Because there's another important person's perspective I want to explore . . . .

"Fuck this shit, I'm leaving!"

"Fine!" Sam Winchester shouted as the motel room door slammed firmly behind his brother. What had begun as a surprisingly civil conversation about Sam's powers had quickly devolved into a shouting match not long after they had settled into their room. Dean refused to see how much good they could do. He was so sure that all things demon related were evil that he refused to see reason. And so he had done what Dean always did when he was on the losing end of an argument. He took off in the Impala.

"Good riddance," muttered Sam under his breath. Maybe now he'd have some peace and quiet so he could do some research for a couple hours before he crashed.

Unless, of course, Dean came back in an hour or so, checked into the room next store with his one-night stand, and kept him up all night. He'd been on the receiving end of that particular form of payback before. More than once. And make no mistake, Sam knew that a one-nighter was exactly what Dean was going in search of.

From the way Dean had stomped out the door, he was almost willing to bet money that within the hour Dean would have himself wrapped around a willing woman. It was just what he did.

Although, Sam, mentally amended, that wasn't ALWAYS true. Sometimes he'd just get stinking drunk or other times he'd come back flush with cash he'd taken off some guys from hustling pool. But more than half the time, Dean's way of dealing with their interpersonal battles was to get laid.

He'd lost count of the times Dean had come back the next morning after throwing a similar hissy fit with a shit-eating, self-satisfied grin plastered all over his face that just screamed "I've been up all night fucking". Sam wondered if Dean knew how transparent he was. One of these days he should probably tell him how obvious he was. And then he'd better stand back, because there was no way Dean would take that bit of news well.

Sam's mind wandered a bit, wondering where Dean would find his latest pick-up. They were only passing through here, so unless Dean had been here before, there was the possibility he would come up empty. Plus, they weren't exactly in a bustling metropolis. Hot chicks were probably a bit thin on the ground.

But Dean had proven him wrong before. He had almost an uncanny way of finding the hottest women in the middle of nowhere and charming his way into their panties. Chuckling to himself, Sam mused that if Dean had a supernatural power that was it.

Then it hit him, on their way to the motel they had passed a place called "Lucky's". Undoubtedly, that would be where Dean would head. He'd walk in there, all mysterious and dangerous looking, order a drink or a beer, and within five minutes he would decide who he'd walk out of there with.

It was funny, as close as Sam and Dean were; sex was the one topic that was generally off limits between them. Yeah, Dean had given Sam "The Talk" when he'd been old enough, but Dean had never been one to kiss-and-tell. He might make it obvious that he'd gotten lucky, but he didn't talk about his conquests. He probably thought Sam was too much of a prude. He knew for a fact Dean thought he should sleep around more.

But he wasn't a prude. In college he'd gotten more than his share of girls, and then he'd met Jess and that had been it. It wasn't that he didn't like sex. He loved it. But one-night stands had never really appealed to him. They were just too hollow. When he had sex, he wanted it have some meaning beyond getting himself and the girl off.

Despite that, he didn't begrudge Dean his vice. They were two very different people, and as far as Sam could tell, they helped Dean stay sane and made him a better hunter. Dean had endured the loss of nearly everyone he'd ever been close to, so it made sense he was reluctant to have any kind of real relationships with women. Not to mention the fact they never stuck around anywhere for very long. For those reasons alone, Sam couldn't judge him for his choice.

There was also something amazing about how despite having hooked up with women all over the place, Dean managed to do it without breaking their hearts. They just seemed to know that any time spent with Dean was temporary, and that they shouldn't get too attached; just enjoy the ride. It was almost enough for Sam to believe in "woman's intuition". Hell, he was almost certain that women had taken advantage of Dean, using him as a convenient means to end unhappy relationships.

Sam could almost picture the woman Dean would end up with. He almost invariably went for the petite ones; 5'2" and 110 pounds soaking wet. He liked long hair, big boobs, and a round ass you could practically serve a drink on. At least that had always been an accurate description of the women that Sam had personally observed Dean hitting on. He had no idea if Dean switched things up when he was tom-catting on his own. It wasn't like Sam ever was introduced to any of them.

The cheap plastic alarm clock on the "wood" end table between the two beds read 12:05. Dean had been gone over a half hour. He wouldn't see him again until in the morning. Research suddenly seemed dull, so Sam decided to take advantage of having the place to himself. He took a shower, staying in there until the hot water ran out. Then he slid between the slightly scratchy motel room sheets, and fell into dreamless sleep.

He'd see Dean in a few hours.

Usually when Dean returned from a night out, he would be loud and obnoxious; ordering Sam out of bed, and to pack his shit up so they could get going. But not so this morning.

Instead Dean had practically slunk into the motel room, making very little noise. It was only the click of deadbolt that awoke Sam. And if he wasn't a hunter and trained to wake at the slightest noise, he might not have even stirred. Deciding to play possum for a bit, he watched Dean from underneath the comforter, being careful not to open his eyes too much or too often.

Dean looked oddly pensive. He sat down on the unoccupied bed, and then he fell back against the pillows. In his right hand he held a baggie that had something in it, and as he lay down, Sam watched him place it on his opposite side so that Sam could no longer see it. Was he trying to hide it?

In his best sleepy voice, Sam emerged from the covers, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he said, "You're back. How'd you sleep?"

He was greeted with a stern and terse, "Fine." Clearly, Dean was in no mood to chat. Usually that meant that he was hung over, but other than the surly expression, he exhibited none of the other symptoms. His eyes were clear, and he didn't smell like a mixture of beer and whiskey. If anything, his brother looked rather clean although in need of a shave. Curiouser and curiouser.

Sam got up and went through the motions of getting ready; shaving, dressing, and packing his things up. All the while Dean just LAY there silently. He didn't close his eyes either so he wasn't trying to sleep.

"All set, Dean. You want me to check out?" he asked as he hefted his backpack onto one shoulder.

"Sure, Sammy. I'll wait for you in the car," his brother answered almost like he was distracted, and not fully focused on the here and now.

"OK," Sam replied, and as he headed to the door, he just found he had to say SOMETHING, even if Dean was being Mr. Grumpy-Pants at the moment. "What's in the little bag?"

"None of your business, Sam."

"Come on, Dean. Give me a break. You don't usually bring back souvenirs," he observed.

Dean gave him an exasperated eye roll, got up, and then dangled the bag in front of his face. "They're cookies," he remarked, with just a touch of surprise in his voice. And they were professionally packaged, like they had come from a bakery. A nice one too, like the kind near Stamford where muffins cost $4.00.

"Ding, ding, ding, Sammy. Specifically, they are chocolate chip cookies, and no you can't have any. So don't bother asking," Dean said as he tucked them inside his own gear so they would be out of sight.

Over the next couple of days, Sam watched his brother eat the cookies slowly, savoring each delicious chocolate-y bite. He ate them for breakfast, and then later in the evening instead of his usual piece of pie. When the last one was gone, Sam watched his brother toss the package they had come in away with a frown; like he didn't want to let that last bit of that night go.

Whoever she was, Dean was missing her. Whoever she was, she had made an impression on the unimpressionable Dean Winchester. Sam hoped that she knew that.

That's all folks! At least for this story. I do have an idea to bring Kate back, but I'm not sure about it yet. Please let me know if you think it's a good idea or if I should just leave things as they are. Reviews are always welcome.