Wednesday afternoon and Dean was buried under the bonnet of Sam's car, yet again. This was the third time in four days. There wasn't much Dean could do, it was plastic, computer programmed and all locked in a box. If he cranked it open to take a look at the engine, which he probably couldn't fix anyway with his tools, the guarantee from the manufacturer wouldn't cover any damage and Sam would shit a brick and claim Dean had broken it.

This was why you should never buy new cars!

He sighed and stood up, worked the kinks out of his back after having leaned over the low car for so long. He already missed his Baby, even though she was only a few feet away from him.

"Stupid piece of plastic crap," he muttered and looked at his fingers. They weren't even dirty. This was not a car. It couldn't be. This monster in front of him was a symbol of the decrease of Western civilization intelligence.

"Don't let Sam catch you say that." Jess had shown up from out of nowhere, a baby monitor in her pants pocket and glasses of lemonade in her hands. He smiled and accepted the beverage with a murmur of thanks.

"Sam knows I hate his car. What I don't understand is that he asked my opinion when he started to look for cars. He asked dad. And still, this is what he came home with."

Jess smiled and looked at the car. "Yeah, about that…" she said and wouldn't look Dean in the eyes anymore.

Then it hit him.

"Oh no, you didn't!" Dean was shocked. You thought you knew somebody…

"I like it!" she defended herself and stepped back and looked at the car.

"It´s shiny and big and black and makes a lot of noise! It's cool!"

Dean stepped back and presented the Impala for her, as if it was the first time she saw it.

"But Dean, yours is…old."

He felt like she had just kicked him in the groin. How dared she?!

"She is not old!" he exclaimed. "She´s a classic and I swear to God, she can outrun your toy car any day!"

Jess smiled and tried to calm down her brother in law. She had found a bee's bonnet and had not only woken the nest, but also kicked it, hosed it down and peed on it. It was time to make amends.

"I know Dean, she is a beauty! And you keep her so well, you can´t see that she´s a day over 10! You have a talent! Sam…well, Sam is good at a lot of things, but cars aren't one of them," she tried. Dean knew she was right, Sam sucked at mechanics, and she took the murder from his eyes with her words, but he was still offended.

"Sam sucks at cars," he muttered and stepped away from the Mustang and over to his own car and wiped a spot that wasn't there almost as if he tried calm the car down. It was more likely to be himself that he tried to calm.

"Don't listen to her, Baby, you are a queen amongst peasants." Had he been alone, he would have kissed the hood, Jess was sure of it. At that moment, the baby monitor started to make noise as Hannah woke. Jess stepped back from the cars and her slightly deranged brother in-law and excused herself to take care of the real baby in the family.

Dean picked up his phone from the front seat of the Impala and texted Sam: "You are so whipped!" was all he wrote and stuffed the phone down his back pocket. He then went and closed the hood of the car and picked up his tools.

A few hours later, Sam answered his text. "What the hell are you talking about? And why aren't you at your office?!"

Dean smiled as he took a bite of his sandwich, feet on the kitchen table, computer on his legs and crumbs all over the keyboard. He picked up his phone from the table, read his text and then answered.

"I'm taking a day off. I'm talking about you, Jess and your toy-car. I know the truth!" He put the phone down and took another bite. None of his online friends were, well, online. Not even Charlie, Queen of Sherwood. He thought about opening a game but then again, it wasn't really the same with out his friends. Last night he had gotten his ass handed to him by a 12 year old kid in Oslo in a game of FIFA on his Playstation. Soccer sucked big time anyway.

Dean closed the laptop and put it back on the table. He got up, ate the rest of his sandwich and took a carton of milk from the fridge, expired by only a day. It smelled fine, he decided, and took a large swallow. It tasted fine so he drank it all, with only some of it spilled down the front of his t-shirt. He wiped his face and a lazy hand dragged over the milk on the cotton and he threw the carton away.

As Dean wiped his hand on the old t-shirt, he remembered Castiel from the shop. He would see him again on Sunday and get an explanation. He was excited about that. Yeah sure, it was the explanation part that was exciting. Not the fact that he would see Castiel again, eat with him, hear his voice again and maybe, just maybe, hear him laugh. He hadn't really heard that yet.

So when Sam texted him back, mortified and tried to explain why his wife had chosen the car from aesthetics alone, Dean looked into his closet. His clothing was lame. He had suits on one side and t-shirts and jeans on the other.

He answered Sam with an emoji, a whip, and then threw the phone on the bed. He had to get new clothing, but the only store he knew of, except for the tailor and Wal-Mart, was Castiel's store. It would be just plain weird to go down there and buy a bunch of clothes only a few days before the Sunday dinner. It would reek of trying too hard, of desperation… No, he had to go out there and try and find some other stuff to wear.

He briefly considered calling Charlie, but she had an even worse taste in clothing then he had. His dad had excellent taste but hated to shop. And it would be weird. Then there were Jess and the baby. That would be too much hassle and she would no doubt figure him out and tattle to Sam. He didn't need that.

Sam was out of the question. If the guy could sleep in his suits, he would be in seventh heaven. No, that only left his mom to help him. It wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the fact that his mom would know the second he called her what was up. Hopefully, she wouldn't dig too deep into it and just let it go. He crossed his fingers and called his mom.

Of course his mother said yes and half an hour later, Dean was on his way over to pick her up.

As he pulled up the driveway, he saw her in the kitchen window. Well, more like, he saw them, in the kitchen window. They were his parents, for god's sake! Ew!

Dean honked the horn and his mother jumped, startled, then laughed and slapped his dad's arms away from her waist. John had a big shit eating smile on his face and Dean could feel the bile rise in his throat. Mary kissed her husband on the mouth and a few seconds later, she was on her way out the door. John still smiled and gave his son a nod in greeting. Dean lifted his hand from the steering wheel and then leaned over and opened the door for his mother. She climbed in and kissed his cheek, then slammed the door shut, which made Dean wince and silently apologize to his car.

"Hi, mom," he said as she smiled and blew his father a kiss out the window. Really? Right in front of him! He had learned not to say anything and just put the car in reverse and slowly backed out of the driveway.

"So," she said and put her hands on her purse in front of her, "Where are we going?" she asked, even though Dean had asked her to help him find some clothing in Wal-Mart.

"Wal-Mart," he said as he navigated his way around the round-about. Dean hated them and there were a ton of them in the quiet neighborhood. They were small and really just a bump in the road and his Baby hated them. Baby was too long and wide to really look graceful in them and usually Dean just slowed down and drove across them, but not with his mother in the car. She would complain and tell him to follow the traffic rules and really, his head pounded already after he saw his parents post coital, swapping spit in the kitchen. Just, ew.

"Oh really, Dean? I don't like that place. Let's go somewhere else!" she griped and looked out the window.

"Where?" Dean asked, wracking his brain for some other place to buy clothing that fit his age.

"Castiel's shop!" she said and Dean rolled his eyes. Of course that's what she would suggest.

"Veto," he said and got the stink eye from his mother. He knew he really couldn't say no to her, but veto always worked.

"Why not? I thought you like Castiel? And of course his shop, too." He could feel his cheeks start to burn, so he found his sunglasses and put them on his face. At least then she couldn't see his eyes burn as she no doubt would figure him out in seconds.

"This has nothing to do with Castiel." Dean could see her smiling, knowing face from the corners of his eyes.

"Of course not." That was all she said and he knew she knew. Goddammit!

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain," she said, which made his head freeze.

"Excuse me?" he said and she nodded. "Apology accepted."

"I didn't say anything!" She looked at him. "Don't raise your voice at me, young man."

He tightened his hands around the steering wheel and took a deep breath. "Sorry," he muttered and looked straight at the back of the small seat in front of him. What a stupid little car!

"I know what you're thinking. And stop making eyes at the car in front of us. It's a very popular car in Europe." They hadn't been driving for 10 minutes and she was already driving him crazy. This was a bad idea.

"What about some music?" he suggested and turned on the radio. Metallica blared out and he quickly turned down the volume. "Sorry." She didn't say anything, just looked out the window. She was used to that kind of music from her husband but she didn't like it blared out in her face as if she were at a rock concert. Dean knew that.

Outside of the music, only her directions and the engine's purr, made a sound for the next 20 minutes. It was a long trip for a pair of pants and Dean wasn't sure if it was worth it in the end.

As they entered a huge men's store, too posh for Dean's liking and personality, he stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and lowered his head. This was a bad idea.

His mother on the other hand, was like a fish in water. She chatted with the very feminine man who greeted them and ordered champagne for them and as they kissed each others cheeks in overly dramatic gestures, Dean wondered who his mom really was. He had never seen this side of her before. She told the dude that Dean was going to need a new wardrobe and that they wanted to see a little bit of everything. Dean's feet hurt at the thought of the amount of time they would need to spend in the store.

Dean looked around and wondered why the store looked more like a French castle than a store. There was a big, huge, chandelier on the ceiling and gold on the walls and big windows and live candles everywhere. He was suffocated in this atmosphere and felt that the huge paintings on the wall were going to come alive and grab him and pull him in to their world of dancing couples and hunting trophies. Compared to this, Castiel's shop was a dump but Dean preferred the dump. It was homey and had a soul, instead of this Beverly Hills- wannabe craphole.

"Mom, do we need to do this? I don't like this place," he whispered in her ear just as the guy returned with the first set of clothing. A suit, of course.

"It's a nice place, Dean, with nice clothing and the service is tops. I don't see a problem with it," she said and smiled as the clerk presented the first suit.

As he eyed Dean, a shiver ran down Dean's back. He smiled and looked Dean straight in the eye and then down his body.

"I think this will suit your muscular frame perfectly." The guy was already flirting with him, what the hell?

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah I´m not really looking for suits. Already got a ton of them." The man nodded and looked at Mary, who just shrugged and let him retreat with the suit. He soon came back with a pair of beige trousers, a green shirt and a pink pull over. Dean saw his mom's eyes shine but he put his foot down.

"No. Way." Mary looked at him as if he had kicked her.

"But Dean, hunny, this will so bring out you eyes, and the trousers are casual, just like you like it."

She was kidding him, right? She had to be, there were no way this was what he looked for.

"I think I might have what you are looking for then," the clerk suggested as he once again checked out Dean's body. Creep. He then left then and came back with a pair of Levi's and a green polo-shirt with beige loafers. What the hell was it with this guy and green?

"Hell no," he exclaimed which earned him a stare and a smack over his head from his mother.

"You are trying this on, young man, and you will watch you mouth!"

Dean grudgingly took the clothes and with his pride dragging behind him, he went in to the change booth. Well, room. The place was the size of Dean's bedroom!

Why the hell had he asked his mother for help? And who the hell was this demon whom had possessed his mother's fair body and now tormented him in to pulling a polo-shirt over his head.

He kicked off his own baggy jeans and pulled on the black Levis´. Fuck, they were tight. Fuck fuck fuck! He was not going out in these…tights! He looked at the loafers with disdain. He didn't even want to try them on. They were evil! He looked at him self in the mirror. He looked like a douche bag. Honestly, how could anybody feel comfortable in this? And what was it about him that made the asshole of a clerk think that this was him?

"Fuck my life," he whispered as he heard the clerk's voice from behind the door.

"How are we doing in there?" and a second later, he knocked on the door. Dean didn't answer. Maybe the clerk would go away, but his mother wouldn't leave.

"Fuck off," he said to the clerk and already knew his mother would hate him just a little bit for it. Well, tough. This had been a mistake from the get go. May as well end it with a crash and burn.

"Really!" the clerk exclaimed and Dean heard him flutter away. It brought a smile to his face as he imagined the dick's face… te-heh. Soon though, his smile disappeared as he heard his mother's voice as she rapped on the door.

"Dean?" she asked, pissed off, no doubt that the fucker had ratted on him.

"Yeah…" he muttered and braced himself for his mother's wrath.

"What is your problem?" she thundered as she closed the door behind her.

"I´m sorry mom, but this isn´t me. I don't like any of it. Plus the guy is a di-douche bag," he corrected himself before he earned himself another smack from her.

"But you like jeans!" she said as she stepped behind him, directed him to the mirror again and corrected his collar and pulled up his pants. He felt like a 5 year old again.

"These aren´t jeans, they're Levi's. It´s too posh for me, too fancy. I'm not fancy, I´m just a mechanic…" he trailed off. Well, he wished he was just a mechanic.

"Oh, rubbish. You are Dean Winchester, my son. And my son isn´t just anything. Now straighten your back and let me look at you." He turned around and let her critical eye run over him. Uncomfortable.

"Well, the jeans are nice, but let's lose the shirt and get out of here. The clerk creeps me out." He couldn't help but laugh as a ton of bricks were lifted from his shoulders. His mom wasn't angry at him.

They ended up leaving the shop with the jeans in a pretty bag, but Dean knew he would never be caught dead in them. They then went to Wal-Mart where Dean felt more at home and he quickly found two pairs of jeans, some shirts, t-shirts, pull overs and a jacket.

As his mother saw him the the denim jacket, she smiled. "I have just the right jacket for you at home. It's your father's but he hasn't used it since before you were born. I think it will fit you quiet well. And for Sunday, you can borrow an old necklace I got from my father. I think it will look nice on you, but I want it back. I still means a lot to me." She smiled and they left Wal-Mart, heading for home.

And that was how Dean not only got some new clothes, he also got something old and something borrowed.