Inevitable

Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just enjoy playing with them every now and then. I know; if I break 'em, I buy 'em. Hmmm…

A/N: As much as I like the direction the show has taken, I sometimes miss the first season. So, here's another look back.

oooOOOooo

Now love cannot be called into question.

Forgiveness is the only hope I hold.

And love-- love will be my strongest weapon.

I do believe that I am not alone.

Final Straw (R.E.M)

oooOOOooo

"What are you doing?" Dean Winchester demanded angrily.

He'd just walked into the motel room he was sharing with his brother to see Sam stuffing clothes into his duffel bag. They'd spent the morning arguing about pretty much everything and after Dean stormed out of the room to get some air, Sam decided they needed some time apart. Dean's tone confirmed that conclusion for him. He'd been gone for almost an hour and was still as pissed as when he left.

He didn't even bother a glance in Dean's direction. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving?"

Sam didn't miss that Dean's voice suddenly held less vehemence, but he didn't waver. "Just for a day. Or two."

"Sam, you don't have to do this."

Sam grabbed his coat. "We need some time, Dean. We've been together 24/7 for weeks now and we both need a break."

"Come on, Sammy –"

Sam pulled away when Dean touched his arm. He knew his brother hated to be by himself for any amount of time, but this was for the best.

"Where are you gonna go?"

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. We'll meet up in a couple of days."

"How are you gonna get….wherever?"

"There's a bus station down the street," Sam made sure the power cord for his computer was in its case and slung the bag over his shoulder.

He couldn't look at Dean. Sam was still angry, but he knew what he'd see in his brother's eyes if he looked at him. There would be a layer of bravado, but not too far under the surface, he'd see fear and uncertainty. But he was confident they needed some time apart; more than a few hours.

"I'll call you later," Sam said walking toward the door.

"Sam –"

"It's for the best, Dean," he paused with his hand on the doorknob. "And it won't be for that long."

He steeled himself, not sure which reaction he'd get from Dean. He could lash out in anger like their father used to do, or he might relent and beg Sam to stay. Beg in the classic Dean Winchester way that didn't seem like begging, of course. Sam wasn't prepared for what happened, though.

"Fine, okay," Dean's voice was quiet. "Take care of yourself."

Sam couldn't help it; he looked over his shoulder. Dean was standing in the middle of the room with his shoulders slumped. He almost lost his resolve; the anger was gone, but Sam still needed some time….maybe he'd just go to the bus station and hang out for a while. He'd calm down and think about things. Whatever he did, he had to get out of this room.

"Yeah," Sam said struggling to keep his voice from cracking. "You, too."

Dean didn't stop him when he opened the door.

-----

Sam was already having second thoughts before he made it the four blocks to the bus station. He wasn't mad any more, but it probably wouldn't take a whole lot to get there again. He and Dean always spent a lot of time together, but it was different when they had a job to work. For the last few weeks, they'd been trapped by bad weather and poor health; frustrated and without something else to occupy their minds, they'd turned on each other.

Nothing they said was truly meant in anger; they'd just been suffering from some cabin fever. Spending as much time together as they did, there were a lot of things each had to overlook. No matter how much they loved each other, no one was pleasant to be around all the time. Sam knew they'd be okay.

After reaching the bus station, he took a seat away from the door. The weather was improving and it was warmer than it had been for over a week, but considering temperatures had been topping out under 30 degrees, that wasn't saying a lot. Out of the draft of the doorway, Sam looked around. There weren't a lot of people in the room, but most of them looked like they'd had better days. Travel had been difficult for weeks and he assumed at least some of these people had been trying to leave for a while.

He was close to walking back to the motel, but in the end, Sam bought a ticket. He decided somewhere to the south, where the weather was better but wouldn't take too long to get to. He didn't call Dean until the bus was beginning to load just over two hours later.

It was an uncomfortable conversation, but not because of anything Dean said or did. Neither one was quite ready to apologize, but promised to keep in touch and meet up the day after tomorrow.

As the bus pulled away from the station, Sam couldn't help but think about the first time they'd split up this way; in anger. It hadn't been that long ago. They'd had a fight about their father and whether or not to respect his wishes to not look for him. It wasn't surprising that Dean had no interest in defying him and, infuriated, Sam had headed off on his own.

There was no one sitting next to Sam and he stretched his long legs. He looked out the window as the bus passed the motel where he'd been staying with Dean. The Impala was still in the parking lot. It was almost 7:30 and Dean liked to drive at night. He also liked to drive when he was upset; Sam figured he'd have left town already.

Sam shifted in his seat, again regretting his decision. He could always call Dean once the bus reached the first stop. No doubt his brother would pick him up. It was something to think about, he decided, not ready to make up his mind.

-----

They pulled into the bus station in Cedar Ridge at almost 10:00. Sam had been dozing, not being able to get interested in the book he'd brought along to read. It was a twenty minute stop and Sam waited until the last minute before deciding not to call Dean. He couldn't imagine his brother was actually alone; Dean had probably gone out to a bar and would end up back in the motel with some random woman.

The brothers had been close growing up. Most of the time, they only had each other. Before Dean was even old enough to take care of himself, let alone Sam, their father had left them alone for days while he went off on hunts. When he wasn't researching, John Winchester was hunting one supernatural thing after another. Maybe it was to gain experience and information, but he'd never talked to his sons about his reasons.

Sam still resented him for it, but his continued absence forged a bond between him and his brother that would always be there. Even when Sam had gone to Stanford, they were close. It certainly wasn't in the conventional way since they didn't talk. Sam had found it too difficult to start the new life that he'd desperately wanted and Dean had let him go. It hadn't been without some hard feelings, Sam knew, but still Dean did it.

He respected Sam's wishes and didn't call; nor did Sam. The door was open for him to, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. He'd wanted to think that Dean was happy being their father's perfect little soldier; that he'd forgotten all about his little brother. Maybe he'd let himself believe that to make it easier to forget about hunting and the life he'd always hated so much. And after he'd met Jessica, forgetting had become that much more important to him.

But he talked about Dean. He'd talked about his brother all the time. It had never seemed to bother Jessica, either. She'd even tried to convince him to invite Dean to California to spend some time together. Sam hadn't done it, though. He was selfish with his perfect life and he hadn't wanted to ruin it.

Sam rested his head against the cold glass of the window, his eyes closed. He knew Dean wouldn't have ruined his life, but having his brother there would have definitely ended the fantasy. He wouldn't have been able to pretend that monsters didn't exist if Dean was around to remind him; even if he was only there for a weekend. It had been too hard to put it behind him the first time and Sam didn't think he'd be able to do it again.

Sam slipped his cell phone out of his pocket. It was almost midnight and the bus wouldn't be stopping for another couple of hours. He glanced around at the other travelers. Maybe half of the seats were filled and only people who wanted to sit together were. Sam thought a few people near the front were still awake, but everyone around him seemed to be sleeping. He turned the phone over in his hands a few times before sending the one word text message to Dean.

-----

Dean came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The single lamp was lit, but the room was still too dark. He glanced at the woman sleeping in his bed. He hadn't even bothered to ask her name when he picked her up at the bar earlier and he idly wished they'd ended up at her place, where ever that was, so he could just take off.

He was slipping into his jeans when his phone chirped. He picked it up off the bedside table and looked at the text message from Sam.

Goodnight.

He thought about not responding, but he wasn't mad at Sam. Not really. He hadn't even been mad at him earlier when they were fighting. They'd been bored and frustrated and it was usually safe to lash out at each other. Sam had probably been right about needing some time apart, but it had still hurt to watch him walk out the door.

Dean couldn't help it and he'd tried to push the thoughts away, but seeing Sam walk away was like every time he'd watched their father leave. Dean had liked the trust. Their dad wouldn't have gone off if he hadn't thought Dean could handle taking care of himself and Sammy. He could handle it and he was proud of that, but Dean had still been scared every single time. He'd known that his dad was good at what he did, but anything could have happened. Just like with his mother.

Dean had managed to stop thinking about the bad feelings, but it had taken liquor and a woman. He sat down on Sam's bed and responded to the text message.

-----

Sam was dozing when they hit the next stop, but woke up long enough to get off the bus and stretch his legs. He'd be getting off for good just after 7am in northern Texas. He hadn't put much thought into what he'd do after that; he figured he'd find a motel room and spend the day sleeping and sightseeing. Dean had agreed to meet him that night.

He didn't sleep particularly well after the bus was back on the road. He was used to sleeping in the Impala. He'd practically grown up in that car and it was the only home he'd ever really known. But this was different. Dean wasn't here and he was surrounded by strangers. People he could scare if he had a vision.

After watching the sun come up, he put his earbuds in and looked through his iPod, settling on some music he'd put on there for Dean. He sent his brother another text message after getting to Texas. It was early and he didn't expect a response right away, but was nonetheless disappointed when one didn't come.

The bus station was across the street from a motel, but there weren't any clean rooms available yet. The desk clerk reserved one for him and then Sam followed her directions to a fast food restaurant around the corner. He cleaned up as best he could in the bathroom before ordering breakfast.

There still wasn't an answer from Dean and Sam thought about calling, but decided to wait. He killed as much time as he could and when he went back to the motel, the desk clerk gave him a key to the room next to the office. He took a long, hot shower and checked his phone for messages, but Dean still hadn't called or texted. Sam crawled into bed and dialed his brother's number; not surprised when he got Dean's voicemail.

When he woke up just before 1pm, Sam stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. He heard no sounds from his phone to indicate he had messages; it was confirmed when he looked at the display.

"What the hell, Dean?" he asked himself.

It didn't take long for Sam to tour the entire town, but he enjoyed the railroad museum even though it was small. He talked to some of the locals who were sitting in rocking chairs outside an honest to goodness general store, even partaking in a few games of checkers. There was still no call from his brother.

Back at the motel, Sam dialed Dean's number and again got his voicemail. He paced while listening to the short outgoing message and waiting for the tone.

"It's me again. Look, if you're pissed at me, I get it, but I'm worried, okay? Call me," Sam hesitated. "Please."

He didn't know what time Dean had intended to leave, so he wasn't sure when to expect him. He figured there were a few places in between where Dean's phone might not have service, but it wouldn't last forever. He thought about all the possible innocent scenarios that might keep his brother from calling, trying not to worry, but it wasn't working.

Sam tried to occupy his mind by getting on the computer, but after booting it up, he found he didn't have Internet access. He had been lucky being able to use Wi-Fi in most places, but had been planning to get a wireless Internet card. He wished he hadn't procrastinated. After only two games of Solitaire, he turned his attention to the television, but once the news broadcast was over, he found nothing else he wanted to watch.

He tried Dean's phone again, but still he got only voicemail.

Sam paced, he sat down, then he paced some more. After drumming his fingers on the table, he went outside to the vending machine and got a soda. He was nervous. Dean may have been mad, but they'd spoken the night before and even though it had been awkward, they ended the call on a positive note. Dean had responded to his text message. After all that, he wouldn't be ignoring Sam now.

He thought back to the bad weather, but Dean was careful with his car. If the roads were too icy, he would have found somewhere to hang out for a while, but he would have called. The Impala was a heavy car and they'd gotten chains for the tires; the road hadn't been that bad when Sam left and according to the forecast, things were improving.

Sam was worried. He didn't know what to do. After working himself up into an impressive panic, he forced himself to calm down. Dean was smart and while he might take chances with his life, he didn't take chances with his car. He also wouldn't intentionally make Sam worry, although he might stay out of touch for a little while to cool off. Sam didn't think that's what was going on, though.

He walked to the diner down the street, even though he wasn't hungry. He sat near a window where he could watch the highway and ordered coffee. There was almost no traffic; most of the vehicles he saw were semi-trucks. There was definitely no 1967 Chevy Impala.

After a cup and a half of coffee, Sam paid his bill and left. He walked to the end of the main street, which was now all but deserted, and then back to the motel. On impulse, he stopped in the office and asked if anyone had left a message for him, but no one had. He'd called Dean several times while wandering around and each time was the same.

-----

There was still no word from Dean at midnight and Sam was ready to steal a car and go looking for him. He didn't know what good it would do to go in the dark, but he couldn't just sit around and do nothing anymore.

He hadn't really unpacked, but he had a few things around the room that he began to quickly gather up. He had just thrown his computer bag over his shoulder when there was a knock on the door.

"Oh, thank God," he said assuming it was Dean. He rushed to the door and didn't even bother to look through the peep hole before throwing it open.

"Sam Winchester?"

Sam's smile faded seeing the woman in front of him. He figured she was at least 60 years old and in a casual pant suit, she didn't strike him as being with law enforcement.

"Who are you?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"My name is Alison Carter and….your brother is Dean Winchester?"

Sam felt a knot in his stomach. "You know where my brother is?"

She nodded. "He needs your help."

"I don't understand. Who are you?"

"I told you I –"

"I know what you said your name is, but who are you? How do you know my brother?"

"It's hard to explain. You should just come with me."

"But –"

"Before it's too late," she added.

Sam looked at her. She seemed genuine, but that didn't mean anything. He muttered the word christo under his breath and got no reaction from her. Was it possible that Dean had sent this woman to get him? It didn't make sense, but he didn't have a lot of options.

"I, uh, I'll be right with you," Sam said and closed the door part way. He took a gun from his duffle bag and slipped it into his coat pocket. With one more look around the room, he took his things and headed for the door.

"Is my brother hurt?" Sam asked as they walked across the parking lot. "How far away is he?"

"It will take about an hour to get to him. If we get there in time, he'll be fine." She stopped in front of a sedan at least a decade old whose engine was running and nodded. "This is my car. Would you mind driving? I – I'm very tired."

Sam looked at her skeptically, then looked around. There didn't seem to be anyone else in the parking lot and all of the businesses around the motel were dark. Assuming he was right and this woman was human, she couldn't overpower him and wouldn't try anything else while he was driving.

After dropping his things into the trunk, Sam slid behind the steering wheel while Alison got settled in the passenger seat.

"Where are we going?"

"Get on the highway going north. I'll show you which exit to take."

Sam drove and found that he couldn't engage her in conversation; she either ignored his questions or gave a one-word answer. The sky was overcast and the highway had no lights, so Sam could only see the woman next to him by the glow of the instrument panel on the dashboard. In the dim light, he didn't notice how gray she looked.

He gave up trying to talk to her and followed the highway. Nearly an hour later, she instructed him to take the next exit.

"My brother is at the next exit?" Sam asked.

"You'll have to get back onto the highway going south," she said, not answering his question.

"I don't understand."

"He's on the other side of the highway."

Sam looked at her, then back to the road. His gut was telling him to trust her, but his brain was saying that he was in big trouble. He took the exit and found his way to the southbound on-ramp.

"You'll have to pull over to the side of the road in just a bit," she said, staring forward. Her voice was soft, almost like she wasn't inside the car at all.

"What do you –"

"Just ahead," she said.

Sam eased off on the gas and steered into the emergency lane before coming to a stop. He looked around, but it was too dark to see anything.

"Take the flashlight from your bag," she said. "You –"

"How do you know I have a flashlight?"

She looked at him, her head resting against the seat. "Please, Sam."

He blinked, certain that his eyes were playing a trick on him. He was tired, after all, and had been worried all day. Surely….

"Sam, get the flashlight. Look toward the trees next to the road."

Sam did as he was told. It was cold, but he was eeling much colder than the temperature warranted. Flashlight in hand, he scanned the side of the road.

"Damnit," he muttered as the beam reflected off of what he knew was the back of the Impala. It was just far enough off the road and into the trees that casual passerby on the road wouldn't have seen it.

Without even a glance behind him, Sam ran toward his brother's car. He took a moment to assess the damage and didn't think it looked too bad from the little he could see. He quickly turned his attention to the inside of the car.

"Dean!" he yelled, grabbing the driver side door handle. It didn't open and Sam yanked on it again before he saw that it was wedged against a tree trunk. He ran to the passenger side and found that door opened easily.

"Dean?" Sam got into the car and felt his brother's neck for a pulse. There was one, but it was weak. "Dean, it's me. It's Sam. Can you hear me?"

Dean's eyes were closed and his head was resting against the window. Sam gently checked Dean for broken bones, but knew he needed to get help. He kept one hand on Dean's shoulder and took his cell phone from his pocket.

After making the 911 call, Sam looked around, but it was too dark to see anything other than the vague outline of the trees around them.

"Dean? Can you hear me, man?" Sam asked, turning his attention back to his brother. "Please, Dean. It's me; it's Sam. You're gonna be okay. There's an ambulance on the way; it'll be here any minute."

Sam gently touched his brother's head, feeling for blood or a bump. He was relieved to find everything seemed normal. A moment there was a change in Dean's breathing and his brow wrinkled. Sam looked down when he felt Dean's hand against his leg.

"Dean?" he grabbed Dean's hand and squeezed gently. "Can you feel that? Come on, brother, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Sam felt a slight flutter in Dean's fingers.

"Dean –"

"Sammy," Dean's head turned toward Sam, but his eyes remained closed. His voice was gravely and soft.

"Yeah, man, I'm here."

"Real?"

Sam brushed away a stray tear. "I'm real."

"I can't feel my legs, Sammy."

Sam pointed the flashlight toward Dean's legs, but he didn't see anything too alarming. He felt for injury, but found nothing.

"There's an ambulance on the way. You're gonna be okay."

"Cold," Dean muttered.

Sam took off his own coat and laid it across Dean's chest.

"The woman," Dean said, clearly in pain.

"What woman?"

"Alison…is she okay?'

"Alison?" Sam glanced out the back window. He could just make out the car he'd left on the side of the road. "Yeah. She's the one who told me where you were."

"How?" Dean asked, then began to cough. His hand gripped Sam's.

"Calm down, Dean. We'll talk later, okay? Just rest."

Dean swallowed hard.

"You want some water?"

"Don't go," Dean said, his voice even softer than before.

"I'm right here, man."

A moment later, Dean's hand dropped from Sam's and he slid to the side. Sam put his arm around his brother as Dean's head rested on his chest. Sam wasn't sure if he'd fallen asleep or was unconscious. He was close to panicking when he heard a siren in the distance.

-----

While EMTs were taking care of Dean, Sam stayed close. He looked toward the side of the road, but the car he'd come in was nowhere to be seen. His attention was diverted by the police officer who walked up to him. He introduced himself as Officer Henderson and began asking questions.

Sam told him what had happened, starting with the woman knocking on his motel room door. A few minutes later, the cop took a step back while Dean was loaded onto the stretcher. Sam was reassured when Dean's eyes opened slightly and he moved into his line of sight.

"Dean?"

"Sammy…"

He took his brother's hand as the stretcher was moved to the ambulance. Sam announced he was riding with them and there was no argument. He didn't see Alison's car anywhere.

-----

While Dean was being examined, Sam finished the conversation with Henderson. He had followed the ambulance to the hospital.

"She told me her name was Alison Carter," Sam said. "And I drove her car to the crash site. She told me where to find it. I left her and the car on the side of the road and went to help my brother. I didn't hear her drive off, but --."

"Well, here's the thing, Sam," the police officer said. "Alison Carter lived in town here. She….She died about four years ago, right near where you found your brother."

"I…" he stopped speaking, knowing what must have happened.

"She died after a one-car accident. It was winter, about this time of year, and the roads were pretty bad," the cop shuddered. "And…well, this is the third or fourth person I know of who has been rescued because of her."

Sam looked at Henderson sharply. He was not a young man; he was probably in his 50's and looked like he'd seen more of his share of things despite being in small town law enforcement.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Sam?"

Sam swallowed, not wanting to tell the truth. "I guess I do."

The cop nodded. "Me, too."

-----

"She was a ghost?" Dean asked.

He'd been admitted nearly eight hours before and after sleeping for a while, Dean was sitting in a chair near the window of his hospital room. His feet were resting on a foot stool and a blanket was draped over his lap. Sam had grown tired of calling him grandma fairly quickly.

None of Dean's injuries were very bad; the numbness in his legs had been caused by the cold and not being able to move after the crash. He had cuts and some bruises, but overall he had been very lucky.

Sam nodded. "But what I don't get is the car. I drove that car, man. It felt real. It was real."

"But it disappeared?"

"I don't know. I guess so. I didn't see it move, but it wasn't there when the ambulance and cops arrived. One of the cops found my duffel and computer on the side of the road. I'd put them in the trunk of the car."

Dean shook his head, looking thoughtful. "I guess if a ghost is powerful enough….I don't know."

Sam shrugged. "It's gotta be possible. It happened."

"She told me she'd seen me while passing by on the road," Dean said. "She said she'd bring help, but I figured she meant an ambulance."

Sam nodded thoughtfully.

"I still can't really figure out how I got pinned," Dean said after a moment. "The road was in pretty good condition, so I took the chains off. I remember hitting that patch of ice and I lost control. I must have kept slipping in and out of consciousness."

"The driver side door was up against a tree, but the passenger side opened pretty easy. I couldn't see well enough to really tell what had you pinned, but the EMTs got you out without too much trouble."

"And the Impala? She's okay?"

At Dean's insistence earlier, Sam had gone to the garage where the Impala had been towed to evaluate the damage. The mechanic had already prepared a written estimate that Sam gave to Dean, but he was having problems with short term memory that the doctor assured them would pass.

"She needs some work," Sam said patiently. "You told me to have the garage make sure she was drivable and you'd handle the rest."

"Sorry," Dean looked down.

"It's okay; don't worry about it." Sam leaned forward on the edge of the bed. "Hey, Dean?"

Dean looked at him.

"I'm sorry, too. About the fight; about leaving."

Dean shook his head. "It wasn't just your fault. Not the fight, anyway. And we both needed time to cool off."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't left, you wouldn't have gotten into that accident."

"That wasn't your fault, Sammy."

Sam nodded, still feeling the guilt. "So, we're good?"

Dean looked at his brother with warmth in his eyes and nodded. "Always."