bed.

He smiled and positioned himself to lean against the headboard. "Hey." His voice was still streaked with sleep and I rubbed the side of his face tenderly. "What time is it?"

I looked past him and at the nightstand. "Just pass eight." Wow, time flies when you're fighting. "Did you sleep well?"

Dean smiled again, leaning up to encircle his arms around my waist. He pulled me towards him. "I think you know the answer to that." I shifted back ever so slightly and pulled the sheets back to crawl under them and overtop of him, ignoring the fact that he was still naked. I didn't care. I just needed to feel him, to be near him.

"Slightly breezy there, babe."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head down on his chest. He kissed my head and pulled the sheets up to my neck, running his hands over my shoulders. The warmth from his entire body was soothing and I kissed his bare chest.

"Bad morning already?" He asked me.

I sat my chin on his chest. "How do you know? Maybe I just missed you."

"Although I find that very flattering…" He leaned down and kissed my nose. "I can tell."

I shook my head, pushing my lips to his. He kissed me gently, like he thought I was going to fall to pieces on him and I moved my arms up around his neck. He pulled back after a few minutes, his hazel eyes clouding over with a bit of worry.

I smiled slightly and kissed his lips, leaning my forehead against his. The sentence, 'your brother downed a whole bottle of vodka between last night and this morning' hung on my lips. I couldn't tell Dean that. Wouldn't that just make everything worse? He was very intuitive when he wanted to be and I knew he'd be able to sift through the pieces in a second and know why Sam chose to get so plastered.

"Let's just say I left the room in my underwear and your shirt and got some amazing looks and offers."

"Really?" Dean asked. He knew I was joking but you could see the little protective glint in his eyes. "Anyone more attractive than me?"

I rolled my eyes, pulling myself out of bed. "You're saying that it's difficult?" He wailed a pillow at me and I avoided it, giggling.

"Watch it Core." He said with a huge smile on his face.

"Um, let me see…" I pretended to count in my head as I took two coffee mugs out of the cabinet and filled them with coffee. "There was one guy who looked like Matt Damon, and another like Tom Welling."

I turned my head for a moment to see him glare at me and pull the sheet up around his waist as he got out of bed.

'One that looked like your brother' I thought wryly and almost spilled the coffee. "I don't know Dean; it's not looking good for you."

I would have turned around but I realized that he was smack up against me, encircling arms around my waist and burying his nose in my hair until it rubbed against the back of my neck. It sent small shivers down my spine and I smiled and leaned back into his touch.

"Wanna see if I can change that?" He asked; his voice low and seductive.

And how could you pass up a voice like that? Hell, my body was already making the decision for me by growing weak in the knees. I leaned back onto him and he smiled, backing up to head into the bathroom.

"What about the coffee?" I asked even though I didn't really give a damn at the moment.

Dean cleared his throat, closing the bathroom door. He sat me on the toilet and ruffled my hair. "What about it?"

Good point. I watched him lean over the tub and turn the water on, feeling the tap. "You're trying to convince me you're better than Matt Damon with a shower?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe what I can do in a shower."

I giggled and rolled my eyes at the ego. "I don't know Dean; I've taken showers with you before. I can't find anything to brag about."

He let the sheet drop and I forced my eyes to stay on his face as he stood in front of me. He offered his hand and I took it, standing up. He ran his hands over my shoulders, leaning towards me to kiss my neck. I sighed against him, feeling completely relaxed. I wouldn't let him bask in the thought that wanted to come out of my mouth. Damn. I didn't even need to meet Matt Damon to know that Dean was better than him. Hands down. And I knew he wanted me to admit that. I smiled; not yet.

He leaned back to pull the T-shirt up over my head. Leaning his chest against me, he fondled with the clip of my bra, which he seemed to be having trouble with.

"You're Dean-proofing your clothes now?" He asked as a slow grin crept on his face and one eyebrow rose.

I rolled my eyes and reached up behind my back, unclipping it easily. "No, just child proofing." I said pointedly and he stuck his tongue out at me. I giggled, pointing at the gesture. "Case in point…"

He shut me up real fast, pushing his lips to my own as my bra slid down. The water must have been close to boiling because the steam was filling the room, encasing each of our bodies in a warm cocoon. Luckily he didn't have any clothes on; I was just itching to get in that shower. I mean, don't get me wrong; when Dean had clothes on he looked just as good with them off. But I was tired of him wearing so many layers sometimes. I mean a t-shirt, a dress shirt, a jacket and then his leather one over that. I almost rolled my eyes. Sam does it and John had done it too. Must have been a Winchester thing. But honestly, out of all the nice Winchester qualities that was my least favorite. I didn't like it because, hello, took forever to get everything off and I couldn't feel the warmth of his skin all the time through all the layers.

I started helping, even though my hands felt like jello, and unbuttoned my jeans. I pushed them down and he wrapped a secure arm around my waist so I wouldn't fall as I took them off. All that's left was my underwear and he pushed his fingers past the elastic and slid them off. He smiled against my lips and took a hold of my hand, giving it a firm squeeze and led me to the shower and helped me into the tub. Suddenly, everything was different. His touches were softer and less passionate and as he closed the curtain of the shower I could tell that this had been his plan. Not for something more. He was switching gears on me, trying to surprise me with different actions. Color me surprised.

He pulled me up against his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist. He faced my back towards the shower head and I sighed as he turned the current on and the warm water vibrated against my back. He took my Loofah and squeezed it, letting it soak up with water. He did this for a few minutes, kissing my wet hair. He then picked up the lavender body lotion and put a bit on it and rubbed it over my back in soothing motions. The Loofah was a rough material but Dean made it feel like silk. He rubbed it everywhere over my body, strong soothing motions. None of it was quick and hot and begging for a little bit more. Everything had a lazy, soft tint to it and I closed my eyes against his chest as the motions almost lulled me to sleep.

"Matt Damon still winning?" He asked and I smiled, kissing his chest as warm water hit my lips.

"Eh, maybe you're pulling out ahead."

Dean chuckled, setting the Loofah down and grabbing my shampoo. He put a little into his hands and started lathering it into my hair. I sighed happily, his hands felt so good. He was massaging my scalp and I leaned into his touch. He kissed my forehead and leaned my head back against the pouring water from the shower head to get all the soap out. He was careful and gentle and all of a sudden the only thing I could think of was how great he was going to be with kids and giving them baths. It made my heart ache for that moment in my life and I squeezed him around his waist.

"Can I wash your hair?" I asked him, leaning my chin on his chest to look him in the eyes.

He smiled slowly, running a hand through my wet locks trying to see if he got all the soap out. "Yeah, sure. If you want to."

I nodded. "I do."

He was taller than me, obviously, so it was a bit difficult standing on my tippy toes to rub his shampoo in his hair. I finally got the hang of it and Dean shut his eyes, groaning almost appreciatively as I worked my fingers across his scalp. I tried to make it as relaxing as possible and tried not to slip as I did so. Although, Dean's arms were still securely around my waist so I figured if I did slip he'd have me.

We switched places and his back was now against the current and I instructed him to lean his head back as I worked the soap out. I felt a little silly telling him exactly what to do because he obviously knew how, seeing as how this wasn't the first time he'd ever washed his hair. But he didn't laugh or smirk in a way that was making fun; he just let me do it. Because it seemed to relax him; someone taking care of him. He liked that I doing it.

I kissed his lips and he opened his eyes. "This was the best shower ever." I said gently.

Now he did smirk, his warm breath hitting my face. "Better than a shower with Matt Damon?"

I rolled my eyes and put my arms up around his neck. "Way better."

He kissed my shoulder and ran his hands through my hair. "Good to know." He then picked up a bottle and I pulled back. "Do I get rubbed with a Loofah too?" He waved his own body soap at me and the question caught me off guard making me laugh.

I nodded and grabbed the bottle. I popped it open and took in the scent a moment; the thrilling scent of cinnamon that I had come to associate with him filling my nose. "Of course you do. I shouldn't be the only one enjoying that Loofah."

He wrinkled his nose as he handed it to me. "Why girls want to rub that scratchy material over their body is beyond me."

I smiled as I poured his body lotion on it, working it to a lather. "Would you rather I used my hands?"

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "I'm not throwing the notion away that I wouldn't hate it." I finally thought I got it soft enough to put on his skin and I rubbed it along his chest, as gently as I could. I ran it over his pec muscles and lightly grazed his shoulders. I ran it down his stomach and paused, pushing it over his thighs instead of heading all the way in another direction.

"Still hate the Loofah?" I asked him and he nodded slightly, watching me run over his skin. So I dropped the Loofah and ran over his skin with my hands, taking in every bit of warmth as the water started to feel cold.

Ten minutes I was rubbing my hands all over his skin but it felt like hours. I was glad it didn't feel like seconds; I think that would have killed me somehow. I sighed and he pulled me back to his chest. His back was still facing the shower head and I shivered feeling the now cold water splatter past him and trickle down my body.

"You want to get out?" He asked and rubbed his hands along my shoulders.

I never wanted to leave. I didn't care if we both froze to death. "It's up to you."

He smiled and kissed my head. "You're the one that's shaking, babe."

"Well the waters cold." I kissed his chest again.

Dean leaned back behind him and shut the water off, the pipes making sickening crunching noises as he did so. "You know how shitty the plumbing is. We're lucky we got as much hot water as we did."

"Are we gonna head out to a diner? I'm kind of hungry."

"Kind of?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow and I giggled as he got out of the shower to get grab the towels. He pulled them off the hook on the door and wrapped one around me.

"Alright, maybe a lot. I may just have waffles." I said with a grin and got out of the tub.

He opened the door and went to grab some of his clothes from the duffel. "You better not. You're sitting next to Sam if you do."

My simile faded as I remembered how not okay Sam and I were. It was going to be majorly awkward, especially since I hadn't told Dean what had gone on this morning. And I was pretty sure Sam wouldn't just play along like everything was okay when it wasn't.

"Huh?" I asked, seeing Dean was waiting for an answer or statement. Something. He'd said something else.

"I said, I was just kidding. I'm not going alienate you because your breakfast choices suck. Even though I should make you sit at another table."

I smiled slightly, slipping my jeans and shirt on. "Right."

He pulled the t-shirt up over his head and I left the bathroom, the closed space making me feel lightheaded. I went over to the sink and cupped the top of one of the mugs. The coffee was still kind of warm and I took a small sip. Wasn't as warm as I thought. I hated cold coffee and the liquid was freezing down my throat. It felt like molasses and I almost gagged.

"Are you okay?" He asked me.

I coughed. "Yeah, I just almost destroyed my esophagus with cold coffee that's all." He meant about before; I knew what he meant. I was trying anything to avoid it.

He came up behind me and poured the coffee down the drain, a complete waste. Though a lot of things seemed that way today.

O0o0o0o

So we headed to the diner, the car was quiet except for Dean's music blaring through the speakers. Sometimes I thought the music was loud enough to make the car bounce, ya know, like they tried to do in movies. Sam looked a little better when we came to get him. He seemed like he had sobered up. The circles under his eyes weren't as dark as they had been before and his hair was wet from the shower he had taken. I wondered in his water had been cold. He had changed his clothes and as he walked past me to head to the car the familiar scent of vanilla was back. It had been like the vodka bottle had never happened and I prayed to God it was some sick dream I had had.

But as we got out of the car at the diner I could see it in his eyes. The alcohol was still swirling about and the hurt; the soreness of our conversation was still there.

"Hey Sam." I grabbed on his arm as Dean headed in to grab a table. I'm glad today wasn't one of the days he was trialing next to me or behind me.

He turned to look at me but removed his arm from my grasp. "What?" It wasn't angry. Just very, very tired.

"I didn't tell Dean, about the vodka and everything."

He smiled but it was sore and twisted. It turned into a smirk which seconds later turned into a scowl. "You think you're doing me a favor?" He asked me.

"I was just trying to cover for you. You know Dean would be poking his nose around trying to figure out why you would need to get drunk while he was on a date with me." I was just trying to cut him a little slack. You couldn't help who you liked; it was a proven fact. Or it should have been.

"I really don't think he'd think much of it."

I looked at my shoes. So Sam was angry…because I tried to cover for him? I didn't understand? Did he not want me to do that anymore? Have his back like a good friend should?

"I don't understand…" I said quietly and Sam scoffed making me hesitate. "Didn't you want me to cover for you? I mean, I thought that's what good friends did." He seemed to wince that word again but he had to understand that's what we were. Friends. "Look Sam, I'm sorry okay? I sorry that you can't just deal with this. I mean, you have no idea…"

"Don't." Sam said harshly, like he'd rather be deaf that hear what I had to say. Like it was some type of acid that'd burn him.

I shook my head, finishing anyway. "What your friendship means to me."

"Look, Andy, can we just not do this now? Dean's probably waiting and I have a headache." Sam said, turning and heading to the door.

"Yeah, must be from that bottle of vodka you finished off." I replied wryly and stepped in before him.

I could literally hear the eye roll and I just wanted to turn around and smack him upside the head. I wasn't just going to let this go. He was best friend and I wasn't going to lose him like this. Not without a fight.

O0o00o0o0o0

"What took you two so long?" Dean asked as Sam slid in the booth and I got in next to Dean. I picked up the menu and started looking over it. Sam didn't want any help, fine. I wasn't going to say anything.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I dropped something out of my pocket, Andy was helping me look for it."

"What can I get you two?" The waiter asked as he approached the table. He handed Dean his coffee and chocolate chip pancakes. They smelled amazing and Dean smiled at me as they were put in front of him. I grinned; hope he knew that was an invitation to share them.

"Just a coffee for me, thanks." Sam said, handing the menu to the waiter and I nodded, motioning just the same for me.

He smiled and wrote it down. He didn't look older than fourteen. And with the red hair and dorky glasses he looked even younger. It really made me want to ruffle his hair for some odd reason.

I leaned closer to Dean, putting my chin on his shoulder. He sighed, knowing what was coming but with a small smile on his face. "You want some don't you?" I shrugged and he shook his head. "You could have ordered some."

I sat back from him and crossed my arms over my chest. "I just figured that my loving boyfriend would jump the gun at offering me some of his food."

He sat back from his plate, one of his hands resting on his lap. He looked at me a moment, a firm resolve emotion on his face and I sighed.

"Fine, be that way." I stuck my tongue out at him which made him smile and weaken his resolve walls. "But just so you know, Matt Damon would have loved sharing his pancakes with me."

Dean rolled his eyes, the hand that was resting on his lap came to wrap around my waist. "Fine, guilt trip lady, you can have one."

I giggled happily, taking his fork and attacking one of the chocolate pancakes. I shoved a small piece into my mouth and I nearly moaned. Damn. So good. Dean just shook his head and smiled at me, kissing my head.

The red headed kid brought us our coffee and smiled at me, asking me if I wanted an extra plate so I could share Dean's food. Okay, this kid was definitely twelve and I could feel Dean's arm tighten protectively around me. I nearly rolled my eyes. Yep, Dean was right. If anyone was going to steal my heart it'd definitely be a red headed twelve year old that was offering me a plate.

I smiled nicely at the kid. "No thanks, sweetie." The kid grinned stupidly and headed back to the kitchen. I looked back at the plate and Dean was staring at me. "What?"

He cocked his head. "Sweetie?"

I rolled my eyes. "He's like twelve Dean."

"I don't care." He pouted quietly and I leaned in to kiss his lips, knowing that's what he wanted and I could literally see his ego shoot back up a bit.

I went back to eating my one pancake and finally handed him the fork so he could eat his own. He looked up at Sam as he took a bite and I leaned back and put my head against his arm.

"What's the matter Sam?" Dean asked and I looked across the table at him.

When had Sam gotten the newspaper? Was I that far into flirting with Dean I didn't even see him get up? I felt bad now. Maybe he was right. He was losing me. Slowly and little by little but sure enough he was.

"I don't know, I'm looking." He was trying to be nonchalant but you could tell something was wrong with him and Dean just wouldn't let it go.

"Bad night?" Dean asked, now all of a sudden curious. "Hey what did you do last night by the way." He stabbed the pancake with his fork and for some reason I kept picturing Sam's heart getting punctured.

Sam cleared his throat and I nuzzled my head against Dean. "No, I uh, just bought some beer and hung out."

Like vodka was worse than beer. "Have fun?" I asked him.

He looked me straight in the eyes and it felt like ice grip my heart. "Let's just say the morning was a whole lot worse." That was a shot for me because Dean took it like a regular sentence.

"Yeah, usually is." Dean chuckled but stopped when no one was laughing. He cleared his throat, setting the fork down on his plate. "What do you have?"

Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home -- a condominium he designed." Sam said, looking over the paper.

I almost laughed at the irony. "Hm. Build a high rise then jump off the top of it. That's classy."

Sam scrunched his eyes at the paper. "That's weird, says he called Animal Control two days earlier reporting a vicious, wild, black dog hassling around his house. Following him around."

"Like actual black dog?" Dean asked, now curious. He shifted in his seat and I leaned up off him thinking he was uncomfortable. I saw the untouched coffee in front of me and decided to start drinking it. At least it wasn't cold.

"Says, the authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it. And two days later, he takes the swan dive." Sam jutted out his lower lip as his eyes ran over the paper. "Could be." He said now thinking about it.

"What's the lore on it?" Dean asked.

Something clicked in my brain and suddenly I remembered my dad teaching me a chapter on this. Black dogs and deals at crossroads. "There's spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyway, whatever they are, they're big, nasty…" I said and saw Dean stare at me out of the corner of my eye. "What?"

"How do you just pull that stuff out of thin air?" He asked me and I smiled. "It's kinda hot. The whole smart chick think."

I laughed, shoving him and he smiled, leaving a quick kiss on my lips. "They're pretty big too, like four times the size as humans."

Dean chuckled, obviously having a private moment. "Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg." I looked at him like he was four. "What? They could."

Right. And he was worried about me leaving him for the twelve year old.

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