Seems Like Old Times

Chapter 2

Finally, alone and on his way to the airport to head home, Dean was able to check his Blackberry for messages. He scrolled through, noticing they were all from Sam. Instead of reading or listening to the messages he called his brother.

"Dude, seriously, three voice mails and two emails—what?" Dean asked as soon as Sam answered the phone.

Dean looked through the tinted glass of the limousine at the scenery going by and smirked. "Can't say."

"I don’t know." Dean shrugged his shoulders. He pushed a button and the privacy screen rose between him and the driver.

"You don’t know where you are or can't say?" Sam was finally asking the right question.

"Both. Two words - federal government. I was blindfolded. Gotta love the Patriot Act."

"Literally. Dude, I'm serious. Those CIA types are whacked." The older Winchester brother reminisced about his day. The old Dean Winchester wouldn’t have been allowed within one hundred yards of Quantico. This Dean Winchester with a clean record, and credentials marking him as head of security for Foster Industries, was given VIP treatment. He wished his father could have seen it. He did steal a pen for the memory.

"You didn’t though, right?” Dean said hurriedly, hoping he didn’t have to smooth over any ruffled feathers. “ 'cause he doesn't like you."

Daniel had not given Sam his stamp of approval. It was an issue between the two friends. Dean was able to let go of his brother's actions of the last few years. Daniel, his boss and friend, was holding a grudge - Sam would have to offer penance before being allowed into Foster's good graces.

Dean didn’t like the dejected tone. As soon as he got back he was calling Daniel. If the man did not want to accept Sam then Dean would look for another job. "I'll talk to him. But hey, he’s stopped rolling his eyes - that's progress."

The older Winchester scrolled through the emails on his Blackberry, reading Sam's messages. He had a separate cell phone, feeling funny to put a thing the size of his wallet to his ear. "You found us a job." Dean frowned. "And who will this help?"

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, investment people." He liked to help desperate people who had no funds, and no one to turn to for assistance.

"Dean, what about the workers, tenants - this is right up our alley. . ." the younger Winchester cajoled.

"Are you billing this as part of your fee?" Dean tapped his fingers against the arm rest in the limousine, then opened the bar and removed a bottle of water.

Sam responded with silence, which Dean could envision was actually his brother pouting. Dean relented after taking another sip of water. "Fine, whaddya got?"

"I'll email you everything and come over on Friday, after work." Sam sounded excited. Dean thought his brother never got to mix being a lawyer with supernatural hunting, whereas the older Winchester felt he used his hunting skills on an almost daily basis.

During the remaining part of the week Sam sent his brother updates on his research. Dean didn’t see how tax information was going to help them on the hunt, but he allowed the younger Winchester to take the lead on this particular assignment.

Friday came, and when Dean returned home for the evening he was surprised to find Sam already waiting for him. He pulled the Impala into the garage and then jogged to the walkway. His brother stood and Dean shot him a wry smile. "I guess I have to feed you, don’t I?" Dean punched in the alarm code. "You could have let yourself in."

"I figured I would just watch the horses." Sam gestured to the two large animals running around a corral. He glanced at his brother and then toward the pen once more. "What's with the horses?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. Tonya took the time to care for the horses. He promised one day she could teach him to ride. "They came with the ranch." But, he had other interests. "My toys are in the shed. I got two ATVs."

Inside, Sam tossed his bag onto one of the living room arm chairs and followed Dean into the kitchen. "Do you have time to play with all these toys?"

The older Winchester pulled out two beers from the refrigerator, passing one to his brother. "Damn, you're a killjoy, you know that?" He removed two packaged steaks. "You are so lucky I planned ahead. We can grill these babies and then get to work."

"Ohh, a baked potato would be real good." Dean rifled through the cabinets, finally remembering where he placed the starch vegetable.

"I mean something green." The younger Winchester waved off the potato. "I know for a fact I bought you some frozen vegetables. . ."

"Then they're probably still in there." Dean carried the steaks out to the grill. "You can work on that, Suzy Homemaker."

Sam steamed the vegetables, finally joining his brother when they were done, bringing along second beers for both of them. "You have the life." Sam clinked his bottle against his brother's.

The eldest Winchester shook his head. "Don't say that, you're going to jinx it. Next thing you know this could all go away." He flipped the steaks over, and a splattering of fat sizzled on the grill.

"You'll be fine." Sam dismissed his brother's comment. He was proud of what Dean had accomplished. "You have a great home and a good job. You're successful. . ."

"I'd be happy with the Impala and me and you on the road," Dean interjected. He cocked his head to the side, and there was a far away look in his eyes. In a blink it was gone, Dean couldn’t afford to look back and get lost in memories. They only brought a heavy heart. He cleared his throat. "Steaks are done."

During dinner Dean concentrated on his meal, while Sam excitedly explained his plan.

"I thought we'd hit each of the floors with that stuff Missouri showed us how to make."

"Each floor?" Dean pushed around a piece of broccoli before deciding not to eat it. "Damn." There were a lot of floors. Dean sensed this was going to be much more than just an in-and-out job. He hoped Sam had researched what the building contractors had in the way of night security.

"Have you talked to Missouri?" Sam asked after he had eaten his vegetable medley.

Dean grinned. He had remained in contact with not only the psychic, but with Bobby also. He wanted to keep some sort of connection to his father alive. "About once or twice a year…she still doesn’t like me."

"You should." Dean picked up his brother's plate along with his, and brought them to the sink. He scraped his vegetables into the disposal, and placed the dishes in the dishwasher. "You want to go out on the ATVs? Not much we can do until tomorrow."