The time has come to get together
You gotta have a little rock 'n' roll music
To get you through the stormy weather
And do whatever you feel
when you let go
Nothin's gonna help you more than rock 'n' roll
-"Feelin' Satisfied" by Boston

The apartment building didn't look like much, but Dean figured it was good enough. It wasn't home, not by a long shot, but it had a roof, a heating system (even if Sam bitched about it sometimes), and it had some of the best demon-repellent wards anyone could find. Devil's Traps, salt, anything they could get away with that the landlord didn't notice, they'd put up.

Dean switched the music off and parked the Impala before he made his way up the stairs to the third floor. Nice Saturday afternoon; perfect time to bug the kid. He knocked on the door and waited, instinctively glancing left to right down the hall. It was harder to put away his 'big brother detector', according to Sam, when the kid was involved. And yeah, he wasn't wrong, but tough. That was just how it was gonna always be.

The door opened, and Sam's face of confusion shifted into one of surprised delight. "Dean! What...you weren't supposed to come until next weekend!"

"I'm offended," Dean said in mock-outrage, clutching at his wounded heart. "You forgot about our date?"

"Sam doesn't forget about dates," an amused voice vouched from behind Sam, and a moment later a familiar blonde poked her head under Sam's arm. Sam gave Dean a smug grin and pulled her in close. "He remembers all of our dates: he even remembered the day we first bumped into each other."

Dean grinned in return. "He would. Hey, Jess."

"I take it you want my boyfriend for the evening?" Jess inquired, but she did it with an easy smile. Sam had picked well, Dean had to hand it to his brother. She was beautiful and understanding, even when Sam couldn't be completely honest with her. Sure, she'd met John and Dean multiple times, but he knew there had to be a curiosity about unspoken things. About the silent conversations, about how they'd grown up. About the burn scar on Sam's shoulder, and yup, there was the rage, right on schedule.

Fuckin' demon.

Sam was giving him a look that said Stop it and I'm fine all at once. Figured the kid would know what he was thinking about. Jess began to look confused, and Dean flashed her a grin fast. "Uh, yeah. You know how it is: gotta take him out to try and make a man out of him."

"Yeah, I think I'm a man enough at twenty-two, thanks," Sam said dryly, but he unwrapped himself from around Jess. "Let me get my shoes; I'll meet you down at the car."

He headed back into the apartment, leaving Jess and Dean by the door. Jess quirked an eyebrow at him, and Dean couldn't help the grin that popped up.

"Seriously Dean, go downstairs: quit staring at my girlfriend!"

Jess started giggling, and Dean rolled his eyes but headed for the stairwell. Didn't even have to look, and Sam knew exactly what he was doing. He still bounced down the stairs though, taking them two at a time and feeling like a little kid.

He didn't see Sam often, now that the kid was at Stanford. And god but that had been a shock to everyone when the letter had come in for a full ride, but they'd all been happy for him. Dad had insisted he take it, even. They'd driven him out to California, unpacked him in the apartment living for students, then said their goodbyes. California to Chicago was a long drive, but Dean didn't mind making it. What else did he have to do with his time? His job was part-time at best, and they were off season now.

Besides, this was his kid brother they were talking about. And Dean was twenty six, but he could readily admit that he missed seeing Sam every day. Missed having his little brother around.

Sam came out a few minutes later, pulling a hoodie on with a smile. "Y'know, she's mine," he said, giving Dean a look.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Besides, she wouldn't look at anyone else except you, you dumbass."

Sam turned a little red around the ears at that, but he grinned anyways.

And he kept grinning right up until Dean said, "And I just like riling you up; only reason I do it."

Sam slid into the passenger side with an annoyed look on his face, and Dean laughed as he pulled away from the curb.

Ten minutes later they were cruising down the highway, no destination in particular. The radio in California was decent, Dean had to admit that: they knew their music, and rock was always in style out here. "So...what merits your coming out here early?" Sam asked. "Not that I mind, because I don't. Not in the slightest."

He didn't think Sam would. "Eh, Dad found a hunt this weekend, and he didn't need my help on it. So I took off a couple of days ago, about when he left." Sam's raised eyebrow made Dean feel like blushing, and Dean Winchester? Did not blush. "What? I didn't want to stare at the walls." And, because he was feeling gracious, he added, "I missed you."

Sam softened at that, just like Dean had known he would. Sucker for chick flicks. Still, Sam's quiet, "I missed you, too," left Dean with a warm feeling inside. They saw each other a few times a year, called a lot more than that, so it wasn't like they hadn't spoken for the entire time Sam had been at college. Dean couldn't even begin to imagine what that would feel like, and personally, he never wanted to. A few times a year was hard enough.

Which seemed stupid and clingy but after growing up with Sam always at his side, this just seemed...wrong. He wasn't begrudging Sam his chance to go to school in the slightest, he just missed his little brother. A lot.

And yeah, a part of him was always going to be afraid. He was always going to remember that night from hell, where Sam had almost been taken from him, and inevitably he'd always want the kid by his side to make sure he was okay. He'd come so close to losing Sam. If he hadn't gotten up, if he hadn't felt the decrease in weight from Sam's side of the bed...

God. Eight years, and it still felt like yesterday.

He cleared his throat, feeling Sam's eyes on him, and started looking for the exit. "You feel like steak?"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

The Impala glided onto the exit and to their usual place whenever the Winchesters came to town.

The door burst open, and laughter echoed through the parking lot. "No, no, that time, you were fifteen-"

"Oh god no-"

Sam was near bent over, he was laughing so hard. "Oh man, Dad's face-"

Yeah, Dad's face had been memorable all right. "Hey, hey, let's remember who actually put the cupcake there in the first place."

"I put it somewhere you'd see it, Dean! I never expected Dad to sit down first!"

Dean threw his head back and laughed long and hard. Sam was sputtering indignities, but eventually he gave up and joined in again.

They'd had their dinner, then moved to the back of the restaurant, towards the bar and the pool table. The latter part of the evening had been spent reminiscing, drinking, and bewildering the poor patrons who sucked at the game.

Dean gave a few last laughs, winding down from the high. Sam was still chuckling when Dean threw an arm around his shoulders and led him towards the car. "How happy is Jess gonna be when I drag your sorry ass home like this?" Dean asked whimsically.

"'Bout as happy as she's gonna be when the hangover sets in," Sam admitted, and Dean grinned.

"You didn't drink that much."

"Lightweight, Dean. I told you I'd be the first to admit that."

"And so you did," Dean agreed. He stopped them both when a small beeping caught his attention. That sounded like his cell phone. "What the...?"

Sam waited while Dean found his cell phone. Voicemail read across the screen, along with 1 Missed Call from Dad. Dean winced even as he dialed for the voicemail. "It was loud in there," Sam offered, but he sounded just as enthusiastic as Dean felt. Ignoring a phone call from Dad wasn't a wise thing to do. Dad didn't like leaving messages.

The first part of the message sounded like a wind tunnel, and Dean's frown inched its way down a little more. "What's the matter?" Sam asked, his earlier amusement gone. "Dean?"

"Dean, it's me. God I was afraid of this, but...but get to Sam right away."

Dean's stomach plummeted. "Dean?" Sam asked, voice sharper and instantly sober. Dean shook his head and held up his hand, and seconds later Sam was right against Dean's shoulder. Dean obliged by turning the phone so they could both hear.

Dad sounded like crap, like he'd been running for a long time. "Bobby told me about some weird things going on around Sam's campus, and I know. I burned it all, but I still remember it, enough to know that it's him. It's the demon, Dean."

Oh god. Dean's eyes instantly slid to his sibling's. Sam looked ghost white, staring ahead at nothing. "You're fine," Dean instantly assured, and Sam's head whipped towards him. "You're gonna be fine, Sammy. I'm right here, okay?"

Sam didn't nod right away, and when he did, it wasn't convincing.

"I...dammit Dean, he was supposed to be safe. We made the deal, and you were both supposed to be safe. I...thing is....don't..."

Dean frowned when the call cut out completely. "Dad?" he said, even knowing it was recorded. The hell...?

"EVP?" Sam suggested shakily. He was still rattled, that much was certain. Not that Dean blamed him, because this was supposed to be over, and he wasn't supposed to be standing in a dark parking lot telling his little brother that his worst nightmare was coming back for him.

"I don't know," Dean said. God this was messed up and wrong, and the rage and helplessness threatened to swallow him. He swiped a hand over his face, regretting each and every one of the beers he'd downed that evening. "Let's just...get you back to your apartment, go from-"

Sam's eyes widened, and it would've been comical if any of this was worth laughing over. "Jess," he breathed, and then he was darting for the car, Dean right behind him. The Impala flew out of the parking lot, hitting the highway and pushing the pedal down. They were maybe twenty minutes out from the apartment, and that was if Dean did speed limit, which he definitely wasn't.

Sam, meanwhile, was pressing buttons frantically on his phone. It shook in his hands, even as he tried to listen. "Oh god, she's not answering," he whispered. Then, "Jess, it's me: get out of the apartment, please. I'll explain later, just run." Then it was back to pushing buttons, holding the phone to his ear to listen. Pushing buttons, holding the phone to listen.

The seventh time, he almost whimpered, and Dean's chest twisted. "She'll be fine," he promised. He reached out and caught Sam's shoulder, then gripped it hard. "I swear, Sammy, she'll be fine, and we'll be prepped when it comes." Why it was coming Dean didn't know, but it had promised, and it wasn't supposed to be able to break its fucking promises. Not like this.

Sam was supposed to have been safe.

Even before they reached the apartments Dean could see the sky was brighter than it was supposed to be. "Oh god," he murmured, and began to slow the car down. 911; he needed to call 911 and fast. Why hadn't they done that before? Easier to call and explain a mistake than to not call when the fire was already burning.

Then he was slamming to a halt as the passenger door flew open, and even as he pulled up to the corner Sam was flying down the sidewalk towards the burning apartments. Oh god. "Sammy, no!" Dean shouted, hurrying out of the car. Sam was already way ahead of him, but it didn't stop Dean from running after him. His heart was pounding in his chest, panic flooding through his system and kicking his adrenaline into overdrive.

And then Sam disappeared into the flames and Dean's heart stopped.