Okay, technically I guess I could've just stopped at the last chapter, but the next few chapters were just itching to get out. So here goes! Hope you enjoy! (Getting back to some real eps.)

Chapter Eleven: The Article

(Dead Man's Blood - prologue)

Dean crunched on some bacon while Sam worked on his short stack. It had surprised him last night when Dean didn't just drop off into a hard sleep like he usually did. Instead they stayed up swapping stories and making guesses at what Jonathon Hanes was thinking now. Sometime in the early morning Sam had finally dropped off. When he woke, he found that someone had covered him up to sleep. Someone being Dean, obviously.

Dad slid into the booth across from them, rubbing his face. "What's good here, Dean?"

"E'erthing," Dean muttered through his mouthful of breakfast.

Dad scowled a little, probably at Dean's lack of table manners, before sharing a sympathetic look with Sam. Sam chuckled as he sliced off another hunk of pancake.

"Don't look at me," Sam countered, "you're the one who adopted him."

Dean shot him a sharp look, the kind that would freeze the average person in his tracks. Dad grunted, clearly unimpressed. "I'm not the one choosing to share a room with the snoring machine."

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, glaring between them. "I'm right here!"

Sam shared a laugh with Dad at Dean's expense. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off of them. The waitress returned to take Dad's order while Dean stewed over his breakfast, though Sam noticed the sparkle of life in his brother's eyes. Dean wasn't really mad, he was soaking up every second of this.

Sam shook his head at Dad as the waitress turned away. "That's nothing. Try getting stuck with one of his old classmates while he sneaks off with the waitress."

Dad chuckled over his fresh coffee. "Old classmate? When was this?"

"Sam," Dean growled, sounding anything but amused.

"We were checking out an urban legend about a house that killed people and ran into this idiot who knew Jerry." Sam grinned as Dean squirmed in discomfort. "And the dude stuck me with the idiot to go have a little fun in the back room." Sam knocked into Dean's shoulder. "You seriously owe me, jerk."

"Try and collect, bitch," Dean snapped back, but there was no heat in it.

Sam glanced up to find Dad studying them curiously.

"What?" Dean asked, leaning forward. "Dad?"

Dad shook his head, shifting to look around the restaurant. "Nothing. It's not important."

Dean shrugged at Sam as he shoveled another double sized mouthful of food into that great gaping maw. Honestly, Dean's eating habits were…colorful. Especially when he talked with his mouth open. Sam chuckled to himself over it.

"Jerry!" A squeal pierced the room and Sam felt Dean shudder beside him.

"Oh, shit," Dean mumbled. "Sam, hide me." He ducked behind Sam.

"I think it's a little late for that, son," Dad rumbled, looking interested.

"Jerry, it is you!" the female voice squealed again. A woman, probably Dean's age, stood at their table bouncing like a schoolgirl. Sam watched appreciatively, because she bounced really nicely. Really nicely.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. It's me."

"Jill!" she practically shouted. "Remember me? Jill? We had government together, senior year. All those study dates?"

Sam choked on his orange juice. That definitely sounded like Dean. He glanced over just in time to see a satisfied look cross his brother's face. Sam shared another look with Dad, who appeared on the verge of laughing.

"Right. Jill." Dean cleared his throat again. "Good to see you."

"You too." She beamed at him. The smile faded from her face. "It was a real shame about Tom."

"Yeah." Dean shifted on the bench seat, his shoulder coming into contact with Sam's. "I guess."

"I went to the funeral." Jill slid in to sit next to Dad. Dad looked like he would rather she didn't but he didn't say anything, just gave Sam a questioning look. Sam glared back. If the man bothered to answer his phone on occasion, he would know these things. "It was so nice of you to send those flowers. Tom's parents said you two hadn't been particularly close in years, so it really meant a lot to them."

"Flowers," Dean repeated. His fingertips drummed on the table. "I sent flowers."

Sam glanced away. So he left out one or two little bitty details. Big deal.

Jill nodded, her whole upper body bouncing along with her head. It was quite a sight. Sam forgot for a moment what she was talking about, and why he would rather not have this conversation.

"So who is Sammy?" Jill's eyelids fluttered. "New girlfriend?" she asked with a pout.

Dean's drumming stopped. "How do you know about Sammy?" He shot Sam a suspicious glare.

The menus here were really well done, Sam noticed. Nice, thick plastic so they couldn't be ruined by spills.

Jill laughed. "You put her name on the card, silly. Everybody was talking about it."

The salt shakers had rice in them, to absorb moisture. Smart.

Now Dean's fork clanked against the edge of his plate. Sam cringed a little at the sound, until Dad reached over to snatch the fork away. Jill watched them all, but Sam doubted she actually understood any of it.

"Jill, darlin'," Dad said in his rich, deep voice, "I would love to hear some stories about De-uh, Jerry. Would you mind if we stepped outside for a moment?"

"Well, I really came over to talk to Jerry," she said.

Sam could feel Dean's eyes boring through his skull.

"Just for a minute," Dad said, shoving her gently out of the booth. He took her by the elbows and steered her away from the table.

Did pepper shakers ever get moisture issues?

"Sam," Dean said in a soft voice. "You sent flowers? After I told you that I didn't care?"

Sam shrugged, trying to avoid Dean's eyes. "I, uh, just thought that Tom's parents would appreciate it. That's all."

"Sammy?" Dean chuckled, which caused Sam to finally look up. "You put Sammy, not Sam, on the card?"

Sam shrugged again, rolling his eyes. "It's not like you ever call me Sam."

Dean chuckled again. "Well, I'm sure not going to now."

"So." Sam nodded in defeat. "This is what it feels like to shoot yourself in the foot."

"Uh, thanks." Sam really looked at Dean, to be sure he was serious. "Really. I wasn't thinking of Tom's parents. Guess I got a little selfish."

Sam stared at him for a moment. "Dean, you are the least selfish person I know. I'm just glad you're not mad at me for it."

"Nah. I don't get mad." Dean flashed a broad grin. "I get even." Dean gave him a shove. "Go get Dad already. He's probably at his limit with Jill. She's best experienced in silence." His eyebrows danced a little over his eyes.

Sam shook his head as he headed toward the entrance. He could see Dad and Jill just outside the door. Sam motioned through the glass that it was safe to come back in. Dad looked relieved as he opened the door.

"Sammy? Everything all right?" Sam heard the undercurrent of concern.

"Sure, Dad. No problem," he assured his father.

"Sammy?" Jill squealed. She really had an annoying voice. "You're Sammy? Oh my god, it wasn't a girlfriend!" Both hands covered her mouth as she stopped in the middle of the aisle. One hand dropped away to motion to Sam. "So you're…you're…?" Her voice trailed off, asking him to fill in the blank.

"Brothers," Sam snapped as Dad grinned.

"God, can't you tell by listening to them?" Dad asked as he shoved by to rejoin Dean at the table.

Sam grinned as he followed, leaving annoying-girl staring blankly at Dean.

"What's wrong with her?" Dean demanded, gesturing at Jill while Sam retook his seat.

Sam shrugged. "Something about Sammy not being your girlfriend."

Dean glared at him and Dad in turn. A low growl came from him before he spoke again. "This is exactly why I didn't want to come back here. There is no way these people would ever understand."

"Understand what?" Dad asked, eyeing his steaming eggs appreciatively. The waitress must have delivered them when Sam went to get Dad.

"Everything all right?" Their waitress appeared out of nowhere. "Can I get ya anything else?"

"Newspaper?" Sam asked.

She winked at him. "No problem, sugar. I'll just add it to your bill. Back in a sec."

Sam noticed Dean watch her sashay off. He figured when the blood returned to the higher functioning brain his brother would continue that rant. The waitress returned with the paper and left again before Dean regained the power of speech.

"Understand this!" Dean hissed, his voice soft. "Us," he clarified when neither Sam nor Dad said anything.

"What about us?" Sam asked as he sliced off more pancake.

"What's to understand, son?" Dad asked, stirring hot sauce into his egg.

Dean let out a long breath, slamming both palms on the table. "Neither one of you is this dense!" His voice rang through the restaurant. Sam guessed his brother was over the urge to be invisible in his hometown. Good thing, too, because every head in the place turned to look at them.

Like Dad, Sam ignored them all, pretending not to notice. He continued their conversation as if Dean weren't shouting.

"Dense? Dude, is that any way to talk to your favorite little brother?" Sam sipped his coffee. It had cooled way too much. The only thing it had going for it in the first place was that it was hot. He glanced around to flag down their waitress.

"Dean," Dad said in that rigid, ultimate authority voice, "I believe you owe us an apology."

Sam glanced over. Dean's eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. "Ap-apology?"

"Accepted," Sam said with a nod. "Dad?"

Dad nodded too. "Works for me. Finish your breakfast, Dean. You get cranky when you're hungry."

Sam finally caught their waitress' attention. He held up his coffee cup. She rushed over with a fresh pot. As she freshened up all their coffee cups, Sam glared at the fact his brother was not eating.

"Dude, you feeling okay? You're not running a fever, are you?" Sam raised a hand to feel Dean's forehead.

Dean swatted him away with the death-glare. Sam grinned at the sight. Like Dean would hurt him.

"I'm fine," he said in a tight voice. "Just…" Dean took a deep breath, held it for a moment, let it out slow. "Just finish eating."

Sam handed part of his newspaper to Dad to read while they ate. The rest of their meal was in relative silence, an occasional growl from Dean the only interruption. Dad caught his eye once, a smirk plastered across his hard features. It was all Sam could do not to laugh. Dean eventually took the paper out of Sam's hands to rescue the comics. He handed the rest back. Sam tilted his head to one side in apology. Dean gave him a half-smile 'no problem.'

As he read over an article about a loner attacked in his own home, Sam must have made some kind of noise of interest.

"Find something, Sammy?" Dean's voice interrupted the article.

"Maybe." Sam laid the paper on the table. He pointed out the article. "This old guy was attacked in his cabin. At first the authorities thought it was wild animals, but now they found signs of burglary. Came in through the roof."

"Let me see," Dad demanded. Sam pushed the paper to his father. Dad picked it up. "Damn it." Sam glanced over at Dean, who shrugged. "Damn it!" Dad slammed the article back on the table, making their plates clank and Dad's coffee slosh over the sides of his cup.

"Dad?" Dean asked softly, which Sam didn't dare do himself.

"Daniel Elkins. They got him." Dad's eyes went cold as he stared at them, weighing a decision. "Are you boys up to a road trip?"

They didn't even need to think about it. "Yes, sir." Their voices blended, Sam imagined they were even sharing the same thoughts. Sam's whole body thrummed with excitement as he followed Dad and Dean outside after breakfast. They were going hunting with Dad. After everything he and Dean had been through the past year, surely Dad would see him as an adult. He would get that affirmation now. He would.

Dean's cell went off a few hours outside of town. "Yeah? … Oh crap, Ella. Sorry, I forgot to call. We had to leave town. … Yeah, me and Sammy and Dad. It's for work. … Still none of your business, and yes I do too have a dad. … It's the miracle of adoption, Ella. … How the hell do you know Jill? And what did she say?"

Dean shot Sam a worried look. Sam chuckled, he had a pretty good idea what Jill might have said.

"Jill's an airhead. Don't worry about her," Dean insisted.

"Want to pull over so I can drive?" Sam suggested. Dean was starting to swerve in their lane.

Dean gave him a nasty look as he said, "Yeah, Sammy is the guy who interrogated you."

Sam pointed out the curve in the road Dean was about to drive through. He dropped the phone to grab the wheel with both hands and steer them safely. Sam picked up the opportunity, uh, phone.

"Sam here," he said lightly, as if just yesterday he had not scared the living daylights out of the woman.

"What the hell are you doing there?" she demanded. Wow, Ella could sound really pissed when she wanted.

"I live here," Sam replied, keeping his voice light and cheerful. They veered safely around the curve.

"What kind of work do you have Jerry doing? It isn't burying bodies, is it? Are you and your father serial killers?"

Sam chuckled before he realized that she wasn't that far off. Technically, they dug up bodies for a living. "Nope, nothing like that. What do you do?"

"I'm considering calling the police, reporting that you've taken Jerry against his will," she snapped.

Sam did laugh at that one. "He's not here against his will. Hell, he's driving!" He turned to thrust the phone back at Dean. "You talk to her, she's nuts."

Dean rolled his eyes as he took the phone back. "Ella? … Wait a minute. … Ella! Shut up! … Thank you." Dean took a deep breath. "What I do is still none of your business. Who I'm with, also none of your business. And I think I'm a much better judge of character than you are, so you can keep those opinions to yourself."

The big car slowed as Dean pulled over. He thrust it into park before opening his door. Confused, Sam watched his brother walk around to his door. Dean waved him over. Sam slid behind the wheel and pulled the driver's side door closed as Dean sat down listening intently to the phone.

"No kidding? Taped to his chair?" Dean asked. Sam bit the inside of his cheek as he put the car in drive. "Did he say who did it?"

Sam's eyes darted to his brother's ashen face. Yeah, he didn't really think about that part, either. That asshole knew Dean's real name, and they had been spotted in town. Shit!

Dean sagged back against the seat. "Well, with all the crap he's into, it isn't really surprising, is it?"

Sam let out the breath he had been holding. Maybe they did scare the asshole enough after all.

"Come on, Ella," Dean was saying, "do you really think I'd hang around people who would do that?"

Not a real denial, all she would have to say is 'yes' and Dean would probably admit everything.

"They're good people. Sam was just, uh, having a bad day."

Sam snorted, speeding up to pass a car. Dad was so far ahead of them now he was having trouble seeing the truck. "More like an awesome day," he muttered. Dean smacked him in the shoulder for that one.

"We'll see. I don't know why you'd want to meet Sam again," Dean said, his forehead creasing.

"Probably because she thinks I'm your girlfriend," Sam suggested. The hit to his shoulder actually hurt this time. Sam laughed, massaging his shoulder. "Dude, you started that crap."

Dean's eyes blasted daggers at him as Sam returned his attention to the road. He could just make out Dad's truck now.

"I don't know. I'll ask. … Yeah, I'll let you know in a few days. Bye, Ella." Dean was quiet for a few minutes, just long enough for Sam to wonder.

"You'll ask what?" he demanded.

Dean cleared his throat as he slipped his cell into a pocket. "You won't like it."

Sam pressed harder on the accelerator to pass another car. They made up a lot of lost road while Dean was on the phone. "Try me."

He felt rather than saw Dean shift around to look at him. "Ella is inviting all of us over for Thanksgiving."

Sam froze. For a moment the road, other cars, everything in the world outside of the car, disappeared. "Thanksgiving?" he breathed.

"She knows it's my favorite holiday. What do you think? Dad wouldn't come, would he?" Dean sounded so much like a little kid, Sam had to look over to be certain his brother still sat beside him.

"I don't know," Sam admitted slowly. "November isn't exactly a great month for us."

"She's a great cook," Dean went on, like it was Sam who needed to be convinced. "Her pumpkin pie is the absolute best. Oh, and you won't believe her stuffing! I swear, the turkey is so good it's orgasmic."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Does it always have to be orgasmic with you?"

Dean snorted. "You'll never know, little brother."

"Thank God." They were within a reasonable distance of Dad's truck again.

"So?" Dean asked in that same pitiful voice. "Will you help me talk to Dad?"

Crap, crap, crap, crap. "Yeah. I'll help you talk to Dad." Sam cut his eyes over to Dean's relieved face. "But I won't make any promises. November usually sucks."