If there had been one thing that Sam Winchester knew he was always and would always be able to count on it was his older brother Dean.
Older by four years Dean Winchester was everything to Sam. He was Sam's source of comfort when their parents would fight, and they would fight more times than they were living together peacefully. He was Sam's main caretaker as they grew up because their father was most of the time absent and their mother too far into her depression from their father to at times even be able to leave the bed.
When Sam had been sent to the guidance counselor one time during high school for fighting the counselor had said that they were "Irredeemably and completely codependent on each other" and spent hours talking about how that wasn't a healthy relationship to have with his brother.
He was later placed on the warning list and on a probation of some sort as well as a week's long suspension for punching the counselor in the face for that remark. The Same counselor later said that Sam had anger problems that he needed to work out before they landed him in jail or worse one day.
He didn't care that it wasn't considered healthy. He didn't care that even at age thirteen he would crawl under Dean's covers in his bed when he heard their parents fighting again. All that mattered was Dean and his arms around him. He didn't care what anyone else said, he loved his brother and his brother loved him. Their parents were too busy with each other's problems to pay much attention to their sons either way.
The day before Dean left for college the two of them spent the entire day together. Their parents gave their congratulations, "First one in the family to go to college" they said over and over. Dad gave Dean the keys to his impala as a gift. It was the most attention they had given Dean in month's even years.
The morning Dean left he promised Sam that they would call and write to one another, Dean would drive back on weekends so that they could spend the time together.
They promised that they would keep in contact.
One month after Dean left he stopped answering the phone calls, he never visited again. The college sent a letter to let the parents know that their son had dropped out of school to their shock.
He sent one last letter wishing Sam well and luck. That he was quitting college and focusing on a different outlet and life.
That it would be better if they didn't contact one another for a while and considering Dean wasn't even sure where he would be at times Sam wouldn't be able to write or send any letters. He would call and write whenever he can however visits were out of the question for the time being.
Sam locked himself in his room that day and cried himself to sleep. It was the last time he cried and when he went out the next day to the stores he punched a guy twice his size out all because he had been looking at Sam funnily.
Sam threw himself into his studies. He joined clubs he never really had any interest in-because really, a chess club, what the hell. He joined the soccer team, debating for a moment to join the wrestling team instead to be able to punch and hurt people but he wasn't allowed because of his strike on his record after punching the school counselor. He even joined the newspaper and the theatre team if only to not have a single moment free.
The small amount of free time he did have he spent running through the neighborhood and when it became too cold for that he got a gym membership and focused on building his muscles.
His father had seemed ecstatic at the changes Sam made to his body. He had been slightly disappointed that Sam didn't join the football team however he nodded when he joined the gym. His father and Sam had a difficult relationship, his father never seemed to know what to do or how to connect with Sam the way he had managed with Dean. Instead he gave Sam money when he asked until he got a part time job at sixteen and drove him and picked him up from practices when Sam needed it.
At age sixteen Sam got his working papers, dropping the newspaper and theatre clubs to their disappointment and his own enjoyment, from his school and after his parents signed them he managed to get a job at the local library. Dad had talked slyly about Sam working at his mechanic shop as Dean had at sixteen however Sam was more than happy to work at the library shelving books and when there was nothing else to do be able to sit down and read to his heart's content.
When the time came for college applications Sam found himself staring at the college pamphlets that had been sent to his home as he sat on his bed. Using both hands he spread the pamphlets away from each other so that none of them were touching. Occasionally he picked one up and made to look through it before putting it back on his bed.
He needed to get away, that much he knew. Dad was talking about Sam going to work at his shop more and more each passing day while mom was talking about how Sam wouldn't be like Dean, who none of them had heard from in almost a year and a half; not that Sam was keeping track. Dad wanted a local college that would keep Sam close and for him to major in engineering to be able to properly take over his business. Mom didn't care about where the college was as long as he majored in something medical and became a doctor.
His parents fought about that too, about Sam's future and what he should do with his life. Most of those nights when the yelling would rise to his room and go into the night found Sam with his headphones in his ears as he listened to his Walkman with his pillow over his head and bitterly wishing that Dean was still here.
In the end he applied to several out of state colleges. Community colleges that wouldn't leave him too majorly in debt. He didn't know what he wanted to major in and he didn't know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.
He just knew that he had to get away.
So he applied to about ten colleges, each in a different state, and on a bit of a psychotic whim he paid the extra bit to send an application to Stanford in California.
A few months later when the acceptances and denials started to come in for the students Sam was telling himself that there never had been a chance for him to get into Stanford either way and he should focus on the community college that was in New York, plenty of space away and surrounded by a different life and different people.
When he came home to find an acceptance letter, not just an acceptance but a full blown scholarship and ride, to Stanford for the first time in his life he felt like he had choices and he could make anything happen.
He did go to his graduation, clad in the same red and brown colored robes as every other student. He was surprised to see his parents in the audience with all the other mothers, fathers, and relatives.
And if he had strained his ears in the hopes of picking up the familiar sound of an impalas roaring engine and to his disappointment never heard it, well, no one had to know.
A week before he was supposed to leave there was a fight because of that, he should have known that there would be a fight because simply why not?
The end result was no one was happy and Sam was only able to storm out of the house because he had to get work.
The quiet of the library soothed his nerves slightly however he found that even the sound of the chairs sliding against the floor made him jerk slightly. The old desire to get into a fight was slowly coursing through him and he was sure that he was mere moments away from snapping at the next person who dared to even look at him.
Someone tapped him on his shoulder. Rolling his eyes and taking a inwardly taking a deep breath he turned around to answer, or maybe snap at the person he wasn't sure what he was feeling at the moment, when he froze in place.
His brother Dean was standing in front of him with his hands in his pockets and a sheepish grin on his face.
Sam had already been winded up the entire time since leaving his home and he hadn't had any contact with his brother in over a year.
Those were his excuses as he brought his arm back and solidly punched Dean right in the jaw bringing him to the floor.
"I'm not sorry." Sam said as he threw a bag of ice at Dean who easily caught it and placed it against his face. The both of them were in a room in the back of the library where the staff was allowed and were thankfully the only ones in the room.
Dean was smirking and there was an odd look of pride in his eyes as he shifted his hand and pressed the ice closer to him. "I know." he said. He grinned suddenly. "You've gotten stronger on me Sammy. And taller." he added eyeing his brother up and down. He stood and ruffled Sams hair like he did when they were younger. "Taller than me even."
Sam batted Dean's hand away and stepped to the side to get away from his brother, fighting the feeling of warmth that was spreading through his body at his brothers words. "Well growing taller happens in four years." he snapped. "And don't call me Sammy."
Dean obtained a pained look on his face. "I know that I haven't been here for you Sam, trust me I know, and I'm sorry."
Sam rolled his eyes as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "What are you doing here?"
"Well college is starting soon and I wanted to see you before that." Dean said leaning on the balls of his feet. "Are you going to college though?"
"Of course I am." Sam snapped. He lifted his head upwards, "In fact, I got a full ride to Stanford."
"Damn!" Dean exclaimed. Before Sam could stop him he strode forward and enveloped his brother in a hug. "That's amazing Sam! I'm proud of you."
For a moment Sam wanted to relax against his brothers arms. He carried the familiar scent that he had never been able to replicate or name and it smelled completely of comfort, his childhood, safety, warmth, love, and most importantly was pure Dean.
On the other hand he and Dean hadn't had any contact in over a year, he hadn't even seen him since four years ago when he left for college and suddenly left everything.
Including Sam.
Using both hands he pushed Dean off of him and took a few steps back. He ignored the pang in his heart at Deans wounded look that lasted for a moment before it faded.
Dean sighed. "Sammy, Sam." he quickly corrected himself when Sam threw him a warning look. "I'm sorry, I really am. I never wanted to hurt you."
"Then why did you leave?" Sam asked, his voice wavering slightly. "You practically fell off the planet, we, I, only got messages from you every month sometimes three or four and then suddenly it stopped. I thought…" he swallowed the lump in his throat as he managed to get out quietly "I thought something had happened to you."
Dean let out a breath. "There is business that I need to take care of, and I still do." He looked up at his brother and smiled sadly. I was just trying to…I'm sorry." he said finally seeming lost for words. "I'm making excuses, I know."
"Where were you?" Sam asked.
Dean lifted his hands. "Everywhere, all over the U.S. My…job takes me everywhere and anywhere I need to be."
"And what exactly is your job?" Sam demanded.
His brother grinned. "That's a story for another day, little brother."
Sam stared at his brother for a moment before he shook his head. "You have and haven't changed."
"How so?"
"Well you're still an asshole." Sam said. "But you never used to keep anything from me."
Dean obtained that pained look again. "I'll tell you, just not now."
Sam sighed and looked at the clock, it was a few minutes before he was done for the day, and took his bag out of the cubicle. "Whatever man."
"I can give you a ride if you want." Dean said eagerly following his brother out of the library.
Before Sam could say no his eyes caught onto the impala sitting the parking lot of the library. His mouth went dry at the sight of the familiar car that brought back all the time Dean drove him in it since he got his driver's license. The number of times they would leave in the morning and not return until late at night, those times when they both cut school, or simply just leaving into a different town or sometimes even a different state completely just because neither of them could handle the suffocating nature in their house anymore. Dean had promised to start teaching Sam how to drive the moment he got his permit.
He had gotten his permit at sixteen and by that time Dean had been gone for two years. His dad had taught him to drive and a year later he did get his license.
"I wasn't the only one that missed you." Dean said coming up behind him. "She missed you too."
"Well, I missed her." Sam said breaking out of his trance. He bit his lip and fidgeted slightly before he conceded defeat and crossed to the car. His hand trailed along the hood of the car until he reached the door and opened it.
"Want to drive?" Dean asked holding out the keys, his eyes looking eager.
Sam shook his head as he slid into the passenger seat. Even the car smelled the same, oil and gas and the scent of Dean everywhere. Dean came to his side and took his seat in front of the wheel.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to the life. Sam could feel the vibrations of the car through his body and he swore that the rumblings of the engine was drumming through his veins. He couldn't keep the smile off of his face.
"Take us to the hill." Sam said. Dean answered his smile with a smile of his own and immediately backed the car out of the parking lot.
A hill was a field overlooking Lawrence. It was a half hour drive if there was no traffic however with Deans driving they had always been able to get there in ten minutes. Luckily it was deserted at this time and Dean managed to park the impala under the shade of the lone tree there. Wordlessly they slid out of the car. Sam went to the front and sat on the still warm hood while Dean went to the trunk. he walked back to the front and handed Sam a cold can of soda.
"I keep a cooler in the back." Dean answered Sam's questioning look. He had his own can which he opened and drained half of.
Sam shook his head and opened his can. There was a light breeze, not enough to make them cold but enough to keep the heat of the sun off of them. His brother sat beside him on the hood, his presence warm and familiar. Shoulder to shoulder they sat and watched the people of Lawrence continue their lives.
For a moment Sam allowed himself to be deluded. His brother was next to him again, the last four years hadn't happened, his brother was here and everything was alright.
Everything was not alright.
"You could have called." Sam said fixing his gaze on his can. "I waited for you to call, the very least."
Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry Sam, I really am."
Sam glanced up at him from the corner of his eye. "I'm mad at you." he said with no real venom.
"I know."
"You're an asshole."
"I know."
"I hate you."
"I know."
Sam bit his lip and leaned his head on his brothers shoulder, the motion hurting his neck slightly; he hadn't always had to bend that much to get to his brothers shoulder. Dean placed his arm around his brother.
"I missed you."
"I know."
Neither his mother nor father were really happy to see Dean however they couldn't not let him stay in his old room for the time being. When the week was almost done and Sam needed to leave for Stanford Dean enthusiastically offered to drive him so that he could save money on the train fare.
In truth the both of them were looking forward to getting away from their parents as soon as possible.
Within hours the two brothers found themselves in the impala once more with Sam's luggage in the trunk, strangely enough Dean had insisted on being the one to place the luggage in the trunk, and they were on their way to California.
They debated to stop at a motel after nearly a day of driving however they simply opted to stop at a rest area and sleep in the impala. Sam fell asleep easily in the comfort of the car, never knowing half of the night Dean didn't sleep and instead kept watch over his brother.
When Sam saw the sign welcoming them into California he felt a mixture of excitement and despair. Excitement at finally, finally, getting away from their parents, starting college, and about to create a new life. Despair at the thought that Dean is going to drop him off, leave, and maybe they'll never see each other again.
They entered a town, named Jericho he noted from a sign, and that was when he noticed that Dean was going through the town. He didn't say anything as Dean speeded up again.
However when they stopped in front of a bridge crawling with police cars and officers Sam glanced at his brother and was taken aback at the intensity of his gaze.
"Dean?" Sam asked. "What…what are we…"
"Just…stay in the car for a few minutes Sam." Dean answered as he leaned over and dug into the glove compartment for a moment before pulling out something leather bound and quickly closing it before Sam could see inside. Before Sam could say anything else Dean got out of the car and strode to the police officer with a purpose in his step.
Sam leaned back into his seat with a confused look on his face. His eyes widened when he saw Dean flash something at the police officer which made the officer nod and lead Dean ahead to where most of the crowd was.
Dean returned in a few minutes looking grim. He slid into the car once more, shushing his brother when Sam made a move to ask questions, before putting the car in reverse and getting out of the scene.
Sam snatched the leather bound object from his brother's pocket, ignoring Dean's noise of displeasure, and opened it.
"United States Marshal" read the badge. Sam looked at his brother.
"You're a Fed now?" he asked waving the badge. Dean snatched it back and stuffed it back in his pocket without looking at his brother. "Is this your job now? You're government?"
Dean hesitated before he said "Not really."
"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam demanded. His eyes went to the glove department and he immediately opened it. When Dean tried to close it Sam pushed his brother's hands out of the way and dug his own hand into the compartment. He froze when he felt something metallic and cool touch his fingers. He pulled out the item and stared at it in stunned silence.
He was holding a gun.
"Holy shit." Sam said before he threw the gun back into the compartment. A credit card fell to the floor.
"For the love of god Sam." Dean said through clenched teeth trying to stop his brother while watching the road he was driving.
Sam pushed his brother away and grabbed the credit card off the floor and flipped it over to read the name.
He felt the blood leave his face and his stomach fell to his feet.
The name on the credit card was Hector Aframian.
"Dean stop the car." Sam said, he was amazed that his voice wasn't shaking.
"Sam. I can explain." Dean said steadily.
"Dean stop the fucking car!" Sam exclaimed. Dean shot him a concerned look however he obeyed and slowed the car to a stop at the side of the road. Sam fought with the door for a moment before he managed to get it open and he practically jumped from the car and a few feet away. He breathed heavily, ran his fingers through his hair, and leaned his hands on his knees.
"Sam, I can explain." Dean said coming from around the other side towards his brother.
Sam held up one hand towards his brother. "Stay. Away. From. Me."
Dean stopped in place and lifted his hands up so that his palms were facing Sam.
"Sam, just listen to me." Dean said.
"Fake credit card, I'm sure a fake U. S. federal Marshall badge." Sam said breathing heavily. "A fucking gun. Dean," he stepped towards his brother. "What the fuck have you been doing these last four years?"
"Sam calm down." Dean said calmly. "Breathe. You're going to give yourself a panic attack."
"You're doing something with drugs. You're dealing drugs." Sam said with certainty. "There's no other explanation."
"I'm not doing anything with drugs." Dean said firmly. He reached towards his brother. "Sam, take a deep breath."
Sam obeyed his brother and inhaled deeply and sharply. His knees shook and they bucked slightly. He placed his hands on his knees in an attempt to steady himself as he continued to breathe deeply.
Dean's hand came to his shaking back and rubbed him soothingly. Sam closed his eyes and focused on maintaining his breathe and the warmth of Dean's hand.
He looked up at his brother through his bangs, the brother he hasn't seen in four years and who was now staring at him with pity and sorrow in his eyes.
"Start explaining." Sam demanded. "And don't leave a single fucking thing out."
I do not own Supernatural.