Dean flopped onto the bed and rolled over onto his stomach, not even bothering to shed the snowflake speckled heavy coat. Too bad he and John hadn't been hunting mummies. The hunters were wrapped up enough they could probably have just joined the clan or tribe or whatever the hell mummies would have if there were such a thing as mummies. Who knew West Virginia got this freakin' cold. Not like this werewolf was in Alaska. At least the thing was dead and tomorrow morning Sandstone Falls State Park and its drafty little cabin would be history. John was headed for North Carolina in the morning for a solo job, so Dean was hitting the open road, with plans to meet up in St. Louis in a week. Maybe I'll stay here until then and see what that Rip Van Winkle guy had going on. I am so bloody tired.

Chirp. Damn. Is a little sleep too much to ask? Chirp. What the thunder is that? Chirp. Hell, it's not going away.

Dean struggled to open one eye, seriously doubting the interruption was worth opening two. He finally recognized the chirp as his cell phone underneath his entire wardrobe, all of which he was wearing. Fine, I'm up. Slept six minutes at least, wouldn't want to stagnate lounging around. He sat up and began excavating the phone. Dad's bed is still empty, musta forgot to tell me something. Hasn't time to piss anybody at the bar off. Well, he probably hasn't had time.

Dean flipped the screen open, trying to focus on the small letters jumping about in an obvious attempt to provoke him. One missed call. No, if I had missed it, genius Mr. ALexander Graham Bell, I'd still be asleep. And then he saw the name. Sam?

Two years. He hadn't spoken to Sam in two years. Hadn't laid eyes on him in fifteen months, but Sam didn't know about that little spy mission. Hadn't mentioned Sam to anyone in three or four months now. Hadn't even thought about him in twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Could have called for a hundred reasons, doesn't have to be bad. Come on, just listen to the message already. Not a big a deal. Staring at phone ain't gonna help, not like anybody 'round here's psychic or something.

"Umm, my name is Jessica Moore. I'm trying to reach Sam Winchester's brother Dean. Sam's in the hospital and he's pretty sick; there was a shooting. I know your family isn't close, but, well, I just thought you might want to know."

Not close? Sammy?

Dean was throwing his duffel into the impala's trunk when his Dad pulled up in the truck.

"Dad, grab your gear, we have to go." Even in the moonlight Dean looked pale.

"What're you talking about?" John's voice was gravelled, more than ready for some sleep.

"Some chick called from Stanford. Sammy got shot. We have to go. Now." Dean was already back in the room gathering his father's things.

"Dean, hold up there. You sure it's that bad?" John's beard did a fairly good job of hiding his own sudden palor.

"That bad? Shot, Dad. Sam. Got. Shot. We gotta go." Dean's ran a hand over his face, bewildered by his father's hesitation.

"Dean, it's 2500 miles. Whatever happens will be over long before we could get there. I have a job to get to in the morning and that's what I'm going to do. Sam made his choice, and it wasn't us."

"He didn't choose Dad! You threw him out!" Good soldier rules be damned if it meant abandoning Sam.

"Dean, this subject is closed. I'll be in St. Louis to meet you in six days. You gonna be on time?" John glowered at his older son.

"No. Sir." Dean pulled away, leaving his father standing in the dark.

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I64W Kentucky - Gas. Hot dog. Coffee.

I know you're not close

"Dean, take your brother and go!" A tiny fist wrapped around his finger as he carried Sam out of their burning house, away from whatever childhood had been scheduled for one Dean Winchester. An infant Sam couldn't know his mother was dying in the flames soaring behind them, couldn't know their father was forever changed. Dean knew. Even at four he somehow knew. Sammy's mine now.

I64W Illinois - Gas. Cheesburger. M&M's.

I know you're not close

"Dean?"

A three year old Sam standing beside his bed, battered bear stuffed under one arm, small blanket clapsed in the opposite hand.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Can I sleep in your bed? There's wolves."

Dean smiled and pulled back the blanket, holding a rounded elbow to make it easier for Sam's short legs to scramble into the bed. "You scared, Sammy?"

A quick shake of the shaggy head, belied by saucer sized eyes. "M'not, Dean! Teddy, though, Teddy is scared."

"Umm-hmm. Tell Teddy it's just the wind outside, ok?"

"Mm-kay, Dean. I'm gonna stay here. If he forgets after I'm sleepin', you can tells him, kay?"

I70W Missouri - Gas. Coffee. Bathroom. More coffee.

I know you're not close

"Dean?"

Dean's pencil was snatched out of his hand, second grade homework irrelevant to his baby brother.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Do old people die?"

Dean pushed Sam's hair out of his eyes, surprised by the serious look on the four year old's face.

"Sooner or later, I guess."

"Mommy wasn't old."

"No. No, she wasn't."

"Why'd she leave me?"

"She didn't want to Sammy. She loved us a lot, ok?"

"Ok." Sammy tipped his face up to study his brother, chewing on his lip to still a tremble there.

"Dean?"

Sigh. "Yeah Sammy?"

"You promise to be old when you die?"

"I promise, Sammy, I promise."

I29N Iowa - Coffee. M&M's. Gas.

I know you're not close

"Dean?"

A pair of sneakers was dangling an inch from his nose.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Can you show me again?"

"Sure." Dean bent to untie his own shoe, feeling Sam's breath on his neck. He made a loop out of one of the strings. "Stand the first soldier up at attention. The second one creeps around the perimeter, then he bolts down in the foxhole. First one yanks him tight and he's captured. One tied up shoe!"

A ear splitting grin as Sam's chubby fingers mirrored the manuever. "Gottcha!"

IA-2W Nebraska - Donuts. Bathroom. Coffee. Gas. Coffee.

I know you're not close

"Dean?"

The name was almost unrecognizable between wheezed gasps.

"Yeah Sammy?" Dean made a monumental effort to stop laughing.

"Let me up!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"You hit me over the head with a pillow, as I recall. I was just making your lunch." The room was coated in feathers, and compliments of the handful of peanut butter Dean had smeared down his face, so was an eight year old Sam.

"But you're bigger than me. Let me up!"

"Course I'm bigger than you, I'm the big brother, you're the runt, forever."

I80W Utah - Bathroom. M&Ms. Coffee. Coffee.

I know you're not close

"Dean?"

Damn, he looks worse than I do, just grit your teeth Dean.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Not sure I can do this. It'll hurt."

"You're not gonna hurt me, kiddo. You've seen Dad do it, you'll be fine."

Sam gave another dubious look at the suture kit and the three inch gash in his brother's arm.

"I don't know..."

"For Chrissakes Sam, you're eleven years old. Just do it already." John's voice boomed in from the shower.

The eight crooked stitches took an hour, including two breaks for puking, both on Sam's part. Dean never flinched.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I'm never doing this again. I know I hurt you."

"Sam?"

"You'll do it again. Better next time. It gets easier, ok?"

I880S California - Gas. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.

I know you're not close

"Dean?"

Finally. He's been brooding an hour.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"You know Candace Poole?"

"Redhead in your class, green eyes, five two, probably a hundred pounds, likes ponytails and tight blue sweaters. No, not really, why?"

"I'm not real sure what to do."

"With her? I've got several ideas on what to do, Sam."

"Dean! Geeze, it's ninth grade. No, I just had a problem with her in English class."

"What, a she doesn't understand the profound depths of joy in complex sentence diagramming kind of problem or a she won't give me the time of day because I'm such a geek boy problem?"

"No, a she just up and kissed me out of the blue kind of problem."

"Please tell me that's not the first time that's happened, Samantha. Sounds like my first ideas were right on target. You want those in alphabetical order or by degree of difficulty?"

US101 S to San Jose

I know you're not close

"Dean?"

A million words hung in the air and none of them were gonna stop Dean's world from ending.

"Yeah Sammy?"

"You know I have to go, right?"

"Yeah. Just, Dad didn't mean it, Sam. Not the way it sounded anyway. Let me talk to him again."

"No. I'm done. Give me a ride to the bus station or don't, Dean. I'm outta here tonight either way."

"Get in." The drive was nearly silent, too long and too brief at the same time.

"Sam..."

"It's ok, Dean. This was always between Dad and me. Thanks for the ride."

Dean took another look at the brother he'd raised, huffed out a sigh. A last look? "I'm proud of you Sammy. Go show 'em whatcha got."

"I'll miss you too, Dean." Sam swallowed hard, long legs jerkily swinging him into the waiting bus. "Goodbye."

Middlefield Rd. Palo Alto.

I know you're not close

You're wrong Jessica Moore, whoever you are, and you better not have let my brother die.