Stanford

Part One

A dull thudding sound filled Sam's ears. The world was spinning but he couldn't stop now. If he could just keep going for another couple of hours then he could finally sleep. Not that four hours was the most rejuvenating amount but it was better than nothing. He leaned into the nearest table and took a deep breath; he had been working at the diner for almost a year now and the greasy fumes never hesitated to make him feel nauseous. Two more hours.

Sam had just started the slow walk home when he heard a growling roar of an engine that sounded nostalgically familiar. He turned and surveyed the parking lot, it was practically empty but he caught sight of the car he was looking for. It wasn't the impala; it was a soccer mom's ride. Dean would be disgusted. His mind was playing tricks on him again.

He sighed inwardly as it began to rain, running a shaky hand through his hair and shaking his coat. Originally he'd had a bike but that was now gone, substituted with his motel room and textbooks for next year.

The grotty motel before Sam had been his home for the majority of the college holidays. It wasn't as bad as some of the places he had stayed before but it was definitely low down on his list of luxury resorts. His eyes flitted from one side of the parking lot to the other, a routine check he had never grown out of before entering his room.

Sam had jerked back as he saw a black clad figure leaning against the wall. His hand shot toward the gun he kept hidden by the door.

"It's pointless Sammy. Already found that one, it's a little obvious, isn't it?" Sam could see the smirk on the figure's face.

"Dean?"

"The one and only," Dean slowly leaned forward and pulled Sam into a gruff embrace.

"You're rusty, Brother,"

"No," Sam smiled wryly, "I'm just tired."

He sat down at the edge of the bed and took a deep breath.

"What do you want, Dean?"

"Straight to the point or what? We haven't even exchanged pleasantries yet." Sam just quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay then, well Dad and I-"

"Dad's here?"

"He's in the car, thought you wouldn't react too well to seeing him first,"

"Damn straight. Dean, he told me if I go to stay gone. Why would I react well?" Sam's frown deepened and the pounding increased.

"Sam, calm down man, are you okay?"

"I just-I don't think I can deal with this shit today."

"Sam, this isn't shit. It's family. Get that into your stubborn-ass head, you need to get other it!"

"I don't know how you got him here but Dad's not going to want to see me, this stopped being a family when he told me to never come back." Sam was panting from his sudden burst of rage and it dispersed almost as quickly as it had come. Suddenly a pronounced cough came from the door. The pair turned around to see John Winchester; their father and commander.

"Sam, I'm sorry."

Sam huffed.

"Is that all you've got to say to- is that blood? Dad? Are you okay?" As Sam studied his father he could see blood seeping through a quickly laid bandage. He glanced back toward his brother and saw that he too was injured.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He could feel the guilt already creeping into his mind.

It had taken him almost an hour to clean the wounds and another after that to tidy up afterwards. Neither of them were particularly life threatening but the pair had lost a lot of blood. Eventually Sam had got his brother and father to accept the stiff bed and ragged sofa before letting consciousness finally let go of his weary grasp on him. The Winchester family were finally together again.