A/N: Short and written on the beach. 7x07

Disclaimer: Even though it's the third one I've published today, still not mine.

I Knew We Were Good

I knew we were good when he called me. After we both cooled off a little, and we dug into multiple graves, and he snatched the phone from me because he's a control freak, I still wasn't sure , because he was quiet, and I couldn't tell if it was his pissed quiet or his "I'm handling it, Dean," quiet.

I mean, I knew we were better when he smiled at my jokes and didn't pretend I didn't say something when I initiated conversation. He didn't say much, granted, but it was something, and I'd take what I could get.

But when Sam called to tell me it was the pawn shop guy who was controlling the ghost, I knew we were good. I knew that knowing who was controlling the ghost wouldn't help me much while I was she was strangling that girl, but knowing Sam needed to tell someone, at the very least, to say the theory out loud, so he knew it wasn't too crazy.

He'd done that his whole life. Say things to me and Dad that really couldn't help us, or it could, but we'd already know. A lot of times, though, Sam would bring up a really important point, if not to us, than to his geeky brain, and he'd say that out loud too. I've never met anyone who thinks out loud to the extent that he does, and is as polite as he is.

Anyway, even thought the information about the pawn shop guy, Jimmy or something, really couldn't help me while I was fighting the ghost, it was the best news I'd heard in two weeks. RoboSam was a lot like pissed Sam. Work, work, work, facts, and that's it. Actually, RoboSam had a better sense of humor. He didn't think I was funny, and he was a complete dick about it, but RoboSam laughed more than pissed Sam. Sammy wouldn't joke while we were working, but he'd laugh. Sammy would think out loud. Sammy would tell me he was sent to pregnant yoga class thinking they were necromancers, even though it had absolutely no effect on me whatsoever to my current situation.

Sammy would laugh at me when my jokes weren't funny, he would ride in the car and bitch at me about absolutely anything . Sammy would smile when I threatened to punch that waiter at the café, because he knew I was mostly bluffing. Sammy would force me to talk about my feelings when I'd made it very clear I didn't' want to. Sammy would come back and be my little brother.

Yeah, we were good.