Lights and Locks

Summary-When Sam left his father and brother on that highway to go to college a few months ago, he had no idea how quickly the hunting world would suck him back in. While walking home from work he hears a woman scream, can he, will he save her?

A/N- This is a Sammy centred fic dedicated to NikNakz93 as we were supposed to be doing a one shot prompt but it evolved into a fully fledged fic! The prompts she gave were: Broken Lightbulbs and Locks.

Disclaimer- I do not own any Supernatural concept so please do not sue me.

And so I tell myself that I'll be strong
And dreaming when they're gone

'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home
Calling, calling, calling home

Ellie Goulding- Lights

Chapter one

The tall, broad shouldered man walked down the empty street with a brown paper bag in his hand. The chef had kindly allowed him to take the leftovers at the end of the night from the high end restaurant he was working in. The bag was full with fine cuts of meat and steamed vegetables that would serve as his dinner, super and breakfast by the time he got back to his room. It felt heavy as he clutched at the folded paper at the top of the bag as he glanced up and down the road before crossing it.

He kept throwing careful glances over his shoulder half expecting to hear the familiar sound of a car engine with people in it who he had abandoned only a few months ago. He pulled at his sweater anxiously. The memories were still too fresh for him to deal with.

-LAL-

"Dad, we need to talk," the words left his mouth dryly. He shook a little with nerves in the backseat.

In the front were his Dad, John, and his older brother, Dean. His brother glanced at him with pursed lips. He knew what he was thinking. They never had good talks. One always got angry and the other stalked off while Dean was left to pick up the pieces every damn time.

John looked at his son through the rear view mirror. His was showing his age now. Every day of his forty eight years was etched into his face. His brown hair was speckled with grey as was his stubble. Those dark eyes were looking kindly at his youngest child as he said, "Yeah, Sammy, talk about what?"

Dean glanced between them before his eyes rested on Sam. The look he gave his older brother was as clear as a vampire caught in daylight.

"Umm, maybe you guys can talk later, yeah?" he started watching the two men warily. Dean knew that whatever Sam wanted to talk about was going to set everything off again. They'd just calmed down from the last fight. He didn't want to be stuck in the car while they shouted, fought and sulked. "Like when we find a motel?"

"No," Sam resigned with a sigh. He took a deep breath and thought about the words he was about to say to the person he wanted to get away from most, "Dad, Dean, I got accepted at Stanford. I'm going to college."

At first the eldest man didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything. He had been caught off guard by his son's revelation and it took several minutes for it to sink in. He continued to drive not really seeing where they were going. Anger began to set in. Betrayal bit at his throat like a rabid dog.

"Crap," Dean whispered to himself as he saw his father's knuckles turning white as they clutched at the steering wheel. He took them over onto a safe part to pull over.

Sam's eyes flared at the sudden change of course. He rallied himself ready to defend his corner. For eighteen damn years he had been following orders and doing what Dad said because he had to. Now, that was going to change. He wasn't going to be ruled over any longer.

The car shuddered to a halt and John kept hold of the steering wheel as he spoke through a tightly clutched jaw, "What do you mean you're going to college?"

"I mean...I'm going to Stanford in September. And you're not going to stop me." He sat up a little straighter. He felt anger growing up inside him now. How dare he question his decisions!

"So what, you're going to leave me and your brother to find and kill whatever killed your mother while you're partying?"

"What? No. Dad, I'm going to Stanford to get out of this life! It's hell for me! I want to be able to get a steady job, get a mortgage and get married one day and have kids. I can't do that if I ride around with you killing evil crap that isn't our problem!"

"Your Mom was killed by one of them!" he roared and kicked open the door. While he climbed out of the car he hissed over his shoulder, "That makes it our problem!"

Dean's mouth flapped hopelessly as he watched their Dad stalk off down the side of the road. He glanced at the man four years his junior. Sam could see that he'd broken his heart but Dean wouldn't stop him doing what he wanted. Sam started to get out of the car. He wanted to carry the argument even further.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted to his brother hoping for him just to get back into the car. He didn't listen and started off towards John. He got out of the car and followed them, "Ugh..."

"Dad, I don't care what you think or feel about it," Sam growled at the man causing him to turn around and face him. The sun was setting casting long shadows across the road underneath the purple sky, "I'm going and I'm happy about it! To get out of this damn life and to not worry if I'll be alive in a couple of weeks, it feels like heaven!"

"You can't leave this life, Sammy. Once you're in, you're in for life. You can't just walk away from it. It doesn't work like that."

"Who's fault was it that me and Dean were dragged into it?" he scoffed, "oh yeah, yours."

A car or two passed them as they continued to argue. They were in a secluded part of the freeway that passed between farmers fields in the centre of Nebraska.

"I didn't have a choice!" John screamed. He seethed, "if I had the chance then I would've given you boys the best childhood the world had to offer. But I didn't. I had to keep you safe."

"You should be glad I'm leaving then! I'll be safe at Stanford. I won't have to hunt or deal with every evil thing that I see! I'll be just another college kid."

"You won't be safe!" tears pricked at his eyes, "You're still a kid."

"I'm eighteen!" Sam roared, "Stop treating me like I'm four years old!"

The old man had finally had it. He snapped and growled dangerous words, "if you walk away from us, don't bother coming back."

Dean's mouth dropped and he thought desperately of a way to make them reconcile.

Sam felt bitter tears leaking from his eyes, "Fine!"

-LAL-

Another round of angry tears bit at him as he took a short cut through a dimly lit side street. Sam knew that he shouldn't walk down the side streets because of the danger involved but he was more than certain that he could handle himself against anything that the world could throw at him.

After he'd packed up the small lot of stuff he owned he'd made his way to the nearest bus station and bought a ticket that'd take him all the way to Stanford. As soon as he'd gotten there, three and a half months ago, he'd taken up residence at a hostel until the dorms were opened. He'd scoured for a job and after several rejections he'd finally found one as a bus boy.

The money was crap, his hands looked worse than when he'd been hunting and he was stuck in a hot, stuffy kitchen five nights a week but it was a job. It gave him money for school and books and food.

His feet clicked down the sidewalk in a steady rhythm. He was still wearing his smart uniform with his brown sweater thrown over the top. Walking home at two in the morning in the middle of October was damn cold. His breath came out in small clouds that hovered in front of his face for a while.

Sam was passing rows of derelict buildings. The buildings were barely lit by the scattered street lamps. They dated from when a fire had destroyed that area of town about seventy years ago. The buildings were all made of a red brick. The colour reminded him of blood. The fixtures were all wooden. Doors and windows were boarded up. Some had metal bars on the outside to stop people going in and stealing whatever may have been left behind. There were burglar alarms on a couple of them. Only one or two that he'd seen were in active use. The rest were just boxes that were put there to put people off. There were no wires going to or from the boxes. On almost all of the buildings there were retail signs. Some were to let, others to buy and one or two had a sold sign stabled to the doors.

He rounded the corner knowing that he was only ten minutes from his bed and the few hours sleep that he needed to function. He shook his head as a sudden breeze caused his hair to fall into his eyes. He took a deep sigh, breathing in the cold night air as he picked up the pace. He walked faster, his long legs extended further until he was almost flying down the street.

A scream cut through the chilled air. Sam stopped dead and he glanced up and down the street trying to pinpoint the location it had come from. Had he imagined it?

There was another scream that carried a sob with it. He definitely hadn't imagined that one. It had been a woman screaming and sobbing in terror. He pursed his lips and glanced around again. She was nearby.

She let out a blood curdling wail. Sam faced the opposite side of the street. It had come from one of the old houses but which one? He stalked over to that side of the road now cursing at his shoes as they clicked when they met the tarmac. The scream had come from his left so he followed the row of large houses down that way.

It wasn't long before he'd found the right house. It was made out of the same blood brick as the others. This house had no alarm or bars on the windows. Only the windows on the ground floor were boarded up to prevent them being smashed. The door was the most peculiar thing. It was wooden and there were several bolts on it to keep people out. He gulped when he saw that every one of them had been picked at. The door was leaning in a little.

Sam nudged it with his foot and it swung inwards. It revealed a dark hallway with pealing wallpaper and a set of unstable stairs. The only light was that which was shining in behind him from the orange streetlight.

He heard the woman sob, "No, please! Leave me alone! Help!"

He had no idea what he'd find in the house. He'd thought he was done from hunting when he'd walked away but he couldn't just leave someone to die, could he? For the sake of his own precious little life?

No, he couldn't.

He set his jaw hard and entered the house pushing past the door and any selfish thoughts that he'd had. He was the only person who could help this woman.