Jody?" Maggie's muffled voice came from being head and shoulders deep in the fridge. "Since when did you start drinking this beer? Good God, it's buried, did you forget about it? I mean, seriously, it's like you hid it!"

"What beer?" Jody popped up over the shoulder of her deceased husband's mother who was visiting for a week. "Oh, that beer. Yeah, no, put that back. I don't like that beer. There's Coors or Bud Lite in there somewhere, keep digging."

"Then why do you have it? And lite beer? Seriously?"

"Friend stopped by, his beer of choice, you know?"

"Does he drop by regularly?" Maggie teased, removing what she'd been after in the fridge and closing the door.

"No." Jody said with a shrug. "Well, now and again."

"I see. So, ever overnight? Would explain the men's razor in the medicine cabinet and the socks I found on the shelf in the hallway linen closet. And that shirt hanging on the back of the door? Not something Owen ever would have worn."

"Aah, no." Jody managed not to blush. "Law official." she said hurriedly. "Comes through town every so often, you know that old Bobby Singer is always up to no good."

"Right. Well, ok, if that's the story you're sticking with, fine." Maggie laughed. "But Jody, it's been several years, if you….have, well, it's about time, you know? I know you loved my son and no one is going to hold it against you if you've moved on."

"Aah, ok, thanks. I think."

"Guess that would also explain the salad dressing and flavored croutons I've never known you to eat. You're more the creamy type salad dressing, right?" Maggie waggled about the bag of croutons. "Never knew you to eat these either and hey, by the way, I don't ever recall Sean's room having bunk beds."

"We have dinner. And Sean had friends over, some spent the night." Jody acknowledged, wishing Maggie would let the matter drop. How was she supposed to explain that at any given time, a set of brothers could drop by to spend a night or two while one or the other recovered from a minor injury and needed a place to crash while they caught up on research and restocked ammo and supplies? "Not what you're thinking Maggie, they…..he's…too …..young. Now come on, let's get going before we miss the movie."

***000***

Sam wearily climbed from the car and unlocked the side door to the garage. He lacked a remote for the automatic garage door but had a key to enter the garage and raise the door from the wall switch. He was beat. He was tired and dirty. He was hungry and he smelled. He wanted toothbrush, hot shower, shampoo, something to eat, bed and a pillow.

They were heading back to finish a job in a town that was yet some distance away and he needed a place to leave Dean for a night or two. He doubted Dean would give him any grief over the unscheduled stop. He was just as tired as, if not more so, than Sam; had to be, if he'd willingly allowed Sam to take the wheel and drive.

It didn't appear anyone was home but they were welcome any time, had a key to both garage and house, the latter of which, they had free run of. He nudged Dean awake, shouldered both duffel bags then prodded and pushed his doped-on-allergy-meds brother around the car and through the door of the attached garage that led into the house.

"No, no, no, hey-hey-hey…..this way…that's it….come on."

Dean didn't argue or refuse, just allowed himself to be led, propelled and maneuvered into the bedroom where he found his bed on his own. Pausing to pull off his boots, he shed himself of his coat before crawling under the covers and pulling them over his head.

"Yeah, you sleep." Sam made a face as he felt his hair. He'd been the one dragged through the mud, not his brother. Dean was relatively clean and could wait until morning to shower. Wasn't like he had mud in his teeth or clumped in his hair. God, Sam hoped it was only mud. All Dean was capable of doing anyway was sleep. Sam really needed to find an allergy medication that worked and didn't knock his brother out.

Sam dug through his duffel for clean clothes then headed off to the bathroom for a much desired shower and shampoo. His hair needed a deep conditioning treatment. He knew Jody would have hot oil in the linen closet, might as well give his hair the nice treatment it deserved, cause yeah, he was gonna be that long in the shower.

***000***

Maggie entered the house through the front door. Jody had dropped her off then gone on to the office to deal with some problem or another her deputy had about. She toed her shoes off by the front door, removing her coat as she hummed her way across the living room. Her old bones begged for a hot cup of tea and a slice or two of toast as a snack while she waited for her daughter-in-law, whom she affectionately called daughter, to return.

Not having been prepared for the possibility of a towel clad man roaming the house, her freak-out upon entering the kitchen was completely understandable.

Sam stood at the island counter, one towel around his waist, another around his neck, catching the drips from his wet hair so they didn't run down his bare back. He was making a sandwich, calmly slicing tomatoes when her shrieks startled him into jumping and slicing his thumb. He cursed aloud, stuck the injured appendage into his mouth and turned to confront the shrieking banshee who had invaded his peace and solitude, prepared to defend himself, the house and his sleeping sibling by wielding the inadequate knife defensively in his other hand.

He let his wet hair hang in face, shielding his expression as he cursed himself for being caught unawares, unprepared and undressed with only a flimsy kitchen knife for defense. It took him several precious seconds to focus and realize that what he faced was no threat to him or his brother.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" she demanded shakily, one palm against her racing heart the other bracing her weight against the wall. "You…you…..I'm calling the police." her hand floundered along the wall as she inched her way ever-so-slowly over to the phone. Her eyes never broke contact, wary that he would either attack or flee.

"Wouldn't that be Jody?" Sam, recovered from his own fright and no longer alarmed, sent her a smile that disarmed her past the point of having the power to speak. "Hi, I'm Sam." he lowered the knife. She was in her later sixties, if not early seventies and while she posed no immediate threat, the last thing he wanted to do was scare her into calling the police and have the possibility of someone other than Jody respond. "And you are who?"

He was glad he was the one she had encountered and not Dean. Even if his brother wasn't miserable and medicated, he would have scared the poor woman into having a heart attack. He wouldn't have responded to her shrieks with smiles and conversation. If he'd managed to say anything at all, it would have been along the lines of; 'who the hell are you?' 'what the fuck are you doing here?' and 'give me one good reason why I shouldn't put you down with a bullet between your eyes?'

"Sam." she licked her lips nervously, phone now in hand but she had yet to start dialing. What was the matter with her? Three buttons was all she had to push, and one was repeatable. "May I ask what you are doing here?"

"Making a sandwich."

His friendly smile, light tone and easy-going attitude along with his laid back body language eased the panic fluttering about her chest but her heart was still pounding, causing her to remain cautious. Since when was a smile and twinkling eyes enough to disarm her to the point she wasn't capable of doing the sensible, right thing to do? Like calling 911 and reporting a wet, hairy giant striding about her daughter's kitchen wearing naught but a towel as he made a sandwich.

"You mean, making yourself at home." she corrected. Focus Margaret, she ordered herself sternly. He could be a thief or kidnapper or rapist or murderer or….or….oh hell she might be seventy-one but she prided herself on her excellent eyesight. Blind she was not and while the man in front of her was obviously capable of violence, oddly she did not feel threatened.

"Well, guess so, yeah." he pushed his hair out of his eyes and they twinkled in amusement at her obvious state of fluster. "Would you like one?"

"Would you happen to like garlic croutons and Balsamic salad dressing?" of the all the stupid things to come out of her mouth, that's what she said? She mentally slapped herself, what the hell was she thinking? Unknown, towel clad man in her daughter's kitchen and she asks him what he likes on his salad? Way to get yourself killed Margaret!

Sam tilted his head as he considered her most unusual question. "Aah, yes I do. Goes great with grilled chicken."

She blew her breath out and visibly relaxed. She put the phone receiver back on its base and made her way over to pull out a chair and sit down at the table. Why that admission soothed away the last of her misgivings, she couldn't say, but it did.

"So, you must be the law official that occasionally stops by. She mentioned you were younger but she neglected to say you just felt free to make yourself at home."

"Oh." he gave her a sheepish smile and a casual shrug. "Yeah, well, I kinda…"

He was cut-off by a squeak of alarm and she jumped up from the chair so quickly she knocked it over in her haste to scramble away from the table. She grabbed wildly for something, anything to either hide behind or to defend herself with. Sam frowned when she visibly paled and her eyes rolled wildly as she yanked open the refrigerator door and ducked behind it.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked gently. "I…." he turned around to see a wild-eyed, unshaven Dean whose hair, that had grown out over the last month, was tousled and blown sideways in every direction from disturbed sleep. Its spiky do, along with his red, swollen eyes and unkempt scruff, made him look sinister and malevolent. Add to that, the gun he aimed directly at the poor woman was enough to send anyone into fits of alarm. He sighed, belatedly realizing Dean had come to his defense in response to his grunt and curse of pain. Leave it to Dean to sleep through ear-splitting female shrieks of terror yet become wide awake upon a mere grunted curse from his brother. He should have expected that.

"Dean, put that away." he reached for a towel to wrap around his thumb. "Dean!"

"Who the hell is she?" he remained in the doorway of the kitchen that led to the hallway, but lowered the gun from being aimed at her head to her shoulder. He didn't need to see how or where she crouched behind the fridge door. He could, would easily be able to shoot through it and hit his target exactly where he wanted to. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Well, if you'd quit scaring her, maybe she'll tell us." Sam shook his head. "Way to go Dean, give the poor woman a heart attack."

"I'm Maggie, Jody's mother-in-law." her hair appeared first, then her forehead and finally her eyes popped over the top of the door. "Her husband's mother." she rose to her feet and stepped away from the fridge door, letting it close, knees telling her to either take a seat or be dumped to the floor.

"Nice to meet you." Sam righted the chair and gave the seat a pat. "The gun wielding manic is my brother. Forgive him, he's stoned on allergy meds and responded thinking I was in danger." he walked over to Dean and plucked the gun from his hand. "Go back to bed."

"You're bleeding." hands curled into fists and rubbed at his eyes. He wasn't about to leave his brother unarmed...and...he lowered a fist and peered at Sam with one watery, bloodshot eye – yup that was indeed a towel – his undressed brother alone with Granny with no means to protect himself. His nose twitched and he caught himself trying to scratch the itch the back of his mouth with his tongue. Oh no, no, not another sneezing fit. Not now.

"Yeah, knife slipped." he removed the towel and gave his thumb a close inspection. "Won't even need a stitch. See?" he thrust his thumb at his brothers face whose squint and step back told Sam he wasn't capable of judging the injury for himself. "You shouldn't be up."

Dean gave another rub to his eyes, the look of mistrust and dislike he cast Maggie's way disrupted by a violent sneeze that rocked him back on his heels. Sam handed him a box of tissues, took him by the shoulders, turned him around and sent him off with a shove towards their room.

Maggie didn't breathe normally or release a sigh of relief until he was out of sight and she heard the click of a bedroom door being shut. "Guess that explains the bunk beds." she laughed weakly. It wasn't every day you encountered gun wielding men in your daughter's house, or anywhere for that matter. "Jody failed to mention there were two of you." and there better not be a third. Two were enough and of those two, one was going to keep her sleepless her entire stay, or as long as they stayed.

"Surprised she mentioned us at all."

"She didn't. It was the razor and the beer and the shirt and the salad dressing…..the bunk beds….."

"We travel a lot, drop in when we're nearby."

"Without her being home? I mean, you must have a key and you feel at home here, don't you? Certainly know you're way around and….well….." she paused, then waved a hand dismissively. "Helped yourself to the shower and kitchen….leave your things here." good heavens, she was seventy-one years of age. Why on earth was the sight of a naked male chest flustering her? "Do you….erhm, have clothes?"

"Yeah, here, slice me some tomatoes while I go get dressed."

"Yeah, yeah, good idea….you…..you go do that." she muttered to herself. "And how about locking the door when you leave the room? Keep him in there." soon as Sam was out of sight, she grabbed the phone and dialed Jody, praying she would answer. "Come on, come on, come on…"

"Hello?" Jody chirped. "Late night craving? I'll be home in about an hour. The Dipsy Doodle is still open, what say I swing by and get us some milkshakes?"

"I'd say, you better bring home four." good, that was good, voice steady, not shaking, able to speak without stuttering.

"What? Four what? What are you talking….oh."

"Oh? Oh? Is that all you have to say? Oh? Law official huh? Forgot some details there, didn't you Jody?" yup, that was the way, remain calm, speak civilly. Yay Maggie! she congratulated herself, way to go!

"Aah, I don't think so." she sounded perplexed. "Like what?"

"Like there are two of them? And they are big and carry guns and…" doing good, doing good, not panicking, no need to panic, do not panic.

"Shit. You didn't scare them, did you?"

"Scare them? Scare them? Beg your pardon? Scare them? Did I SCARE them?" too bad she didn't coach herself against anger! "Are you seriously more worried about THEM than ME? I'm an old woman Jody, my poor heart! It can't take shocks like these!"

"They wouldn't have expected you to be in the house. Good Lord, you did, didn't you? You managed to scare them. Wow, good job, they don't scare easily, but they're skittish around other people…they ran, didn't they?" she ended with a sad sigh. She hadn't expected the brothers anytime soon. It'd been awhile and they were lying low, trying to stay under the radar. Huh, could only wonder what had brought them to her door. "Oh Maggie."

"Skittish? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? One's completely at ease running around your home naked and the other comes charging out all wild-eyed with electric socket hair waving a gun in my face, A GUN Jody! And you're asking me if I SCARED THEM?"

"Now Maggie, calm down, they're just boys." Jody replied calmly. "And I doubt either one was naked."

"Just….just-boys? Have you lost your mind Jody? They are GROWN MEN! Dangerous looking MEN with GUNS who are right at HOME in your house!"

"Well, of course they are." Jody chuckled. "Dean would never shoot you unless you were smothering, stabbing or trying to shoot Sam." she sounded sad, didn't need to know which brother had been the one wielding the gun, she knew. Though if she'd had to guess which one would be running around naked, she'd never have chosen Sam. "Did they happen to mention where they were going? Or why they stopped?"

"Yeah, Dean, with the short hair, yeah, he'd be the gun wielding scary ass dude sleeping in your son's room."

"Phish, they're harmless. Just a couple of boys, brothers." Jody assured her. "I'm on my way home."

"Yeah, well, good, 'cause I gotta tell you, they're freaking me out."

"Freaking you…sleeping in...? Wait, you mean…are they still there?"

"Hey, is that Jody?" Sam was next to her and she leaped up from her chair, knocking it over a second time. Her heart thudded so loudly, she was sure he could hear it beating against her chest. The smile on his face assured her he'd at least heard her admit they freaked her out. "Here, lemme to talk to her." he took the phone from Maggie's limp hold, denying her the opportunity to tell him no. "Hey Jody, Sam, you know of any allergy medication that doesn't have DPH in it?"

"Um, wow, hi Sam. Maggie didn't make you turn and run? Allergy meds? Thought you knew about every medication out there."

"Well yeah, the ones we've taken, pain meds and antibiotics, but…neither one of us ever really had allergies before."

"Well ok, just about any of the over-the-counter meds, the non-drowsy ones. Off the top of my head, the only one I can think of that has it is Benadryl. Why the need to know?"

"Dean. Known him twenty-nine years of his life and now, he has an allergy. Might be mold, god only knows in our line of…work. Benadryl knocks him out but it was all the mini-mart had. Well, had Nasonex, but don't want that, causes slow healing of injury."

"Try Alavert. It's non-drowsy, comes in dissolvable tablets and I happen to have some in the bathroom off my bedroom." she paused. "Injury? Dean's injured?" that explained what they were doing at her house. "How bad?"

"He's fine. Ok, guess it's worth a shot. So, we seeing you soon?"

"Oh yeah, on my way home now. Say, did you put some clothes on? You're making old Maggie blush." so Sam claimed Dean wasn't injured too badly but apparently the injury was bad enough Sam had sought refuge at her house. Huh, odd.

"Yeah, I'm dressed." he laughed. "See you." he hung up and took the tomato slices from Maggie. "Thanks, make you a sandwich?"

"No, no thanks." she watched him add pepperoni and shredded cheese. "See you bandaged your thumb."

"Yeah, so…." he joined her at the table with his sandwich, couple of cookies and a glass of milk. "So, you're Owen's mother."

"Did you know my son?"

"Aah, no, no I didn't…so, think Jody will get home before I finish eating? Kinda finding it hard to stay awake." he couldn't hide the yawn. "It's after ten, isn't it?" he really shouldn't eat so late and then go straight to bed, but he hadn't had anything to eat all day and he knew from years of experience, he'd never sleep if he went to bed hungry.

"She should be here in twenty minutes or so." Maggie leaned across the table to cut his sandwich in half when his bandaged thumb impeded his ability to do so. "Aah, did your…..brother is it?" she waited for Sam's nod of affirmation. "Did he go to sleep?"

"He's in bed. Doubtful he'll sleep much but don't worry." Sam grinned. "He'll stay in our room and should he get up and roam about, I've taken his gun from him."

"Is that supposed to make me sleep easier tonight?" she joked.

"He means you no harm." Sam assured her. "He's….not himself…he doesn't feel so good and he doesn't know what to do about it. Doesn't happen often." he pushed his chair back and started to get up.

"Sit, sit, what do you need? More milk?"

"Please, and the mustard."

Dean stirred when Sam entered the room to go to bed. He awoke somewhat when Sam nudged him, his recent habit of ensuring Dean still breathed, before climbing into the top bunk. A habit Dean responded to because if he didn't, the gentle nudge would become a poke then a shove before reverting to shaking until he finally moved and satisfied Sam's anxiety.

"Should just sleep on the floor." Dean yawned, voice slurred with sleep as the bed frames jostled from Sam's weight.

"Why are you awake?" he hung his head off the mattress to frown down at his brother who slept on his stomach, facing the wall.

"Cause you just woke me."

"No, I made sure you were breathing."

"Whatever. So, the Sheriff's house?" he eased on to his back. "Why? We weren't close, were we?"

"I gotta leave you somewhere."

"And a motel wouldn't do, why?"

"Aah, gee I dunno, maybe the weird reaction you're having to allergy meds?" Sam fluffed his pillow. "You know, to the allergy you've never had before."

"You're the only one insisting it's an allergy. Dunno why you keep saying that."

"Maybe it's the red, swollen, watery, itchy eyes. The violent fits of sneezing and the nasal congestion, well, when your nose ain't running. And though you've never admitted it, I'm guessing sinus headache…..does your throat itch?"

"Shut up." Dean groused. "Geesh, give a man a…..wait….leave me? Where you goin'?"

"Back to finish the job."

"Alone?"

"You can't go. Stay here, get some sleep. I'll leave in the morning and be back tomorrow night."

Dean didn't respond. Sam was capable of digging up the grave and salting and burning the bones of the spirit haunting a hiker's trail in the Black Hills Mountains. They'd been about two hours out from the town that was home to the cemetery where one Mortimer Hughley was buried. Sam had driven the opposite way to reach Sioux Falls, would have taken him about three hours, which meant, he had a five hour, one-way drive the next day.

"Fine." he didn't argue. What could go wrong anyway? "But…you're stupid to do it all in one day, hell, you were stupid to drive all the way here…spend the night."