Hey everyone. I am new to writing fanfic's so if I don't respond to your review right away it's because I am still figuring out HOW to do that! Haha, but I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

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Sam ran a hand through his hair and gawked at the man sitting at the table with his brother and Bobby. It seemed like it had been a lifetime since he had seen his father and it drug up many memories he had spent years repressing. The good, the bad, everything had been brought to the surface in a matter of minutes as he stared at the man who told him that if he left for Stanford, don't ever come back. By the time he had come out of his revere, everyone in the kitchen was staring at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, wondering if this was another dream.

The Winchester patriarch stood and whipped his hand up, an offer for Sam. He just stared at his callused hand for a moment before grabbing it and shaking his hand ever so slightly. Refusing to make eye contact or start any sort of conversation, he abruptly let go and took his rightful seat at the table. He kept his eyes on the wooden grains of the table and waited for someone to talk.

His dad took his seat across from Sam and cleared his throat, "Sammy? It's uh- Well, it's been too long son."

"Yes sir." Sam replied, keeping his voice low. He could feel his short nails digging into the palm of his sweaty hand… he kept digging.

The room lapsed into an awkward silence; no one particularly knew what to say. Of course this was all his fault, just like everything else. Everyone there had been just fine, talking and laughing until Sam walked into the room. Maybe he should just leave permanently…

"Sam! Answer me when I speak to you." Sam decided it was time he made eye contact; he would just act normal so that he wouldn't upset anyone. He raised his head a fraction so that he could look at his father. His father seemed taken aback by what he saw in Sam's face. "Son, are you alright?" General concern laced his military tone as he peered across the table.

"Yes sir."

"You don't seem alright. I thought you were going to Stanford to get an education, and here you are hunting again. What the hell happened?" His father turned to glance at Bobby who nodded in Dean's direction. "Dean?"

Dean, who had been staring at Sam the whole time jumped a little at his name and answered his father with a quick, "Yes sir?"

"Apparently Sam doesn't want to talk about whatever happened at that important school of his… The one he abandoned his family to attend. So maybe you could fill me in on some of the details?" His father asked Dean, sarcasm dripping from each word. So quickly, if you had blinked you wouldn't have seen it, Sam was out of his chair and up in his father's face. His nose only an inch away from his face as he grabbed his collar and pulled him close.

"Do you really want to know why I'm back hunting? Do you really?" Sam's tone held just as much sarcasm though he was seething with anger, "Let me see… It could have something to do with the fact that my girlfriend, who would have been my fiancé, was pinned to the ceiling of our apartment, bleeding on my face until she combusted. Into. Flame." By the end of his little speech, he was practically screaming at the top of his lungs straight to his dad's face. His dad's face paled and just stared.

Sam began to breathe heavily, his breath hitching. He started to back away from his father, shaking, only to be pulled into a bone-crunching hug. Being so stunned by this action, Sam only let his arms hang limp at his sides. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you… I shouldn't have ever let you go." Sam gently maneuvered his way out of the bear hug so that he was standing a foot away.

"Dean was there." Sam turned his blue-green eyes over to the deep green ones of his brother, the brother that he would trust with his life. "He came back in and pulled me from the fire… I-I would have been dead were it not for him." He did not add in the fact that he wished with all his heart that he had burned in that room with Jess.

"Well," Dean began, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere and get the attention that was suddenly thrown at him, "just doin' my job little bro." He smirked and ruffled Sam's hair. "So when did you want to go out on that hunt you were telling us about?"

"Hunt? What hunt?" Sam blurted out.

"Why else would I come?" His father huffed, "Of course I have a hunt, and I need you boys help with it. It's one nasty mother and I can use all hands on deck." Dean looked over at his father after he just said one of the stupidest things he could have said. Of course he wouldn't come just to see his two sons who have been looking for him ever since Dean came and took him from Stanford. Of course he would have a hunt to go on.

"Oh. How stupid of me." Sam laughed without humor and continued; "I just thought that maybe you were just coming to see your sons who have been looking for you for months. One son you haven't seen in over four years." His father just kept on glaring at Sam, but that didn't faze him. "That is the whole reason Dean even came to get my dumb ass from Stanford anyway. To come looking for you. I guess maybe I should have just stayed there." He turned his back to the hunters and made his way to his and Dean's shared room and flopped himself down on his bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

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"What the hell was that?" His dad questioned to no one in particular though Dean felt the need to answer.

"Dad, you said that the only reason you came was for the hunt. I understand that the hunt always comes first but… I mean, we've been looking for you for months now. I went and got Sam from school to try to help me find you. I guess he thought that you were coming here to try to reconcile with him, or at least let both of us know that you were alright! I mean… Jesus, dad! You couldn't have at least called?"

"Dean, I was on the tail of that demon that killed your mother! And probably Sam's girlfriend too!"

"Jess." Dean muttered.

"What?"

"Jess." Dean pronounced a bit louder. "Her name was Jessica, and well… She was the love of his life." He bit his lip and looked down at his boots.

"God damn." His father cursed under his breath. My thoughts exactly. Dean thought to himself.

"Sam has been in a kina funk for… well, since I pulled him from his apartment the night Jess… Anyway, hopefully getting back in a hunt will do him some good. We've been taking it slow for a while and maybe we should get back into the swing of things."

"He just seems so… different. He doesn't look like the Sammy I knew before. It's the shell I see… not my son."

Dean looked away at those words. He's seen Sam spiraling down hill for some time now. It's just been so hard talking to him these days. He would try to talk to Sam about anything and he would either get a short melancholy response or a short angry response. He couldn't really talk to him at length about anything important. Come to think of it, Dean only got more than a couple of words from his brother if Sam was trying to get Dean to leave.

"Dad?" His father looked to him, his face full of too many emotions. "I don't know what to do." His father mirrored his face of confusion and dread and he knew that neither of them knew what to do to help the youngest Winchester. But Dean would do everything in his power to make sure his brother was safe. That is what he has been doing since he was four years old and that was just the way it was going to be.

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