Thank you so much Jenjoremy for your wonderful job beta'ing this for me. Thank you Gredelina1 for all your help and encouragement.

Thank you all that have read and reviewed so far. You guys have blown me away with the support. I blew past 100 reviews with the last chapter. I appreciate each and every one.

Chapter Ten

Dean watched Caleb and Bobby crossing the street to the diner the next morning through a crack in the curtain. He hadn't spoken to either of them since he'd gotten back to the motel the night before. Bobby had knocked, but Dean hadn't answered. He didn't want to deal with Bobby yet. He didn't want anything that would mar his feelings about finding Sammy.

He wasn't sure how he felt about Bobby in that moment either. Dean couldn't forget the fact it took a lot of pushing before Bobby admitted that he thought Sam was Sammy. Was he going to keep it secret forever or would he have told Dean in his own time? The fact Dean couldn't know which it was for sure made it hard for him to make sense of how he felt.

He stepped back from the window and turned to look at the room. He had straightened up in preparation for Jessica's visit. She hadn't said much on the phone other than to tell him she was going to come by so they could talk before seeing Sam. He was eager to get this conversation over so he could see Sam again, but at the same time he was nervous of making a false move and messing it all up. He needed to get as much from Jessica as he could before they set out.

There was a gentle knock on the door and Dean rushed to answer it. Jessica was standing on the stoop, two paper cups in her hands. "Morning." Her words were cheery but the shadows under her eyes made Dean sure she had slept no better than he had.

"Hey, Jess," he said, stepping back to allow her entrance.

She came into the room and set down the cups on the table then rooted in her purse for a baggie of Danish pastries. She handed them to Dean and he felt the heat seeping from them through the plastic.

"These are still warm," he said.

She shrugged. "I gave up trying to sleep about three. I spent the rest of the night baking."

Dean nodded. "Better than what I did."

In response to her raised eyebrow, he pushed the cigar box that served as the Winchester family album that he had spent the night studying across the table. She opened it and pulled out a picture of Dean sitting in an armchair with a newborn Sammy on his lap.

"Sam?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's Sammy."

She smiled fondly and set the photograph carefully back into the box then pushed one of the coffees into Dean's hand. "Drink."

Dean obeyed and felt the heat warming him where he hadn't realized he was chilled. He took a pastry from the bag and began to eat, savoring the taste.

"Okay," Jessica said, taking a sip of her own coffee and then setting it aside and looking around the room. "We need to…" She paused as her eyes fell on the far wall and the map that was still tacked up there. "What's that?"

"That's what has shaped my whole life since I was eight years old," he said, standing and walking across the room. Jessica followed. "Ever since Sam was taken, we've been hunting the thing that took him. Every single sign we've found is on there." He pointed to one of the multitude of colored dots. "We have followed every lead, but it's been useless so far because we're pretty sure it hasn't fed since it took Sam."

"Fed?"

Dean tapped another point on the map. "The thing that took Sammy is called a Shtriga. It's a creature that feeds on life forces. It takes that from a person, usually a child, and the child dies."

"It kills children?" She sounded disgusted.

"Yes, but not quickly and mercifully. They drain their immune system until they wither away from something like pneumonia. The parents have to watch their kids suffer and die and know there's not a thing they can do for them. It's brutal."

"Are there many out there?"

"Not many, enough to cause tragedy though. The only blessing is that they only have to feed sparingly many years apart. The one we've been hunting all these years should be feeding now, or need to really soon, so we're more alert for it than ever before."

"How do you watch for something like this?" she asked.

"We have a buddy that tracks news stories for us. We're looking for an outbreak of something like pneumonia in kids somewhere. When we find that, we'll know where to look."

"You've spent all these years knowing what took Sam and you haven't been able to kill it," she said in a wondering tone. "How did you not lose your mind?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "I'm not sure I haven't. My dad, he's taken it harder than me. He changed after we lost our mom, but after Sammy… he broke. For years, he would think he saw Sammy in places we visited, in people we met. He would believe he had found him again, and it would overwhelm him. Then he'd see that it wasn't, and he'd get into these deep fits of depression that I couldn't pull him out of. We would have to stop hunting and go stay with friends for weeks at a time until he got it together again. But he never really got it together, you know?"

"That must have been hard for you."

"Impossible," Dean said. "I was just a kid—eight years old—and my whole world had fallen apart for the second time, and I was suddenly the one that had to keep it all together."

"The second time?"

Dean drew a breath. "We lost our mom to a monster when Sammy was six months old. We've been hunting that all these years, too. My life, pretty much as long as I can remember, has been about revenge and searching."

Jessica laid a hand on his arm and smiled slightly. "You can stop one search now, though. You've found him."

"Yeah," Dean said with a shaky smile. "I have." He wiped a hand over his face and was surprised that it was wet. He brushed his hand off on his jeans leg and sniffed. "So, now you know the Winchester tragedies…"

"I do, and I am very sorry for you," she said. "But we have something good. Sam. We need to see him, but before we do, we need to talk about some stuff."

"Okay," Dean said, walking back to the table and sitting down. He took a drink of his coffee and said, "Tell me what I need to know."

She sat opposite him and said. "First thing, Sam is not going to take this well. Like I said last night, this is going to hurt him. He and James are incredibly close and he trusts him implicitly. Sam doesn't know he was adopted, so this is going to be a massive shock."

"Of course," Dean said. "I get that."

"I don't think you do. You have your dad, and you've been his caretaker, right? Well all Sam's ever had is his father. James is Sam's dad and has been as long as Sam remembers. James made sure Sam had the best opportunities in life; he primed him for success and supported him throughout. One of the things that matters most to Sam is that he make his father proud."

Dean could relate to that. He had spent his early life wanting to make John proud by taking care of Sammy so well. Then, after, he had fixated on doing the best he could in Sammy's memory. He understood what it was to live a life for someone else.

"I know this isn't going to be easy," he said. "I'm not expecting Sam to just remember it all and be my little brother again, but he has to know the truth."

"I agree. And I'm glad you understand. This is going to be hard for you both." She picked up a pastry and absentmindedly began to tear it to pieces on the table. "Another thing, don't try to push him; he'll just push right back. Sam is the most stubborn person I've ever met."

Dean smiled reminiscently. "I remember."

"That's another thing: he's not a child. Sam isn't 'Sammy' now. He's a grown man and not the kid brother you lost."

"I know that," Dean said defensively. "Believe me, I see how he's changed."

Jessica's mouth pressed into a line and she frowned, but she didn't argue, for which Dean was grateful. Maybe he wasn't being honest with himself, maybe he was hoping for the tearful reunion in his most secret heart, but he was trying his best to prepare himself, which was all he could do.

"Anything else?" he asked.

She surveyed him for a moment, staring into his eyes, and then she shook her head. "No, I think I have done all I can. If we're going, we should go."

"Good," Dean said, because he wasn't sure how much longer he could wait.

Sam had read about people having near-death experiences and being completely changed by them, and he'd always thought it was a little strange. He was happy in himself and his life, and he couldn't imagine why he would want to change it, even if something like that happened to him. But it had happened, and while he didn't want to change his life, he appreciated what he had in it even more now.

He had always known the things he'd had in his life, the opportunities and privileges he'd had access to through his father and hard work, weren't available to all; he'd known how lucky he was. But now it was like someone had peeled back a layer of gauze from his eyes and made him see it all anew. He was one lucky man. He was experiencing an amazing education, he had a father that made him strive to be the best man he could for the world, and he had Jessica: a beautiful, talented, intelligent woman that loved him as he adored her.

He knew just how blessed he was, and he knew how lucky he was to be alive to experience this after what had happened to him.

Had the vampires been hungrier, had they been impatient or cruel, had Dean been a little slower, he might not have made it. He would have left his father grieving a son and Jessica a lover. It was all down to Dean that he had this second chance at life. He just wished he knew a way to repay him for what he had done. How did you even start to thank someone for saving your life? He had to find a way, not only for Dean, but for his friend Bobby, too.

He was resting his eyes and trying to think of a way to show his gratitude when he heard the door click open and Jessica speaking quietly. "Oh, he's sleeping."

"I'm not," Sam said, opening his eyes and smiling at Jessica. His smile grew further when he spotted Dean standing behind her. "Hey."

It looked like it took effort for Dean to return the smile. He looked inordinately stressed, though his eyes were fixed on Sam with intensity that hadn't been there before. Confused by the change in his new friend, Sam asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said quickly. "I'm fine."

Jessica came to the bed and cupped Sam's cheek in her hand and looked at him appraisingly. "How are you feeling, baby?"

"Okay, just a little tired."

"If you're tired, I can come back later," Dean offered, still lurking by the door.

Before Sam could refuse, Jessica spoke sharply. "No, you can't."

Sam raised an eyebrow. Jessica was usually unfailingly polite but she was verging on rudeness with the way she was speaking to him.

"What's going on?" he asked her.

She heaved a sigh, and looking back at Dean, she gestured him in with a wave of the hand and then turned back to Sam. "We need to talk."

Those words had never been followed by a conversation Sam had enjoyed. Whether it be his father sitting him down to discuss a D on a report card or an ex-girlfriend admitting she'd been cheating on him—with his best friend as it turned out.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reaching for Jessica's hand where it lay on the sheet and squeezing it gently. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "This isn't about me. It's about you."

Sam frowned. "Me?"

Jessica turned back to Dean where he still stood at the door. "Do you want to start?"

Dean shook his head. "Can you?"

"Of course." Though the words themselves were light, her tone was heavy. "You have to come in though."

Dean seemed reluctant but he stepped away from the door and took a seat beside the bed. Jessica arranged herself more comfortably beside Sam and cupped one of his hands in both of hers.

"First things first, I know what attacked you," she started.

Sam's mouth dropped open and he turned a glare on Dean. "You told her! Why would you do that?"

"He didn't," Jessica said. "I worked it out myself and he just confirmed it, and I don't think he would have done even that if he had been sober."

"Are you scared?" Sam asked her. "Don't be. Dean says there's hardly any left and I know how to deal with them now."

"I'm not scared, Sam," Jessica said with a small smile. "Really, I'm fine. I wouldn't have told you at all, but it's part of the story."

"What story?"

"Mine," Dean said, leaning forward in his seat. "And my family's."

Despite the obvious sadness and discomfort in Dean's face, Sam felt curious. Dean had told them he'd had a brother he'd lost, and Sam had wondered what the story was there. Now it seemed he was going to find out.

He watched Dean for a moment, waiting for him to speak, but Dean merely looked at Jessica with an expression of pleading and she nodded.

"I saw Dean last night, after I left here, and he was a mess. We talked about… well, we talked about a lot of things, but the first was the story of his little brother." Jessica drew a breath. "He was called Sammy, and when he was four years old, and Dean eight, he was taken by a monster."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath. He couldn't imagine how it felt to lose a brother, as he had always been an only child, but he knew how he would feel if he lost his father. Family was special, sacred, and to lose a part of it must have been awful, especially someone so young, and to something as cruel as a vampire.

"It was a creature called a Shtriga," Jessica said, glancing at Dean who nodded. "And it snatched him out of his bed."

"Not a vampire?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head slowly. "There are more than vampires out there, Sam."

Sam thought he should have been told this, but it wasn't the time to point that out when Jessica was sharing a story that was obviously very painful for Dean. He merely nodded his understanding and waited for Jessica to go on.

"All these years, Dean and his dad have believed Sammy was killed outright. But now they know he was left alive after all."

"Wow," Sam gasped. "You mean you've found him? That's incredible."

"Yeah," Dean said quietly. "We found him."

"Dean, man, I'm so happy for you," Sam said, his face alight with happiness for his friend.

"Thanks," Dean said with a slightly sad smile.

"So what happened?" Sam asked. "How did you find him?"

Sam was expecting Dean to answer, but it was Jessica that spoke again, seemingly at random. "About a month before Sammy was taken, he had an accident. He and Dean were playing and Sammy fell and cut himself on some glass. The injuries weren't so bad, their dad was able to patch him up, but they were bad enough to scar. There was a long cut on his right arm and a smaller wound on his back."

Sam didn't connect the facts with himself. He was still confused about this aspect of the story, why they were sharing it, why Jessica was the one talking about things she hadn't been there for.

"The scars were just like yours," Jessica said, turning his hand and running a finger along the line of the silver scar on his arm. "The one on your back, it looks just like Sammy's—a star."

Sam frowned. "Okay…"

"Baby, you're Dean's brother. You are Sammy," Jessica said.

Sam looked from Jessica's earnest face to Dean's hopeful one and a laugh burst out of him. "You're kidding, right? Of course I'm not his brother."

Dean ducked his head, but before he did, Sam saw his stricken expression.

"Whoa! You're serious?" His mind reeled. On what planet was this even a possibility? Jessica knew Sam; how could she have thought he could have gone all this time without him telling her he was adopted? "You're nuts," he said.

"I saw a picture," Jessica went on. "It was Sammy when he was a kid. It's you, Sam, no question."

"No," Sam said, anger coming to temper his shock now. "It was not me."

"Look at it," Jessica said, holding out a hand to Dean who took his wallet from his pocket and held it out to her. She pulled a small photograph from it and held it out to Sam.

He pushed her hand away roughly. "I don't want to see that. I don't need to."

"Look!" Jessica commanded.

Sam snatched the photo from her hand, screwed it into a ball, and threw it onto the floor. "I am not his brother," he said, gesturing roughly at Dean. "I don't have a brother."

"You can't ignore this," Jessica said. "I know it's a shock, but this is your chance to know who you really are, Sam."

"I know who I am. Sam Hydeker!"

"No, you're Sam Winchester," Dean said, getting to his feet and moving around the bed to pick up the photograph. "I don't know what that man told you but your real dad is John and your mom was Mary. You are my brother."

"I don't have a brother!" Sam shouted, furious, and felt a sick pain on the right side of his neck followed by warmth. He didn't need to touch the spot to know he had ripped stitches and was bleeding again. He felt it trailing down his neck.

"Sam!" Jessica said, panic in her voice.

Sam cupped a hand over the wound. "I don't know what kind of game this is, but it's not cool, Dean." He tried to calm himself but his heart was still pounding in his ears. "I appreciate you saving my life, and I'm sorry you're confused, but I am not anyone's brother!"

"Sammy," Dean said plaintively.

"I'm not Sammy," he said. "Sammy is dead."

Dean's eyes widened and he lurched to his feet. For a second it looked like he was going to say something, but with a burning look at Jessica he strode from the room. Sam was glad. He didn't want to see his heartbroken expression anymore.

So… That went wonderfully. Before you come at me and Sam with pitchforks, remember Sam has only ever known his father and this isn't something you can just accept on someone else's word.

Until next time…

Clowns or Midgets xxx