It took three stores – electrical, hardware, and grocery - but they finally got everything they needed - everything Sam insisted they needed - to turbo-test the joy buzzer. They got safety glasses, industrial rubber gloves, rubber apron, rubber welcome mat to stand on, and a nearly fifteen pound ham. They brought it all back to the motel.


"Okay, you stand back there, and be sure to use these," Dean said, handing Sam a pair of the safety glasses and pushing him back away from the table with the flat of his hand.


"Wait - what? You? Why are you going to do it?" Sam asked.


"Because -." Dean said, fully intending to use every 'weapon of right' in his arsenal. But their recent conversations reared up between them.


'You have to let me grow up…we have to be on the same level'


"Because?" Sam asked.


"Because -."


            Because I'm older, because I take care of the dangerous stuff…


"Because -." Dean started again. Sam's eyebrows seemed to get higher with each passing hesitation.


Because it's my job to protect you, because I don't want you to get hurt. Because I'm the Big Brother, dammit and I say that I'm going to do it."




"Just 'cause." Dean said. "Now stand back there while I do this."


 Sam huffed and grumbled and stepped back. And then he smiled, that goofy, genuine, genuinely happy smile that Dean last saw right after he got his head handed to him by Paris Hilton. Before that, Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd seen it.


 "And put the safety glasses on." He said, turning away before Sam could see the smile on his face.


 "Yes, Dean."



The End.