Part 1 - Someone Said Goodbye
June 15, 2006
somewhere on Indiana back roads

"Do you realize how close you were? A few more feet, that's all it would have taken!?!"

"Come on, Dean." Sam Winchester sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, arms crossed, glaring over at his older brother.

He was finally breaking into the rant that had been going on for at least the last twenty miles. The younger sibling should have known better than to suggest Dean let him drive again but the older man had been at the wheel for at least 10 hours straight, and Sam could see that he was getting tired.

"I'm thinking I should sign you up for driving lessons when we finish this next job."

"It wasn't my fault the guy didn't put his turn signal on." Sam winced at the defensive whine that had crept into his voice. He sounded like a petulant five year old telling his parent why he wasn't responsible for the broken window. The bat just slipped out of my hand, honest.

"Uh huh." Dean said in a voice that said that he wasn't really listening, before picking up where he'd left off. "I swear, I can't believe you passed your road test. You're a damn menace."

"Jeez, give it up already!" exasperation filled the younger man's face.

"No way, Sammy. You put my baby in danger- again. You're grounded from driving for at least a week." Dean emphasized his decision with a possessive caress of the steering wheel and intentionally ignoring the other's raised eyebrow.

There were only a few things- actual possessions- that Dean loved, and the Impala was at the top of that very short list. He tended to get protective to the point of overreacting to everything that got near it. The car had been given to the oldest son by their dad a year before Sam left for college, and Dean always treated the inheritance with a respect and affection that the younger hadn't understood then.

But since the two Winchester boys had been brought back together, Sam had gotten some new perspective on his brother. He'd come to see the Impala as an extension of Dean. It was part of what defined him, just as much as the music he played, his confidence, and smart ass remarks. So Sam had learned to be tolerant of the never-ending critique of his driving skills. That didn't mean he wasn't going to complain about being sidelined, though.

Before Sam could even open his mouth, a hand came up off the wheel to effectively cut off the coming argument. "And that'll be two weeks if you press the issue."

Sam rolled his eyes, giving up. When Dean made up his mind about something, there wasn't much that could change it. There was nothing left to do but make the best of it. And hopefully distract Dean from talking about the close call anymore.

"Jerk." He muttered, leaning back in his seat.

"Bitch." Dean shot back, a smile tugging at his lips.

It was a reflexive exchange that had become more terms of endearment than insults. What the instigator meant was 'ya know I love you, even though you really piss me off sometimes', while the other was saying 'right back atcha'. Those were words the Winchester men never seemed to be able to say out loud, but they still managed to express as best they could.

And for Sam, that was enough. He was just glad to see even a small break from the grim and irritable expressions that had been on Dean's face today. Something had put the older man in a mood, but Sam had yet to know what that had been. The car incident had only served to make him even testier; hence the very long and undeserved lecture that he'd been subjected to.

He frowned as he remembered the mornings conversation, which had preluded the black cloud that would hang over Dean the rest of day.

Earlier that day...

Sam looked up from his laptop when he heard the door open, bringing in his brother, and more importantly, coffee. Smiling gratefully, he accepted the steaming cup and took an experimental sip.

"So...find anything yet, Geek Boy?" Dean leaned against the chair behind him, trying to see the screen over his shoulder.

Glad to be the bearer of good news, he quickly outlined what he'd found. A couple of suspicious and unexplainable deaths at an old farm house in Ohio looked like a prime suspect for a pissed off spirit.

"Good job, dude. Find out anything else you can while I pack our stuff up, and we'll be off on our merry way to..." he squinted to read the newspaper heading."...Marion, Ohio. Oh, and we'll need to pick up some matches sometime on the way. We used the last pack on the Miles Tyler job last week."

"Okay. Here, I printed out the articles I found so far on the deaths. The one on top has today's date so it's the most recent. Maybe this time you'll actually read them instead of making me tell you what they said."

"And deprive you of the fun. I wouldn't dream..." Dean's voice trailed off as he glanced down at the first article before quickly looking up questioningly, "That's today's date?"

"Uh, yeah. June 15th. Why?"

"Just double checking." Dean looked at the paper again before picking up his carry all bag and heading out.

Shrugging it off, Sam went back to work. He didn't see the way Dean nearly stumbled his way to the car, collapsed into the drivers seat and stared unseeing at the steering wheel. After all, what did the days date matter? It was just yet another day in the lives of the Winchester brothers.

back in the present...

Confident that little brother wasn't going to argue any further, Dean had returned all his attention to the road. It was getting dark, and he didn't want to be caught unaware if something darted in front of him from the trees that lined the back road they were traveling on. They were still at least five hours away from their destination and it looked like he had a long drive ahead of him with Sam now being confined to the passenger side.

With one hand he flipped on the car radio, searching and finding a classic rock station to help pass the time. He let himself slightly relax as AC/DC came blasting out.

A couple hours later he noticed they were low on gas. Dean looked for the nearest gas station and saw the town of Moneta was only five miles away. He frowned as the name struck him as familiar, but quickly passed the feeling off. After all, he'd been through hundreds of towns in his years of hunting.

Turning off at the exit ahead and finding the gas station, he got out and filled the Impala up.

Dean walked into the station to pay and hopefully find something to keep him awake through the rest of the night. He was in the middle of the food isle picking out chips and donuts, when he felt the unmistakable feeling that he was being watched.

Looking around, Dean didn't see anyone in the station that looked to be any kind of threat, but he couldn't get the niggling sensation to leave.

He turned around and walked to the pay counter but stopped short when a tall man with short silver hair and an apparent fixation with black clothes stepped in front of him, blocking Dean's way. The man's eyes flashed blue as the his mouth twisted into a harsh grin.

Dean tensed up, preparing for a confrontation, but the figure melted away before he could do anything.

'What the hell?'

Where had the man gone? Blinking, Dean did a quick sweep around the station again, but there wasn't anyone else there except for a couple of teens over by the candy isle and the man at the counter.

Blaming the strange encounter on the long hours of driving, he began again toward the counter when he was hit by a flaring pain in his skull, wincing as flashing heat seared up into his head, creating his vision to become oddly distorted.

Dropping the bag of donuts, but managing to hold tightly to the chips, Dean leaned onto the shelf next to him just as he lost all sense of time and place. . .

unspecified time and place...(which just means I don't want to tell you yet)

He can't continue listening to the two of them fighting. Not again. He wanted to jump in between them and get the two to listen to reason, but he knows it would be useless. It was the same story; Sam was bucking at his father's authority, and John was too stubborn to ever give in. The two of them were so alike, which was probably why they were always at odds. And the fighting had been getting continually worse ever since Sam had started talking about going to college . . .

"Can't you see that I just want to do more with my life? Stanford is going to give me that opportunity!"

"You want to go and find a normal life, leaving me and your brother behind. You selfish bastard! You think that you can just leave? Abandon this family and find a new one?"

"I didn't say a damn thing about abandoning you, I'm talking about going to school. Do you realize how messed up our family is? Most parents would be happy that their kid wants to get a better education. Hell, most parents would encourage and help their kid achieve his dream. But not our family. Nope, I say I want to go to college and you want to disown me!" Anger and hurt were both evident on Sam's face.

"So you're going to go to school and forget about what this family does - forget about what happened to your mother?" John's face was thunderous, a mixture of fury and the emotion that always crossed his face whenever he mentioned his late wife, Mary.

"That's what this is really about, Dad. Your obsession with finding whatever killed her." Sam's face had turned a deep shade of red, and Dean could see that he was going to snap.

He instinctively could see that whatever Sam was going to say next was going to send John over the edge. Sam had continued, with each fight, to push his father further and further, and Dean knew his dad wouldn't put up with it much longer. He moved toward the other side of the room where the two stood yelling at each other, faces nearly touching, and prepared to physically get in between them if things turned any uglier.

"But it's not my obsession, Dad, it never has been. I was a baby when Mom died, and I don't remember anything about her. And I don't care anymore. You've dragged me and Dean around with you all these years while you hunt, but I'm not a kid anymore and I won't let you control me. Dean is fine with taking yours orders and always doing what you want him to, just like a good little soldier. But I don't need your approval like he does. I want something different for my life and I'm not going to let you stop me from going after it - even if it means leaving you behind."

Dean winced as the words hit him. He loved his brother more than life and it never stopped hurting when Sam said he wanted something more - without Dean. 'He's going to leave me,' he thought in despair, 'Leave me with Dad and find a new life.' Dean had dreams of a different life too, once. But he had abandoned those years ago. The only things that mattered to him now were Sam, Dad, and the battle against evil - in that order.

Unfortunately, John had put the hunt ahead of his sons in importance. Dean knew Sam was right when he said Dean was only looking for his dad's approval. And it stung almost as much as Sam wanting to leave. No matter what he had done, John had never shown affection or given any indication that he was proud of his son. The only emotion Dean saw was irritation and anger if he didn't follow through with John's instructions.

Sam had seen Dean's reaction from the corner of his eye and mentally cringed, knowing he'd hurt his brother, but then focused on his dad.

"Fine," John said in a neutral tone. "Go to school, find the life that you want so much."

Sam stared, unable to believe his father had finally capitulated. Dean also stared, but with a worried expression. John never gave in during a fight and he never lost a battle with anything that even remotely resembled grace.

Stepping back from the confrontational stance that he'd been in, John looked at Sam hard, and laid down the terms of surrender.

"But if you leave us, Sam, don't bother coming back. You won't be welcome in this family again."

Dean's breath caught and he couldn't believe his father had just said that. Surely Sammy wasn't going to...he wouldn't-

"Fine" Sam said, echoing his father with that same flat tone. He stood up and went into a bedroom of the cabin they were staying at, coming back out with his bags.

Dean stared at his father, unable to believe that John was doing this - was going to let the family be separated. His father looked back blandly, refusing to give his son any hope that he'd take back those words. He was in shock. How could this be happening, how could both Sam and John let it happen?

Without a look in his dad's or Dean's direction Sam started to the door. Opening it he paused and looked back. Looked back at his dad, who still had that same non-expression, and then Dean, whose pale face was a myriad of emotions: shock, hurt, anger, and fear. The last was one Sam rarely saw, and it stopped him for a few moments, but then he took a deep breath and strengthened his resolve.

"Goodbye Dad." Sam walked out and closed the door behind him.

Dean looked at his dad for only a second before he started to the door, determined to find his brother and talk some sense into him...

...and stopped when a dark shape stood in front of the door, blocking his exit. Dean could only see the thing's eyes, which were a vivid purple that stared at him through narrowed slits.

Unsure what to do, Dean looked back at his dad, but John continued to look at the door with a continued expressionless face.

Reaching around his back for his gun, Dean started toward the dark shape when a mist floated from the creature and seemed to swirl around him, holding Dean back from the door. At the same time, he felt a slight tingling on his wrist, but didn't look down as he struggled against the mist, and found himself unable to move . . .

back to the present yet again...

Dean jerked away from shelf he had been using to support himself. Disoriented, it took a few moments for him to remember where he was.

"Hey man, are you okay?" The man behind the counter asked in concern.

Dean nodded, trying to ignore the pain in his head so that he could walk up to pay for the food in his hands. "I'm fine. Just tired. Me and my brother have been driving all day." He managed a smile to allay the man's worry.

But his head was spinning as he started to leave the building. Holy shit, what the hell had just happened?

Dean already had a strange feeling before even coming into this town, and now it had officially just been increased to a really bad feeling.

He thought for a second. That man appearing and disappearing definitely wasn't normal. And if there was one thing Dean was good at, it was recognizing supernatural when he saw it. Something was going on here, and he didn't want to leave without knowing what it was. Making up his mind, he turned back.

"Hey, do you know where a cheap motel is in this town?" Dean asked the man.

Sam woke up when his brother got back into the car. "What took you so long?"

Dean ignored him and started the Impala.

Immediately sensing something was bothering his brother, he pulled his seat to an upright position and looked over questioningly, "What's wrong."

"Nothing," Dean said as he pulled out onto the road, "I'm just tired from driving for the last twelve hours straight."

Sam wisely refrained from pointing out that it was his fault, since he had refused to let Sam behind the wheel.

"Fine, whatever, dude. Did you get anything to eat?"

Dean tossed him a bag of chips with a slight grin and he sighed.

"What's the matter, Samantha? Hey, they're sour cream and onion. Onions are vegetables, so that should make you happy."

He had to laugh at Dean's logic. Sam had never seen anyone else who could eat as much junk food as his older brother. The man probably hadn't eaten a raw vegetable since he was kid, and even then Sam wondered how much of that had magically disappeared into a napkin or pocket when John wasn't looking.

If Sam had been paying closer attention, he would have known that Dean was being troubled by something more than jet lag. But by the time the dark-haired passenger looked over, the driver had put on the mask he always used to keep his little brother from knowing something was wrong. Instead, Sam sat back, unaware, and resigned himself to eating the greasy food in his hand.

Meanwhile, Dean was busy running through possible reasons that could explain what had happened at the gas station. He was guessing the man he'd seen was some kind of spirit, since he had disappeared as quickly as he had shown up. However, that didn't explain the weird vision that he'd had right after.

It had been about the night Sam had left. Was that a weird coincidence, or a well timed occurrence?

Dean remembered the night clearly. The images had stayed in his mind all through the years, always bringing with them a fresh wave of pain. It was the worst fight the oldest brother had seen between the younger son and father. It had all started up after they had finished dinner, when Sam had announced that he'd been accepted into Stanford University . . . and that he fully intended to go.

John had taken it calmly at first, telling Sam unequivocally 'no' in his commanding military voice. It was the one that Dean had never disobeyed before, but Sam chose to ignore so many times before. As both continued to do now.

The argument escalated from there, until they were head to head, shouting at each other an hour later. Then John had laid down his ultimatum and Sam had gone.

And that's where the vision should have ended, too. There hadn't been anyone else in the cabin, especially not some creepy assed creature with glowing purple eyes. Nothing had physically kept him from following Sam, as it had in this weird version.

Dean had wanted to go after his brother and beg him not to leave, he had wanted to force his dad to take what was said back. But he knew that nothing he could say to either one would bridge the gap that had just been created. In the end, the middle Winchester had stood there silently, not doing a damn thing as one of the only people he cared about in the world left him behind.

"Dean?" Sam asked and when he didn't respond, hit him in the shoulder, "Dean, hey man, don't space out on me here."

"What?"

"Where are you going? You missed the turn out of town."

"I didn't miss it. I intentionally passed it."

"Uh huh, and why did you do that?"

"'Cause we're not leaving here yet. I'm stopping at the motel up ahead for the night."

Sam eyed him, thinking there was more than Dean was saying. His brothers face was tense and one hand had come up to massage his forehead as if to relieve a headache.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam. Sheesh, you can be such a mother hen sometimes."

"I wouldn't have to be if you'd ever just tell me when something's wrong."

"Yeah, well, there's nothing wrong with me, so you can stop."

They reached the motel and got a room, and the brothers started carrying in their gear. Sam noticed that Dean double parked the Impala, and shook his head at the other brother's excessive precaution.

"Better safe than sorry. People these days have no respect for classics anymore, Sam." Dean said seeing him.

"Dude, you have serious overprotectiveness issues."

Dean looked at Sam for a second, seeming to be thinking that over. "It's not like I have much to protect."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he frowned. From the shorter man's expression that statement implied so much more than the words said.

"Nothing, man, I'm just tired." Dean turned to walk into the room, but Sam caught his arm.

"No, really, Dean. You've been on edge all of today."

"So?"

"So, something is going on, and I wish you'd tell me what has you acting like this."

But Dean just shrugged off the hand and continued with his carryall bag.

"Dean, please?" Sam ran in front of him, and gave him the puppy dog eyes that his brother had never been able to resist.

A resigned look met his efforts. "I've just been remembering...things. Thinking about some things that happened a few years ago."

"What?" It must have been big, to have Dean freaking out like this.

"It wasn't really important." He passed Sam and made it into the room, tossing the bag into a chair in the corner, his little brother trailing behind him.

Still confused by Dean's vague response to the question, Sam walked into the room determined to continue the talk, but his brother had already gone into the bathroom, in an obvious attempt to escape anymore inquiries. He could hear the water running for a shower.

Sam sighed in frustration. It was just like Dean. Always avoiding talking about anything that remotely reached into the emotional level. He kept it all inside, all his pain, all his fears and worries. And even when he admitted to anything bothering him, he always acted like it wasn't important. As if he wasn't important.

It hurt Sam to see his brother always putting everyone else before himself. Dean never seemed to want anything for himself. He had no plans in life except to continue what he'd been doing since he was four. Dean would keep on fighting, keep on giving, until there wasn't anything left.

What had the middle Winchester been doing while Sam was at Stanford? Dean never talked about it. The few things Sam knew were found out by accident. Like Cassie. A girl who had meant enough to his brother to break the Winchester rule; We do what we do, and we shut up about it. He couldn't ignore the pain in Dean's hazel eyes when he'd figured out that Cassie had dumped his older brother. Even though she'd apparently come to accept the reality supernatural beings, she'd also made it clear that any kind of relationship was over.

It's not like I have much to protect.

What did Dean have to protect? He never seemed to protect himself. The older brother took the brunt of all the injuries during hunts, keeping Sam safe. He'd done it since they were kids. Sam remembered all the times Dean had thrown himself in front of the proverbial, and sometimes literal, bullet to keep his little brother from being the one hurt.

And it was always Dean that had kept him and his father from coming to blows during their fights, even though they both usually ended up lashing out at him for it.

John would transfer all his anger onto Dean, but the young man had never complained as he'd dealt with the harsh words now directed at him, that were really meant for Sam. And when Dean defended his fathers actions to Sam, the youngest Winchester would heatedly accuse him of never standing up to their dad. Dean had taken it all silently, never letting anyone see how much it must have hurt. And he'd done it for his family, to keep the peace, to keep the family together.

Then Sam had left for college.

Dean wouldn't protect himself and now he didn't have his brother. What did that leave Dean? A car. An inanimate object that couldn't even return the affection.

Brrrringg

The sound startled him out of his depressing thoughts. Sam looked over at the table to see his cellphone was ringing. Picking it up, he nearly dropped it when he saw the number calling.

"Dad?"

"Sam. Is Dean around?"

No 'Hi son, how are you doing' or 'I'm sorry I haven't bothered to call you in a while'. John Winchester was nothing if not straight to the point.

"Just a sec, he's in the shower. I'll go get him." Dean would kill him if he missed a call from their father.

"No, don't. I didn't call to talk with him."

"I guess that would be too much to ask, wouldn't it!" He snapped.

John sighed. "Not now Sam, I don't have the time for an argument. I just wanted to check and see if everything's okay."

"Why wouldn't it be." He asked cautiously. Did his father know what was bothering Dean?

"It's nothing...Dean just tends to lose focus around this time of year..."

He frowned at that. Sam thought he'd remember if this had happened before. "What are you talking about?"

"It didn't happen until after you left, Sam. What, you didn't notice that this week would make it exactly five years since you left for Stanford?"

Sam blinked. Was it true? He quickly thought back and realized that it had been this week, five years ago, that he had finally packed his bags and went to start a new life. "So you called to tell me Dean's acting so strange because this is when I left for college?"

"Yeah. You should probably be careful if you're in the middle of a hunt. Every job he's worked over this week didn't go well."

"What do you mean they didn't go well, Dad?"

"I said, he wasn't focused. He made mistakes. The jobs he was working ended badly each time.

Would it kill him to be any more specific? Sam thought before John's comment registered, with the use of 'he' not 'we'. "You weren't there?"

"No, I had my own gigs at the times." Already anticipating Sam's accusing reaction, John added, "Your brother's a big boy, Sam, he should have been able to handle them alone. He's done it since you left."

Alone? He knew Dean had been working a job by himself in New Orleans before he'd picked up Sam from Stanford to look for their father, but he hadn't considered that was something the older brother did often. The Winchester men had always worked together; ever since their father thought his boys were old enough. He'd always believed that had continued even after he'd been gone.

His father obviously read his anger through the silence. "Look, I just thought you should know. Just in case he starts making mistakes again."

"Right."

"Don't tell Dean I called. He never likes to be checked up on."

"Like I'd want to tell Dean that when his dad finally calls, it's only to tell me to keep an eye on him because he might be having an off week."

"Goodbye Sam." A click confirmed that his dad was gone.

"Yeah, it was nice chatting with you, too." Sam muttered, throwing the cellphone down on the bed.

Sam was angry at John all over again. Damn it Dad, he thought, why are you always gone when we need something. Dean obviously needed you, and you pushed him away. You left him alone.

A voice in his head answered. No, Sam. You did that. You're the one who decided you'd rather have a nice normal life than to stay with your family.

He couldn't argue with the voice, because it was right. He had left.

Dean would never have abandoned his dad and brother so that he could have a better life. The man had sacrificed any dreams or ambitions he might have had for his family. And he continued to, even after his family had left him behind. First with Sam, and now his dad.

At least John seemed to think he was staying away to keep them safe. He'd called a couple times, and sent text messages, even if they were coordinates for a job he wanted them to work. It made it look like less of an desertion. Sam's motives had completely selfish and he hadn't seen or talked to his brother for two years.

"Were you talking to somebody, Sam? I thought I heard you from the bathroom."

Sam turned to see Dean running a towel over his wet hair.

"No, just talking to myself." He smiled, trying to look as if he was chagrined at being caught

He'd told their dad the truth. He really didn't want to tell Dean that their father had called to warn Sam that his brother might mess up during the hunt. That he hadn't wanted to talk to his son, or even let him know he'd called. Heaven forbid that Dean might think Dad was concerned about him, that he really cared about how he was doing.

Dean grinned. "Dude, you know that talking to yourself is the first sign that you're going crazy. Just remember to avoid nuts and fruits tomorrow at breakfast."

Sam feigned a glare, before breaking into an amused smile.

Dean went over to do an inventory of all their gear in the corner, and Sam went in the bathroom to take his shower.

"Hey Sammy, tell the truth. You've always wanted to be a florist, haven't you." Dean called out before the door closed.

He turned around, smirking, and then felt something soft hit the back of his head.

"Jerk." Sam's voice was muffled over the sound of the shower starting up again.

"Bitch." Dean threw back over his shoulder.

When the bathroom door was shut again, Dean picked up the projectile, Sam's shirt, and made as if to toss it on the bed Sam had chosen. Then he noticed Sam's cellphone was open, with a 'call ended' message still flashing on the screen.

Frowning, Dean picked it up and looked at the number that was under 'call ended'. Then he dropped the phone where he'd found it.

What the hell? Dad had called. Why didn't Sam tell him.

Confusion and hurt were evident on his face as Dean tried to think of a reason his brother would have been withholding this from him. What could his father have been calling about?

Why didn't he call me?

A myriad of thoughts and emotions swirled through his mind. Dean sat on his bed and rubbed his forehead. The headache he'd had since the gas station had started to diminish after the shower, but now it came back with an unrelenting force.

Unable to think any further, he laid down and closed his eyes.

There was no one around to witness it. The sound of the shower would have covered any noise that might have been made. Dean, asleep on the bed, was completely unaware of what was happening.

But if he'd been awake, he would have instantly noticed the soft glow that was coming from the pendant hanging loosely around his neck.

It only took a few moments for the glow to brighten, almost blinding in intensity, before it disappeared, leaving in it's place a silver haze that seeped silently from the small amulet.

The small cloud hovered for a moment, hesitantly reaching out its silver tendrils before pulling back. Moving so that it hung beside the sleeping man's bed, the mist slowly swirled before finally melting away into the figure of a woman.

When the transformation was completed her eyes swept the room, taking in every detail before they fell on the young hunter.

She leaned over his bed and pressed her hand against the inside of his wrist. He unconsciously jerked away, instinctively reaching under his pillow, before stilling again. For a long moment she stayed like that, her gaze never leaving his face. Finally her hand jerked back.

"Shit." The words came out in a low frustrated tone, finally breaking the silence. "You always were a stubborn bastard."

She started to reach out again, but the noise of the shower was suddenly cut off and she heard someone moving around in the bathroom. At the same time she became aware of another problem. The cold voice invaded her thoughts, taunting her with it's familiarity.

"It's so good to be back."

The woman froze. Her eyes darted from Dean, the bathroom, and the motel door.

What do you want? She demanded harshly

"Payback is such a bitch, isn't she?"

Nothing's changed. You can't do anything anymore. Or have you forgotten already.

"Au contraire, things have changed. It's going to be different this time around."

As the words finished playing in her head, the doorknob to the bathroom began turning and she allowed her form to flow back into a shapeless shadow. In a flash of silver, it smoothly began streaming back into the pendant. Scant seconds later there was no trace that it had ever existed.

Sam came out of the bathroom and was surprised to see Dean already asleep on his bed. His brother lay on his stomach, one hand under the pillow where Sam knew there was a knife. Even out cold, Dean couldn't- wouldn't- let his guard down.

The brunette silently sighed at how much that said about their life as he pulled back the sheets to his bed and climbed in.

He was on the edge of sleep, when he heard Dean mumbling into his pillow. Sam was surprised, since Dean had never talked in his sleep before. Leaning over he closed his eyes and tried to listen.

"You can't go... Sammy please... don't leave me." Dean's voice had a strange catch to it that he could hear, even though it was slightly muffled by the pillow. "..I can't be alone anymore."

Sam's eyes opened and he looked over to see Dean's face was scrunched up into a mix between pleading and hurting.

Then the older brother turned his head the other way, out of Sam's sight, and the talking stopped.

Sam rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Sleep took longer in coming this time, Dean's words haunting him. Don't leave me. I can't be alone.

"I'm so sorry Dean." He whispered, even though he knew his brother wouldn't hear him.

He was dreaming. Even through the sleepy haze that clouded his mind, he was still semi-aware of where he was. Something brushed against his wrist, as a flash of purple streaked through his eyes. Startled, he reached for his knife...

Dean head snapped up as he looked around to find himself standing in a cabin he hadn't seen in almost five years. 'Wow, this can't be for real!'

"So you're going to go to school and forget about what this family does - forget about what happened to your mother?"

'What the hell?' Dean thought, spinning around to see his father and brother in the center of the room.

"That's what this is really about, Dad. Your obsession with finding whatever killed her."

Dean's jaw fell slightly open as he watched that night from five years before being replayed right in front of him in full technicolor and surround sound. This had to be a dream.

'Stay cool, Dean. You fell asleep in the motel and are having some kind of freaky nightmare.'

But it felt way too real to be a normal nightmare.

"Fine. Go to school, find the life that you want so much. But if you leave us, Sam, don't bother coming back. You won't be welcome in this family again."

"Fine" Sam left the room before coming back with his bags, and went to the door. Only looking back to say, "Goodbye Dad", he walked out of the cabin.

Dean started to the door, instinctively following what he'd done in the earlier vision/dream at the gas station. This time he was prepared when the purple-eyed creature blocked his way. Without hesitating, he took out the gun from behind his back and fired at it.

"Take that, you freaky sonuvabitch." He glared at the unknown intruder as he shot a few more rounds at it. With a sharp hiss, and flash of irritation glinting in its eyes, whatever the hell it was moved away, letting him go.

He passed it and moved cautiously to the door, not taking his eyes off the dark shape. Suddenly the mist surrounding the figure melted away, revealing a beautiful and tall woman.

Her hair was a silver, streaked with a light purple, that fell to her shoulders. Her clothes matched, with a silvern skirt and a deep purple halter top. Her eyes had stayed the same color, but they didn't seem as menacing as before.

'Well, that wasn't what I was expecting. Okay, wake up, Dean, wake up.'

"Dean. It's good to see you." Her voice was melodic, calm, while her face was gentle and ageless.

Confused, he moved back toward her, seeing out of the corner of his eye that his dad was still looking at the door, but didn't appear to notice anything unusual, like say, a misty creature turning into a stunning female.

"What... who...?" A burning on his right wrist made him look down to see a small symbol that looked like it had been branded into the skin of the inside of his wrist.

Indecisively glancing at the door and then back at the woman, Dean quickly thought. He considered demanding some answers from this strange woman, but the overwhelming need to find out what lay beyond, outside, made up his mind. Sam. He needed to go find his brother. He turned around and started to leave.

"Wait, Dean I need to talk to you-"

He ignored her call. Dean stepped out the door and felt as if he'd just gone through some weird portal. Like freakin Stargate. He winced as something ripped through his brain...

Dean looked around, as if just recalling why he was standing outside the cabin. Then he started running toward the tall figure making its way down the gravel driveway and onto the main road...

back again to an unspecified time or place...

"Sam! Sam, wait up."

Sam turned to see his brother running toward him from the cabin and stopped. The younger man's eyes were watery and he felt slightly dazed, as if he couldn't believe how this had ended. But they were also resolved. He wasn't going to stay under his dad's thumb any longer.

As soon as the older man had caught up to him, Sam tried to forestall what he was going to say. "Dean, don't try talking me out of this. I'm not going back." He begged his brother silently to understand, and not make this any harder than it was.

"You can't go. We need you here, bro.," Dean looked at Sam pleadingly, then added in a tone that he only used when something finally cracked that emotional wall Dean had erected around him, "I need you, Sammy. Please- don't leave me. This life is lonely enough as it is, with only you and Dad."

"Dean, I can't. This isn't the life I want, it's never been what I've wanted. If I don't go, I'm never going to have another chance like this one."

"What, a chance to be normal? Why can't you just be happy with the way things are? If you would just stop challenging Dad, everything would be fine. We'd be a family!"

"Things wouldn't be fine, Dean. They haven't ever been fine, and you know it." Sam was angry - at life, at the way things had turned out, and especially at their dad for the grip he had on Dean. "Dad has never been a real father, not since Mom died, and he's never going to. I know you worship the man, but he only cares about finding the demon, and killing anything evil that comes along."

Dean looked away, blinking away the tears that were starting to form. It was true, and it hurt more every time he admitted it to himself.

"You keep doing everything he wants you to, but never once has he said he's proud. He treats us like we're soldiers under his commands, ordering us around, expecting that we'll go wherever he says, no questions asked."

"He has his reasons, Sam." He defended his father, "And he's doing the best he can. You know things have been hard since..."

"The fire. I know. But Mom's dead, Dean. You know that nothing is ever going to bring her back. Do you think that this is what she wanted for us? Hunting creatures, digging up graves in the middle of the night to put an awakened spirit to rest, casting demons back into hell? Why, Dean? Why do you want to continue to live like this, to keep on fighting?"

This time Dean looked Sam in the eye, "Because it's all I know how to do. This is what I've done ever since I can remember and I'm not sure I could ever do anything else."

"Yes, you can Dean," Sam said earnestly. "You don't have to do this anymore. We can leave this life, go somewhere else and start a new one."

"I can't leave Dad. He needs me . . . "

"He doesn't need you. And you know it. You can't keep deluding yourself, thinking that he's ever going to change. He'll never see you as more important than finding the demon."

His shoulders slumping, Dean nodded slowly, admitting that Sam was right. About everything. His dad didn't need him, and that would never change. He was so tired of this life, tired of the hunt, and he wanted it to change. To be able to meet people and stay around long enough to get to know them - not having to leave as soon as a job was over. And he wanted to stay with Sam. Since the day Dean had carried his baby brother out of their burning house, he'd always watched over him. He was his brother's self-appointed guardian, and nothing would ever hurt him while Dean was around.

If Sammy left tonight, there wasn't anything worth staying for, he realized in a moment of perfect clarity.

And that's what's what made up his mind. Sam was his responsibility, his life. If he chose to stay with John, he would lose the most important, maybe the only thing that kept him going through all the hunts and jobs they did. He couldn't do that. He couldn't be alone, not now not ever.

Looking back up at Sam, Dean nodded again.

"Okay, Sam. Let's get out of here."

Dean Winchester was done fighting.

A/N: The idea for this story came to me back in February and I finally made myself sit down and write it so that it would leave me alone. Oh, and my sister's constant hounding might have something to do with it too. Lol. I've finally completed enough of it that I feel okay with putting it up for the inspection of the general public.

A/N2: All parts labeled 'unspecified time and place' should be read as though Dean is dreaming/having a vision. Meaning he remembers what happened in them when he gets back to the present.

And finally, I'm going to put a shameless plug in for my sis' story Doppelganger that is also written under Kerri B. Since I'm lucky enough to live with her, I got to read all the chapters she's written so far. So I know what an awesome story it is.

Any reviews or comments for my fic are appreciated but I'm not gonna keep begging for them. -Kerri :)