Cherry's notes: This is 93% just me transcribing season one, episode one (with that Wincesty twist, of course, although it's barely needed lol), but I needed to get the boys where I want them to be (with each other, of course). Smut and the fun stuff is coming! Stay tuned!
Sam's eyes snapped open at the small crash from the other room, and he slowly pulled himself out of bed, not wanting to wake Jess. She hadn't been sleeping well lately, and the noise had probably been nothing, but eighteen years of previous training told him that he'd better check it out just in case.
Creeping down the hallway, he peered through the beaded curtain that led into the kitchen and was shocked to see the silhouette of a man saunter by in the direction of the fridge.
Mentally cursing himself for not having had the foresight to grab something that could be used as a weapon, he slipped into the room and made the snap decision to lunge at the intruder, hoping to catch him off guard. Weapon or no weapon, he knew his way around hand-to-hand combat, and the element of surprise was everything.
But this guy must have been on the receiving end of his fair share of ambushes, because he spun around to face Sam in an offensive stance about a half second before their bodies collided in the dark. Sam growled, giving the stranger a hard punch followed by a knee to the gut, but the other man only stumbled for a fraction of a moment before somehow kicking Sam's legs out from under him, causing him to crash ungracefully down onto the ground.
"Whoa. Easy, tiger," the man said, his voice dripping with amusement as he straddled Sam's lap, and Sam stared up into the shadows, his eyes beginning to adjust. He'd know that voice anywhere. And sure enough-
"Dean?" he cried, his voice a notch higher than usual. "What-...you scared the crap out of me!"
Dean gave a low chuckle and tightened his thighs a bit.
"That's because you're out of practice," Dean responded, but before the last word was even out of his mouth, Sam reached up and grabbed his brother's neck, toppling them both until he was the one on top.
"Or not," Dean gasped, laughing again. "Get off of me."
Still reeling with the confusion of it all, Sam pulled himself to his feet, Dean quickly following suit. Sam couldn't quite...process the information that his brother was here. Actually here. After four years. Standing in front of him like they had seen each other yesterday.
His stomach began to knot painfully, and he took a few steps back.
"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?" he blurted out, his breath hitching a little, but Dean just gave him one of those lazy smiles and raised his hands to Sam's shoulders.
"Well, I was looking for a beer," he murmured and then swayed in slightly, as though deciding whether or not to give his brother a hug.
Before he could make up his mind, however, there was a small click, and the room was flooded with light.
Sam jumped a little and spun around, his eyes falling on Jess, who stood in the doorway looking back and forth between him and Dean with obvious confusion.
"Sam?" she said, her voice uncertain, and for some reason, Sam felt suddenly uncomfortable, like the three of them shouldn't be in the same room together.
He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Jess, ah...hey," he stammered, switching gears half-way through and turning to address his brother instead. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."
Why was that so hard for him to say...like the words were sticking to the roof of his mouth.
"Wait, your brother Dean?" Jessica asked before Dean could say anything, and Sam's mouth went dry. She didn't know anything. Of course she didn't, but his heart was still beating furiously in his chest, and he suddenly couldn't remember how to speak.
Dean shot him a little warning glare before moving in to diffuse the moment.
"I love the smurfs," he said with a charming smile, gesturing toward Jessica's t-shirt. "And, hey, I've gotta tell you. You are way out of my brother's league."
He had moved right into Jess's personal space, and Sam felt that unpleasant twinge begin to swell inside him again.
"Get a grip, man," he chided himself. "Pull it together. This is only going to be weird if you make it weird."
Jessica was regarding Dean a little nervously.
"Just...let me put something on," she said, although Sam could see the little flush that had risen in her cheeks.
"No, no! I wouldn't dream of it," Dean purred with a wink that made Sam's stomach curl. "Seriously. Anyway, I've gotta borrow your boyfriend, here, to talk about some private family business, but, ah, it was nice meeting you."
Jess pursed her lips together as Dean headed back over toward Sam, and Sam's chest tightened at his brother's words. Private family business. That wasn't good. It had disaster written all over it, and there was no way that he was going to allow himself to be dragged into another one of the Winchester family dramas after he had spent four years trying to get away from all of that.
"No," he said sharply, walking across the room to stand near Jessica. "No. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of her."
He knew that Dean wouldn't.
However, with a small, non-committal shrug, Dean crossed his arms and caught Sam's gaze, raising his eyebrows ever-so-slightly.
"Okay, fine," he said, the casual humor from mere moments ago fading quickly from his expression. "Um. Dad hasn't been home in a few days."
Sam didn't falter.
"Okay, so he's working overtime on a miller-time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later."
Dean exhaled in frustration.
"Dad's on a hunting trip," he said, annunciating each word. "And he hasn't been home in a few days."
Sam sighed, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
"Jess, excuse us," he said apologetically, glancing at her for only a moment before grabbing Dean by the shoulder and herding him out into the hallway.
"What are you doing?" he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. "What is this, Dean? You can't just...you can't just...I haven't seen or heard from you in four years. Four goddamned years, Dean. I thought that-"
"Calm down, Sammy," Dean interrupted, holding up his hand. "Just...look. I'm sorry. I'm sorry to come here like this, okay? I need your help, man. I didn't know what else to do."
He was looking almost devastated, now, and Sam realized with a sharp pang that his brother's calm and bravado had all been an act. He should have seen right through it, but it had just...it had been so long.
"Hey," he said, his voice softer, "I...I didn't mean for it to sound like that. I'm happy to see you. God, of course I am. I just...it caught me off guard. And you can't just break in here in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you. That's what you're asking, isn't it?"
Dean looked up at him in the dim light of the stairwell.
"You're not hearing me, Sammy," he said quietly, his voice hitching a little. "Dad's missing. I need...I need you to help me find him."
Sam sighed, biting back an old, familiar urge to say, "It's Sam."
"You remember the poltergeist in Amherst?" he said instead. "Or the devil's gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing. And he's always fine."
"Not for this long," Dean said, glancing behind him to make sure that they were still alone. "Now, are you going to come with me or not?"
Sam took a step back, breaking eye-contact.
"I'm...I'm not," he almost whispered, and Dean made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat.
"Why not?" he demanded, crossing his arms defiantly, and Sam almost laughed in exasperation.
"I swore that I was done with all of that," he said, meeting his brother's gaze again. "Don't tell me that you don't remember how things were, Dean, especially those last few months. You...I'm not going through that again. I can't."
"Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad," Dean mumbled, smoothing a hand through his hair. "Hunting is who we are. It's-"
"Oh, no you don't," Sam said, cutting him off. "You know that that's not all I'm talking about. The hunting was bad enough, but that's not why I left, Dean. I...I don't think that we should-"
He trailed off, no longer sure of what to say.
"So what, then?" Dean said, his voice laced with something that might be anger. Or regret. "What are you gonna do? Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?"
Sam grimaced at his brother's tone.
"I thought that was what you wanted me to do."
Dean exhaled loudly, turning his body so that he was only half-facing Sam.
"I did. I mean...I...I don't know. I didn't want you to run away, Sam."
Feeling eighteen again, Sam had to mentally restrain himself from reaching out to touch his older brother, to comfort him, to...hold him. God, he wanted to hold him.
"I can't do this alone, Sammy," Dean continued, and Sam bit his lip.
"Yes, you can," he whispered.
Dean turned back to face him, all rough hope and sadness and something darker.
"Yeah, well, I don't want to," he mumbled, and Sam smiled a little despite himself.
"God, I'm going to regret this," he thought worriedly, but it was no use. He knew that he was going to go with Dean. Of course he was. Thinking about it now, it was almost comical that he had deluded himself, however briefly, into thinking that he wouldn't.
Heaving a mock sigh, and mentally planning out the excuse he would give Jessica, he put his hand on Dean's shoulder.
"Alright. What was he hunting?"
