The Other Half of Dean

Part 1

"So get this," Sam looked up from his laptop. "Apparently there's been a string of deaths in the St. Louis area. Looks like a witch to me."

Dean groaned as he shook his head, "Come on, Sam. You know how I feel about St. Louis. I died there, remember?"

His brother scoffed. "Technically it was a shapeshifter."

"Technically, I don't care," Dean retorted. "But I guess I'm game. Besides, we haven't had ourselves a good witch hunt in ages." His eyes took on a faraway look, "Just you and me... pitchforks and torches blazing..." Dean grinned at his younger brother. "Sounds like a great time!"

Sam sighed, failing to hide his smile. "Dean, you're an idiot."

"So I've been told," he smiled cheekily.

"Just shut up and grab your crap," Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean saluted his brother as he shuffled off to his bedroom. "Yes, sir."

"Are you high?" Sam called after him.

"Huh?" Dean poked his head out from his door.

Sam shook his head. "Dean, how high are you?"

"No, Sammy, it's: hi, how are you?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dean, I swear to God that I will punch you in the throat if you don't stop talking."

"Hey, you're the one who asked. I just answered."

"I'm gonna kill him," Sam mumbled under his breath.

"Heard that!"

"Good, then you can hear me driving the Impala away because you're taking too long!"

Dean scrambled out of his bedroom, clothes shoved haphazardly into his duffel bag. "Don't you dare touch my Baby," he pointed an accusatory finger in Sam's direction.

Sam scoffed, standing up. "Then don't take so long."

"Dude, it was literally thirty seconds. Probably less."

"I don't want the witch to run off. I'm not gonna risk taking six hours."

Dean rolled his eyes before tossing his bag onto the large table. "At most, it's taken me two and a half hours because I was..." he trailed off, hurriedly zipping the duffel. "You know what, it doesn't matter. Let's just get going."

"Yeah, great idea," Sam rolled his eyes again before making his way towards the garage. Dean was only a few steps behind him as he slid into the passenger's seat. Dean slammed his door shut, pushing the keys into the ignition. He prepared to turn the engine over when Sam stopped him. "Dude."

"What?"

"We always close the doors together."

Dean's face contorted in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sam pursed his lips. "Come on, the 'one, two, three' and we close the door?"

His brother rolled his eyes. "Sam, I'm not doing that. You said you wanted to leave, so now we're leaving."

"Not until you do it right."

"Jesus Christ," Dean cursed. "Fine, whatever. So do we close on three or after three?"

"On three," Sam replied, betrayal in his voice. "You should know this."

"Sam, I swear to Lucifer-"

Sam shook his head. "Whatever. Close the door on three. Ready?"

"This is stupid," Dean mumbled.

"Ready?" Sam persisted.