Special thanks to Papa Cinch for car suggestions.

May 11, 1997

Dean let go of the wheel with one hand to reach over and smack the foot that Sam had propped up on the dashboard. "No feet on the dash, Sammy, or I swear I'm gonna start breaking toes."

Sam rolled his eyes, but removed his foot. "Sure you will. And it's Sam."

"Yeah, whatever. You'll always be my widdle bwuddoh Sammy," Dean teased. Although, with how tall Sam had gotten over the last six months, it wouldn't be long before he wouldn't be able to use the dash as a footrest because his legs would be too dang long.

"So whatever happened with that Rhonda girl in your English class?" Sam changed the subject with a sly look.

"Rhonda Hurley?"

Another eye roll punctuated Sam's answer. "Of course Rhonda Hurley. Is there some other Rhonda you've been slobbering on at school that I don't know about?"

Dean shrugged, trying for nonchalant. "We went out a couple times."

"And?" Sam prompted.

"And nothing. We went out a couple times." Dean could feel his cheeks heating up despite his best efforts to stay cool.

"You went out. That's it?"

"That's it."

Sam squinted at him suspiciously, but then his eyes went wide. "Holy crap."

The blush got worse, creeping up Dean's neck. "None of your business, Sammy."

"Dude, really?"

"Heyyy, guess what," Dean interrupted loudly in a desperate attempt to force the conversation to a new topic. There was no way in hell he was talking with Sam about the things he'd been doing with Rhonda, not even under threat of torture. "Looks like I'm actually going to graduate, surprise, surprise."

Yet another eye roll. Since when did he have a teenage sister instead of a brother? "Dean, the only person that's surprised about that is you."

Dean snorted. "Sure. Because everyone knows I'm such a genius."

All hints of teasing gone, Sam hooked an elbow over the back of the bench seat and twisted to face him. "Why do you do that, Dean? It's not like you're dumb, you know. You're smart. You could go to college if you wanted."

Dean stepped down on the gas as they started up a long hill. "Maybe I don't want to."

"It's fine if you don't. But if you're not doing it because you think you can't, then you're an idiot," Sam grumbled.

"Self-fulfilling prophecy, then."

Sam grunted his frustration. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Dean conceded. "But I don't need to go off to college, Sammy. I like working at the garage, and I don't want to leave Bobby high and dry at the yard, either."

"He's feeling pretty crappy lately, isn't he?"

Dean pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. Bobby's weak heart made it difficult for him to work like he used to.

"And you're picking up the slack," Sam said.

Dean shrugged.

Sam sighed. "The only reason you're falling behind in school is because you're working instead of studying. And there's nothing wrong with that," he said, leaning out far enough for Dean to get the full force of his puppy dog eyes, even without taking his own eyes off the road. "I just wish you'd quit thinking it's because you aren't smart enough."

"Fine, Sammy, whatever. I'm brilliant. Total supergenius. Happy?"

"Just...try, Dean. Okay?"

"Okay, okay. Jeez."

They rode in silence for several more miles. Dean sneaked a glance over at his little brother with a half hearted scowl. The kid was too damn smart sometimes and definitely way too stubborn. He was right. Dean had been working more and more, helping Bobby keep the salvage yard under control, without reducing his hours at the garage. Studying had been low on his priority list the last few months.

But then Dean smothered a smile. A good chunk of his time had also been used for Sam's benefit, though he didn't know it yet. Dean had found a '66 Pontiac GTO Coupe for a decent price. It needed a ton of body work, but the frame was in good shape and the engine wouldn't take too much work to restore.

Benny, his boss at the garage, was allowing him to use the tools and equipment there to restore the car after hours whenever Benny stayed late, which was usually a few times a week. It was still two whole years before Sam's sixteenth birthday, but it would probably take Dean that long to scrounge enough money for the parts and find time to do the work. It was gonna be totally worth it, though, even if it meant he almost didn't graduate.

"I think they're getting close," Sam said.

"Huh?" Dean realized Sam had been talking to him for a while, but he'd been lost in his thoughts about the car.

"Bobby and Joshua. I heard them talking last night, and it sounded like they're really close to being able to break Gabriel's banishment."

"Really?"

Sam nodded. "They're trying not to get our hopes up, though, in case it doesn't happen as soon as they think."

"Holy crap." A nervous flutter jumped to life in Dean's stomach. The longer the research dragged on, the more anxious he got about seeing Gabriel again. "Do you think, like, soon soon?"

"I don't know, but it sounded like they finally got an actual lead on where to find that Barnes woman that did the original banishing. Once they talk to her, they should have everything they need to get Gabriel back." Sam paused for a second, then added quietly, "Do you think he'll like me?"

Dean reached a hand over to ruffle Sam's hippie hair. "Of course he will, midget. Why wouldn't he?"

Ducking out from under Dean's hand, Sam combed his fingers through his hair to straighten it back out. "I don't know. I guess I'm just kinda nervous. I'm just gonna be some kid to him. It's not like he has anything to remember about me like he does with you."

"I don't think that's going to matter one bit. I wouldn't worry if I were you, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

They reached their turn off, and Dean rolled the car to a stop in his usual spot. He pulled his bag from the backseat before they cut off through the trees. Dean and Sam came every week to spend their Sunday afternoons here by the river. High water had shifted their log downstream earlier in the spring, but they still came to the same place anyway.

As they made their way through the trees, a flicker of hope kindled inside of Dean as it did every week. Maybe Cas would be there this time. Maybe this would be the day he came back.

But as their spot came into view, that little flame was doused once more. He wasn't there.

Dean only realized he'd stopped walking when Sam turned around and came back for him. "Dean? Are you okay?"

Forcing out a half-smile, Dean replied, "Sure. I'm fine."

The brothers unpacked their lunch – leftover fried chicken and coleslaw – and ate enough to satisfy a small army. Sam wandered down the bank while Dean got settled in with his English homework. To Kill a Mockingbird. He was halfway through it and had been surprised to discover it was actually really good, unlike that boring-ass Great Expectations they'd made them read last semester.

Sam wandered back a good half hour later and sat down beside Dean. He had his own backpack with him, but instead of doing any homework, he just watched the water with a bit of a frown.

"Why do we keep coming out here, Dean?"

"What're you talking about? We have to be here if Cas shows up."

Sam kept looking out over the water. "What if he doesn't, though?"

Anger flared in Dean's belly. "He will."

Turning his sad hazel eyes on Dean, Sam said gently, "It's been six months, Dean. I don't think he's going to."

"You're the one who said he wouldn't be mad," Dean barked, loud enough to send a flock of starlings in a nearby tree into a tizzy. "You're the one who said I should tell him about Gabriel. You can't just tell me he's not coming back, Sam. That's not fair!"

"I know, Dean, and I'm sorry. But I was wrong." Sam got to his feet and picked up his bag. "I'll be in the car whenever you're ready to leave." He turned and trudged back up to disappear through the trees.

Dean stared after him. It hurt so much to think Cas could be gone for good, and each week that he didn't show made it hurt that much more. He didn't want to believe it. Why did he have to choose between Gabriel and Cas? It was so unfair and completely stupid. He was sure Cas would be safe – that Gabriel wouldn't try to hurt him. At least, he was fairly sure. Mostly.

What if he never saw Cas again?

He couldn't bring himself to continue reading. Instead he stayed on the riverbank, watching the rippling water until hunger eventually drove him to go home.

To Kill a Mockingbird is by Harper Lee.

Great Expectations is by Charles Dickens.