Cortez, Colorado
Present Day
Eighteen months, three weeks, five days and four hours had passed since Sam Winchester had seen his brother.
And he would be lying if he said he didn't miss him every minute and every day that passed.
He had made himself a promise that night in Cicero. The night he was snapped back into reality and witnessed his brother getting the one thing he always truly wanted. He promised himself he would let Dean go. He would walk away so that his brother could finally live a normal life. It took everything Sam had not to rush up to that door. To knock as hard and as swiftly as he could and announce to his beloved brother that he was alive. The brother whom he knew was grief stricken beyond reproach.
But he didn't.
He took one, last, and hard look at Dean before turning around. Vanishing into the night.
He knew what Bobby would have said in that situation. He was an idjit. He should have told Dean that he was alive and not have him go thru all the pain of mourning him. But he also knew what the pain of his being alive would cause him. All the questions about, how he got out of the hole? Why? Was he even Sam anymore? Questions he himself had. Questions that needed answering. He didn't want to put Dean thru all the uncertainty. Not again. Better to have him think of him as dead than to have him worrying and wondering about him the way he had most of their lives. He deserved a better than that. Deserved normalcy. And come hell or high water Sam was going to make sure he got it.
After leaving Cicero, Sam took up in a motel outside of Indianapolis. He stayed there a whole month. Who or whatever had zapped him back from the pit not only brought him back to life, but brought him as he was before he said yes. Which thankfully meant that he had his wallet. He did have much, but he had enough cash and credit cards to hold him over til he knew what he was gonig to do next. The first few days Sam was at the motel he did nothing but drink and weep. Going over and over in his mind the events of his life and what it had cost him. He wept for his parents. For Jess. For all the people he knew and loved who were gone. But most importantly, for Dean. By walking away he had resigned the fact that he would probably never see his brother again.
After his pain had died down, Sam resigned himself into long and hard contemplation about whether or not he wanted to go on living at all. Although he had come up with alot of very good reasons as to why death would have been a better option at this point, the one and only negative reason outweighed all the rest. Dean would want him to go on living, no matter what path in life he would take. In that declaration he found strength and renewed purpose. He was going to find out the answers he was looking for. No matter what they were, or where they would take him. Much like the search for John had years before, Sam found his own personal quest would lead him back on the open road. Back to hunting. There was a part of him that liked returning to the whole 'saving people, hunting things' simplicity past without the whole destiny crap hanging over him.
His first hunt after his return had been a doozy and one that would stay with him for over a year. Before leaving Cicero he started scouting for any signs of a potential hunt and had come across in a rather unexpected way. While up late one night he had caught wind of a national news report about a rash of bizarre deaths in and around Mesa Verde National Park. He had remembered that it fell not too far from The Four Corners, an area well known in hunting circles to be a hotbed of supernatural activity. Deciding to see for himself, he got himself a cheap rental car, some basic necessities and headed west. He drove thru the night, stopping only for gas, and the occasional meal. Early in the morning, he had made it as far as Farmington, New Mexico. Exhausted he pushed forward, telling himself that he would rest whenhe got there.
Pushing himself a little too hard, and a little too far, Sam had fell asleep behind the wheel and ran the car off the road. Crashing into a nearby tree, the impact was hard enough to dislodge his seatbelt and send him flying chest first into the steering column. Sam awoke in a hospital three days later with a four broken ribs, a nasty concussion and a serious cardiac contusion, or as his doctor put it, he hit the steering wheel so hard he literally bruised his heart. The injury was causing an irregular heartbeat that they were having trouble stabilizing. The injury left him pretty much stuck in bed for the next three weeks. While doctors worked on his heart, Sam found alternative means of working on the case.
During his convalescence he was frequently visited by a perky, buxom brunette candy striper named Molly Leonard. Molly, a twenty-two-year-old anthropology major became a bright spot during this uncertain time. Taking an instant liking to Sam, she would often be a source of great comfort as she proved to be an excellent conversationalist. After a few brief conversations Sam was able to convince Molly that he was a writer doing research on the supernatural folklore of the area for an upcoming book. Peeking her interest by this declaration, Sam was able to convince Molly to bring him the local papers and other research matierials so he could work on his book while he was laid up.
Sam felt bad using Molly in that way, as she was good natured and genuinely sweet. However, with a potential monster on the loose, it was a unfortunate necessity. Three weeks later the doctors had managed to regulate his heart and he was given a clean bill of health to leave the hospital. Before leaving town Sam invited Molly out for some drinks to thank her for being such a help to him. She accepted and the two were to meet at a local pool hall later that night. Molly never showed. Sam had thought nothing of it, thinking maybe she had just been polite agreeing to meet him in the first place. It wasnt until the next day when he turned on the news did he learn the awful truth. Molly was dead. Killed by whatever supernatural being he had come there to hunt. Sam was saddened.
From what he could surmise from her murder, along with all the other details about the victims, she was most likely killed by a vampire. Sam tracked, researched but came up empty. Whoever or whatever did this was long gone. Including his time in the hospital he stayed in Farmington for two months before sensing it was time to pack it in. In the months that followed, Sam tackled everything from ghosts to werewolves. Always keeping an eye to The Four Corners. Hopping back in and around the area anytime anything strange caught his eye. Hoping that one day he would catch the fiend that killed Molly. During one such excursion he found himself in Cortez - investigating a string of animal deaths that turned out to be nothing more than sick teenagers out for attention. While in town Sam paid a visit to a local doctor. Ever since his accident his ticker would act up from time to time causing him to seek medical attention. Lately, however, theses episodes came more frequent and lasted much longer.
He had been on medication since leaving Farmington but in the months that followed these episodes the medication seemed to become increasingly inaffective. The last cardiologist he had seen had presented him with a best and worse case scenario if the pharmacological options failed. None of them sounded very appealing. As he had sat in that doctors office in Cortez, feeling the cold press of the doctors stethoscope against his chest. Breathing in an out as instructed and switching to differing degrees of uncomfortable positions - he couldnt help but think of Dean. Being grateful his brother wasnt around. Didnt know he was sick. That he hadnt told him he was alive only to have Dean be around to watch him fade away. His decision had been the right one and any doubt in his mind was erased in the moment.
When the examination was over, the look Sam got from the doctor said it all. He listened to all the technical jargon but his mind zeroed in on only the essentials of the conversation. The medication was no longer working and it has no longer become a viable option. His only option at this point is to have surgery to implant a pacemaker, which may or may not work. If he did nothing, he would likely have a heart attack and die. He had told the doctor he needed time to let it all sink in before he made any decisions. The doctor (although reluctant) accepted his decision. On the drive back to the motel, he had already knew what his decision would be. He had no insurance. And it is doubtful he would be able to swing a couple hundred thousand dollar surgery with fake insurance cards. He got eighteen months more than he should have and he was grateful for it.
And as he reached the motel, he felt his heart twinge. Reaching over into the glovebox, he reached in and grabbed the bottle of Digitalis. Popping one into his mouth and rinsing it down with a warm diet soda, he was gripped with an overwhelming sadness. Sulkingly walking up to his room and sitting deftly on the bed he found himself back to where he had started. Eighteen months, two weeks, five days and four hours had passed since Sam Winchester had seen his brother. And depsite all his rationalizations to the contrary, Sam would give anything in his hour of need, to have his brother by his side. Sighing deeply he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Hitting speed dial he nervously brought the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" asked the familliar voice on the other end.
"Its Sam," he said trying to steady his nerves. "Something's happened. I need your help. We need to talk."
"Where are you?"
"Motel. Outside of Cortez, Colorado."
"I'm on my way."
"Hurry," Sam whispered as he flipped the phone shut.
