Sam trudged up the steps towards his apartment, sighing tiredly as he ran a hand through his tangled mess of hair. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes and thought distractedly that he could really use a haircut...and then realized he probably couldn't afford one.
Too bad Dean wasn't there, he always managed to do a pretty good job with a pair of clippers. No matter how often he picked on Sam for liking it long, or how regularly Dad would suggest he shave it off, Dean would always cut it to just the right length – long enough for Sam to hide behind, but short enough that it didn't bother him.
Sam felt his chest ache as he was reminded of his older brother and wondered if he would ever stop missing him.
It was doubtful.
Approaching the door to his student housing, he rolled his eyes at the noise he could hear coming from inside. Jackson had warned him that he was having a party, hence the reason Sam had stayed at the library until closing; but there was nowhere else for him to go at this time of night and he was exhausted, so he reluctantly opened the door and walked inside. He couldn't help but cringe at the number of people crammed into the small space. It was frustratingly difficult to maneuver his way to his bedroom.
Sam slid into his tiny room, thankful that it had managed to remain off limits, and shut the door behind him, wishing that it did more to muffle the blasting music. He dropped his books on the desk in the corner and collapsed onto his small single bed, cursing his height as his feet dangled off the edge. He briefly considered going to the kitchen to grab some food, he hadn't had the time or money to eat that day and he knew that the fridge would likely be cleared out by morning, but he was far too tired and irritated to wade his way back through all those people. In an attempt to ignore the booming music and constant laughter, Sam turned over on his side, curling up and throwing an arm over his head. Instead of a pillow, he felt the crinkle of paper beneath him and huffed in annoyance, tugging the object out from beneath his hair, not realizing until it was in his hands that it wasn't the study notes he had assumed it to be, but rather an envelope. Sam squinted at the package, confused by the absence of any type of marking; there was no stamp, no name, and no addresses, it was completely blank.
The young man sat up in bed, his curiosity aroused as he ripped the envelope open and slid his long fingers inside, expecting to find a letter, but feeling string instead. He pulled the object out, recognizing it immediately. An involuntary gasp left his lips, the empty envelope floating to the floor as he stared wide-eyed at the necklace tangled in his grip.
The amulet.
Dean's amulet.
Sam's hands shook as he turned it over, rubbing his thumb over the face of the charm the same way he had done thousands of times throughout his life.
His brother wouldn't return it, would he?
Sam knew Dean had been sort of pissed at him when he left for school six months ago, but he had called him since then, several times actually, and he hadn't seemed angry or bitter- not once.
They had spoken just a couple weeks ago. Sam talked about school and Dean talked about hunting; the conversation had gone well, or so he'd thought.
Had he done something - besides ditching his family - to make Dean angry?
Had he insulted him in some way?
Sam's mind raced with unanswered questions as he climbed to his feet, rapidly making his way back into the cramped living area in search of his roommate.
"Jackson!" He hollered, once he spotted him in their pathetically small kitchen.
The other boy looked up as Sam pushed his way next to him.
"Hey, Sam." He greeted.
"There was an envelope in my room-
"Oh good, you got that. I didn't want to go snooping in your bedroom or anything, but I thought it'd be best to leave it in there rather than risk it getting lost out here." He explained, nodding towards the rowdy group of college kids utilizing their kitchen table as a beer-pong surface.
"Did you see who dropped it off?" Sam questioned urgently, not caring that Jackson had gone in his bedroom, growing up in closet-sized motel rooms had made him fairly accustomed to a lack of privacy.
"Nah, sorry, man. It was just sitting by the front door when I got in from class. I wasn't expecting a package or anything, so I just assumed it was for you." He explained with a shrug.
Sam frowned, his mind racing for answers.
"Why? What was it?" Jackson asked curiously, as he mixed himself another drink.
"Something that belongs to my brother." Sam muttered, distracted by the questions bombarding his brain.
"Hey Sammy."
His agitation level instantly rose at the appearance of Mike. Only one person was allowed to call Sam that, and it sure as hell wasn't that shit-head.
He was Jackson's best friend and a total jackass. Always the first one to show up for the party, the last to leave, and he usually ended up puking on something. He was constantly getting into fights, though, even wasted, he managed to win every single one. Mike was in to boxing and if his size wasn't proof of that, his reflexes were. The guy could get the drop on someone even when he was drowning in alcohol. Sam would be lying if he said he didn't find it a little impressive, but it wasn't enough to dilute the other boy's many irritating qualities.
"It's Sam." He bit out, having no patience for Mike's obnoxious behaviour.
"They finally boot you outta the library?" He slurred, his glazed eyes looking straight into Sam's, he was one of the few students tall enough to be able to do that.
"You going to have a drink? Or are you still a prude?"
Sam rolled his eyes, turning to leave, quickly twisting back around when he felt the amulet yanked from his grip.
"Hey!" He shouted, glaring at the drunken student.
"This is one ugly necklace, Sammy." Mike remarked as he scrutinized the charm.
"Give it back, man. I'm not joking around." The younger man ordered, his tone deep and serious as he glowered at the asshole holding his brother's gift.
"I'll make you a deal, you have one drink and I'll return your precious jewelry."
Sam was done.
His patience diminished.
Grabbing Mike's wrist, he gave it a quick, but aggressive twist; not hard enough to do any real damage, but enough to make a point. The older student yelped out and dropped the amulet, which Sam caught with his other hand the same time he released his grip on the larger man. Sam barely had time to pocket his brother's possession before he was knocked off balance by a violent blow to his face. His head snapped to the right as he stumbled back a few steps, struggling to stay on his feet as his face pounded.
"What the hell, Mike!" Jackson hollered.
"He grabbed me."
"Yeah that's cause you took his stuff, man! You can't just go around decking people!"
"That's what Chuck Norris would do!"
"Mike, for the last goddamn time, you are not Chuck Norris! We go over this every time you drink."
Sam vaguely registered the conversation between Jackson and his moron friend, his skull aching as he held a hand over his throbbing left eye, the area that had absorbed the majority of the blow.
"You alright, Sam?"
He tried to focus on his roommate when the concerned face swam into view.
"I'm fine." Sam replied through clenched teeth.
"Sorry about Mike, you know how he gets after he's had a few."
Sam made to nod, but thought better of it, managing a fake partial smile instead.
"It's fine." He repeated, turning to make his way out of the apartment, grabbing the sweater that was hanging by the door and ignoring the eyes he could feel on his back as he made his exit.
Sam took a deep breath of the cool night air, slipping the sweatshirt over his head. It was Dean's hoodie, it had been in Sam's duffel when he left for Stanford, though he had no memory of placing it there. It was warm and it smelled of cheap after shave, hair gel, and m&m's. Altogether, it just smelled like Dean.
Like home.
Sam smirked, knowing that if his brother knew how often he wore his sweater simply for comfort, regardless of the temperature outside, the older boy would never let him live it down.
Dean.
Gawd, he missed him.
As his thoughts went to his brother and he inhaled the scent of home, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell. It was old, crappy, and - to be honest - he couldn't afford the phone plan, but in the current moment it was all he needed. He scanned through his contacts, stopping at "De" and pressing talk.
Holding the phone to his ear he listened to it ring and ring and ring.
It unnerved him that his brother didn't answer, he almost always answered; often when Sam called Dean would pick up on the first ring – it had always been that way.
He tried again, and then three times after that, each ring adding to his anxiety.
"Come on, Dean." He whispered, when he heard the voicemail once more.
He went to call again, but this time, as he scrolled through his contacts he stopped right before he reached his brother's name.
Dad.
Sam paused, staring at the highlighted word. It had been so long since he had spoken to his father, he wasn't even sure that the number he had was accurate, it was the one Dean had given to him last time they talked. Because even if John had no interest on updating his youngest about his contact information, Dean was always making sure to relay their father's number of the week. Before Sam could give it anymore thought, he pressed the green button, bringing the phone back up to his ear as he paced in circles around the parking lot.
"Winchester."
The answer on the third ring startled him, the gruff tone sounding both strange and familiar.
"Hey, uuh...it's Sam." He stuttered out, unprepared for any sort of conversation.
"What do you need?" The older hunter asked, all business.
"Nothing. I was just trying to get a hold of Dean. He's not answering his phone. I was wondering if you know where he's at?" He asked.
"What's going on, Sam?"
The young man may have been mistaken, but he thought for a moment he sensed a degree of concern in his father's rough voice.
"Nothing. I just- I need to talk to Dean. Where is he?" He questioned, being sure to keep any sense of urgency from his tone.
"He's in the hospital."
Ice cold fear shot up Sam's spine, his body physically tensing at the news as he immediately began walking in the direction of the bus station. It was four blocks away, and he didn't even know what bus he would need to get on, but it didn't matter.
He was going to see his brother.
"Is he okay?" All attempts to hide his worry thrown out the window.
"He's fine, Sam." John declared.
"What happened?"
"I'm not really sure."
His father's reply took Sam by surprise. It was rare that John Winchester did not have the answer. It was even more rare for him to admit to not having the answer.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He regretted the harsh sound of the question, but he was too terrified to care.
"He was returning to the motel, and he got hit over the head when he was getting out of the car. He woke up a few hours ago chained up in a warehouse."
"How'd you-
"I tracked his phone. Whatever took him didn't know that somebody was going to come looking."
Sam swallowed, trying to stop himself from imagining what could have happened if his dad hadn't been around. If Dean had been on his own and no one had gone looking for him.
"You don't know what it was?"
"No, but it didn't want to kill him."
The way his father faded out told Sam that there was more, something he wasn't being told.
"What is it, Dad?" He prompted impatiently, freshly irritated with John's tendency to only share information he deemed to be significant – 'need to know' and all that shit.
"It might have been a trap."
Sam froze for a moment before forcing his feet to continue.
"Why would you think that?"
"It seemed like a set up. I think Dean was being used as bait."
"Then why didn't the thing stick around?" He wondered aloud.
"I don't know, Sam. Maybe whatever it was didn't expect your brother would be found so soon." John sighed in slight exasperation, a sound Sam was all to familiar with. His father had never been a fan of the youngest Winchester's constant curiosity. "Something might have taken him to get to me." The elder hunter mused.
"Or me." Sam added, making connections.
"What do you mean?" The question was loud and demanding, like most of the inquiries John Winchester posed.
"You remember that amulet I gave to Dean?" Sam asked, knowing that even his dad couldn't have failed to notice his eldest had been wearing the charm around his neck every day for the past decade.
"Yeah. What about it?"
"I found it in a package left on my doorstep this evening." He explained.
"And you are just telling him this now?"
The anger was evident, and it made Sam clench his jaw in frustration.
"I didn't know what to think. For all I knew, Dean put it there." He stated defensively.
Silence hung in the air for a moment as the determined student proceeded to make his way to the bus station.
"Was there a note? Anything else in the package?" The older hunter questioned steadily.
"Nope, nothing. No stamps or mailing address. Didn't even have my name on it." There was another period of silence, as Sam's destination came into view. "What are you thinking, Dad?"
"I think I don't know what the hell is going on. And until I do, you best keep an eye out. Be careful, watch your back, don't take any risks. You hear me?"
Sam rolled his eyes at the common-sense orders.
"Yes sir." He replied, reluctantly telling his father the words he knew he needed to hear.
"Can I talk to Dean?" he asked.
"I'm not with him. I'm checking up on some leads."
Sam physically bit his tongue to stop the derogatory comment he desired to make, because of course Dean was laid up in the hospital and John Winchester was following leads. With some effort, he managed to keep the thought to himself, because he hadn't spoken to his father for nearly half a year, and he wasn't going to waste their first conversation picking a fight.
"Where is he? What state? Which hospital?" Sam questioned, as he entered the bus station, which was mostly empty due to the late hour.
"Sam, your brother is fine. He got a knock to the head. He's only being kept for observation. They'll probably release him tomorrow." His dad stated, knowing full well what his son's intentions were.
"Dad, where is he?" Sam repeated, tone stern enough to match his father's.
"Sam just-
"Where?" He ground out.
"Northwest Hospital & Medical Center in Seattle, Washington." John responded with a resigned sigh.
Sam nodded, immediately scanning the arrival and departure schedule, feeling luckier than he'd ever been upon seeing a bus to Seattle leaving in half an hour, driving through the night.
"I've got to go." He declared, trying to recall how much money he had left in his bank account.
"Take care, Sam. Tell your brother that I'll call him in a couple days." The older man said in a voice that almost sounded soft.
"Yes sir." The youngest Winchester replied instinctively.
Once Sam heard the dial tone he closed his cell, slipping it back into his pocket and pulling out his wallet.
It cost him almost every penny he possessed to purchase a one-way bus ticket to Seattle. Sam didn't even think about how much he was spending, he didn't care that he wouldn't have any money for clothes, groceries, or a haircut; he was just glad that Dean was in a hospital within a significant city, as opposed to some small town that would be impossible to get to.
Surprisingly, the bus made pretty good time, driving overnight eliminated any chance of getting caught in traffic. Ten hours later, Sam arrived in Seattle. It was seven in the morning and he had been too worried to get any sleep on the drive up. He was tired and starving, but all he could think about was getting to his brother.
He managed to hitch a ride to the hospital, which turned out not to be far, upon his arrival he began searching the building for his brother. It turned out it was difficult to find someone when you didn't know what last name they put on their fake insurance, but eventually Sam was directed to a room containing a Dean Lambton with a head wound - a grade three concussion to be exact.
The doctor Sam spoke to told him his brother would be okay, he was only being kept for observation and would be released this afternoon, shortly after some more tests. That information was all well and fine, but the anxiety in his gut didn't ease until he found the room and looked in to see his older brother asleep in the bed.
Sam walked closer, relief flowing through him as he saw with his very own eyes that Dean was alright. He looked to be peacefully asleep, no visible damage, though Sam had been told that the blow came to the back of the older boy's head.
Sam smirked at the sight of the line of drool dripping from the corner of the bad-ass hunter's mouth.
He stared at his brother until he was completely satisfied that Dean was alright. The younger man was content with the lack of I.V's (always a good sign), the healthy pallor of his brother's skin, and the steady sound of the heart monitor.
He sighed in relief, quietly pulling a chair up to the side of the bed and dropping into it.
"Don't scare me like that, man." Sam whispered, gently taking his brother's hand.
The relief of finding Dean and realizing that he was alright diminished the fear and anxiety that Sam had been running on. Now that those feelings were gone, he felt drained, his mind and body exhausted from a complete lack of sleep and food and just about everything else.
Sam must have laid his head down at one point, because he came to with the feel of fingers combing through his shaggy hair - he knew that touch immediately and lifted his head.
"Dean?" His voice raspy with sleep as he said his brother's name.
"Hi-ya Sammy."
The smile that spread across the injured man's face made every penny and sleepless moment worth it.
"You really need a haircut, kiddo." Dean remarked, as he combed Sam's long unruly bangs off the side of his face, his hand pausing and eyes going wide.
"What the hell?"
Sam squinted in confusion as his brother stared at his face, and then he remembered the tight, soar feeling around his eye. He had forgotten about getting punched, the pain in his face had been instantly replaced by his concern for the man currently reclined in the hospital bed.
"What happened?"
"It's nothing, Dean, don't worry about it." Sam insisted, swatting at the hand probing his face.
"It's not nothing, your eye is black and swollen. Who did that to you?" Dean barked, his tone furious as he sat up even straighter.
Sam smirked, because there was no doubt in his mind that if he told him, his big brother would hunt Mike down and teach that moron one hell of a lesson.
"What's so funny?" Dean asked, his irritation clear.
"You are. Just relax, man. It's alright, it was just some stupid college kid." He confessed, seeing his brother relax minimally at the new information.
"A college dork got the drop on you? Dude, you've gotten soft." Dean snorted in amusement, though the fire in his green eyes had yet to fade.
"Well at least he didn't end up unconscious in a warehouse. What the hell, Dean?" Sam asked, genuine concern coming out in his attempt at a joke.
"Beat me, man, but don't worry. Dad and I will figure it out." His brother declared, easing Sam's fears the way he always had, by exhibiting unwavering confidence.
"Oh uh that reminds me." The younger man stuttered out, going to reach in his pocket and suddenly realizing that he was still holding onto one of Dean's hands.
He awkwardly released it, avoiding his brother's eyes out of embarrassment, as he pulled the amulet from its secure place in the pocket of his jeans.
"Here. Umm, I don't know if you still want this, but..." Sam faded off, unsure of what to say as he held the necklace out in front of him.
Dean smiled, as he reached forward and grabbed it, sliding his thumb over the ugly little charm, the same way Sam had been doing for the ten hours he sat on the bus.
"Thanks, Sam. I was looking for this when I woke up, figured the doc took off me at some point. How'd you get it?" Dean asked, slipping the amulet over his head, leaving it to rest right where it had always belonged.
"It was on my doorstep." Sam replied with a shrug, trying not to display how pathetically relieved he was that his brother sill wanted to wear the gift he had given to him so many years ago.
"That's weird." Dean declared with a frown.
Sam nodded in agreement, but didn't add anything, leaving that conversation for another time.
"So how'd you get here?" The older boy questioned casually, clearly sensing that Sam had no desire to wonder about the strange case they had found themselves to be a part of.
"Bus." He answered, not missing the sympathetic wince that crossed Dean's face.
"From Cali? That would've sucked ass."
Sam shrugged, because he would have walked if he had to.
"When you heading back?" Dean asked, a little softer this time.
"Not really sure. I'm sort of out of cash so – I mean - I thought, if you're up to it-
"Road trip? Hell-ya, little brother."
Sam's smile reflected his brother's as they both revelled in the simple moment.
Damn, had he missed his big brother.
"I've got first shift." Sam declared, no intention of letting Dean drive so soon after his head injury.
The injured man rolled his eyes, but didn't bother arguing.
"Bitch." He remarked with a smirk.
"Jerk." Sam replied, smile wide as he stared up at his older brother.
Sam didn't know who was after his family.
He didn't know what he was going to do about his lack of cash.
He didn't know how he was going to be able to leave his big brother – again - to return to school.
But he did know that Dean was there, he was alright, and he still loved his dork of a little brother.
And that was more than enough for Sam.
It always had been.