Title: Around the World in Eighty Hours
Author: Dhvana
Rating: PG-13/R
Pairing: Dean/Davy
Crossover: Supernatural/Jumper (the movie version)
Spoilers: Nothing big for either Supernatural or Jumper.
Summary: A supposedly easy hunt leaves Dean balancing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, but hey, at least he got to see the Grand Canyon.
A/N: So I went and saw Jumper a few weeks ago, and while it's not the best movie in the world (and, as usual, nothing like the book, which is far superior), I became enchanted with it and immediately wrote this story.


The stories of a man who can disappear into thin air lead them to a small town in the middle of nowhere—also known as Oklahoma. From what they've read, they figure it's just a ghost, one hardly worth giving a second thought about. They'll hit a little research, do your typical salt and burn, and if they're lucky, they'll be on the road again the next morning. There's nothing remotely dangerous mentioned in the stories about the ghost—he never tries to hurt anyone, doesn't really interact with people all that much, doesn't even really play the usual fuck-with-your-mind tricks that many ghosts are fond of. His M.O. seems to be that he's rarely seen and tends to vanish when noticed. If it weren't for the possibility that the ghost will turn into something more harmful, they'd probably just leave him alone, but it's the potential that brings them driving through the peaceful streets of Fairview, Oklahoma. Not that Dean cares.

"Dude, this is a waste of our time. We should be out there hunting real evil, not chasing baby spooks."

Sam's heard this line of grumbling at least three dozen times since first leading them onto this hunt, and is by now used to ignoring it. He knows Dean understands why these basic hunts are necessary, just as he knows Dean loves to bitch about every little thing whether it's worth bitching about or not, so sometimes it's easier to just let him run his mouth than try to argue with him. Plus, he knows part of Dean's bitterness derives from having to spend the next twenty-four hours without fast food, and that always makes his brother cranky. Therefore, Dean continues muttering not quite under his breath, and Sam continues to ignore him until the sound of his name causes him to jerk his head up and look around.

"You even listening to me?" his brother demands, and he shrugs.

"Honestly? I've been blocking you out for the past ten minutes or so. You finally decide you have something worthwhile to say?"

"Fuck you," Dean says without any real heat, and Sam grins.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. Turn here," he says, motioning to a street nestled between downtown Fairview's brick facades. The town's so small, it doesn't even have a stoplight. It's just a blip on a road that leads to somewhere-anywhere—else. Not that the town doesn't have its appeal. It's quiet, peaceful, no expectations, nothing hidden in the shadows. Sam wouldn't even mind staying around for a while, if it were possible, but he feels this way about all the small towns they go through. He knows there's no such thing as perfection so it doesn't bother him to think that behind closed doors, these apparent small slices of heaven have their secrets. Everyone's got secrets. He just figures towns like these have fewer of them.

Three stop signs later, Sam directs Dean to turn again, and then again, and they've reached the drive of an old Victorian partially hidden behind the full leaves of two tall oak trees.

"Nice," Dean nods, looking at the spotless white paint job, the perfectly aligned shingles on the roof, the swing hanging from chains on the porch, and Sam has to agree with him. The whole house, from the carefully trimmed lawn to the sky blue shutters, is idyllic. He wants nothing more than to sit rocking on the porch swing with a glass of lemonade in his hand, his heels gently moving him back and forth, back and forth, as he enjoys the summer scents of sunshine and drying grass. Wishful thinking, he knows, when the fate of the world rests on their shoulders, and the fate of his brother rests on his, but at least some part of him can still dream.

"And this place is supposed to be haunted?" Dean asks, his voice incredulous as he leans forward to take in the whole view.

"That's the way the rumors go," Sam says, closing his laptop in one last futile gesture. It's a good thing this is an easy hunt. The nearest motel is sixty miles away, wireless access even further, and he could use a hunt where he doesn't get shoved up against the wall and choked while Dean is thrown across the room. He's still got the bruises on his throat from their last hunt, and he knows Dean's feeling his own black and blues up and down his back. Compared to their last few jobs, this one is practically a vacation.

Dean snorts. "Yeah, I'm getting the creepy crawlies just looking at it."

Sam shrugs and opens the Impala's passenger door. "Looks can be deceiving. Let's go check it out."

"Whatever," Dean mutters, getting out to quickly follow him up the walk.

The air is hot and dry, the good kind of heat that's not oppressive but inviting, making him feel relaxed without draining him entirely. Birds sing in the trees overhead and bees buzz around the pots of geraniums sitting on the porch. In spite of the purpose behind their visit, Sam finds himself smiling as he knocks on the heavy wooden door. Cut glass in the door's windows obscures the view inside, but they stand there, trying to peer inside while waiting for a response. After a minute, he tries again as his brother reaches for the tiny tool kit he keeps in his pocket for just these occasions.

"Should we check around back?" Sam asks, hoping to delay the inevitable. Not that breaking and entering bothers him all that much, and yeah, it unnerves him a little to know he feels that way, but it seems wrong to desecrate the house before they've exercised all their options.

"Go ahead," Dean says, tools already working at the lock. "I'll meet you inside."

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn't move. Kind of pointless now; might as well just let Dean do his thing. The lock clicks and the door opens sending a blast of air-conditioning into their faces.

"My kind of people," Dean grins and steps inside. There's a flash out of the corner of his eye and Sam grabs onto his arm.

"Dean, wait!"

But it's too late. A man appears out of nowhere, standing in front of them with a shotgun pointed at Dean's face.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"

"Dude, relax," Dean says, holding up his hands as he steps in front of Sam. The guy is about their age but the way he holds the gun, steady and certain, and the look in his eyes, like a trapped animal ready to fight, makes him seem much older. It's unnerving, and Sam really wants nothing more than to have that gun pointed anywhere other than at his brother.

"It's all right," Dean continues and the man snarls, "The hell it is. What the fuck are you doing in my house?" His eyes narrow. "You one of them?"

"One of who?"

The man's finger twitches. "Don't fuck with me."

Dean's body tenses but his voice remains level. "Look, no one here's fucking with you. We don't want any trouble."

"Then why are you breaking into my home?"

"We're not breaking in. We knocked, the door was open, we thought something might be wrong. That's all."

"Bullshit. The door's never open. You start talking, now, or I start shooting."

"Oh, fuck this," Dean mutters and Sam instantly recognizes that tone.

"Dean, no!"

Sam reaches to grab his brother just as Dean lunges at the man, his fingertips grazing Dean's shirt before the man vanishes, taking his brother with him.


David steps back, tossing the gun behind him, while the man who'd broken into his house hits the dirt, his body shaking with the aftereffects of the jump. The man gasps for air as if it's going out of style, his eyes wildly looking around him, but before he has time to recover, David hauls him to his feet and steadies them both at the edge of the canyon. The backs of the man's heels hit thin air and he yelps, grabbing onto David's wrists.

"What the fuck?!"

The man's strong and David hates to admit it, but his wrists are really starting to hurt. Still, he pushes his discomfort aside and concentrates on getting some answers. "Let's start over. Who are you and what are you doing in my home?"

"Where are we?" the man asks, appearing to not even hear his question, but David's not really surprised by that. Finding yourself someplace unexpected in the blink of an eye can really freak a person out.

"The North Rim of the Grand Canyon," he answers, and is momentarily baffled as the man's face clears for a second, his eyes filled with interest as he takes a more detailed glance at the scenery.

"Really? Huh. I've never been."

"If you want a closer look, I can let go."

The panic returns to his eyes though he tries to hide it. "Thanks, no. Unless you mean let go as in let go, not let go as in dropping me hundreds of feet off the edge. In that case, you can let me go and I'll go do the tourist thing. Have you ever done that donkey ride to the bottom? Is it worth the pain in the ass?" he asks, grinning at his own joke.

David can't help but feel as if he's the one standing on the edge listening to this guy speak, and not the other way around. He supposes he could blame the man's incoherence on the life-threatening situation, but just to be sure, he has to ask. "Are you insane?"

"Me? Nah, not that I know of. Are you?"


"Good. Now that we've established ourselves as sane, rational adults, we can sort this thing out. Clearly, this has been some sort of misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?" David growls, shaking the man a little and feeling deeply satisfied when his face pales.

"Clearly!" the man gasps, David's bones grinding together as his grip tightens. "The whole breaking and entering thing—a complete mistake! Seriously, man, we thought...well, it doesn't matter what we thought, but you're obviously not what we thought so if you'll just return me to the house, my partner and I both will get out of your hair and you'll never hear from us again. Deal? Great. Can we get away from the ledge now?"

David almost lets go just out of pure astonishment. "Are you serious?"

"Well, yeah," the man says with an indifferent shrug while keeping a wary eye on the river and rocks below. "You might be into the whole extreme sports thing, but I'm more of a 'feet on solid ground' kind of guy."

"Do you ever have a straight answer for anything?"

He sighs. "Look, you're human, right? That's all I need to know. You're not doing anything bad. You're just...different. We don't have a problem with different."

"What do you have a problem with?"

The man shoots him a shaky grin. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

David arches an eyebrow at this and jumps them across the canyon to the South Rim. "You sure about that?" he says as he lets go, the man's trembling body sitting with a thump on the ground.

"Like I said," the man gulps, eyeing the three feet of earth between him and the edge with what would be relief if there were about fifteen more feet of earth in there, "different is fine. You can teleport. Whatever. So long as you aren't hurting anyone, I don't have a problem with you. There are far worse things out there that I do have a problem with."

Seeing as how the man also has issues with specifics, David settles down on the ground next to him. He doesn't believe the man's a Paladin, not anymore, but that doesn't mean he trusts him. Until he can get some answers, they can sit there for the rest of the day for all he cares.

The man eyes him suspiciously, but when neither of them moves or speaks for five minutes, he sighs. "You're not taking me back to Oklahoma, are you?"

"Nope," he says, satisfied that the man broke first.

"Can I at least call my partner, let him know I'm okay?"

David shrugs and watches carefully as a phone is pulled from his pocket. The man presses a couple buttons then holds it to his ear, always keeping one eye on David. Geez. This guy might be even more paranoid than Griffin, and until now, he didn't think that was possible.

"Sammy?...Yeah, I'm okay...No...No, nothing like that...I know, weird, right?...What?" He narrows his eyes at David. "Doesn't look like it'll be any time soon." David grins, earning a glare in return. "You just sit tight, make yourself at home, I'll see what I can do. Trust me, Sammy, I'm fine. This isn't the way it ends, okay?...Sammy, no. We've still got plenty of time left, you hear me? This isn't it."

David's grin fades at the desperate reassurance, the fierce determination in the man's voice. The other guy must really be freaking out, and David's pretty sure it's not about this. Well, not just about this. What're these two really up to and why did they think he was involved? He hasn't a clue, but he's going to find out.

The man hangs up and the two begin staring each other down again. After a couple minutes go by, he holds out his hand. The other guy broke last time. It's the least he can do.


"You're not gonna do that whole disappearing thing on me again, are you?" he asks, leaning away from the hand.

"Not this time."

The man searches his face for a moment, then nods and gives the outstretched hand a firm shake. "Dean."

"Nice to meet you, Dean. Want to tell me what's going on?"

Dean's shoulders slump a little as he runs his palms over his face as if trying to smooth out all the new lines their entanglement might have caused. Dean can't be much older than he is, but there are shadows in his eyes that make David nervous for reasons he can't quite understand.

"Was gonna ask you the same thing," he says.

"I think you've already figured it out. I can teleport."

"And you've got people after you."


He nods. "Then I'm sorry we startled you back there, especially since it nearly got me shot and it landed me here, but I'm not one of them."

"I gathered. So, who are you?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes," David says, putting just as much steel into his voice as he could muster. They might be playing nice now, but that doesn't at all mean he trusts the man and he's going to need some more details before he sets him free.

Dean seems to recognize the stubbornness in his eyes and takes a deep breath. "All right, you asked for it."

And for the next two hours, David gets a summary of all the evils in the world he was never even aware of and in the end, yeah, he does regret pushing the subject a little, and no, he's not sure if he believes Dean, but he's reached the point where he's willing to drop him back in Oklahoma and will gladly forget they ever met.

"Sorry, man," Dean says with a sheepish grin and a gleam in his eyes that says he's not really all that sorry.

"Yeah, whatever," David says, still feeling the goosebumps that have risen on his skin. "I'm never sleeping without a nightlight again."

"You get used to it."

"You might," he says, more sharply than he'd intended, but Dean doesn't seem to mind.

"So, about the whole teleport thing..."

"Don't ask."


He starts at Dean's willing acceptance but when he tries to get a better look at the man's face, Dean's already turned his head and is staring boldly out over the canyon he'd flinched away from not too long ago. Slowly, the stony expression fades and Dean's eyes grow wide as he takes in the enormity of it, even daring to venture a little closer to see the river below. David's consternation diminishes as he remembers experiencing that same awe on his first visit and the corners of his lips twitch with the need to smile.

Okay, so maybe Dean's not quite as bad as he wanted to believe. Anyone who can look at the world and feel that kind of awe, especially after everything he must have seen—well, David's not quite sure what to think about him anymore.

"You've really never been here?"

"Haven't ever had a need to," Dean says, hurriedly sitting back away from the rim. "Nothing to hunt, at least, not that I know of."

"So you only go to the places where you're needed?"

"Pretty much, yeah," he answers with that same indifferent shrug.

David thinks on the thousands of places he's visited across the world and can't imagine having lived a life so limited, so focused that it's hardly a life at all. Dean might be doing a lot of good helping people fight things that shouldn't even exist, but surely Dean knows there's got to be more out there. He probably just has to deny there is more to life than hunting, otherwise how could he keep on doing it day in and day out? In fact, David's certain of it. There's a finality in his voice, in the way he talks about certain things, that makes him realize just how locked Dean is into his chosen life.

Something like pity for the other man crosses his thoughts and David wonders, just for a second...

"Hey, Dean, ever seen the Taj Mahal?"

Dean tears his eyes away from the Grand Canyon and looks back at him with a furrowed brow. "What? No, of course not."

David grins. "You want to?"

Dean's pretty sure the man's fucking with him because, seriously, India? But one second he feels an arm around his shoulders and the next, boom, there they are.

"No fucking way," he whispers, feeling the ground drop from underneath him, though this time he's not sure if it's the traveling across the world in a split second thing or the fact that he's staring straight at the Taj Mahal.

"Cool, isn't it?" Davy smirks. "Want to get closer?" the man asks, then laughs out loud when Dean flinches from his touch.

"I meant by walking, idiot," Davy chuckles, grabbing his hand and tugging him to his feet.

"Oh, yeah, right. I knew that," Dean says automatically, shaking off his jitters and allowing himself to be pulled out from behind the minaret towards the tomb. He normally would object to being dragged around like a cranky seven-year-old but he's still in a state of shock and Davy walks like he knows his way around and, to be quite honest, he's too busy trying to take in everything at once to keep track of where his feet are going. It's the fucking Taj Mahal! Hell, the closest he's ever been to leaving the U.S. was that weekend Tijuana he can never quite remember. This is the other fucking side of the world—no planes, no passports, no questions, just a blink of an eye and he's at one of the seven wonders of the world.

Sammy's going to be so jealous.

"We'll have to get my brother a souvenir," he grins and Davy glances back at him.

"Your brother?" he asks, confused. "You mean the guy back at my house?"

Dean grimaces at his slip but then decides it doesn't really matter. He doesn't think Davy's going to be talking to anyone about them any time soon.

"Yeah, Sam, he's my brother. He's the one who was the good student, went to college, actually has an interest in stuff like this. I always figured..." He trails off, embarrassed by what he'd been about to reveal because that was shit no one needed to know, especially not a complete stranger, but Davy just squeezes his hand and Dean's surprised to see a measure of understanding in the man's eyes. The man's very blue eyes. Shit, was he always that good-looking? Probably, but it's not something he tends to notice when being held over a ledge.

"We'll get him a keychain," Davy says with a wicked grin, and Dean laughs.

"He'll pitch a fit, but then, once I tell him what's happened, he'll probably do that anyway."

Davy's good humor starts to fade and Dean gives his hand a squeeze.

"Sammy will carry your secret to the grave. You've got nothing to worry about from either of us, I swear it."

Davy's smile shines brightly up at him and Dean feels his stomach do a little somersault.

Yeah, he thinks with an internal sigh. Figures. Maybe it's that syndrome, the one where you fall in love with your kidnapper? Not that he's falling in love with the guy—he's got more sense than that, but Davy's got one of those smiles, kind of like Sam's, that makes Dean want to hold him and keep him safe. Though, in Davy's case, he's thinking he might want to do a little more than that.

"Come on," Davy says, pulling them along faster. "There's so much I want to show you."

Dean's eyes widen as he drags himself away from his thoughts. "You're not just talking the Taj Mahal here, are you?"

"What, this? This is just the beginning."

Baby blues sparkle at him, his stomach does that little twisting thing again, and Dean writes himself off as a goner. Eh, what the hell. Maybe following Davy to the ends of the earth might not be such a bad thing.

David takes Dean to all his favorite places—Gaza, Easter Island, the South Dakota Badlands, Sydney, Rio, the Parthenon, Petra, and then to all the usual tourist stops—Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, the Coliseum, the top of the Empire State Building, the Hollywood sign (which earns him an exaggerated eye roll), the Great Wall, and to many of the major cities around the world. Dean doesn't always recognize where they go, but it doesn't stop him from getting excited about each and every location, and his excitement is catching. David barely lets them have time to breathe--as soon as they reach one place, he can't wait to show Dean the next. It's as if he's trying to fit all of Earth into a couple days. Which, he guesses, he sort of is.

"I wish we had more time," he frowns, pulling Dean away from St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow.

"We would if you didn't keep rushing us," Dean says, throwing one last look over his shoulder before they disappear into the shadows and jump to their next stop.

"But there's so much I want you to see, and I don't know if..." I don't know if I'll get another chance, he finishes to himself, feeling the sudden shock of disappointment that there probably won't be another chance. As much as he enjoys Dean's company—and he's really enjoying Dean's company—their meeting was a fluke, and considering both their occupations, the odds of them developing a friendship aren't good. David looks at Dean without trying to let him know he's looking, notes just how handsome he is now that he's loosened up and let the cares of his life fade away. The shadows, while still there, aren't as prominent, and there's a new life in his eyes. David enjoys knowing he's the cause of that. He'd like to be the cause of so much more.

He wonders how Dean would react if he leaned over and kissed him.

Shaking himself out of these thoughts, he takes hold of Dean and jumps them into a desert. As has become habit, he turns to see the expression on Dean's face when he first lays eyes on the next wonder—in this case, Uluru.

"That's...one gigantic rock," Dean says and David laughs, the understatement of Dean's words doing nothing to hide the depth of feeling in them.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah," he nods, then gives David a wary glance. "We're not walking to this one, are we?"

"No," he chuckles. "I just wanted to give you the big picture, that's all."

"Good. Believe me, I'm getting it." Dean turns in a circle, taking in the landscape that surrounds them, before his eyes return to the mass of sandstone emerging from the ground. "I mean, look at it! It's just...it's just there! We're out here, where the sky just seems to go on forever but then you turn around and there it is!"

Dean spins around a couple more times, always coming to a quick halt when faced with Uluru. His lips are parted in wonder, green eyes filled with excitement, and David has a sudden urge to spin him again until Dean's looking at him with those eyes, with those lips. He blames it on Dean's innocence towards a world that has nothing to do with the things that go bump in the night, on how addictive it is to be the one who shows Dean this world. He wants to feel what Dean's feeling, to share his enthusiasm, to make sure Dean understands there's more out there, that there can be more.

Dean looks at him and a shiver run downs his spine. For a second there, he almost believes...

"Can we get closer now?"

And then it's gone, and David's half-convinced he imagined it.

Reaching out, he secures Dean in his arms, and they jump.

It feels like a week later, and for all Dean knows, it could be, when he lets himself fall back on the soft white sand. Keeping track of time is impossible when flitting across continents and oceans and time zones in less space than it takes for his heart to beat, but damn, it's been worth it. He hasn't seen everything, but he's seen more than he ever thought he would, and he's got pockets stuffed with keychains to prove it. He's made sure to check in with Sam every chance he gets, certain his brother has torn apart Davy's Fairview home looking for answers but hoping Sam's taken some time away from freaking out to relax. Beyond that, though, he's given little thought to his real life and instead has enjoyed just living in the moment, letting himself be carried away to places he'd only glimpsed while flipping channels in gritty motel rooms. He'd never stopped to watch because, seriously, why would he? Bad porn had more worth to him than the history of Machu Picchu. Now, though, he almost wishes he'd paid attention, but Davy has been more than willing to fill in the blanks.

He's a lot like Sam, Dean thinks, glancing sidelong at his companion and tour guide, who's collapsed next to him on the beach. Both into books and reading and history and facts; their heads crammed full of knowledge they'll probably never need. Both wanting someone to look past their differences, needing someone to accept them for who they are. Needing someone around, period. Dean almost hopes the two of them might hang out some after...well, after. They could use the company.

"This has been fun," Davy grins, meeting Dean's eyes, and Dean grins back at him.

"That it has. Thanks, man. I don't think I can ever repay you."

"Repay me for what? It's who I am, and I don't often get a chance to do this because of obvious reasons, but it's nice, you know? Having someone to share it with. There's so much out there most people never get to see, and I don't mind going on my own, but I sometimes take it all for granted."

Dean can sense where this is heading and knows he has to stop Davy before it's too late. Yeah, it was fun—hell, it was more than fun. He's experienced a lifetime in just a few hours, all thanks to Davy, but these few hours have to be it. He doesn't have that many more to spare, and he doesn't want...it's bad enough that Sam...damnit, he just doesn't want to hurt anyone else.

But it can wait a few more minutes. Without revealing too many details, he's already made David promise that when he gets the call, he'll snatch Sammy up and take him away. It's the best way he can think of to keep anything from happening to Sam, but it's mostly for himself, knowing Sam won't be there to watch. Dean will go whistling all the way to hell so long as his brother isn't there to witness whatever nastiness the demons have in store for him. For that alone, he'll be grateful to David for the rest of his admittedly short life. But for now, he's grateful for this, this lonesome island in the Pacific which is their last stop before Oklahoma and he wants to savor these final seconds of peace.

Closing his eyes, he listens to the surf hit the beach, feels the last of the day's warmth on his skin as the sun disappears over the horizon. The leaves of palm trees rustle overhead and the sound of Davy's even breaths next to him start to quicken. Sand slides next to him, warm air brushes his face and he keeps his eyes closed because he knows if he opens them, he'll stop this, and he doesn't want to stop.

"This part of the tour?" he whispers, Davy's mouth so close he can feel their lips touch when he speaks.

"No. This is...a moment of madness."

"Yeah," Dean says with a wry grin. "I'm responsible for a lot of those."

Davy chuckles softly and then their lips meet, a brief introduction that's hardly enough. Dean opens his eyes for to find Davy watching him, guarded, waiting for rejection. Grinning, he pulls Davy down on top of him and rolls them over, his leg sliding between the other man's thighs as he kisses him. He can feel Davy's relief in the way the tension leaves his lips and damn, he should have known that mouth was as good as it looks.

"Would have skipped the world tour for this," he growls in-between heavy kisses and trying to get them both naked as fast as possible.

"I wouldn't have let you miss the world for anything," Davy says, flushing as Dean's hands skim across his chest and down to the fly on his jeans.

Dean crawls back up him and pauses, their faces inches apart. "Thank you," he says, hoping that he's able to fit his appreciation for everything Davy's done for him into those two words.

From the smile on his face, Davy gets it. "You're welcome," he says, and they kiss again before stripping away the rest of their clothes.

Sam's sitting on the porch swing, slowly moving it back and forth with his heels. He holds a glass of ice-cold lemonade in his left hand, the right still throbbing from a sprained wrist. He'd made a bad swing when breaking down the wall in the bedroom that had once covered David's hidden closet and after that had pretty much called it quits. Now, he is indulging in what his first instincts had told him to do, relax on the porch and enjoy a beautiful summer day while waiting for his brother to be returned to him.

And Dean will be returned to him, of that he is certain, or he will spend the rest of his life hunting down David Rice.

But he needn't have worried. An hour later, Dean and David walk out of the house, chatting as if nothing unusual has happened, as if they'd been inside visiting the whole time. Well, David does give Sam a look of pure venom, probably having something to do with the state of his home, but Dean just snorts in amusement, placing a hand on David's arm, and the man instantly relaxes.

"I told you," he says, and David grins at him, the two apparently sharing some sort of inside joke.

"I know, you were right." David takes a deep breath and meets Sam's eyes. "Sorry about all this. It was clearly just a misunderstanding."

Dean stifles a laugh and, chuckling, David thwacks him on the arm. Sam watches their interaction and feels a suspicion trickle across his mind, but before it can solidify, Dean's heading down the front steps.

"Come on, Sammy. Time to hit the road. There's an all-night McDonald's on I-35 calling my name."

"Dean, what about—"

"Sam, come on, let's go," Dean says, nodding towards the Impala. "We're done here."

Sam looks between his brother and the man standing on the porch, watching Dean with something like regret in his eyes, and quickly stands up. "All right," he says, anything to keep the man from staring at his brother, anything to keep Dean from meeting his eyes and doing something he may not regret. He glares at David as they pass, the man glancing at him with an apologetic smile, and hurries down the steps. "But you owe me some answers."

"You'll get them, don't you worry. And here, I brought you something," Dean says, tossing him a plastic bag. Sam opens it up and frowns at the dozens of keychains jingling inside. He shifts the bag in his hands and sees miniature representations of some of the most magnificent places in the world dangling from little rings.

"Dean, where did you get all these? And why are you giving them to me?"

"They're souvenirs, Sammy!" his brother grins. "I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you while I was traveling around the world."

His jaw drops. "While you were what?!"

"Get in the car, and I'll tell you all about it."

Overwhelmed and disbelieving, Sam slides into the Impala. When Dean doesn't immediately follow him, he glances first at his brother-whose face he can't see-and then at the house. David is looking in their direction with sadness in his eyes and though Sam can't prove it, he knows there's some sort of silent communication passing between the man and his brother. In spite of what they're not saying, the second Dean's body turns away from the car as if to move towards him, he vanishes. Sam stares at the porch, blinking, rubbing his eyes, willing the man to reappear, but not even a shadow crosses the windows.

"Dean, did you see that?"

There is a sigh from overhead and Dean opens the door. "Yeah, Sammy, I did."