"You sure you don't want any help? I'm sure Faith wouldn't mind..." Sam followed Dean into the Wolfram & Hart lobby.
"Nah, I got it covered. Besides, I been meaning to go see old Red again anyway."
"Is Bobby going with you?"
"He might meet me there, I don't know. He'll probably fly in though, it's a long drive to Panama City."
"You're telling me. Look, if you get into any trouble, just call and I'll-"
"Sam," Dean turned to smirk at his brother, "I can work alone. Did it for four years, remember?"
"Not quite," Sam put his hands in his pockets, a smirk of his own on his face.
"What do you mean?"
"The way I remember it you were still riding shotgun with Dad when I left for school," Sam folded his arms, "and somehow I don't think he would have let you take off straight away."
Dean hesitated, then shrugged and kept walking.
"It wasn't long after, I can tell you that. Think I got sick of him checking up on you when you deserted us."
Sam gave him that one, following him down to the garage.
"How long?" he asked.
"I'll be home in time for supper Mom," Dean gave him a look as he
threw his bag in the impala.
Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to rid his mind of the memory. Dean
started the car, grinned at his brother, then hit the horn as he
drove the car out.
"See you Dean," Sam said under his breath, shaking his head as he
walked back inside.