Title: Two Years Past

Rating: T for mild language

Summary: I was watching the Pilot episode the other day and Dean mentioned how he hadn't contacted Sam for two years. So, I was bored, and wanted to wright on way that all could have happened. Usually I don't do oneshots, so you'll have to tell me how I did. And if you don't like the italicised part, just skip it and go down to the Stanford part. Please R&R!

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I could hear her in the bathroom. Her soft gulps. I knew she was afraid to confront me. But who could blame her? I had showed up on her doorstep three hours ago, with no warning or anything. Yet, she still let me in.

Because she wanted to see me. She would never admit it, but it's true.

"Amy...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Her crying stops for a moment. I knew she was staring at the door handle, daring me to touch it. But I had hurt her too much to try that. She had stood behind the screen, one hand leaning on the open door, the memories of my last visit visible in her eyes.

I had held out a six pack of beer, raising my eyes.

Still, she refused to speak. I knew she was reliving the last time I had arrived, in exactly the same fashion.

The bathroom door remained closed. Turning, I walked back into her bedroom. It was fairly large, but I barely saw it. I'd paced that room a million times in the past two years.

"Why are you here?" she had asked me. As she had everytime I visited.

"Because I'm loney and don't like to drink alone."

Reluctantly, Amy had opened the screen, swiveling her head behind me, making sure nobody saw me enter the house. God forbid Mayor Reynolds hear from a concerned citizen that his twenty three year old daughter was sleeping around with some hoodalim.

"Leave." Her unsteady voice demanded from behind me. By that point I was sitting on her bed, hands linked, hanging on my knees.

She said it every time. Every single time for two years.

We started off on the couch, savoring every sip of the cheap booze. I had met Amy while on a hunting trip. Her eighty year old neighbor had her husband's spirit haunting her. When I caught sight of Amy's cold stare, her gray eyes shooting invisible bullets at me, I became enthralled.

Back then, I used to think I was hot shit. I saw a beautiful girl, I'd do anything to get her.

Then again, most didn't think Amy was beautiful. They believed her to be cold hearted and a bitch. But I was always up for a challenge.

She tried to push me away, but the longer I spent with her, the longer we connected. Amy wasn't like other girls. She put that mask on to keep the media out. The harsher she was with them, the more they backed off.

"I'm serious...Get out!" she began screaming. Crossing her arms, I once again thought of how ill she appeared. Her weight was no more than a hundred pounds, and no matter that she lived in sunny California, she was constantly pale.

"Get out of my house!" a vase shattered against the cream colored wall.

Back then, all both of us were looking for was someone else to escape with. She needed somebody to love, even for just awhile. I was looking for a person who could allow me to escape my thoughts. We wanted to push the world aside and get away.

"Now!" another crash, this time it was a porcelin figure. The throwing I was used to, it came with the yelling. She'd gone through hundreds of dollars worth of merchandise.

Amy and I knew it wouldn't last forever. Hell, I was surprised I'd made it two years. The first four or five months I visited her faithfully, bringing her a gift from some gas station alongside the road. But as the year went on, Amy grew out of her shell, and let another guy in. Although she absolutely refused to talk about him, I knew he was fullfilling her needs better than I could.

Whenever I told her I'd leave them to their life, she would shake her minute head, letting her short, crsip black hair cover her eyes. "You're still running from something. And I want to help you confront it...eventually."

Only, Amy had done the exact oppessite. She had allowed me to go into her house, to refuse to deal with my issues.

And, on that night, she had had enough. I knew. As I sat with my head down, hearing her sobs, I knew it was finally over between us.

It was six months ago when I finally came clean with her. I'd just gotten out of her shower, trying to wash away what we'd just done, when Amy stormed in, holding my wallet in her hand.

"It's him, isn't it? I know it's not your father because he called once...it's the other guy." She had her thumb on a picture of my dad and brother. The photo had been taken six months before the college incident. Our dad had insisted we get our photo taken by this ten foot high statue. He promised it'd be something we remembered forever.

I hadn't answered her. Just nodded. Half a year had passed and time was up.

"I'm scared," I whispered. I was still refusing to shed the tears that were threatening to fall.

Amy stopped her sobbing and sat next to me. Wrapping an arm around me, she said, "He's just an hour away. I mean, you've known that all along. That's why you've come back...not because of me, but because you want to see him again."

"Don't make it sound as if I'm deeply in love with the guy...we're just brothers."

"Just brothers! Yeah! You're just two brothers who've been ripped apart and left without a thing to do!"

"That's not true.."

"No! You listen to me, because if you don't hear this now, you never will." A pause. "That boy broke your heart. He left me to pick up the pieces...now I know you're family is different, even though you refuse to talk about it, I can see, deep down, that you hate it. Maybe not its members, but what it is.

You can't run from it, so you come to my home every so often, and I used to try my hardest to take your pain away..but this guy, he needs you as much as you need him. Every day you stay away from him breaks your heart even more.

So...get in your car...drive the distance...and, for me, burst through his door and make him see how much you need him. Because, sweetie, if you don't...it's gonna kill you."

Several minutes pass. Amy tried to stay with me, to continue rubbing my back, trying to understand what a difficult desicion that was, but she couldn't take my brooding any longer. She got up and walked to the sink and procceeded to splash her face with water.

Silently, I lifted my body off the bed. My feet moved to the door while my hand snatched my bag from the corner.

"Hey," Amy demanded. Looking at her, I wished for a moment it could have worked out between us. She was model material, and I secretly hoped her man made her as happy as she was with me.

"I love you Amy. And thank you...for everything. Hell, maybe one day I'll come visit you, bring my brother." I knew what I was suggesting would never happen. Once I walked out that door, I'd never return.

"Your welcome. And I love you too, Dean."

Without saying another word, I left Amy's life for good.

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Stanford University-2003

I was beginning to fall asleep, beginning to get the first glimpses of lala land, when one of my roommates maked an obsene noise from the living room. Someone else followed it by making another, cringing yell.

At times I felt like I was the only one taking college seriously. The two other guys I shared the apartment with got to Stanford through their parents. They either knew went to the same country club as the dean or paid for the west wing in the new science building.

Not me. I got to where I was from hard work. Not many students could say they made it to a major name college all on a scholarship. Even now I studied my ass off every single night. And I wasn't about to let some rowdy group of guys keep from a good night's sleep.

Throwing my legs out of my comfortable bed, I stumbled to the door. All of sudden, everything went dead. Not one sound was made.

Opening the creaky wooden door my body went stiff as I saw who was on the other side, his fist raised in a knocking motion.

Looking straight at him I became all too aware that I was only in a t-shirt and boxers. From behind him I could vaguely see the group of men, staring.

"Hey, Sammy...you busy?" he asked. He was acting like what was happening was another normal day. Like he always showed up at two in the morning to talk.

"Uh..I'm sorta sleeping."

"Ah, throw a pair a jeans on and grab a jacket. I'll meet you outside in two."

"But-" There was no point in going on. Dean had already made his way to the door. Once he was out of earshot, one of my roommates, Craig commented. "Dude, Sam, who was that? He looked like some serial killer."

"No, I've seen him before," another friend said. "In pictures or something."

I threw on some pants and shoes and my jacket, then went towards the door.

He'd showed up. After two long years; he'd sucked up enough courage to come. And it only took him two years.

When I saw him leaning against a pole at the end of the street, staring up at the sky, I became furious. We'd had our fight, and, yeah, it was nasty, but two years. How could he just show up like that again?

I knew his mind wasn't in the present. It was back in 2001, one month after I left our dad and headed to Cali. He waited a week before calling, and when I answered I sounded distant and hesitant. Deep down I was angry that he hadn't supported me more.

Then, he sent me a long email, talking about what hunting trips him and dad were about to do, and who they met since I'd been gone.

I never answered him.

One day, after class, I was sitting on a park bench, studying, when I heard his Impala pull up. He had apologized, asked me to forgive him. And right on the Stanford lawn, I proceeded to break my brother apart. The last thing I said was for him to leave me alone and stop trying to contact me.

The moment his car left my sight, I regretted the whole incident. But the calls stopped coming and I read no more letters from him.

And I'd finally thought I'd got the life I'd dreamed of. Sure, every night when I went to bed I stared at an old photo of all of us, and yes, the two times my birthday rolled by, I locked myself in my room and cried. But I did nothing to get Dean back.

I stood next to him. Quietly, I asked, "Why now? Why, after no contact did you just decide to come turn my life upside down?"

Dean looked at me, like I should have known why. For a second I thought he'd answer, but instead he continued to gaze at the stars.

"You know, you could have waited until tomorrow, when I was awake."

"Yeah...but I didn't."

Sighing, I turn to face him. "Dean, what do you want?"

"I don't know. I thought about what'd I'd say driving up here, but now it all slipped outta my mind."

"How about you start with, why, after, two years of ignoring me you show up in the middle of the night."

Dean shook his head. "You know, Sammy-"

"Sam," I interrupted.

"Sammy, that day I came to visit you, after you told me to stay out of your life, I thought, maybe it was just the atmoshpere. You know, you still transitioning to college life. So I gave you your space. Figured you'd call when you realized that you still had an older brother back at home."

I remained silent.

"But, you didn't. At first, I was like, whatever, he's doing his own thing. But more and more I started to think you actually didn't want me in your life. That after eighteen years of protecting you and teaching you, that you'd at least call me occasionally."

"The phone works both ways, Dean," I grumble.

"Yeah, well I think you remember what happened when I tried to call you! Hell I even wrote you...but did you answer? No." Dean yelled. I could tell it was taking a lot of him to say these things, but I was still angry at him. Later I'd hear about that night from all those people inside for months. Everyone would be so curious as to what was happening in my real life.

"I came to Stanford to get away from fucking hunting! And do you remember what you wrote in those emails? Do you! It was all about yours and dad's trips! Even hundreds of miles away you tried to get me to go back! Why couldn't you just accept that I was gone? That that life wasn't for me?" I yelled back.

"Right," Dean looked me straight in the eyes. "You were born a Winchester, born to be a hunter. And all of a sudden you just wanna leave?...It's not how it works, Sam. You can't walk away from your life."

"Well, then, what would you say I've been doing for the past two years then?"

I watched as my older brother stood straight. He was still looking me dead in the eyes. "One day, Sam, we're gonna need you. Really need you. And I wish I could say you'd come protect me...but you've changed. Became a real ass. So now, I'm not so sure."

I rolled my eyes. "No, Dean, I haven't changed. This is just how I am. I never got to show this side of me around Dad. He'd beat my ass so hard if I so much as looked this way. So, deal with it."

"No, Sam!" Dean screamed, his finger pointing in my face. "You want to know the real you? The real you is when you try to make dinner for Dad and I when we came home from a hunting trip. The real you is when we're sitting in my bed, you telling me I'm an idiot while both of us are waiting for Dad. The real you is someone who cares for his family. Sam! Would you even know if Dad and I were dead? You might be able to hide your past from those people in there, but you sure as hell can't hide it from yourself."

I wait for him to go on.

"And if you can live with yourself, if you can go to bed each night, knowing you killed Dad, and left your older brother, the only person who actually knew you growing up, for dead...then fine. I'll get back in my car, and never talk to you again."

I knew I should have said something. Should have assured Dean that I still loved him and wanted him in my life. But cathcing a glimpse of my friends inside, I knew I could never have both. I had to choose. Had to make a desicion between the life I always wanted or the life I had.

And in those few moments, Dean got it. He lowered his finger, licked his lips, and nodded his head. I expected him to call me shitbag or scum of the earth, but Dean was stronger than that. He just walked to his car door, and pulled the handle.

I turned my back on him, was about ready to finally leave the situation, when he asked me, "Do you remember a tradition you used to do to me when we were kids, Sam?"

Turning to face him once more, I raised an eyebrow. "Wh- which one?"

"The one where you'd wake me up at six o'clock in the morning, drag me somewhere, then give me a gift you'd made?"

I frowned. "Of course I do. It, it was your birthday. I always gave you a present."

Instantly, Dean laughed. "You remember what you said to me the year I turned twelve?"

"No. I was eight, how could I?"

"Well, I do. You promised me you'd never forget me. That, whenever my birthday rolled around, you'd always be there to wake me up and give me one of your lousy gifts. You said that even when you were sixty, you'd still make a point to do it."

I stood there, confused and lost.

After another minute, I saw one salty tear fall down Dean's cheek. Only one solitary drop. But it was enough. I knew I'd screwed up somewhere. But for the life of me I couldn't think of how.

Swiping the liquid away, Dean stepped into his baby. "Don't worry, Sammy, I'll leave you alone. Dad and I will do our thing, you go on with your life and forget us."

I tried to stop him. I called out his name, but the time for talking was over with. The damage had been done. Watching as he slammed the door shut and started the engine, I attempted one least call.

"Dean, don't go yet, let's ta;l some more."

But he acted as if the engine was roaring to loud to hear me. He rode off into the night. And just as he turned the corner, I remembered what that day was.

Softly, barely louder than a whisper, I wished my brother happy birthday and walked back into the life I suddenly felt out place with. I knew everyone inside didn't know the real me. But I knew I'd let the only person who did just drive off. I was stuck in the middle, with nowhere to go, nobody to turn to.

Seeing all my buddies laugh and make a joke out of life stirred my emotions even more. I knew I had to make college life work. It was the only option left.

But I was still broken up about Dean. I sat on the couch, drinking beer, not caring if I was too young, for hours. More people showed up. I would have thought the later it got, the less crazy the party would get. But it was a Friday...Saturday morning actually, and there was no classes tomorrow.

I was reminising in my childhood, thinking about the year I'd given Dean a paper airplane I'd made, when I felt someone standing next to me.

Looking up, I saw the most beautiful girl my eyes had ever seen. Her soft smirk and mischevious eyes enthralled me.

And with one last moment passing, all thoughts of my older brother had vanished. Replaced with a new hope. The girl standing by me, I knew, would be able to fill the gap Dean had left in my heart.

I didn't need to think about the Winchester men anymore. Because, at that moment, for the first time in two years, I actually believed my life would become normal.