It was a good thing Sam Winchester had been trained intensively about patterns. He could spot them at any given point in time-at the beginning, in the middle or at the end.

So he knew that the almost impossible hadn't happened when Mr. Wells ignored him for the rest of the week. He understood that this was similar to the eye of the storm. Where he would get rest, but where he should still be wary and prepared for the destruction to continue. So Sam waited it out, using this time to lessen Dean's suspicions.

The first day was the same. Dean would look at his brother, locking him in one of those glares that was reserved just for Sam. He would look back steadily; the relief wasn't hard to fake, and he knew it relaxed him. Dean raised his eyebrows at him, and Sam found himself smiling.

"Yeah Dean I'm okay."

"No more feeling the need to be the rebellious brat you are and walk home?" The words were gruff, but the tone was affectionate enough.

"No, Dean." And cue the famous Sam Winchester eye roll at his brother's antics.

Dean put an arm around Sam's bony shoulders, steering him towards the car.

"Alright good, because there's this girl in my class and if I can shift my attention to her instead of you, that would be awesome." He pushed Sam towards the front door, and Sam looked up at the window to find Mr. Wells watching him, a peculiar look on his face. Sam swallowed, gritting his teeth and feeling his mouth pucker as he returned the look levelly.

"Of course you can, Dean. No reason to have any extra attention on me. You give enough as it is."

x.

x.

"Sam! Dad wants to talk to you!" Dean's voice hollered through Sam's earphones, causing him to jerk and for his notebook to slide off his knees. Sighing, Sam paused his music and pulled the headphones out of his ears. Dean didn't bother knocking, he just strolled in, thrusting the phone in his younger brother's face.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said sarcastically. Dean looked genuinely confused as Sam reached forwards, his fingers securing the little device. He then looked pointedly at his door. Dean either didn't get the hint or he ignored it, folding his arms across his chest as he stared evenly back. Sam blew out an annoyed breath before placing the phone against his ear.

"Hey, dad," he looked away from Dean as he waited for his father's response.

"Hey, Sammy. How are things?" He closed his eyes at his father's rich voice, savouring it if only for a few seconds.

"Things are good. How's the hunt going? Do you need me to look up anything?" He knew the answer before he asked it-if his father had wanted his help, he would have asked for it already. This was just the ritual check-up phone call. And for all his desire to live a normal life, he was desperate to help his family-desperate for them to be safe and alive. So he would play his part-research the hell out of every and any case. And when his time came to hunt, he would be ready. It was inevitable, and he had accepted it long ago. Perhaps that was a reason why he threw himself so furiously into his schoolwork- so he could do what he could with what limited time he had.

His dad's voice brought him back to the here and now.

"It's going good, Sammy. Secured the location-and now it's just the waiting game. How's school and your assignments going?" Sam found himself smiling at his father's genuine interest. He rarely showed it, and that was okay because Sam knew he cared. But it was still nice to be asked.

"School's school-what can I say? I'm guessing a lot better than Dean!" He looked up at his brother, who's expression flashed from thoughtful to playful annoyance.

"Yeah-it's the only thing you're better at me then, bitch!"

"Whatever, jerk!" John's laugher rang through the phone, and both boys fell silent at it. Dean coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. Sam looked down at his bedspread.

"Yeah, school's good. Glad to hear everything's good with you. Do you uh, know when you''ll be coming back?" He swallowed at the knot that was beginning to form in his throat, and he sat up and swung his legs over the bed. He turned from Dean, placing his elbow on his knee and his head in his hands as he awaited his father's response.

"As soon as I catch this sonvabitch. Don't worry, Sammy. You'll be able to finish your tests and essays-I know this time is important." There was an awkward pause as Sam held his breath, and then released it slowly. School was important-but being in the one place was more of a thing he wanted. It wasn't exactly important. Not like seeing his father come home in one piece. But Sam was happy to play along, to allow his father to think that he still had the same mindset about their lifestyle.

"Just-just get home safe, yeah? Sooner rather than later." Sam could hear the smile in his father's voice when he replied a moment later.

"Alright Sammy. Watch out for yourself, alright? Let Dean do his job, too. I'll see you soon." The line disconnected, and Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and flipped it shut. He turned around and held it out to Dean, who was watching him with the same thoughtful expression he'd worn when Sam first took the phone.

"What?" Sam asked as he pressed the phone into his brother's hands.

"No fighting with dad-no complaining about having to move as soon as he comes home?" Dean's eyebrows were raised as he fired the questions off at his brother. Sam flinched slightly-they were fair questions to be asked, but Sam couldn't give an appropriate answer to them. So, he settled for the next obvious reason.

"After what happened last time…even I think dad needs a break." Sam shrugged as if it were that simple. He held his brother's gaze as Dean processed Sam's response. Dean pursed his lip and then exhaled.

"Alright then-I'll cook you my speciality and then I have to get ready for a hot date." Dean clapped his hands together, grinning slightly maniacally and waggling his eyebrows.

Sam found himself snorting, and he climbed off the bed and stalked past his brother.

"Dude, I hope you don't have to cook her your speciality. Actually, if you want to impress, don't do anything that you think is your speciality." And found himself being chased to the kitchen.

Half an hour later Sam was curled up on the couch. His notebooks surrounded him, and his textbooks covered the rotting of the old table in front of him. He was so immersed in his studies that when he felt hands press down on his shoulders, he wound up throwing the book in the air-right into Dean's stunned face.

"Shit-dude!" Sam threw his books off him and crawled away as Dean rubbed his face, glaring at him.

"You're so lucky that it takes more than a notebook in the face to mess up this face. Why are you so jumpy, Sammy?" Dean asked, his hand coming to a halt just under his cheekbone.

"Come on Dean even you know better than to do that when I'm studying!" Sam was breathing heavily, and he fought hard to ignore what those hands had caused in his mind. His freaking brother's hands! Sam knew there would never be another who would make Sam feel as safe as Dean did. But just then, all Sam had been able to think of is Mr. Wells. He'd imagined those hands picking him up and throwing him, or sliding around to his neck, and he cursed his teacher in his head for doing this to him, for beginning to taint his feelings about his own damn brother.

"Sam? Sammy, hey!" Dean's voice brought him out of his thoughts, and by the look on Dean's face and the volume of his voice, Sam could assume that he had been in them for some time.

"What was that?" Dean asked as Sam shook his head, as if shaking the thoughts he had just had off.

"Sorry, I was just thinking of this stupid test I have tomorrow and I haven't studied. Dude get going, you're distracting!" He gestured to the door and sat down without meeting his brother's gaze.

"Sam-"

"Lock the doors, salt the windows and the door, don't open it for anyone. Dude, I'll be fine. Go, be early. You'll need all the help you can get," He couldn't help adding in the jibe with a smirk.

"Aw Sammy, young little innocent Sammy," He ruffled his head lovingly, finishing with a gentle pat on the face before walking to the door. Sam watched as Dean turned and levelled him with a serious look.

"Any sign of trouble or anything Sammy, and you call me, okay?"

"Sir yes sir!" Sam saluted him cheekily, and Dean just rolled his eyes before pushing the door open and shutting it firmly. Only when Sam heard the click of the lock did he allow himself to relax, dropping all pretence that things were as they seemed. He looked somewhat dejectedly at the mess on the couch, blowing out a breath as he bent down to retrieve his science textbook and notebook.

x.

x.

"You know, physical pain fades. I mean you might feel the ghost of an ache, a flash of remembrance. But nothing scars more than the mind. You see, once something gets in your head and breaks down the walls, it becomes stuck. You can't cleanse it out. You will always remember."

"Spare me the pretty story. You can shove your poetic crap up your ass where it belongs!" Sam hissed, channelling in older brother. Mr. Wells cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Sam. The look caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up, and he took shaky steps backwards, only stopping when he felt the wall meet his back. Mr. Wells advanced slowly, enjoying the closing in. Sam looked for an escape route, only stopping when his teacher's hand shot out, fingers curling around his chin. He tried to fight, jerking his head side to side. The fingers took hold of the jaw, yanking Sam's shakes to a stop. He leaned in close.

"I would be very careful at the suggestion of putting things in your ass, Samuel Winchester."

Sam's eyes popped open wide at the crude remark, but he managed to choke down a gasp or any other movements of sounds. Mr. Wells opened his mouth again.

"Sam. Sammy."

"Sam!" Sam was jerked wide awake by a hand roughly shaking him. He let out a loud, gurgled gasp-what he'd been needing to do the whole time in his dream but not feeling safe to. The hand disappeared, and without the support he slumped forward, his sweaty bangs covering his moist eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean asked gently this time, placing a hand gently on his brother's face and lifting it up.

"I'm alright. Just-bad dream. It's not like this hasn't happened before." Sam breathed out deeply, only managing just not to slur his words together. Dean placed a wet cloth to Sam's sweaty forehead, frowning as he took Sam's hand and placed it against the cloth to keep it in place. He then retreated over to the kitchen, and Sam heard the groan of the tap before the rushing of water in a glass. He focused on the cupboards swinging open, on Dean's mutterings, on the closing of the cupboards and then on the heavy footsteps as Dean walked back into the room. A glass was then handed to him, and Dean stood back with the two pills in his outstretched hand. Sam removed the cloth, passing it to Dean with a muttered thanks, and took the tablets. He flicked his head back and placed the tablets on his tongue before chasing them down with water. He finished every drop and then placed the glass on the table with a shudder. Dean watched all this through narrowed eyes, waiting until Sam made himself comfortable before he began talking.

"You want to tell me what that was about, Sam?" His tone made it quite clear that he was not asking. Sam lifted weary eyes to him and shrugged.

"What can I say? I always have nightmares. Nothing different," He said dejetctedly, and Dean straightened.

"Doesn't matter, tell me what happened."

Anger flared through Sam suddenly, and he sprung up, shocking his brother into action. Dean took a step back, holding up his hands at his brother's sudden out burst.

Sam was so tired of people telling and demanding things of him.

"Let it go! If I don't want to talk about it then I don't want to, okay? You think it's fair that you and dad can shut up and not talk about it, but you both make me always speak?" Sam sat back down on the bed, the fight gone just as quick as it had come. Dean was silent for a moment, before he took a step closer. When Sam didn't move or make any objection, he crossed the space over and sat down beside his younger brother.

"Probably not fair to you. But Sam, you gotta know that you're the heart of this family…you gotta know that since you were born you've been my responsibility. I take that very seriously. It's…I say it's my job but we both know it's more then that. So you gotta level with me here man. I know your nightmares only come when something is happening. I've seen the patterns. You may be good Sam but I'm better. I know something is going on with you, and no I'm not just going to let it slide. I have a pretty good damn guess at what it could be too, and I'm very close to the edge of going in, no matter what you say." Sam hid the alarm he felt at Dean's admittance. He was touched, of course he was. But he just couldn't allow this to go on any longer. So he took a deep breath and looked his brother straight in the eye.

"It's about a girl, Dean."