The sound was so subtle, Sam wasn't even sure at first he had heard anything.
Then came the footsteps.
Someone was in the apartment.
You gotta be shittin' me, Sam thought to himself.
He slid out of bed silently, tiptoeing into the hall just in time to see a man's shadow pass by at the other end. He pauses for a moment, wondering if he should grab one of his knives, or the pistol Jess doesn't know he has from under the bed.
Nah. This is probably some stupid fraternity prank, or some idiot drunk's key wouldn't work because he was at the wrong apartment, so he climbed through the window.
Sam crept into the kitchen, behind the man. He could now see the shadow well enough to tell it was definitely a man.
Sam was feeling more confident on the lost drunk theory, because the idiot appeared to be headed for the refrigerator.
Sam grabbed the man's shoulder, but instead of jumping and screeching, the figure grabbed Sam's arm and whipped around.
They struggled for several minutes, wrestling their way from the kitchen into the living room before Sam finally realized that whoever it was, they weren't fighting to hurt Sam. The person was mostly throwing defensive and blocking maneuvers.
Then came the moment Sam made a stupid mistake, and he felt his leg being hooked and pulled out from under him. He landed on his back, his opponent on top of him.
"Whoa, easy tiger." said a voice Sam would have recognized anywhere.
A voice Sam really never expected to hear again.
"Dean?" he asked weakly.
No. It could not be Dean. Dean had let Sam go, to have his "normal" life.
Dean was not here.
Dean was laughing at him.
Sam felt as if he had been dunked in ice water.
"You scared the crap out of me!" Sam protested, not sure what else to say. He felt as if there was something important he was missing, as if the earth had shifted under his feet metaphorically, as well as physically.
"That's because you're out of practice." Dean taunted.
Sam, without thinking, reverted to his fifteen year old self, determined to prove he was not Dean's helpless little brother any more. He quickly and wordlessly flipped Dean, rolling over until he had his older sibling pinned to the floor and smirked at him.
"Or not." Dean grumbled. "Get off me."
Sam rolled to his feet, pulling Dean up with him.
A cold sense of dread wrapped itself into Sam's chest.
Someone was hurt. Someone was dead. Dean was hurt. Sam's mind scrambled through the possibilities.
"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?"
"I was looking for a beer?" Dean shrugged.
Anger collided with the confusion at that moment.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam repeated, irritated at Dean's obvious stalling.
"Um, okay. All right. We gotta talk." Dean muttered, still not looking Sam in the eye.
"Uh, phone?" Sam snarked.
"If I'd called, would you have picked up?" Dean frowned.
The lights flipped on before Sam could answer.
"Sam?" A voice asked from the doorway.
Things just got a lot more complicated. Sam's past and present were now standing in the same room.
"Jess. Hey." Sam stammered. "Um, Dean, this is my girlfriend Jessica."
Jessica's eyes moved quickly from Dean to Sam. "Wait. Your brother Dean?"
Sam nodded, taking a deep breath. He didn't miss the 'we're going to talk later' look she gave him.
Dean grinned at her wolfishly and stepped closer. "Oh, I love the Smurfs." He gestured at Jess' shirt. "You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league."
"Just let me put something on." Jess glanced between the brothers uncertainly and turned to go.
"Oh, no, no," Dean flirted outrageously. "I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously." He stepped closer to Sam, still watching Jess. "I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you."
Dean gave her that look.
Sam officially went from irritated to fully pissed off.
How dare Dean break into his house in the middle of the night, refuse to tell Sam what was going on, and then flirt with Jess?
"No." Sam said firmly. He walked over and put his arm around Jess, facing his brother defiantly. "No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her."
Dean turned to look at them and said, "Okay. Um. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."
It took Sam a moment to process what Dean said.
Because when Dean turned around, Sam saw it.
Dean was wearing that stupid necklace Sam gave him for Christmas when they were kids.
Sam had given it to Dean because he was the one person Sam could always count on.
Dean had always worn it, although he would never admit such a thing, as the symbol of that promise.
Sam had walked away from his family and hunting, and hadn't looked back for years. Sam had changed. He barely resembled the person who lived in grungy motel rooms and weekly rental dumps, paid for by funds that were questionably legal at best.
Dean hadn't changed at all.
A fresh wave of guilt washed over Sam about how much he had hurt Dean by leaving, the one person in the world who loved Sam more than anything or anyone else. Fresh on the heels of the guilt followed another bout of anger.
Of course this was about Dad. Wasn't everything, always?
Mentally shaking himself, Sam answered. "So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later.
Dean sighed, looks down for a moment, and then raised his head to meet Sam's eyes with determination.
"Dad's on a hunting trip ... and he hasn't been home in a couple of days."
Dean paused to let the implications of his statement sink in.
Dean came because Dad's gotten himself in over his head and it's up to Dean to do what he's always done and fix Dad's mess, yet again.
Dean wanted Sam to help him save the man who told Sam if he left, not to ever come back.
Dean wanted Sam to help him save the man who hasn't bothered to contact Sam in nearly four years.
Dean waned Sam to help him save the man who didn't even bother to call and tell him that Dean had been nearly fatally injured two years ago.
Dean wanted Sam to help him save the man who made both their lives hell growing up.
Jess stood beside him, waiting for an explanation as to why his brother, who Sam let everyone think was dead, broke into their kitchen in the middle of the night to tell say that Dad was on a hunting trip.
Sam looked at Dean, finally seeing what he had been missing before, the piece of information that tied it all together.
Dean looked lost.
In that moment, it didn't matter what Dad had or hadn't done.
Dean had always been there for Sam, no matter what. Dean had gone hungry for Sam, Dean had taken beatings for Sam, Dean had always sacrificed without a second thought when it came to Sam.
And right now, Dean needed Sam.
"Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside." Sam stepped away from her, jerking his head toward the
door, non-verbally telling Dean to follow him.
He knew, once they get out there, Dean would ask him to come along.
He knew, he couldn't, he really couldn't, because he couldn't blow off the law school interview.
He also knew that he would probably end up doing whatever Dean asks, because his Dean is here.
Because if the local law enforcement of whatever town got involved in looking for their father, it would be because they were going to arrest him, not that they care about what happened to him.
Because when all is said and done, it was his father, and Sam couldn't live with himself if something happened to the man that Sam could have prevented.
Because he is a damn good hunter, even if somewhere along the way his training became more about one-upping his father than developing his skills to solve supernatural crimes.
Because he knew Dean better than anyone else ever has, and he knew the situation was desperate if Dean came to Sam for help.
Because he saw the fear in Dean's eyes, the fear that Dean would never admit to, and he wouldn't send Dean out alone to find whatever was waiting for them, which was very likely Dad's body.
But mostly because Dean was wearing that stupid necklace.