"The bus leaves in fifteen minutes," the overly cheery ticket lady with huge teeth and flaming red hair informed Sam while pushing the paper ticket through the slot below the bulletproof partition. Sam smiled and left the small building that was nothing more than an outhouse to make his way back to the car, gather up his belongings and wait out the fifteen minutes.

A leather satchel and a ratty old backpack held everything he owned and reaching into the backseat of the Impala to retrieve them Sam barely noticed his brother get out of the car as well. Standing up and seeing Dean with his arms on the roof of the car looking over at him was surprising. He had expected to be dropped off at the poor excuse for a bus depot in the middle of New Mexico, say a quick goodbye through a rolled down window and be off.

Dean had other ideas it seemed. An embarrassed smile slipped across his face as he looked around while a hand left the roof to scratch nervously at the back of his head. The place was obviously just a midway stop, a place to refuel. No major cities or landmarks anywhere close, the only reason to be here was to leave. And that was exactly what Sam Winchester was doing.

"Thanks," Sam said and it caught Dean's attention though he wasn't quite sure what Sam was saying thanks for. Raising him? Going above and beyond the call of big brother duties? Sacrificing his own childhood? Just understanding?

"You know, for the money." He let out a huff in way of a laugh and kind of wished that he'd just been dropped off so they could have avoided this awkwardness.

"Didn't want you hitchhiking all the way to California." Dean looked serious for a moment and it was true, he'd spent hours hustling pool to get some extra cash just so Sam could afford a bus ticket. He'd been hoping to get enough to buy a cheap car for him but somehow the money had gone to feeding his father's increased alcohol consumption. The serious look turned mischievous. "You never know what could happen to a girl like you."

Sam let out a genuine laugh and all the awkwardness seemed to vanish. But it didn't last long. Looking across the car at Dean he was reminded that this was it, the last goodbye.

Producing a small dagger from the inside pocket of his leather jacket Dean held it out to his younger brother. "Keep it in your sock. If anyone asks; you're Scottish okay?"

Sam looked at him sceptically but took the blade while looking around to check that no one had seen the arms exchange going on. Swinging his backpack down from his shoulder he bent down and opened it, stuffing the knife in and hoping that it didn't tear any of his clothes. He didn't have much to spare and the hobo look was so last season in his opinion.

"I'm going to college to get away from the fake IDs and crap Dean. I'm not going to spend my time at Stanford with a Glaswegian accent." Sam looked up at Dean as he came around the back of the car, kicking his feet into the sand and dirt before peering down at his crouched brother.

"I'm serious Sam, I want you safe."

Sam sighed. This was the problem that he had faced between his father and Dean. While his father dealt with the fear of losing Sam to the unknown with anger aimed at his youngest child, Dean was a little more practical. That scared him more than anything.

"I'll be safe." Sam stood, looking down into his brother's eyes and hoping Dean believed him. "I just want to be Sam Winchester, the civilian. No more depressing motel rooms, crappy diner food and no more hiding in bathrooms with homework to escape from my brother and the floozy he's brought back."

Dean had the audacity to look offended, a hand coming up to rest against his chest while his wide eyes and open mouth painted the picture of pure shock. Sam smiled at his brother, but there was a sadness in his eyes. He would miss him. Dean had been the only piece of stability in his shaky childhood. But that was why he was escaping wasn't it? For a life of stability?

"I'll call," Sam promised as the shocked look faded from his brother's face to be replaced by a sad smile that mirrored his own.

"No you won't Sammy." The elder of the two leaned back against the black car and looked to his foot as it dug around in the gravel before looking up at the child he'd raised towering above him. "You call if you need me. But you better not need me."

Sam smiled and nodded. He glanced down at his watch. Five minutes. Looking across to the one large coach that had been sitting empty since their arrival he noticed a few people starting to make their way on board.

"Listen Sammy," Dean paused to smile at the exasperated look he got at the use of that 'childish nickname'. "If you change your number or anything, let Pastor Jim or Bobby know okay? After all it's only a matter of time before I'm gonna need to call on a hot-shot lawyer to bail me out."

Four days later as Sam traversed the Stanford campus, looking up at the buildings that surrounded him he was knocked off balance by a skateboarder and dropped half of the papers he'd been trying to sort into a manageable pile. Bending down to gather the flimsy pages that mapped out his future a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Dude, you better not let campus police catch you with that thing."

Sam looked up to see a friendly face looking down at him with one hand gesturing to his ankle. His jeans had ridden up to reveal the parting gift from his brother to the whole world.

"It's a sgian dub," Sam said as a way of explanation but by the blank look on the face of his companion it hadn't been a very good one. "My family's Scottish, it's a traditional thing."

The heat in Texas was unreal Dean mused to himself as he walked from the air-conditioned goodness of the diner to the mid-day heat of Clifton TX. The job had been pretty straight forward; vengeful spirit, scared family, Winchester to the rescue. The only problem was the spirit of Mr. Bell had decided that of all Dean's possessions to throw around he'd picked his cell phone. They hadn't even been invented when he'd met his demise the first time so no doubt he took a dislike to the new fangled machine with all its interesting pressy buttons. Asshole.

Luckily Dean had been able to salvage the sim card from the wreckage that he'd left the Dobson's family home in. Now all he had to do was shove the sim card into one of the many other cell phones that littered the glove compartment of his precious Impala.

When the new phone beeped into life it soon gave another half-hearted beep to signal a new voicemail message. No doubt the good Pastor checking in to make sure the job was done. The same old thing, 'I would have done it myself but…' the excuses never really registered anymore. He knew it wouldn't be his father as they were due to meet up for a job in Arkansas in four days. Just enough time to drive there and then lay low with some good beer and even better sex.

Very few people had his cell number; in fact Dean could count them on one hand. Even with a couple of missing fingers. The only person that had the number besides his father and the Father was his brother. Luckily he hadn't heard from his brother since he saw him off to Stanford and that had been close to a year ago.

The autonomic voice from his cell was cut off by a young woman speaking. Not his brother. At least not how he remembered his brother, and now he would be forever haunted by the image of his brother with breasts. Fantastic. His rather disturbing thoughts were broken by the feminine voice.

Accident.

Sam had been in an accident.

He said not to call but I thought I should let you know.

Dean silently begged for more information but it wasn't forthcoming, chatter and clattering noise coming through the phone in place of her soft voice for a few moments before it came back giving a phone number that was definitely not his little brother's.

My name's Jessica by the way.

The message ended and Dean kept the cell phone stuck to his ear.

He said not to call. That meant he'd said something so it couldn't be too bad but Dean replayed the message and took down the number on the back of a receipt which he should have thrown out weeks ago.

His plan for the day was to check out of the motel and start the journey to Arkansas but that was all changed when he settled down on the double bed of his motel room and carefully punched in the number from the receipt.

The girl, Jessica her name is Jessica, answered after six rings but Dean could swear it was more like eighteen.

"Jessica? It's Dean Winchester." Well didn't that just sound stupid? "Sam's brother." Why stop there? She knows who you are doofus. His name sounded like a sigh when it filtered through the phoneline. Relief. He'd rarely heard his name sound like that, only Sam had said it similarly in his youth, a scared child comforted by the presence of his big brother.

Dean was not comforted by Jessica.

We were driving back from a 4th of July party… Drunk driver… Car totaled… Just a broken arm and scratches but Sam…

The silence that came after caused Dean to grip the phone tightly, willing her to continue but dreading what he'd hear. But he said not to call. He's fine. She's just being a drama queen. Bloody women. Then a thought hit him, looking to the bedside table he picked up the invoice he'd been given by the motel clerk. He had checked in two days ago and by the date on the invoice that made it July 27th. So either someone was having a really late Fourth of July or Sam was still in hospital after three weeks.

They're releasing him to a rehab facility in a few days and I know he said not to call you but I thought I should let you know.

"Wait what?" Dean's hand flew up to scratch his head, he'd obviously missed something. "Rehab?"

Two hours into the drive to California Dean remembered he was heading the wrong way.

Arkansas is the other way you idiot.

Then it hit him, he wasn't going to meet up with his father, and just what was he going to tell him? Because he sure as hell wasn't telling him Sam had been in an accident and he'd…

He's fine, he said not to call.

The whole idea of it was almost funny, Sam escaping the life of a hunter, being safe and he ends up like this. Dean knew he couldn't tell his father, if Sam didn't even want him contacted what right did Dean have to prove his father right? Sam hadn't been safe. The real world got the best of him.

Six hours in and Dean had come to the sudden realization that he had a stomach. Even more frightening was the sudden remembrance of his bladder, and it was that realisation that had him skidding the Impala to a halt at the side of a deserted road and diving for the nearest bush.

Bladder sated he made his way back to the car, it'd been a while since he'd passed by anything resembling a town so logic states he must be overdue. Next town is foodtown.

But first…

Dean sat back down in the Impala, reached over and grabbed his phone. The signal wasn't great but it was enough to make a call and he started scrolling through his contacts to find his father's number. He didn't pick up which was unusual but not alarming and soon the incessant ringing was replaced by his father's voice urging him to leave a message.

"Hey Dad, not gonna make it to Arkansas something has come up in California. Gonna stop in on Sammy while I'm out there."

Never lie. That was one thing that had been beaten into him ever since his father took up a crusade against the nasty-night-bumpers of the world. Something had come up and he was going to see Sam. Never lie to your father.

Dean's stomach growled in hunger and reminded him it was time to get going. Judging by how much gas he had left in the tank and the noises his body was making he really needed to get the hell away from the butt-crack of nowhere.

Time to find civilization.

When he was about an hour away from Palo Alto Dean reached over for his phone, slightly amazed that it still had any battery. Flicking his attention between the packed road full of early morning rush hour traffic to see if the car in front had moved any and the phone, he managed to find the girl's - Jessica's - number and call.

A sleepy mumble was his greeting and a hushed 'I'm just gonna take this outside, I'll be back' which was aimed at someone at her end. Sam. A few rustling seconds passed and the sleepy mumble is replaced with her soft voice.

Hey Dean.

Dean tries to picture her, tries to imagine Sam's type, which is quite hard to do when he has absolutely no reference. Sam was much more interested in books than girls - so much so that Dean had often teased him that he had a thing for the old librarian that seemed to inhabit every town, all grey hair and tweed.

But Jessica? Young, pretty in a plain kind of way and definitely brunette. Studious like Sam, shy and a bit frigid. Yep that'd be Sam's type.

"I'm not too far away, where am I heading?" Dean asked expecting to be given directions to the so-called 'rehab facility'.

I could do with coffee, there's a Starbucks nearby.

College students and their Starbucks, Dean could barely refrain from rolling his eyes but still took a mental note of the directions she gave. "I'll see you soon."

When he saw the sign in the distance Dean scanned the area for somewhere to park, and by the time he found a spot he'd driven by the coffee shop. The heat wasn't as oppressive as it was in Texas but it was hardly a day for his leather jacket and Dean actually wished he'd bothered to get a motel room somewhere along the way instead of just pulling over and sleeping in the backseat because he'd been wearing the same clothes for what felt like days and was pretty sure he smelled like crap. A quick sniff in the direction of an armpit confirmed this so he leaned down to his bag which had made it onto the floor of the passenger side and pulled out a fresher t-shirt, it's not exactly clean but none of his clothes are and this one doesn't smell quite so much like a public toilet. Digging around in the bag a little more he found an aerosol can of deodorant which he sprayed on himself until he was choking in the confined space and scrambling for the door handle and blessed fresh air.

The two minute walk back up the street to the coffee shop had Dean scanning the people milling around outside, looking for the demure brunette he was sure was Sam's girl. There were a couple of candidates but they were all standing in a huddle together, sipping caramel colored concoctions through straws. And then there was one, a petite dark haired girl in a hooded sweatshirt a few sizes too big swirling a wooden stick around her coffee cup while looking around as though trying to spot someone.

Bingo.

Dean made his way over, passing by a couple of tables that sat on the sidewalk and he was just about to tap the girl on her shoulder as she looked out in the other direction when he heard his name.

"Dean?" And it was her, Jessica and she was behind him.

Turning around he saw what was definitely not what he'd pictured being his brother's type. Blonde, leggy in a short denim skirt and good Lord Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd seen someone as hot as her. She's sitting at one of the tables he walked past so he made his way over and sat opposite her.

"I thought it was you." She smiled and Dean thought he might hate his baby brother a little for snagging this one. "I don't know how, it's not like I've ever seen a picture of you or anything and Sam doesn't really talk much about his family but you just looked like-" Jessica gave up on her ramble and shook her head along with a huff of laughter. "Sorry."

Dean smiled back at her, maybe she was more of Sam's type than he'd thought and it was then that he noticed the cast on her arm and he was painfully reminded of the reason he was there.

"So what happened?" Dean asked and hoped he could actually listen this time, when he'd first heard it over the phone all he'd heard were disjointed statements, the moment he processed one piece of information another was flying at him. 4th of July. Drunk driver. Broken arm. But Sam…

Jessica took a long sip of her coffee and sighed, her brow knitted together and Dean just knew that she was trying to figure out where to start. "My parents live quite nearby, I'm kind of a local girl. So we go to their 4th of July barbecue and when we're driving back this idiot drunk driver smashes into us." Jessica took another sip and Dean tried to imagine Sam at a family BBQ. "The car flipped like six times or something, I was screaming and the car was making these noises. It was like it was just crumpling. Stupid cheap cars." She muttered and Dean smiled, his girl would never just crumple, she was a good girl.

"I was freaking out, screaming and crying and Sam was just-" Jessica paused and wiped her non-casted hand across her face for a moment. "He was so fucking calm. I'm screaming that my arm hurts and trying to get out of a door that is so fucking warped it won't open and he's just asking me if I can reach my phone like we're just sitting on the couch or something. I got so pissed off at him." Jessica laughed and Dean looked confused. "People aren't supposed to be calm in a car crash, I spazzed out like any normal person would. Sam just sat there not moving and trying to hold a fucking conversation. But thinking about it I am so fucking glad he didn't freak out like me."

Jessica didn't speak for a minute, just looked down into her paper cup.

"I'm going to go get a drink, you want a refill?" Dean asked getting up. Jessica smiled up at him and nodded as she picked up her cup and drank the dregs still left in the cup.

While Dean stood in line he realized he had no clue what she wanted, so he ordered a cappuccino along with his black coffee.

"Sorry, forgot to ask what you drank," Dean apologized as he set the cup down in front of her. Taking the lid off the cup she looked down into the foam.

"This is fine, thanks."

The silence stretched out as the two sat sipping on their coffee. When the blonde finally spoke again her voice startled Dean slightly. "The emergency services arrived pretty quick, had to cut the doors off so I could get out. It took me a while to notice that Sam was still in there. They'd cut the door off on his side as well and I just couldn't understand why he wasn't standing next to me. They made me go in an ambulance to go get my arm taken care of and I still had no idea what was going on.

"It was hours, honestly, hours. I hung around waiting for doctors, then x-rays, then doctors again, then to get my cast. Every time I saw a nurse or a doctor or anyone that looked like they worked in the hospital I would ask about Sam. Eventually someone found out he'd been taken somewhere else, somewhere with a better trauma center.

"My Dad came and got me, took me to the hospital Sam was at. They'd been trying to get someone for him for a while and seemed relieved when I showed up. Told me he broke a few bones in his back and was in surgery. That was it." Jessica shrugged and looked Dean in the eye. "It didn't even sink in how serious it could be. He was in surgery. They were fixing what was wrong. That's how I thought of it, so I waited for someone to tell me I could see him."

Dean looked over at the petite brunette in the sweatshirt who was still standing near the door looking around at the crowds moving around the sidewalk. Poor thing had been ditched.

"My arm hurt like crazy so I went down to the pharmacy to get my prescription filled for painkillers. When I got back the doctor was waiting for me, she had this horrible practiced look of mourning on her face and said 'we tried everything we could, I'm so sorry' and I swear to God I nearly lost it, and I never thought I'd be so relieved to hear that someone would never walk again. When she said he was paralyzed I almost wept with joy. Sick or what?"

She snorted and Dean thought about it for a moment, and really didn't know if he'd have reacted the same way. What if he'd been given that choice; walking or living? Logically he knew that if he were dead he sure wasn't gonna be walking about - at least he hoped not.

"How'd he take it?" Dean asked, curious because he sure didn't know how he would take news like that.

"Fine." The blonde shrugged. "Said he'd kinda figured that out in the car. And then I got pissed off at him for being calm again. Has he always been like that?" Jessica asked, her face scrunched up as if she were about to cry.

"Freaking out isn't really a Winchester trait," Dean smirked. "But Sammy had a few princess moments when he was a kid. I left his favorite stuffed toy in a motel once and he cried for three days. We ended up just going back and getting it. Fucking stuffed armadillo."

Jessica laughed at this and wondered why Sam was always so distant with and about his family."Well now he's just princessing about getting well enough for the start of school."

"Typical geekboy."

"Are you going to come visit him?" Jessica asked but kept her head bowed down, finding her nearly empty coffee cup suddenly fascinating.

"Does he even know you called?" Jessica continued to find the left over coffee amazing and didn't take her eyes off it when she shook her head. "He'll just get pissy and that'll cause issues. We have a fucked up family. He's in safe hands here so just keep me updated."

Jessica looked up then, lips pursed and nodded. "I'll email you, you have an email address?" she asked and leant over to dig through a large handbag.

"Nah, just text me or something. Even if it's just stupid shit, keep me in the loop okay?" Dean got up and Jessica followed his movements as he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how to say goodbye.

Taking the lead, she leaned over to hug the elder Winchester. "It was really nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Bye Dean."