A/N: I started working on this a few years ago. I finally dragged it out and finished it off.
The in-laws visiting us? Always a joy.
The wife's entire family in town for a reunion at our house? Even better.
We need more lighter fluid for the barbecue? Let me run right out and get that. If I'm not back by midnight, start without me.
Okay, so the in-laws aren't all that bad, but I still wanted the break (you know, so the wife could have some time alone with her parents, and brothers, and cousins, and…) so I made the run to the corner store for supplies. (Just not the nearest store or the nearest corner…)
I'd grabbed the lighter fluid and was looking around for anything - anything - else we might need when I thought I spotted a familiar face down the aisle from me. Couldn't be though. Just - couldn't be.
"Sorry," I said when he saw me looking at him. "You look like somebody I used to know."
"I am somebody you used to know," he said, sounding surprised and a little insulted. "I know it's been a few years, Jerry, but c'mon…"
"Dean? I thought you were dead."
He smirked, "Which time?" but then he shook his head like he realized it was a dumb thing to say. I thought it must be an inside hunter kind of joke.
"Where's Sam?" I asked.
"Sam? Sammy - he's over there, waiting on our lunch order." He pointed to the far side of the store, where it ell'd off into the 'food court', such as it was. I looked but Sam wasn't in my line of sight.
"Is he all right?" I asked.
"Why wouldn't he be all right?"
"The last time I saw him, he was a mess. He said you were dead. He was sure you were dead."
"When did you talk to Sam?" Dean's initial surprise morphed just like that into concern and - I was pretty sure - anger.
"A year ago? A year and a half? He was out by the airport and - "
"What was he doing by your airport?" Dean asked. Or actually, demanded.
"I don't know. I was on my way home from work. He was in some burger joint parking lot. I stopped to talk to him - he said you were you dead."
Another day it's good to leave work. The coffee maker, air conditioner, and new secretary were all working inconsistently. So I was hot, in caffeine withdrawal, and not getting anything done. I stripped off my jacket, unstrangled myself from my tie, poured myself into my car and got the heck out of there for an evening.
As I drove down the eight-lane divided highway in front of the airport, passing the hotels and carparks and fast food places, I saw a familiar car parked in the lot of some burger place or other.
A 1967 Impala, especially one with a lanky Winchester sitting on the hood, was impossible to mistake. I made a couple of U-turns around the highway island and pulled into the lot.
It was Sam, and he wasn't looking too good. He had a large-sized soda pop next to himself and a burger in his hand but he hadn't taken a bite of it and was staring at like he wasn't even looking at it.
I looked around, expecting to see Dean anywhere any minute, but I didn't see him. Not in line, not inside, not outside, not in the parking lot, not in the car. I didn't see Dean, I didn't see their Dad. I only saw Sam, looking like he was a million miles away.
"Sam?" I tried, cautiously. I didn't want to startle him and send that super-sized soft drink all over the hood of the Impala.
He looked up at me like he didn't know me. I was about to say, 'Jerry, remember? Airport, possessed plane?' when I got the idea that he got the idea who I was. "Hey, Sam, how're you doing? Why didn't you guys let me know you were going to be in town?"
He stared a minute like he was processing what I said, and then he looked around like he was processing what I meant.
He was starting to worry me.
"Sam? Where's Dean? Where's your Dad? You here all by yourself?"
"I - where? I didn't realize I was here."
From his confusion, he could've meant he didn't know what city he was in or that he didn't know he was sitting on his car with a burger in his hand.
"Where's Dean?" I gave up trying to sound casual and let myself sound as worried as I felt. "Sam? Where's Dean? Where's your Dad?"
"They're gone," he said. He said it with a shrug like it was common knowledge. "They're dead. Everybody's dead."
"God - Sam. I'm so sorry. Was it - was it - " I gave a fast look around, not really wanting to ask out loud 'was it a monster?' "Was it the job?"
"It was me. They're both dead because of me."
"You? What happened?"
"Dean - Dean - I have to go." He crushed that uneaten burger in its paper, grabbed his soda and slid off the car. "I have to - there's a - I have to go."
"Hey - just hold on, Sam. Okay? Why don't you come home with me? You look like you could use some real food and a night in a good bed. What d'you say?"
"No - no. Don't you understand? They're dead because of me. Everybody is dead becase of me. It's not safe - you aren't safe around me."
"Sam, c'mon. I'm safe - we're both safe here. Tell me happened."
"Dean - we had to - there were these things, Leviathans, we had to stop them. And when we did - Dean was gone."
"Gone…?" Gone sounded not exactly dead. "Gone where?"
"I don't know. If I knew, I'd go find him. I'd bring him back. But – I don't know and no one will tell me."
"No one who?" I asked. Maybe Dean had gotten himself into some non-supernatural trouble.
"No one –" Sam looked at me and seemed suddenly lucid. "No one you want to know about. Believe me."
"Who, Sam?"
"You're safer not knowing."
"Sam –"
"I have to go." He shoved his uneaten food through the swinging flap of the garbage can and all but pushed past me to get to the door of the car.
"Sam, c'mon – let me help."
He stopped with his hand on the door handle. He didn't say anything and he didn't open the door. Finally, in a voice so small I didn't recognize it, he said, "I don't know what to do. Without Dean, without – these past few years have been – they've been hell, literally, and I only survived because of Dean. Now he's gone and I don't know how to survive without him."
"So, let me help."
He looked at me and for a second I thought he was going to say 'yes', but he shook his head and sniffed and wiped his eyes like he was trying to scrub his skin off. "I have to go." He got in and pulled the door shut and started the car. The window was down so I tried one last time.
"Call me, all right? Call me at the airport if you don't still have my number. If you need anything or just to let me know how you're doing. All right? Let me know how you're doing, Sam. Call me."
But he shook his head. "You're better off not knowing me."
He pulled out of the parking lot, onto the divided highway, and was gone.
"He was a mess," I told Dean. His expression had gotten darker and darker as I told him the story. "I don't know how long you'd been – gone – by then, but he was a mess. I don't know how he was even functioning. He never told you?"
"No. No, he never told me." He gave a hard stare in Sam's direction, like Sam could feel his disapproval through the cement wall. With that look, maybe he could.
"So –your Dad…?" I asked.
Dean shook his head. "We lost him not long after we helped you out."
"Dean - I'm sorry. But, hey, you're back now. You weren't dead like Sam thought. You were just…"
I hesitated, wondering if I'd find out the answer to that question, but Dean said, "Trust me, you don't want to know," and even though he tried to smile, the way he said it gave me a chill.
"But you're back and Sam's OK. You're both OK. Aren't you?"
I didn't like his shrug. "We're working on it."
Sam emerged from the food court, bags in his hands. He smiled when he saw me and looked so much better than the last time I saw him that I wondered if he even remembered we'd spoken back then.
"Jerry. Hey! What're you doing so far from the airport?"
"Avoiding my in-laws. What are you fellas doing in town? Got a job?"
"Just passing through," Dean said, "On our way home."
"Home? You got yourselves someplace permanent, now?"
"We got a little place in Kansas. We kind of inherited it." And he smiled and Sam smiled and it seemed genuine. There wasn't much more small talk we could make so I gestured to the can of lighter fluid in my hand.
"Well, I better get back home before they don't start to miss me," I said. "I'm glad you guys are doing all right. If you're out this way again, give me a call. I'll buy you a beer."
"We'll do that,' Dean said. "Call us if you need any more help."
"I will."
Dean pulled a bag from Sam's hand nd turned to walk away but Sam stayed another second. "It's good to see you again," he told me. I guess he did remember our last little talk.
"How're you doing?"
"A lot better than I was," he said. "I'm sorry, you know, that I never got back in touch with you. That I never thanked you for trying to help me that day. I was just – really wrecked."
I didn't think that 'wrecked' even began to cover it. "As long as you're okay now, right? Back with Dean? That's what matters."
"Yeah." He turned and looked toward Dean who was waiting for him near the automatic doors. "Yeah, that's all that matters."
They left the store, got into their car, pulled out of the parking lot, and were gone.
The End.