Dean holds his eyes for a moment, then jerks his head back at the trail. “Come on, then,” he says. “Let’s rescue my silver blades before some raccoon carries them off to its nest, and then let’s dig up some info about the dam. Maybe there’s a connection there, somehow.”
Sam nods, and heads back up to the trail, letting the quiet of the woods close around them again once the trees are blocking them from the shore. “Raccoons?” he says, after a few seconds.
“Dude, I don’t know,” Dean says, shoving another tree branch out of his way. He’s sounding irritable again, and Sam smiles, despite everything. “Eagles? Badgers? Whatever’s dumb enough to live in the woods.”
“I should take you camping, sometime,” Sam says, scooping up the long knives from where they’d been half-hidden in the dying grass. A little damp, but undamaged, and he hands Dean’s over.
“I’ll hex you if you try,” Dean says, flatly, and turns up the trail to make it back to where they left the car. With the way the trail loops, it’s only about another mile away, but Dean sighs anyway. “I need the biggest cup of coffee in Wisconsin.”
For the briefest moment, Sam’s hit with a craving for a cup of his own coffee--the espresso he’d grind out of the shop’s cheapest beans, a splash of steamed milk and a little too much sugar. Sitting down after his shift at the table in the corner too close to the bathroom so no one wanted it, waiting for Jenn to finish her morning class so she could come and have a cup of coffee with him. He closes his eyes and wants it so badly that it hurts.
“I’m sure they have coffee at that cafe we passed,” Sam says, after a pause that went on too long. “If they don’t, you can hex them, too.”
“Oh, no,” Dean says, “you’re still the one getting hexed, trust me,” but he walks a little faster at the promise of coffee, anyway. Sam takes a deep breath, and follows.