Dean looked at the dusty 1962 Chevy Corvair. Walking around the car with a rusty gray crowbar in hand, he stopped at the front and began to hit it as hard as he could, creating many tiny dents in the hood.
"What the hell are you doing?" Sam asked over the noise.
"Nothing!" Dean yelled as he continued to beat the Corvair.
"You gotta stop this, bottling up your emotions thing." Sam confessed. "It's not good."
"No!" Dean hit the car as hard as he could and the windshield shattered into millions of pieces, covering the ground around his feet.
He looked up at Sam exhausted, and tired, throwing the gray crowbar on the ground as he proceeded to walk inside. Sam followed behind Dean, throwing his hand up in the air.
"Dude, tell me whats going on!"
"Nothing's going on." Dean lied.
Dean grabbed an ice cold beer from the fridge and tried to clear his mind. The dreams, (or nightmares) where happening more frequently now. They where very vivid, violent, and where causing him to much trouble to sleep. He didn't want to explain to Sam how he kept having these dreams, which in most cases, always consisted his little brother, the one he'd give his life for, dieing; or how Cas always ended up being the main part of the dreams. It was kind of embarrassing.
"OK, fine you don't have to tell me, but do you at least know where Cas went off to?" Sam wandered.
"Eh, I don't know? He just left I suppose." Dean lied again.
"Really? So he just got up and left?"
"Yeah."
"For no reason?"
"I don't know? I guess? Whats with all the question to the third degree?"
"Nothing, just curious." Sam finished. He'd hoped to have gotten something out of Dean, knowing that his problems lately had something to do with Cas.
Together they stood there quietly, until Dean finally broke the silence.
"So I found another job. Sounds like our kinda thing."
Sam sighed knowing Dean had managed to change the subject.
"Alright, what have we got?"
"A Siren." Dean said taking a small sip of his beer.
"A Siren! We nearly killed each other last time!"
"Yea, but we know what to do now! Come on man, we've got this!"
"But-"
"We'll be helping people." Dean interrupted trying to convince him.
"But what about us Dean!" Sam said at last. "What if I kill you?"
"Would it really matter Sam? Since when have our lives actually been of importance to someone?" Dean joked.
Sam paused, thinking about a good response to answer Dean. It was true though. Their lives have never actually been important enough. Michael had ditched Dean for Adam. Most the time, they had been lied to or used, and nothing truly important, (involving them) happened until Cas had come along, when he had raised Dean from hell. That's it! He thought.
"What about when you met Cas? He didn't raise you from hell for nothing."
Dean, who was startled by his reply, brought himself back to when he met Cas. Throwing every supernatural weapon he knew at him; from salt, to Holy water, to Ruby's knife, to shotguns, and to many other things. But nothing worked, and the quizzical look on Deans face, would have made Cas laugh, if he had show any emotion.
"You do remember? Don't you?" Sam asked.
Dean glared at Sam. Right now was not a good time for him to bring up Cas. Obviously! He thought. Who could forget meeting an angel for the first time? Who could forget the one that, as Cas would say, "Gripped you tight, and raised you from perdition!"
"I'm leaving for Seattle tomorrow, whether you're going or not." Dean eventually answered, ignoring everything Sam had said. Taking the last sip of his beer and throwing it away, he headed upstairs without another word to say.
Guiltily, Sam caved in realizing he didn't want Dean to go alone. "Fine! I'll go." He shouted from downstairs.
"Sam! Let's get this show on the road" Dean hollered. "We have a days drive ahead of us."
"Yea yea, I'm coming." Sam said grumpily.
"Oh come on! You're not still mad about all this are ya!"
"No, I just think we need to think about this a little more."
"Well." Dean paused. "We have a whole day to think about it!" He finished with a big smile and roughly patted Sams' cheeks. "Come on sour pus."
Sam followed him to the Impala where Dean threw his dark green duffel bag into the trunk and started up the ignition. Immediately "Don't Stop Believing." blasted from the speakers.
Just a small town girl!
Living in a lonely world!
"Really Dean?" Sam said raising one eyebrow.
"What? What was that? I can't hear you over the music!" Dean replied turning up the music and singing along.
Took a midnight train, going anywhere!
Reluctantly, Sam climbed in on the passenger side and instantly Dean drove away, leaving Bobby's house, with a trail of dust following behind as they headed off to Seattle.