It didn't take much persuasion, Sam was already malleable enough thanks to the whisky. Dean paid and pulled the guy's long arm over his shoulders, unreasonably annoyed that on the discovery of his long lost baby brother, it turned out the baby was about three inches taller than him.
Sam giggled and shuffled along, and Dean couldn't help a small, affectionate smile (what? No one was watching.)
Relief coursed through him in crashing waves as he climbed up to the second floor balcony, just outside Sam's room, propping him against the wall while he fumbled with the key.
So he didn't see the spirit of the murdered family's third and eldest child. Didn't hear her either. All he heard was Sam's surprised, frightened shout of "Dean!"
And then his baby brother, the one he'd been searching for for almost thirty years, tumbled over the balcony.
Dean remembered shooting the spirit. And then he was stumbling down the stairs to where Sam's body lay, mind jerking in and out of the present.
"But Sammy got taken! What if it was monsters?"
John frowned at Dean, cuffing him lightly over the head. "We've talked about this trooper. I'd know if it was monsters. Sammy is safe."
"But we can't just leave him!" Dean could feel tears brimming and overflowing down his cheeks, and even as a nine year old he flushed in embarrassment at the show of weakness. "We can't!" All of their bags were packed, and John was standing by the door.
Dean stayed standing where he was. John glared.
"I am trying to keep your brother safe. You understand that?"
"But how do we know he's safe if we're not there?"
Dean's hands were clammy, and he was tripping down the steps two at a time, (why were there so many damn steps?)
The spirit came again, and he wasted no time in sending three rounds of rock salt into her, caring very little if any civilians heard and came running.
10 year old Dean was on the phone. He'd managed to find Sam's care home by himself, after searching his Dad's bags and going through the phonebook. There was a nice lady on the other end of the phone, but she wasn't his baby brother and John was going to be home soon, and he'd be so angry. Dean kept repeating himself, hoping desperately she'd get the message. He just wanted to hear Sammy, just wanted to make sure he was ok.
John got back and the phone went dead. Dean's ears felt hollow. He could barely remember what Sam's voice sounded like. It felt like losing him all over again.
Dean was shouting now. Someone else was shouting, too, in the distance. Probably heard the noise. He really couldn't care less.
Jumping onto the asphalt, Dean sprinted to where Sam had landed, trying not to see the blood.
Dean was 16 years old. He had a black eye and a split lip. He and his Dad had been fighting again. About Sammy. With a muted groan, Dean twisted his head to stare at the file he'd compiled. It was thick, the size of a family photo album. Dean grimaced. As if he had a family these days. He thought about John's words, ringing round and round his head.
"You think he'd want to face this horror? You think Mary would want that? Leave him be Dean! He is not a part of our lives anymore. Hell, he probably doesn't remember you!"
Dean thought about that. The horror of his life. The gun under his pillow. All the people they failed to save. Living with John Winchester.
And he thought about Sammy, who'd be eleven this year. (And Dean never forgot. Because every year on his birthday, he bought a cupcake, or a muffin, or a breadroll if things got really desperate. And he sang 'happy birthday' under his breath to the little brother who wasn't there, just like he used to.)
He decided to stop looking for Sam. At least for now. At least he'd be safe.
(And miles away Sam cowered in his bedroom away from the looming figure of Gene Hadley, holding a baseball bat.)
Dean was cradling Sam's body in his arms, desperately asking him to wake up, tears streaming down his face.
"Come on Sammy. Come on. Come back. Don't you dare leave me again! Not now. Come on, big brother duties have to resume now kid. You said so! How can I be a big brother if-" Dean choked, warm, sticky blood running over his fingers, matting Sam's long hair. His whole world was crumbling.
"I just don't get it."
If she weren't a demon, Dean would have found the woman in the slinky black dress pretty sexy. But it wasn't exactly high on his list of priorities. Instead he held his ground, in the middle of the crossroad.
"I mean: you barely know this kid. He might not like you. He might not love you. He'll never be the brother you knew. Not now…" She was smiling as she spoke, and Dean fingers twitched to his gun. She caught the movement and laughed, raising her hands.
"What? Truth hurts Dean. I can't change that."
He forced himself to take a deep breath. "You can change this. Ten years. Do we have a deal?"
Giving him a pout, she shrugged. "Nope, price is too low. I mean: you really want his soul." She paused, with an affected sigh and a roll of her eyes. "Lucifer knows why."
"He's my brother. Five years."
She giggled. "No deal, and honey, he hasn't been your brother since he was four years old. He's a stranger to you."
"But he doesn't have to be." Dean drew in a deep breath through his nose. Damn it, he was not going to cry in front of a demon. "We can be brothers again. Just bring him back."
The demon tutted. "You have a lot of faith in the guy who stole your car and opened the gates of hell. Between you and me, it's a little naive." She tilted her head to the side. "Or suicidal. I'm going to say a bit of both."
"He is my brother, you stinking bitch. Three years, do we have a deal?" Dean's knuckles were white now, and his patience was thinning. Sam's body was resting, carefully wrapped in a blanket, on the back seat of the Impala. It would be getting cold.
"One year, or no deal."
Dean felt his face fall. He'd wanted to get to know this kid. Teach him the ropes. Learn where he'd been. (Be brothers again. Have a family.) Would one year be enough?
"Guess I don't have much choice."
The demon smiled widely. "Of course you do. Everyone has a choice."
"Not from where I'm standing."
He kissed her.