Joe was just finishing his second plate of pancakes when the Winchesters arrived.

Laura smiled at their guests her eyes softening in sympathy as she got a good look at the haggard and bruised younger teen. Sam looked like absolute crap, the mid morning brightness accentuating every mark, not at all helped by his paleness.

He returned the smile as he slid into an empty spot next to Joe. Dean sat down at the head of the table boxing Sam in.

“I hope you boys are hungry. I’ve made plenty,” Laura assured them already busy passing a heaping plate of the flapjacks to Dean. “So don’t be shy.”

“Well,” Dean drawled accepting the plate and flashing a killer smile, “I’ve been accused of many things in my day… but being shy isn’t one of them.”

Joe took a sip of orange juice to hide the grin when the younger Winchester rolled his eyes.

“You boys are a sorry lot,” Laura commented as she sat down opposite Dean and took a sip of tea. Her bright blue eyes roved the four faces in front of her. Joe ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the remaining pieces of pancake on his plate – he knew what was coming. “So have you had a chance yet to get your story straight?” the casualness of her tone belied the start of the ‘interrogation’.

On the other side of Joe, Frank squirmed under his mother’s scrutiny. “Ah, actually, Mom… well…” The younger teen saw his brother glance at him for help and then glare when he noticed that he wasn’t about to get any. “No.”

Laura raised an eyebrow, amused. “No?”

“Well,” Frank doggedly pushed on. It was actually painful for Joe to hear but he honestly couldn’t think of anything to say that might help. “In our defense, we – uh – really haven’t had the time?” His ‘defense’ lacked luster as it came out more a question than a response.

“Hmmm…” the blond woman tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment and then turned the ‘inquisition’ to the other brothers. “What do you think, Dean? Sam?”

“No disrespect meant ma’am,” Dean schmoozed as he shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth. He chewed as he spoke, “but if I told you the truth, then I’d have to kill ya.” He swallowed and then gave her his most charming smile.

Frank frowned at him but Laura just put her hand in front of her mouth, and Joe knew she was trying unsuccessfully to smother a smile. “Oooh… is that so?”

“Actually,” Sam’s voice was soft as he spoke for the first time. “It’s my fault.” All eyes turned to the younger Winchester in surprise and he gave a sheepish grimace. “We were passing through on our way upstate to meet our Dad when I overheard some guys talking about a haunted house,” his voice rang with unabashed sincerity and Joe found himself listening intently, “and I just hadda see it.” Soulful hazel eyes locked onto Laura’s. “I’ve always had a thing for haunted houses -” A snicker from Dean was ignored. “So I made Dean take me.”

Joe glanced at his mother and saw she was fully enthralled by what Sam was saying. Not hard to be, he decided, taking in the ‘lost little waif’ look the dark haired kid had going for him. There was just something about Sam that screamed ‘vulnerability’, and boy did that kid seem to know how to work it. Mind you, the battered face really helped push the issue…

Sam continued. “We got separated in the house and I kinda…” the kid lowered his voice and leaned into Laura as if embarrassed to make the admittance, “freaked out… and tried to get back to our car. But I got turned around and ended up taking a tumble.”

“Yeah and I,” Dean picked up the story with gusto, running a forkful of pancake around his plate to sop up as much syrup as possible, “managed to flag down Frank and Joe to help me look,” he smirked at Frank, “which wasn’t an easy feat since Frank drives like a madman and he just about ran me over!”

“Mom!” Frank protested, horrified. “I wasn’t even driving!”

“Were too,” Joe backed up the story with a grin as he slapped his brother on the shoulder. He was enjoying watching Frank squirm. That, and he could tell that while his mother was entranced with the Winchesters, she wasn’t buying the story.

“Joe!”

“Frank.”

“Speaking of driving,” Laura interrupted. “Where exactly is the van? I didn’t hear you pull up last night and I don’t see it out in the driveway.”

“It got a flat,” Frank quickly explained and Joe chuckled knowing that his brother was not about to let the Winchesters create a cover story for that as well.

“Speaking of which,” Joe turned to Dean, “would you mind giving us a lift back? If it’s not out of your way or anything…”

Dean glanced at Sam who shrugged and winced.

“That’s fine,” he said reaching for another pancake. He looked at Frank, “Dude, you weren’t jazzing when you said your mom’s grub was good.” He smiled at Laura and Joe was amused to see his mother blush. “You could make a fortune off these things!”

“I’m glad someone is enjoying them,” Laura teased, obviously pleased to see Dean working his way through another stack.

Sam, on the other hand –

“Are you okay, Sam?” the astute woman had noticed as well. “You’ve hardly eaten anything…”

And it was true. While he had taken a pancake – and been given a second by his brother – Sam had only taken a few bites.

“I’m sorry,” the sixteen year old apologized, “I’m just not very hungry.”

“Eat, Sam,” Dean ordered, drinking down the rest of his coffee.

“I’m not hungry, Dean,” Sam glared at his brother, his tone defiant.

Joe watched the interaction with interest. He got the distinct impression that the younger teen didn’t appreciate being told what to do – not when it wasn’t a life and death thing anyways.

“You haven’t eaten since supper, Sam,” Dean continued, unfazed. “And if you go passing out or something Dad’ll have my ass in a sling… And I kinda prefer it holding up my pants, if it’s all the same to you.”

Sam opened up his mouth to counter when he started to cough, gulping down his glass of orange juice when the fit finally stopped.

“I hate to interrupt,” Frank started before the brothers could continue their ‘debate’, “but can we finish up here? I’d really like to get back to the van.”

“Good idea,” Dean agreed, pushing his empty plate away. “Once Sammy eats his breakfast, we can go.”

“I have a suggestion,” Laura inserted. “Why don’t you, Dean, give Frank and Joe a ride to the van, while Sam stays here.”

“No way,” Dean immediately shook his head. “I mean we appreciate you letting us stay here last night and giving us breakfast and all, but we can’t intrude any further. Once we drop your boys off, we’ll be on our way.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” the determined woman continued. Joe and Frank exchanged a look. “Sam is hurt-”

“I’m okay,” Sam spoke up. Both Laura and Dean looked at him in disbelief. “I am,” he asserted and then coughed again.

“And sick,” the woman added. “He needs to rest.”

“I know what my brother needs and he needs to be with me,” Dean stood up, his voice a possessive growl, “I take care of Sammy.”

Laura also stood.

Joe tensed.

Frank sighed.

Sam coughed.

“Please Dean,” the woman’s intense gaze bored into the hard green eyes, “I am not insinuating anything but take a good look at your brother… He isn’t well and what kind of mother would I be if I let him go traipsing when he can just wait here – get some more sleep and take it easy – until you get back? Then you guys can go meet your father or whatever…”

Dean did look at his brother and Joe could easily see the conflict on his face. Finally he looked back at Laura. “You’re not our mother,” his words were quiet.

“No, I’m not,” the woman responded gently, “but I am a mother and sometimes when little boys are sick… that is what they need.”

An intense pain so fleeting that it might have been imagined passed over Dean’s face. Sam reached out and touched his brother’s arm, his face more expressive than any words could ever be.

“Sammy…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he exhaled loudly and then scrubbed a hand across his face.

“We could use the extra room for the tires,” Joe decided to help.

“Tires?” Laura turned towards her own sons picking up on the use of the plural. “I thought you had ‘a’ flat – is there more than one?”

“Uh,” Joe looked at Frank for help but it was his brother’s turn to give him the ‘you’re on your own, mister’ look. “Well… yeah.”

The woman sighed softly. “Do I really want to know?”

“No. Probably not,” Joe replied, relieved when his mother didn’t press the issue.

“Fine. You can talk to your father about it when he gets home tonight,” Laura decided, she turned to the Winchesters again. “Dean?”

“It’ll be okay,” Sam gave his brother’s arm a squeeze and then let go, “I’ll be okay.”

Joe couldn’t help but wonder what exactly they thought might happen if Sam stayed here while Dean went with them.

With great reluctance Dean finally nodded his head.

“Okay,” he exhaled loudly, “but I swear to God, Sammy, if Dad ever finds out-”

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Sam gave him a lopsided smile, “what can possibly go wrong?”

The glare that the older Winchester shot his brother spoke volumes… and even Joe thought ‘don’t tempt fate, Sammy…’

…

Ten minutes later Joe and Frank left with Dean.

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