Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own the TV series Supernatural. That honor belongs to...somebody else. So there.
A/N: This story might sound very familiar to some of you. It's the story I've been working on but have combined and played around with as I'd written myself in a corner. It's still AU and before John died. Please feel free to read and review.
Chapter One: The Consequences of Drinking To Much
The only concession Dean made to Sam's hangover was to keep the music down to a dull roar. Sam was looking pretty pathetic. His long legs were scrunched up as far as he could get them, wedged between the seat and the dashboard. Somehow he still managed to slump over, his head almost to his knees. Dean glanced over at him and smirked. "So Sammy-"
'It's SAM, say it with me, Sam. S-A-M." interrupted Sam.
"So, S-A-M," Dean started again, "You want to stop somewhere? Maybe get some breakfast? Ooh. Let;s stop at Denny's. The last one we passed had a bacon eggs and grits special for only $3.99!! Mmm, lots of greasy bacon with the runny eggs all mixed up in some buttery-."
"Oh my God, I think I'm gonna puke."
Dean smirked, glancing at Sam from the corner of his eyes. "They also have free coffee refills," he said temptingly.
"Just shoot me." Sam begged, burying his face, which was a slight green color, the rest of the way into his knees.
Dean let out a little laugh, "Does that mean no then?"
Sam's reply was to stick up his middle finger and wave it vaguely in his brothers direction. Dean chuckled, but fell silent afterward, letting his brother be miserable in peace.
After a few minutes Dean took pity on his brother and even turned the music off, getting a muffled "Thanks", from his brother who still had his head on his knees. Dean wondered how he did that without breaking his neck.
They rode in silence for a while longer, only the sound of their breathing and the tires on the asphalt breaking it. Just when Dean thought that Sam must have fallen asleep and was going to turn the music back on, Sam sat straight up, quickly covering his mouth with his hand, the other clutching his stomach.
"Dude, seriously, if you puke in my baby I will end you." Dean growled, while pulling off the side of the road faster then what was probable safe. Thankfully it was a long empty stretch of road so no one saw when Sam lurched the door open, leaned half way out and proceeded to puke his guts out.
Reaching into the backseat, Dean dug around until he pulled out a half empty water bottle. "Here." he said to Sam after he'd finished vomiting and was sitting back up in the seat.
"Thanks man." Sam swished some of the water in his mouth before leaning back over and spitting it out onto the ground. He took a few more deep breathes then guzzled the rest of the water. "Holy shit man," Sam said hoarsely, his throat still sore despite the water. "The next time I have the brilliant idea to drink my problems away, do me a favor and just knock me out, it'd be less painful then this."
Dean just smirked. "Can we continue or do we need to wait and see if there's anything left in your stomach?"
Sam groaned and pushed his lanky hair away from his eyes. "I don't think that there is anyway possible for there to be anything left in my stomach. Let's go."Closing his eyes, he lay his forehead against the window trying to soak up the coldness of it. "I am never drinking again."
Dean couldn't turn down the perfect opening. "So, little brother, Exactly why did I come in and find you drunker then Dad on a two day bender? Hmm?"
Sam sighed and sat up straight, abandoning the comfort of the cold window. He knew this was coming. He also knew there was no use trying to get out of it. Dean may be a self proclaimed hater of chick flicks, but when he thought something was wrong with Sam, he was like a pit-bull with a bone.
"I just felt like drinking, Dean. Guess I got a bit carried away." he said, briefly looking over at his brother.
"A bit carried away?!" said brother asked incredulously. "Are you serious Sam? Because you start singing Whitney Houston after three beers. Don't you think an entire pint of Jack is a bit more then just a bit carried away." He kept his eyes on the road even though he wanted to stare at his brother, and maybe smack him on the back of the head.
Sam rolled his eyes and then winced at the pain that shot through his head. "Seriously dude, you promised not to mention the Whitney thing anymore and I was freaking sixteen when that happened. As for the drinking, I've seen you imbibe a helluva lot more then that in one night. Besides, I'm over twenty-one. It's even legal now."
"Dude, first off, I will never forget the sight you you standing on the bed singing I Will Always Love You. In your boxers no less. You can never escape that. Ever," Dean explained.
Sam just tilted his head against the seat and groaned.
"And secondly," Dean continued, " I can hold my liquor a lot better then you, and my alcohol tolerance is way way way above yours. Lastly, I like to drink Sam. I enjoy it. You don't. Most of the time two beers is your limit. You get buzzed off a shot of vodka. Don't sit there and tell me that you just felt like drinking. I want to know why I came from the bar to find you passed out in the middle of the hotel room. You told me that you were tired and was going to bed. Why the lie? Hell, if you wanted to get drunk why didn't you just come with me?"
"I didn't lie," Sam stated, "I did go to bed."
"Yeah, after drinking a pint of Jack," Dean quipped.
"No, before then. I went to bed right after you left to make some cash. I got in bed and went to sleep. I woke up again."
"Obviously," the older man injected.
"Quit interrupting me Dean! Do you wanna know or not? Jesus."Sam barked.
Fine, I'll be quiet. Now start talkin'," Dean said seriously.
"I was tired from that last hunt we did. That frigging spirit threw me into everything but the kitchen sink. Did I mention that I HATE dead tax accountants? Jeez he kept going on and on about the evilness of not paying ones taxes before April 15th. But back to the point, I was feeling a little sore. I drifted off, but every time I turned over something ached. So I got up to get some aspirin, but, by the way, we are out of it. So, being the vigilant person I am, remembered seeing you put the Tylenol in in your duffel in the car yesterday."Sam paused and took a deep breath. "When I looked in your bag it wasn't there." He looked at Dean accusingly.
"What?" Dean questioned taking his eyes off the road to stare at Sam for a moment. "You're not the only one that tax accountant threw around. I took the Tylenol with me. So your saying this is my fault now?"
"Nooo Dean." Sam said impatiently. "I'm trying to tell you how I ended up drunk. Do you think you could let me talk for two minutes without interrupting?"
"Fine, fine," Dean replied waving the hand that wasn't controlling the steering wheel in a vague gesture to continue on with the story.
"So like I was saying before you interrupted-"
The chorus to Metallica's Enter Sandman blasted through the air as Dean's cellphone rang. Stopping Sam yet again. He slammed back against the seat heaving a long-suffering sigh.
Dean snickered while he fumbled around for his cell phone, "Hey Sammy, You're like that movie. Ya know the one I'm talking about. Girl Interrupted. It's got that blonde chick in it. Get it, cause you're a girl."
"Kiss my-" Sam broke off as Dean finally answered his cell phone.
"Hey Bobby, Whats up?" Dean spoke into the phone.
He listened for a few moments. "No, we just got done with one the day before yesterday. Nasty son of a bitch. Dead tax accountant."
Dean paused listening to Bobby. "We're almost out of Detroit, on Highway 72, heading toward Indiana." He stopped and listened again. "Hell yeah Bobby, you know all you have to do is ask."
He glanced at his brother. "Yeah. Sam's up for it. We can be there today." Pause, Listen. "Friday. OK Bobby Talk to you later."
Dean flipped his cell phone closed and threw it on the seat in between him and Sam. "It seems we have a change in plans. Bobby wants to meet up in South Carolina. Says he's got a hunt that he wouldn't mind some backup on. We'll go on down there and start the leg work. Give him two days to deal with the business end of the junk yard and drive down there."
"What we hunting?" Sam asked.
"Sounds like a regular salt n burn. Probably Bobby wanting to check up on us, knowing him.." Dean stated. "So you feel like stopping for breakfast yet? Cause I could seriously use some substance."
"Yeah, Go ahead and stop somewhere. I could use some coffee." Sam offered. "Then we can turn around and head south." Maybe Dean forgot about-
"So lets get back to why you were drunk. You never finished your story," Dean said brightly.
Dammit, Sam thought.
Fine." Sam said, "I'll tell you over breakfast. Right now I'm gonna close my eyes and wish that my head was detachable from my body." With that he promptly closed his eyes and leaned his head against the seat.
"Sam. Sam. SAMMY."
Sam jerked awake. His eyes fluttering as the too bright light hit them. He looked to the left at the drivers side of the car. It was empty. Hadn't he heard Dean calling him?
"Hey, Sunshine, over here."
Sam looked to his right, out the passenger window. There he was. Dean was bent down peering into the cracked window. "Bout time you woke up. You ready to eat?"
Sam scrubbed at his eyes. "Yeah. How long was I sleeping?"
The older man stood up from his bent position of peering in the window. "About three hours. I went ahead and found us a diner with wifi so we can get a jump start on this new hunt. I wanna have some information before we take our happy asses down there. So grab your computer and lets go." With that he started walking in the diner.
Sam looked around. They were in the parking of a small diner called Paul's. It was a square white building, a sign in the window beside the double doors sporting the words 'We have wifi' The parking lot had about three other cars in it. Well, two trucks and a car. He leaned back and grabbed his computer from the back seat before opening the door and climbing out. Once he was standing, he stretched to his full height. His back gave a satisfying crack. With the computer grasped firmly in hand he walked the couple of steps to the diner door and entered.
The smell of grease assaulted him immediately making his stomach gurgle uneasily. Leave it to Dean to find the greasiest diner in Illinois. He spotted Dean in a booth near the back of the diner. He glanced around as he walked to the booth, catching the waitresses eyes on accident. An older woman, maybe in her late fifties with hair dyed a fire engine red. Some how it worked on her. The tag on her smock identified her as Doris. She winked. Sam gave her a smile and sat down on the other side of his brother. He was facing Dean and Dean was facing the rest of the diner. That was ok though, because he trusted Dean to watch his back.
" I saw that Sam, getting some waitress action there. You dog."
Rolling his eyes Sam replied, "Yeah Dean. Me and her are going hot and heavy."
Dean's eyes widened and he looked at something behind Sam's back.
A woman's voice with a distinct southern accent said from behind him, "Well Honey, not that I'm not flattered, but I'm a christian woman so if you want some of this you gotta show me the ring first."
Sam twisted around in the booth. The waitress that had winked at him was standing there. She winked at him again. This time he flushed bright red. "I didn't- I mean- I. Oh my God." He paused and took a deep breath. "What I mean to say is I didn't mean any disrespect Ma'am."
The waitress laughed and said, "Lighten up Hon. I was just picking on ya." She took her pad out of her apron. "Good morning Gentlemen. May I take your order, or do you need some more time to decide?"
Dean didn't even glance at the folded plastic menu. "I'll have a stack of pancakes with bacon and eggs on the side. Scramble the eggs. And could I get coffee with that?"
"Sure Hun." The waitress turned to look at Sam. "What about you Handsome? You ready to order?"
Sam didn't bother glancing at the menu either. "I'll just have a cup of coffee."
Dean sighed. "Do you sell fruit?"
Doris smiled. "We've got a great fruit salad. Fresh made every day. We get the fruit fresh everyday from Lisa's Produce right down the road."
"Great," Dean said, "Can he get an order of that along with his coffee?"
"No problem sweet thang. I'll have your coffee here in just a jiff." Doris walked off toward the counter.
"You know Dean," Sam started, "I've been ordering my food all by myself for a while now. I think I know when I'm hungry."
"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. I'll eat it if you don't."
"You? Put something healthy in your mouth? I'll believe it when I see it. "
Dean put down his fork, slumped down in the booth and sighed happily. "That was some kick ass pancakes."
He looked at his brother. Sam was still picking at his fruit salad though he had eaten most of it. It was time to find out what was bothering him. Sam tried to hide it, but Dean could tell something was off about him. Hell, I practically raised him. I don't know why he thinks he can hide shit from me.
"Alright Sam. You've been fed and watered. So spill."
Sam sighed and pushed his mostly empty bowl away. "Alright but before I say anything, I want you to promise that you won't freak out about this." He looked at Dean expectantly.
"Ok I promise I won't freak out," Dean said promptly.
" I mean it Dean." Sam said, "I don't want you to freak out about this."
Dean looked hard at Sam. "I already said I wouldn't now quit stalling and tell me what's been up with you. Now."
"Well," Sam started looking down at his clasped hands nervously, "Lately I've been having some really weird dreams. Every time I go sleep, I have them. And it kind of seems like they're coming true."
Dean stared at his brother, eyebrows arched, but didn't say anything, so Sam continued to talk.
"I dreamed- I dreamed about Jessica burning last night. That's why I got drunk. Because I dreamed about it again. The same dream I started having two weeks before she died. You get it? Two weeks before she died. I could have saved her, Dean. But I thought it was just a dream. Hell, I guess it is just a dream now." With that he too fell silent.
Dean continued to stare, not saying a word. Sam sat there at the diner table, head bowed waiting for Dean to start talking, or hell, even yelling. He just wished he would say something, and stop freaking staring at him. It was really starting to creep him out.
After about two minutes Sam couldn't take it anymore. "Will you say something? Call me a freak, I don't care. Just STOP staring at me!!"
Dean jolted at Sam's raised voice. He seemed to come back to himself. He took a deep breath, carding his hand through his hair. Then he took his half full cup of coffee and gulped the rest of it down. Slamming the cup down like one would a shot glass, he finally spoke. "What the fuck Sam. Think maybe you could have told me this just a little sooner?"
"What?" Same asked, baffled. That was really the reaction he'd been expecting. The yelling yeah, but being mad because he hadn't told him? Where was the disbelief, the accusing stare? Hell he didn't really know what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it. So he sat there and stared at his brother like an idiot.
Dean looked around. His loud voice had drawn some attention. This is not a conversation for the general public. "I'm going to pay the bill. Meet me at the car. If you gotta go, now's the time to do it. We're not stopping again until we need to gas up." With that, he stood up, took out his wallet and threw a five dollar bill on the table. Then he went up to the end of the counter where there was an ancient cash register. There was no one at it, so he stood until their waitress came.
"Everything alright, Hun?" she asked as she pushed some buttons on the old machine.
Dean just looked at her wearily, jerking a thumb back at Sam, "Family, you know how it is."
She nodded in sympathy and told him the total. After paying, he turned to walk out the door but was stopped by the waitress calling out. "Hey Hun?" He looked back. "Take it from someone who's been there. Family might be trying sometimes, but you hold 'em close. They're all you got. You'll miss 'em sorely when their gone." Then she turned around to start making fresh coffee.
Dean stood looking at her back for a moment, wondering about her story, who'd she'd lost to put such a sad look on her face. Had he looked like that when Sam went to college? As he walked out to the car he saw his brother waiting patiently in the passenger seat. It didn't matter how he'd looked while Sam was in college he decided, because Sam was back now and Dean would do everything in his power to keep him safe. Just like he'd done all Sam's life. Whatever was going on with his little brother, Dean would handle it, because that was what he did the best. Take care of Sam. With that, he climbed into the car and closed the door.
Turning to look at his brother he said in a patient tone, "Ok, Sam, I drive, you talk." So Sam talked. He talked about the dreams, and how they seemed different then the regular dreams. He talked about dreaming of Jessica burning, and how he had brushed it off as nightmares, the guilt he felt clear on his face. Finally, after about thirty minutes, he leaned his head against the cool window and looked at the one person that had never let him down. "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do, Dean."
Dean hadn't said a word while Sam talking, just listened as his brother unintentionally poured out his heart along with his words. And now his brother was looking at him with that look, the one that meant Sam wanted Dean to fix it. Sam had been looking at him like that for 22 years, and Dean wasn't about to disappoint him now.
So looking back at the road, Dean kept his voice steady as he answered his brother's silent plea, "We'll fix this, Sam. We'll fix it." Dean didn't know how they were going to fix it, or what it was if he were to be honest with himself, but dammit he was going to get to the bottom of it or die trying. Nothing put that look on his brother's face, not while he was around.
