A/N: Dear Chuck so much texting. DX

:Dude. You haven't been to the Grand Canyon yet, have you?::

::No.:

:Some day you have off you need to drive the three hours and check it out. It's breathtaking.::

::I'll do that.:

:Don't be pissy, Dean; pouting is not a good look on you.::

::I'm not pouting.:

:Sure you aren't.::

::Oh. My. God. I'm about this close to shoving that beer bottle where the sun don't shine.:

:I take it the roommate is partying like a stupid, inconsiderate teenager?::

::They repeat this song one more time and I will not be responsible for my actions.:

:Just don't get arrested. How are your classes going?::

::Good. You sure I didn't go to college? Some of this stuff seems very easy.:

:Well, you did get your GED. Anyway I told you you were smart.::

::I already knew that.:

::So I'm going to venture a guess we had bad luck before? Because we seem like the kind of people with terrible luck.:

:Shit. What happened?::

::Nothing bad, I just got hit by a car.:

:Are yuo ok?::

::Other than laid up with a broken leg and some internal bruising that hurts like a MF, I'm fine.:

:Shit! But you're okay?::

::I said I'm fine. I'll heal. That bracelet you sent me doesn't seem to have had that much good luck. It shattered and like three pieces got stuck in my wrist.:

:Depends on how you define good luck.::

::I got hit by a frigging car!:

:Didn't die, did you?:

::Oh and the bracelet saved me, I suppose?:

:Look up hag stones.::

::OH MY GOD you are NOT going to tell me you believe in this crap?:

:Someone does.::

::That doesn't answer my question.:

:I'm just saying that belief came from somewhere. And you didn't die.::

::Whatever man. You're crazy.:

:I get that a lot.::

::I got a pass from classes for a week because of the internal injuries. I'm so bored, I have transcended boredom into a higher level of brain death. Send help.:

:You used to like soaps.::

::Fascinating. My brain is leaking out of my ears.:

:I mean soap operas, dumbass.::

::That seems improbable.:

:That's what I thought too. Give it a try.::

::This is boring as hell.:

:Which one are you watching?::

::I feel like an idiot even freaking typing out soap opera names.:

:Which one?::

::Would you even recognize it if I typed it out? It's a hospital one. It's stupid.:

:Dr. Sexy M.D.?::

::How do you even know the title? Do you watch this crap? It's just making my brain leak faster! Soon there will be none left and I'll be a typical freshman! Is that what you want?:

:Weird. You used to like that one.::

::I LIKED THIS? Was I braindead when we worked together?:

:An unknown number is gonna text you in a minute. It's my new number.::

:Still dying of boredom?::

::YES OMG What movies did I like?:

:Try westerns.::

::Thank God for the internet.:

::That was reasonably entertaining. No one shoots that good, though.:

:It's been done.::

::Nah, give me a break.:

:Look up Annie Oakley.::

::I've stared at a computer screen for too long. I have a headache now.:

:Take some ibuprofen and sleep.::

::God, yes mother.:

::Slept for an hour. Bored again.:

::Sam?:

::You there, bro?:

:Sorry, you caught me at a bad time.::

::Not getting yourself killed, I hope.:

:Of course not. I am gonna turn off my phone in about an hour, though.::

::At the risk of repeating myself, let me repeat myself: not getting yourself killed, I hope.:

:God, Dean, no. A little faith. I can take care of myself.::

::Okay.:

:Don't patronize me.::

::You can get a lot out of one little word, can't you?:

:I know you, Dean, so yeah, I can get a whole book out of one word.::

:See, still alive.::

::Bleeding?:

:For god's sake, Dean. I'm fine.::

::Concussed?:

:I'M FINE.::

::Sure you are.:

:I was on a 'date,' okay?::

::You have time to date? Dude. Details. Hit me.:

:Brunette. Easily distracted. Didn't have the information I needed. Colossal waste of time.::

::Wow, dude, that's cold.:

:I don't have time to date. Nor do I have the inclination, frankly. Lying to everyone on the planet gets pretty exhausting.

::Do you tell anyone the truth?:

:A select one.::

::Wow. That Uncle Bobby?:

:Yeah.::

::What would happen if I gave him a call?:

:I honestly don't know. But I don't think he'd answer the most pressing of your questions.::

::Of course not.:

:Sorry, man. Don't blame him; blame me. Safety, blah blah blah.::

::Pretty soon I'm going to have a Pavlovian response to that word. Someone will tell me to 'stay safe', and I'll punch him in the face without even thinking.:

:Excellent use of Pavlovian.::

::New favorite word.:

::Hallelujah sing forever they're letting me go back to school two days early!:

:That is not a phrase I ever expected to hear out of your mouth, but I'm glad to hear it.::

::They told me to take it easy and not to overdo it.:

:You didn't punch anyone, right?::

::Considered it, but they didn't actually tell me to be safe or anything.:

:Good. Punching doctors never goes over well.::

::So on the same theme of 'we have bad luck always'…:

:Oh shit. What happened now?::

::Do we have spidey senses when things are going to get weird?:

:Why?::

::Because I would swear there's a car following me. It's always outside my classrooms. The windows are tinted, though, so I can't tell if anyone's in it or not.:

:Do you share classes with a lot of people?::

::I don't think so.:

:Get me the make, model, and license plate and I'll see what I can find out.::

::That's… a little unsettling.:

:People put a lot of information on the internet, dude. It's out there. You just have to know how to look for it.::

::If you say so.:

::I hope you don't get dates this way.:

:What, by looking up background info on girls?::

::Yeah.:

:No, I don't get dates this way.::

::You don't get dates at all, do you?:

:No.::

::Did you before? When we worked together?:

:Not really.::

::That doesn't really surprise me.:

:I'd ask what that's supposed to mean but I don't think I want to know.::

::You just seem like an uptight person.:

:Thanks, Dean.::

::Maybe you'd relax a little if you got laid more often.:

:I'm turning off my phone for a while now.::

::Said in love, dude. You need to unwind.:

:Talk to you later, Dean.::

::Man was not meant to be alone.:

:Are you the praying type now, Dean?::

::Yeah. I mean I don't go to church but yeah. It kind of cracks me up the way most people just pray when they're in trouble. Not so up with the 'in good times and in bad' thing. Was I not before?:

:Not as such.::

::Are you?:

:I think we switched. I used to pray. Not so much anymore. I try but it feels like screaming into a void. And with what I do, sometimes it's hard to hang onto the idea of a loving God. It was easier when I was younger.::

::Naivete?:

:I don't know. I don't think so? Innocence, maybe. I lost my innocence a while ago and now I'm well on my way to being a cynical, bitter old man.::

::How old are you again?:

:It's not the years, it's the mileage.::

::Oh my god that's such a crotchety old man phrase. Maybe you ARE becoming a cynical, bitter old man prematurely. Why'd you ask, anyway?:

:How shall I put this. I am in trouble. Not in danger, but in trouble. The danger part comes later. Right now I'm trying to solve the problem and not coming up with any good solutions. So, if you're the praying type…::

::Sure thing, bro. Are we having a moment?:

:What do you mean?::

::I pray for you already, Sam. Every day I think, God, what stupid thing is he doing today? And then I think, God, you know what stupid thing he's doing today. Keep his idiotic, overprotective, giant ass out of the fire and also if you could knock some sense into him and remind him to eat that'd be great, amen.:

:Thanks, Dean. I appreciate that.::

::I thought we were having a moment.:

:We were.::

::You to the danger part yet?:

:No, still in the trouble part. Clock is ticking, though. I think I have a narrow window of opportunity and that's what's making me nervous. Not sure I can do what needs doing in that short a time frame.::

::Not that you'd tell me but are you an assassin or something?:

:I wouldn't tell you.::

::God. That almost looks like a confession.:

:And yet it isn't.::

::True. So if I do get you the make, model, and license plate, they won't end up dead, right?:

:Depends on who the car belongs to. What if they're serial killers? Would you still object?::

::This is not my philosophy class.:

:You're going to a philosophy class?::

::The teacher is hot and by hot I mean SMOKING.:

::Not to be a pain in the ass but how's it going?:

:You aren't a pain in the ass (at least not currently). Everything's planned, now we wait.::

::Please tell me you're waiting for your backup.:

:Actually, I am.::

::I was under the impression you worked alone?:

:Usually. I can't work this one alone.::

::But backup is good.:

:If you can trust them, sure.::

::Objection, do they still count as backup if you can't trust them?:

:You're in law school now?::

::No, just really concerned again. And you were being so reassuring, too. Dammit, Sam.:

:Turning off my phone. Talk to you later, Dean.::

::You'd better. Stay safe.:

:That's my line.::

It was impressive, Dean thought, that a ringing phone could wake him from a sound sleep. He rose onto an elbow and pawed for his phone, then squinted at the bright blue display. It said SAM and he flipped it open. "You'd better be okay," he warned, voice rough with sleep. For a moment he heard nothing and his heart rate skyrocketed. "Oh my god, Sam, you'd-"

"Fine." Sam's voice shook. A long, ragged exhale followed a long, ragged inhale and he said, "I'm fine. How was your day?"

"Sam, are you-"

"No. Can't talk about it." Sam sounded one small push from tears. "I'm okay. I mean, I'm in one piece. I can't- I need- How was your day, Dean?"

Dean rubbed his eyes and tried to remember. "Uh, it was pretty boring."

"Start at the beginning. Your whole day. How did it go? Did you wake up before seven?"

"Are you nuts?"

Sam's laugh was shaky. "Yeah, I think so. C'mon, dude. Just- Details. Give me details."

Dean resolved the creaking sound on the other end as Sam pacing back and forth. "Well, I got up at eight… It was a nice morning, I guess: sunny but not too hot. I hobbled into the kitchen and discovered my idiot roommate had finished off the coffee and hadn't made a new pot. One of these days, Sam, I'm going to kill that kid. So after that wonderful little 'screw you' from him, I hobbled along to class. First class today was- Oh. Um, I didn't see the car. All day."

"Good. That's good." Sam was still pacing, still breathing heavily. "It was probably nothing."

"You think so?"

"No. Our luck isn't that good. But what do I know, maybe. Maybe the universe decided to give me a break today. Who knows."

"Hey, uh, did you drive past the Catholic church on the other side of campus?"

Sam's pacing slowed. "I saw it. What about it?"

"Well, um. One of the kids down the hall is Catholic, she goes there, and, um, well, I tagged along yesterday morning. She goes to confession every day, can you imagine? She's like, really uptight, so I don't really know what she's got to confess- But, that wasn't my point. My point is, uh, I went to the church and I talked to the pastor- no, the priest? The priest. I talked to the priest and I told him- Well, I didn't tell him that I didn't know what you actually do, so I lied (to a priest, more purgatory for me I guess?) and I told him you were a… a surgeon and needed… prayer. For a surgery to go well. So, he just- he said, can I pray for him right now? and I said, sure, and he just knelt right there, right behind his desk (we were in his study or whatever) and he prayed for you and your nonexistent patient for like five minutes. I kid you not, dude. I kept expecting to get struck by lightning. And then he slaps me on the shoulder and says the whole church is going to pray for you and the recovery of your nonexistent patient next Sunday. Now I'm worried that he's going to want updates. Updates on no one at all. So now I'm wondering, do I make them realistic updates, or does your patient have a miraculous recovery? I mean, which is the worse lie? Is one worse than another? All I know is I didn't sign up for this." He deciphered the quiet noises on the other end as muffled laughter. "Sam, are you laughing at me?"

"A little," Sam managed. "I'm also crying a little. Or, um, maybe a lot." He sniffed loudly. "Dammit. I wasn't gonna… Dammit." The Impala's door creaked, then slammed. Sam sighed. "Keep talking. About your day. Please?"

It's 3am, dude. Dean collapsed back onto his pillows. "Sure, um, so… First class. Philosophy. Hot damn. This woman is hot, Sam. Like, wow. Billowy brown hair, legs a mile long…"

"I'm a little more interested in your classes, you pervert." But Sam's tone was fond, his breathing less strained, tears pushed aside. Dean could picture him leaning in the driver's seat, one arm holding the phone to his ear, the other reaching across the back of the bench seat, long legs stretched under the steering wheel.

"Well, I'm not actually interested in philosophy, so after that class…"

Dean could never quite determine which of them fell asleep first.