Spoilers for 7.01 and 7.02. Part 1 of 2

Missing scene(s) from 7.01: Dean is still working on the Impala; Cas is still God; Bobby still wears a hat… and Sam is still halfway sane.

Warnings: language.

Trigger Finger

Part 1

"Hey, Dean."

Sam's voice sounded odd on the phone and Dean frowned. "Sam?" Sam had gone into town to grab some burgers for Dean and Bobby as they continued the arduous task of restoring the Impala. Again… "Where the hell are you?" That was over two hours ago. "We're starved!"

"Uh, yeah… about that…"

Dean scowled. "And why are you calling on this phone?" He'd just come inside to grab a couple bottles of beer when the phone in the kitchen had rang.

"Can you get Bobby?"

"Bobby? What do you need Bobby for?" Affronted, he snorted. "You know he likes his burgers with everything on it."

"Dean, please – I don't have much time…"

"Did I hear the phone?" the screen door banged behind Bobby as the older hunter strode into the kitchen.

Dean glared as he held out the phone. "It's for you."

Bobby returned his glare and snatched the phone. "Who pissed in your Corn Flakes? Bobby here."

"Didn't have Corn Flakes," Dean grumbled but refused to move from where he was standing, determined to know what all this cloak and dagger crap was about. He listened to Bobby's side of the conversation feeling even more perturbed; his normally loud brother was speaking too quietly for him to properly overhear.

"Sam...? Yeah… – what?You'rewhere?"

Dean's heart jumped. That was not Bobby's happy voice. "What?" he demanded trying to grab the phone back but Bobby body checked him to the side. "What's wrong?

"No. No… just sit tight. I'll be right down." Hanging up the phone, Bobby scrubbed a hand down his face. "That was Sam."

"No shit Sherlock," Dean's heart was pounding now. He ignored the look Bobby gave him. "Where is he?"

Bobby grabbed his truck keys and started towards the door. "Get ready for this one… Your dumbass brother is in jail."

Dean stared numbly at the other man. He shook his head. "Nuh uh, that ain't right. Sam went for burgers…that's all."

"Yeah, well unless the lovely Sheriff has started a take-out service, I don't think Sam is there for the food. Whoa, where the hell do you think you're going?" Bobby stopped him at the door.

"With you."

Dean stated the obvious but Bobby shook his head. "No, Dean. Sam expressly said for you NOT to come down there. Stay here – we'll be back as soon as we can."

And then Bobby was gone before Dean could do more than open his mouth to protest.

It was another three hours before Sam and Bobby got back to the house.

"Jail, Sam?" Dean rounded on Sam even before the kid got out of the truck. "What the hell happened?" He ran appraising eyes over his brother as Sam stood, zeroing in on the fresh bandage on his brother's hand. Before Sam could answer he demanded. "Are you okay?" And then, "I never should have let you go by yourself!"

"Whoa, take it easy, boy," Bobby slammed the truck door shut and came to stand between the brothers. "Give your brother a chance to say something first before you have the entire conversation by yourself!"

Sam was quietly studying Dean's boots, but other than a new bandage on a mostly healed hand, the kid looked fine. A bit tired maybe but who wasn't these days?

"Sam?" Dean pressed, his worry retching up a notch. "Sammy?"

"It's nothing, all right? I just, well, I just got into a fight and someone called the sheriff…"

"At the burger joint?" Dean stared in disbelief. "What happened? Someone take the last tomato or something?"

"Like I said, it's nothing."

Sam tried to push past his brother to go inside but Dean stopped him with a hand against his chest.

"Dean…"

"Don't Dean me – last I looked you're not the scrappy Winchester so what the hell, Sam? It takes talent to get tossed in jail on a burger run!"

Sam smiled tiredly as he glanced up at Dean. "The scrappy Winchester?"

"Sam…" Dean growled and his brother held up his hands in supplication.

"Okay. Okay. Look – like I said, it really was nothing… Guy just pissed me off with his attitude. He gave me a shove, I shoved back and things went sideways from there."

Dean considered that for a long moment. Something was up with his brother that much was for sure. He'd have to be stupid not to have noticed how jumpy that kid was but Dean wasn't willing to push, yet. They'd already dodged a bullet as far as he was concerned when it came to Sam so with a heavy sigh he dropped it, gave a slight nod and turned his attention to Bobby. "Damage control?"

"Already taken care of. Sheriff Mills figures that after the zombie fiasco, Sam was owed one get out of jail card free card – and well, he just used it. Oh, and he's not allowed to come into town for the next month."

"And the guy Sam laid out?" Dean knew the locals, most of them soft and white, so there was no way his brother hadn't won that fight, especially if a new bandage was all Sam walked away with. "He's not pressing charges?"

Bobby lifted his hat as he scratched his head. "Nope – 'cording to witnesses, Sam didn't throw the first punch so, like your brother, the fella'll just cooled his heels for a couple of hours in the tank, then got sent home."

"Has he got a town restriction on him too?" although Dean highly doubted it.

Sam mumbled something about going inside to lie down for a bit and Dean let him go.

"Nope," Bobby repeated watching Sam, a frown pulling down on his mouth. "But since Sam busted the poor bugger's jaw and dislocated his shoulder, I don't think it was about favouritism."

"Whoa – what?" Dean's jaw dropped. "You kidding me?"

Bobby scowled. "Does this look like my kidding face to you? Not sure what exactly the guy said that got Sam so riled but I'm sure the fella's doing a lot of rethinking right now. Jessie Hughes – the kid working the counter at the burger joint – called it 'cool'. Said he's never seen anyone take someone out like Sam did… Had the guy pissing his pants on the ground crying in seconds."

"Shit," Dean breathed out, his attention on the house now, staring at it as if he could see his brother inside.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "Pretty much. Look Dean – I know we don't want to go looking the gift horse in the mouth and all, but I'm getting worried here. That ain't like Sam and I just don't know…"

The muscle in Dean's jaw ticked. He knew what this was about. Bobby was still hanging on to his anger over soul-less Sam trying to kill him. "Look if you don't want us staying here – just say the word-"

"Don't be an idjit," Bobby snorted. "I'm just saying we need to keep a better eye on your brother… I ain't keen on losing him again so soon after we just got him back."

Embarrassment coloured Dean's ears, of course Bobby wasn't carrying a grudge. Dean still wasn't used to someone else caring about Sam almost the way he did. "Sorry."

Bobby rolled his eyes and started towards the house. "Just get me a beer and we'll call it a do-over."

Dean flashed a grin. "Done." He fell in place next to Bobby. "He bust open my stitch job?"

"On that bozos' jaw apparently. Paramedics redid 'em and gave him a shot of antibiotics but I'm sure he'll let you look if you ask really nice and say 'pretty please'," Bobby teased as he led the way into the kitchen.

"I don't think that will be necessary," even if Dean did intend on taking a look later. Striding towards the fridge, he grabbed two beers and gave one to Bobby. His stomach growled. "So, what you're really saying then is that Sam didn't get us any burgers."

Bobby chuckled, "And people say you aren't the bright one."

"Hey," Dean feigned indignation then shrugged and checked out the living room to see Sam stretched out on the couch.

"Something wrong with his bed upstairs?" Bobby asked quietly from the doorway. "You short sheeting it again?"

Dean shook his head as he just stared down at his brother. There was no way that Bobby's couch could be comfortable for Sam and it was just another thing Dean had noticed over the past couple of days: Sam wouldn't go to sleep upstairs unless Dean had already gone. There was significance there but Dean wasn't ready to look too closely at it yet. Hey, if his brother wanted to pretzel himself up on Bobby's couch, who was he to question it? Not like he didn't mind being able to see Sam anyway… nope, not co-dependent at all.

Reaching for the blanket off the back of the couch, Dean spread it over his brother and then stepped back. "I'll get him up when I'm ready to call it a night," he decided as he joined Bobby back in the kitchen and started to make a couple of sandwiches.

Bobby grunted something about 'mother hens' but Dean ignored him as he finished making two sandwiches in silence before handing off one to the older man. Sighing heavily, Dean sat down at the table and swallowed down the bread and meat with the bottle of beer. He steadfastly refused to think about rogue god-angels or broken little brothers and focused on what he needed to do in the morning, starting with making a quick run to the post office to see if any packages came in.

And if he happened to inquire around about a particular fight in the burger joint the night before…?

Well, it wasn't about lack of trust this time.

TBC