Cherry Pie

Greased Lightning

[Rayne]

At 6:15 the next morning, I woke up in the motel bed next to Dean. After brushing my teeth and changing into workout clothes, Sam and I left for our daily jog only ten minutes later. We had gotten into the routine of running every morning when we weren't on the road and when neither one of us was too badly injured. I was undeniably feeling the effects of Big Bertha's butt (which, I reluctantly admitted to Dean, had a nice ring to it), but I decided to exercise nonetheless because I kind of liked the feeling of pushing my body beyond its limits. I saw it as a way of increasing my tolerance for pain because at its current state, it was fairly pathetic.

For as long as I could remember, I was always very sensitive when it came to what my body could and couldn't handle. My parents pretty quickly learned to keep me away from too much sugar and too much exercise. I would always wind up extremely fast and crash even faster. As I grew older, apparently it also transferred to my inability of handling my liquor.

"You're getting better," Sam observed.

We'd stopped by a diner for some breakfast after our five-mile run and were sitting in one of the booths with our plates of food in front of us.

"With your grueling training, how could I not?" I asked with a teasing smile. 

At one point there, I was fairly certain I was going to die, but I finished strong and was more than a little proud of myself — especially in my current, not quite up to par, physical condition. Satisfied with this small progress, I sat back and took a sip of my coffee.

Sam chuckled as he cut into his Greek omelet, systematically picking out the black olives as he did so. "Sorry, I tend to forget that you're not as resistant as Dean is when it comes to this kind of stuff," he explained. "I got him running for about a week once when we were younger and unless I did the tough trainer act, he would give up five minutes in."

"Dean running, huh? It's rather hard to imagine him doing anything beneficial for his body. let alone running...he's quite destructive."

"Well, it was only a week," he pointed out, laughing.

Studying his easy smile and bright eyes, I couldn't help but reflect his enthusiasm. My relationship with Sam was so easy and care-free that I found myself suddenly very grateful for his company. It was nice being around someone who didn't make me feel like I had to be smarter or funnier or tougher than I actually was. Thinking on this, I took a bite of my stack of chocolate chip pancakes. Admittedly, the order was a little counterproductive after a jog, but I was never one to deny a food craving. Still chewing, I nodded at the waitress with a smile as she asked us if we wanted more coffee. Sam thanked her politely and I studied him for a long moment as she walked away.

"You and your brother are like night and day, do you know that?"

The corner of Sam's lips tugged upwards. "Yeah, Dean reminds me of that every chance he gets."

"Which of your parents do you guys take after?" I asked, adding more milk to my topped up cup of coffee.

"Dean definitely took after our dad...I guess that would mean I got our mother's 'softer' side."

"But you guys are still really close." 

He looked down into his cup, encircling his hands around it. "Yeah, I mean-" He paused, obviously thinking of his answer. "We've gotten closer since I left college," he finally said. "Things were a bit rough between us while I was away."

"Dean didn't take too well to you leaving him, did he?"

Sam scoffed, appearing to be lost in his memories for a moment. "No, he took it rather personally. He's kind of a loyalist when it comes to family."