Snippet #2288708

Dean Winchester

One duffel bag hanging from one limp hand, a map of London clutched tightly in his other, Dean smiled broadly as he glanced around the criss-crossing streets of this new country. The airplane...well, he wasn't about to think about that nightmare, the hours of sudden shakes and jerks leaving him exhausted. But the flight attendant was decent looking, offered drinks, a phone number. Dean hoped they would meet again. Not on a plane. Between sheets, yes, that's what he preferred.

"Pip-pip cherrio," Dean remarked as he nudged his Sasquatch of a brother. "Shall we grab some fish n chips?"

Sam rolled his eyes, smiling. "Please stop with the accent."

"Hey," Dean continued, not stopping the accent. "This is my vacation. I chose the location. I paid for the plane tickets."

"Which means you have the right to embarass me?" Sam inquired, shoulders turning inward a little as a group of done-up girls passed by, the tallest, because of her heels, giving both men a look of utter shock. As if their being there had to be some sort of prank or joke. Dean grinned and gave her a wave. Sam shook his head. "Look, I wanted to talk to you about..."

"Nope," Dean cut him off right away. He knew what that nerd had up his sleeve. "No work. All play."

With that he started down the street, adjusting his brown leather jacket and squinting down to the map in his hand. They had reservations at a hotel, which he couldn't locate on the map at all. He supposed it was because everything was backwards here. Well, at least the driving was. So, of course, everything must be. North is South. East is West. He wasn't sure how it worked, and wasn't about to care. He just needed a shower, wash off those too-many hours on that flying vehicle, then hit the bars. London Ladies...mmm.

"Dean I'm serious," Sam said, catching up and saying his brother's name with irritating annunciation. Scowling, the shorter brother rounded on him.

"We're not here to work," he said, for what seemed like the hundredth, if not the third, time. "What don't you understand about that?"

"But Dean..."

"How can you be thinking about hunting when...when Yellow Eyes was JUST put in the ground? His corpse is still warm and you're ready to gank another demon's ass?"

Sam grimaced. "He didn't have a corpse..."

"Shut up. You're not hunting, Sam." With that, he snatched Sam's handful of papers away and also grabbed John Winchester's book from inside his jacket.

"Hey!"

"No!" Dean pointed a finger at his nose like he was a misbehaving dog. "Sam, we've been chasing that thing for two years. You're exhausted. You look like a prune."

Sam glanced down himself.

"We're in a new country, with new babes and I'm not letting you waste away on another case."

"Waste away? Dean I just..."

Dean's jaw clenched and he reinforced his pointed finger. "No. Hunting. Repeat after me."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean flicked his nose. "The hell?!"

"Repeat!"

The brothers shared a stare, a long one, during which all Dean could see in his mind's eyes, all he ever seemed to see nowadays, was Sam's cold body...lifeless...bloody and limp...He relived that day over and over, refusing to remember, but somehow unable to forget. How could he? He almost lost the one thing he had left in this world and he wasn't about to let Sam put himself in harm's way when it wasn't needed. The world didn't need them all the time.

Unspoken, both brothers thought the same thing, the deal. Dean's deal with the demon. To save Sam's life.

Sam sighed, nostrils flaring with anger. "Fine..." he huffed, shaking his head.

Dean cleared his throat. "I said...repeat."

A strange noise erupted from Sam's throat, annoyed. "No. Hunting."

"There we go," Dean cheered, giving his brother a half-hug and pasting on a smile. "Wasn't that hard."

He led the way down the streets, semi-navigating according to the map and following his own curiosity. Eventually, Sam took the reigns, and his papers, back. Dean didn't mind. He was sight-seeing, the buildings and their architecture...the babes and their...babe-ness. Grinning like a mad man and nudging his brother to do the same, he forced himself to think positively. How could he not?

He had less than one year to live.