Hope you enjoy this! I really enjoyed writing it, though I got stuck a lot which is why it took so long to finish it. At least it felt like it took a long time to finish... Anyway, hope you like it! Please review! :)
Sam stirred slightly, groaning as he realized his cell was ringing.
"Honey, that's your phone. Pick it up…." Jess moaned from beside him.
Sam pushed himself up out of bed, reaching for his cell. He flicked it open. "Hello?"
"Sammy?" And just like that, Sam was full awake.
"Dean? Are you okay?"
Jess sat up in bed, watching him worriedly, as he began to pace back and forth.
"….help…." Dean's voice was weak, shaky, and Sam felt a thrill of fear as he realized his brother was pleading with him.
"Where are you, Dean?"
"….hunt…..Nevada….warehouse outside of….Las Vegas…."
"Dean can you tell me anything else?" Sam was already moving, pulling his duffle out from under his bed, grabbing whatever clothes he could get to and stuffing them inside. Jess took the duffle from him and began to pack it properly, seeing that he was not really paying attention.
"…..hunting a werewolf….."
"Alright, Dean, I'll be right there, I promise. Keep your phone with you. Just hold on, Dean."
Sam could almost hear the smile in Dean's voice as he responded with a clear, "J-just shut up, dude, and get your butt over h-here-" His brother cut off abruptly with a small cry of pain that made Sam's blood run cold, his heart stop, panic to overcome him. "Hold on, Dean! Dean!" Sam snapped the phone shut, running over to the drawers and ripping them open, trying to think of everything he'd need. Werewolf….werewolf….. Crap. I don't have any silver bullets. Knife. I have the knife Dean gave me. Sam dug deeper into the drawer and pulled out the knife. Stuffing it in his belt, he moved over to another drawer, knowing exactly what he was looking for. The gun he had hoped never to have to use.
Jess watched her boyfriend move around the room. He seemed very different. She had never seen him so panicked before, moving so…automatically. "What's going on, Sam?" she asked, nervously.
Sam didn't seem to hear her. She gasped as she saw the large knife he pulled out of one of his drawers and hid in his belt. He moved over to another drawer, paused, then pulled out…. Oh my…. A gun. Hiding it under his shirt, Jess was frightened by his clear familiarity with the weapon. "Sam?" Still no answer. "Sam?"
Sam was moving towards his duffle, but still seemed to be in panic mode, not listening. "Dean's in trouble. I have to go help him."
Finally, Jess couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed him by the arms and spun him around, looking him right in the eyes. "Sam, you're scaring me. What kind of trouble is Dean in that you would need a gun?" she asked.
A pained expression crossed Sam's face. "I can't explain this to you now. It's a very long story." No. No, Jess, please don't ask.
"Alright. Promise me. Promise me that when you get back you'll tell me everything. The truth. How do you know how to use guns and knives? Where did you learn to fight so well? When you and your brother fight, you do it….together, like you've been trained to? What kind of trouble is your brother in that would require you to go with your own gun and not call the police? I want to know the truth, Sam. As soon as you get back." Jess' voice was kind, but firm.
No. Oh, please no. Sam stared at Jess, unable to speak, not even able to breathe. Don't make me choose. My brother or you. Don't make me choose. There's no way you'd stick around once you realize how much of a freak I really am. You'll never believe me. If I go get Dean….I lose you. Oh please don't make me choose. Jess. Oh, Jess. I need you.
Jess gave Sam a concerned look and finally Sam nodded.
"Promise." The word sounded choked, almost painful. Sam paused for a moment as he reached for his duffle, then turned and grabbed Jess, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her for a moment, the only thought running through his mind: This could be the last time. Even if I survive the werewolf…she'll think I'm crazy. I'm going to lose everything.
...
Sam couldn't remember ever driving faster in his short life. The hours upon hours of driving were quickly reduced to only two hours. Dean would just LOVE this. Sam thought, a half-smile on his face. The smile disappeared as Sam thought of his brother, alone, injured, possibly dying- No! No, I'm not going there. He's okay. He's got to be okay. Please, Dean. Please be okay.
...
Sam took a measured step forward, careful not to step on anything that would give him away. He still had hours before dawn, which meant the werewolf was still out here, still a threat. He'd have to be on his guard. Right. Like he would have been simply strolling through a place like this at any time of the day. Boxes were stacked high above his head, casting long shadows in the light of the moon. Some of the piles had fallen over, so broken boxes littered the ground, age old debris and dirt adding to the mix. Rats seemed to have taken over the place, scurrying over the remains of long dead machinery.
He had found the warehouse with little difficulty, even spotted the Impala, and taken a few seconds to grab a few silver bullets out of the trunk. Alright. If I was Dean and I was injured, expecting a rescue, where would I hide? Sam scanned the deserted area around him, looking for any sign of his older brother. Hope I'm not TOO rusty… Sam grimaced at this lingering thought as he finally pushed out any doubts and forced himself to focus. Closing his eyes, he listened closely to the night around him.
There has to be something. Some sign.
An owl's hoot, some rats rummaging through the garbage to his right, something stepping on a pile of debris behind him.
Oh.
Sam tightened his grip on the gun in his right hand and the knife in his left, his muscles tensing in preparation for the fight he expected.
One. He took a step forward, making it seem as casual as he could manage.
Two. He shifted his right foot just a little, so he could twist around when the time came.
Three. An ear-splitting roar cut through the silence of the night and Sam spun around just in time to see a creature flying at him, a flash of teeth and fur. The blast of the gun going off hadn't startled Sam for years, but after so long without practice, he couldn't help but jump. Probably good Dean isn't here to see that. I'd never live it down. Sam grimaced, even as he dived to the side to avoid the werewolf's tumbling body, thrown off by the shot to its shoulder.
A small moan caught Sam's attention and he jerked to the side, losing his focus as he saw the limp form lying nearby, blood covering the prone figure and the surrounding ground. Dean.
Another roar thrust Sam back into reality as the werewolf ran at him again. Sam raised the gun and fired even as the werewolf swung its clawed paw and sliced through his shirt and deep into his skin. A scream ripped from Sam's throat, echoing the pained whine of the werewolf as it stumbled and fell, a hole gushing blood. Straight to the heart. Sam gathered his strength and pushed himself up to his hands and knees, crawling the short distance to his brother's side. "Dean?" he called, softly, worry lacing his tone.
Dean stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open, before dropping closed again, a small choked whimper falling involuntarily from his lips. "Sammy?"
A small smile broke out on Sam's face, relief building in his chest. Dean was alive. "Yeah, Dean. It's me."
Dean seemed to process that for a moment. "Werewolf?"
"Dead."
Dean's eyes opened again at that, peering up at his little brother closely. His eyes widened after a moment, his eyebrows creasing together. "Sammy. Bleeding." He couldn't manage any more.
Sam looked down at his chest and remembered the werewolf's strike at him right before he'd shot it. "It's not too bad." He hadn't even looked at it. "A few stitches and I'll be fine. You're a mess, though, man. Definitely going to need a hospital."
Dean groaned at that, but Sam wasn't sure if it was a "Crap I hate hospitals" or a "Thank goodness for morphine" groan.
"Alright, Dean, let's get you out of here."
...
30 stitches and a few painkillers later, Sam was sitting in the waiting room, pacing back and forth worriedly as he waited for news on Dean. The doctors had taken Dean's appearance in stride, rushing him off to surgery, and they had easily bought Sam's story of an animal attack. Sam sighed as a picture of his brother's limp body being carted off on one of the gurney's flashed across his mind. Sam had taken the Impala to the hospital, knowing Dean would have kick him into next week if he had left it at the warehouse. Wait till he sees all the blood in the passenger seat. Sam grimaced. Maybe I'll clean that out before he sees it.
"Dean Macane's family?"
Sam looked up and stood as the doctor approached him. "How is he?"
The doctor flashed him a bright smile and Sam instantly relaxed. Good news, then. "It went perfectly. Your brother is a fighter, Mr. Macane. He'll have quite a recovery period ahead of him, but I see no reason not to release him once the blood he's lost has been replaced."
Sam closed his eyes, absorbing this news, before sighing and smiling at the doctor. "When can I see him?"
"He's being moved to a room right now. I'll send a nurse to get you as soon as he's settled."
Sam sat back down in his seat heavily, overwhelmed with relief. He's going to be okay. He's going to be okay.
...
Dean looked like crap. There was no easy way to go about it. Besides looking like he'd been through a paper shredder, his skin was pale, the monitors around him seemed ominous.
Good thing the doctor told me he'd be okay before I saw him or I don't think I would have believed him. Sam shifted in the chair one of the nurses had placed by Dean's bed for him, wishing they had designed the stupid things for comfort rather than affordability or practicality.
Dean shifted suddenly and Sam froze, watching his brother carefully.
"Dean?" he called softly. "You awake?"
"With all that noise you're making, how could I possibly be asleep?" Dean grumbled, his eyes still closed, but a smile pulling at his lips.
Sam rolled his eyes. "You have no right to complain. I came to save your butt remember?"
Dean opened his eyes at that. "One time, dude. I've saved your butt so many times, I've earned complaining rights for the rest of your life."
Sam snorted, shaking his head. Big brothers. "You're welcome."
"So, what's the verdict? Am I going to live? When can I get out of here?"
"Doc says you're going to be fine. Said something about 'quite a recovery period though'. You'll be off your feet for a few weeks, at least, I'm guessing."
Dean groaned at that. "Great." Wincing, he looked up at Sam. "Mind if I bunk with you and Jess for a while?" Normally, he wouldn't even have asked, but….well, he'd lost all claims to his pride when he'd called his little brother and asked to be rescued.
Sam froze, his body suddenly tensing, a pained look crossing his face. A second later, Sam turned away, but not before Dean saw the flash of tears that had begun to form in his baby brother's eyes.
Oh, no. "Sammy?"
Sam shook his head, his hand clenching his thigh with bruising force, struggling to get himself back under control.
Dean laid a hand over his brother's, gently easing it out of what was surely a painful hold. "What happened, Sammy?" Dean asked, so tenderly, so gently, that he knew Sam wouldn't be able to hold back for long.
Sam took a deep breath. "I was with Jess when you called. I started packing and….I wasn't thinking. I pulled out my hunting knife, then my gun while she was still in the room and watching me. She kept fairly calm, considering, but….." Sam closed his eyes, his head dropping to his chest when his lip began to tremble again. "….she made me promise to tell her the truth, to tell her everything, when I got back." When Sam looked back at his brother, tears were flowing freely down his face and his expression was so shattered that Dean felt his heart constrict with pain. Sam looked like his heart had just been ripped out. "I knew if I promised her I would have to tell her the truth. She knows when I'm lying to her and she calls me on it. I knew if I told her, she…there's no way she'd stick around." Sam snorted, but there was no humor in the sound. "We hunt demons, ghosts, witches….the Supernatural…..she'd laugh her way right out the door, then call the guys in white to come pick me up." Sam buried his face in his hands. "I knew I had a choice. You or Jess. And-" Sam couldn't go on, his voice too choked, his emotions riding too high.
"You chose me." Dean finished for him, his heart breaking at the anguish on his brother's face.
"I love her, Dean." Sam's admission was soft, longing, but heartbroken. "I can't lose her."
Surprised, Dean nevertheless reached over and squeezed Sam's arm, reassuringly. "You don't know how she's going to react, Sammy. Give her a chance. Maybe she'll surprise you."
Sam looked up at that, meeting his gaze in surprise, hope dim but present in his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, maybe she will."
Please. Dean silently begged the higher power he wasn't sure he believed in anymore, but would if it meant Sam's happiness. Please let her accept this. Please don't let Sammy lose her.
...
The car ride home was…..quiet.
Sam was brooding, thinking, hoping.
Dean was sleeping, more wiped out from moving than he wanted to admit.
As Sam pulled the Impala into his parking space, Dean finally stirred and woke. "You know it only took me two hours to get to Vegas?" Sam grinned at his brother.
Dean regarded him for a moment, then, as if sensing his brother's desperate need to laugh before he faced his great fear, he broke into a bright grin, laughing. "Two hours? Dude, you must have been going like a hundred!"
His eyebrows shot up as Sam's grin widened.
"No. No way. Sammy, that little ol' beat up car of yours must have been dying." Dean paused a moment. "Speaking of your car, how are we going to get it back here?"
Sam shrugged. "I figured I'd ask someone to drive back to Vegas with me in the Impala and they could drive my car back and I could drive the Impala."
With that, he got out of the car, hurrying over to Dean's side before Dean could get any farther than pushing the door open. Together, they managed to get up the stairs and outside the door to Sam's apartment.
Dean stopped him before he knocked. Pulling his brother into a hug, he spoke softly. "No matter how this goes, Sammy, just remember…just remember that I'm here for you, dude. You're not alone."
Before Sam could respond, Dean pulled back with a small grunt and knocked on the door himself. Not even a second later, the door was thrown open. Jess stood there, staring in shock at Dean's injuries. "Oh! Dean!" She quickly moved out of the way, hurrying over to one of the closets. "Just set him on the couch, Sam." She called, her head buried in the closet as she searched for something. She returned a second later, holding a pillow and a blanket. Helping Dean lay back, she covered him with the blanket, flashing him a small smile, before turning to examine Sam. "Oh, you're hurt!" she cried, suddenly spying the bandages that peaked out from under his shirt.
"Not badly." He reassured her. She quickly, but gently hugged him, making a small sound of relief.
"I was so worried about you." She told him. She pulled back then, looking up at him. "Alright. I believe you have something to tell me." She eyed him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him over to one of the chairs on the other side of the living room. Sitting him down, she sat across from him in one of the chairs she had pulled from the kitchen. "Tell me the truth, Sam. You two are….different. I've seen you fight together and…you move in sync, like….like you've been trained. You carry a gun like it's your best friend, like you've been doing it for years. Your brother just got out of the hospital after being attacked by what must have been some sort of meat grinder-" Both Sam and Dean had to fight to keep grimaces off their faces at that comparison. "….You must be into something…..something different. What's going on?"
Dean had to fight to keep his face expressionless, trying to feign sleep so he wouldn't make this conversation any more awkward than it was already going to be, but he couldn't help but be impressed by Jess' observations. She was much more astute than the people they were usually around.
Sam hesitated, glancing up at Jess, then staring down at the floor, fear building in his chest. I can't do this.
Jess' face softened, her hand resting on Sam's knee. "Trust me, Sam. I promise I'll believe you."
Sam hesitated again, then slowly, finally, nodded. "Alright." Taking a deep breath, Sam began.
"When I was six months old….."
...
When Sam finally finished, Jess was staring at him, wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open. When she realized he was done, her mouth snapped closed, her face wearing an unreadable expression.
Sam watched her, his face full of tension, a look of pleading in his eyes. When Jess suddenly stood, he started, watching her in fear.
A sob tore from her throat and a second later she was buried in Sam's chest, her arms wrapped around his neck. Surprised, Sam reacted more out of instinct than decision, wrapping his arms around her tenderly.
"I'm so sorry. That's s-s-so s-sad…..your mom and-and your Dad hunting and-and Dean like-like-like raising you and-and…..I'm just so sorry…."
Shocked, Sam wasn't quite sure what to say, but then it suddenly hit him with the subtly of a ton of bricks. She believes me.
"It's okay. It's okay, Jess. We're all okay, it's….well, it happened a long time ago. It's okay." Sam soothed softly, his relief so strong it was almost palpable.
"I'm never going to leave you, Sam Winchester. N-never. No matter what happens. I promise."
...
From his position on the couch, Dean, forgetting he was feigning sleep, grinned broadly and watched his brother, who had buried his face in Jess' hair. Told you she was quite the catch, Sammy.