A/N Thanks to those who let me know they were still reading this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
EIGHT YEARS LATER
"Mr. Morgan?" The question came from his office door and Sam looked up.
"Yes Glen, what is it?" He ran his hand through his hair and gave the boy a smile. He was a nice kid, albeit a little scatterbrained at times.
"That report on 'Urban Legends and Myths and the Agenda of the Media' is due Monday, right?"
Sam shook his head. "Friday, Glen. No extensions."
"Shit." Glen said before his eyes got wide and he sputtered, "Sorry Mr. Morgan, I—"
Sam cut him off with a hand gesture and a smile. "Don't worry Glen, I've been known to cuss myself. Just get your paper done on time."
The red head bobbed again and he said, "Yup, goodnight Mr. Morgan."
Sam waved him off. "Good Night, Glen."
Half an hour later Sam locked his office and walked across the small campus to his car. He drove through town, humming to the radio.
He pulled up in front of the gym and grabbed his bag from the back seat, locking it up behind him.
Giving the guy behind the reception desk a nod and swiping his membership badge, he made it to the change room and got into his exercise gear. In no time he had his gloves on, hitting the heavy bag rhythmically. He zoned out, throwing combo punches until a voice behind him brought him out of his reverie.
"Want a real opponent, Professor?"
Sam smirked and turned. "Hey, Garrett. Sure, let's do it."
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
Two hours later they were seated in their favorite pub downtown, half eaten basket of chicken wings and an empty basket of fries between them. Both were on their second beer.
Garrett leaned forward and said, "Remember when I beat the shit out of you in high school?"
Sam's smile dimmed. He didn't like thinking of that time period. Even after all these years, it still hurt to think of Dean. Of what might have been. He nodded.
"Yeah you were a dick, weren't ya?"
Garrett laughed and took a swig of beer. "Yeah, man you had me pegged back then. I was so far in the closet I didn't even know myself. All I knew was that I couldn't stop looking at you. It made me hate you. Took me a couple of years to figure out I wanted to kiss you, not kick your ass."
Sam nodded again because he did know. The summer after his junior year he had run into Garrett at a fast food restaurant. After a few awkward moments of conversation, Garrett had asked Sam to sit down with him outside. He had come out to Sam that hot afternoon, both of them sipping warm sodas. He had told Sam everything, had apologized and even cried a little. He told Sam how afraid he was of his parents finding out, how scared he was to go off to college. Sam had talked to him for hours that day, sharing his own fears and experiences.
Garrett had driven him home and asked him if he wanted to go out that Friday. Smiling slightly, Sam had refused, telling Garrett in a soft voice he wasn't ready to date anyone yet. Garrett had understood and pressed a kiss against Sam's cheek, asking him to keep in touch. And they had.
Garrett returned to town after dropping out of college his sophomore year. He had told his parents the truth about his sexuality and they had kicked him out. He stayed with Sam and Jenny for a few months until he got on his feet. It didn't take long. Turns out he didn't want to go to college. He wanted to be a landscaper. Already skilled, he got a job at a local company and worked his way up to manager in three years. He met his husband Dirk online and they had gotten married last year, Sam serving as Garrett's best man.
With all of his plans, Sam had never left town to go to college. With an accelerated schedule, he graduated a year early with college credits. He did a combination of online classes and community college, working rapidly towards his degree. After what happened with Dean and his Dad, he no longer wanted to be an investigator. But the field still fascinated him so he got his teaching degree and started teaching at the same college he had attended two years ago.
Garrett's voice brought him out of his thoughts.
"Did I ever tell you what that Dean guy did after I kicked your ass?" Sam's eyes flew to his friends face. Just hearing his name had made his heart speed up. Eight damn years later.
"No." Sam hadn't liked to talk about Dean and Garrett respected it for the most part.
"Well," Garrett began to tell Sam the story of Dean breaking into his house and threatening him and Sam felt his chest tighten in a too familiar way. He had known Dean had done something to make Garrett leave him alone, he just hadn't known what.
"Guy scared the shit out of me, I gotta admit. That was the main reason I left you alone after that. The other reason was, he just seemed to love you so much, he was like some knight in shining armor or some shit, riding to your rescue. It was kinda cool, like romantic I guess."
Sam laughed and said, "Him threatening to kill you was romantic?"
Garrett smiled, "Well not on my end of it, but for you, you know? He was ready to do battle for you. And how he looked? Damn, that guy was all sorts of fucking hot."
Sam's eyes went blank suddenly, the smile disappearing from his face. Garrett saw the change in his face and said, "Sorry man. Forget it, I know you don't like to talk about it. I'm an idiot." He looked ashamed and Sam suddenly felt bad.
"No, no, it's all right. I just-he was my first love you know? My only one really. And it ended really abruptly so I didn't get to—" Sam didn't know what he didn't get to do. "Say goodbye or anything."
Garrett nodded sympathetically. He looked over Sam's head, and his eyes lit up suddenly as he caught his husband threading through the crowd to their table.
Sam breathed in a sigh of relief that the conversation was over.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
A couple of games of darts and a plate of nachos later, they all nursed their final beer. Garrett's arm was slung casually over the back of Dirk's chair. Sam envied their relationship, the total commitment and partnership. He knew he wouldn't have that with anyone and it saddened him. He may have been young when he met Dean, but he had given away his heart and never fully gotten it back. The odd one night stand was all he could really handle at this point.
Dirk was telling a story about a couple of doctors getting busted for having sex in a patient's room at the hospital where he worked as an anesthesiologist, when Sam saw Garrett stiffen as he looked at something over Sam's shoulder. The expression on his face was total shock.
"What?" Sam asked him.
"You are never gonna believe who just walked into this bar, Sam. Not in a million fucking years."
Sam turned in his chair expecting to see someone from high school or an old teacher, and instead his eyes landed on a man standing maybe ten feet away.
Dean.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Driving past the sign that welcomed him to town had Dean's stomach clenching, memories shifting in his mind. Most of the time he managed to not think about this place and the time he spent here, the boy that had stolen his heart, the one he had left behind. A tall boy in the middle of teenage awkwardness, a dimpled smile and tousled hair. Soft lips eagerly pressed against Dean's. He shook his head violently to get rid of the images. He was here for a job. He had argued with Bobby about it, but Bobby insisted it had to be done. That time with Sam was long gone, as Sam probably was himself. He always had big dreams about leaving town and going off to college.
No matter how many years or how many miles he put between them, Sam was with him, in his thoughts, invading his dreams. For a year and a half he hadn't been able to look at another person and when he finally did, it was only women. No more guys. Sam had been the only one for him.
He wondered where he was now, what he was doing, if he was happy. Had he met someone? Did Dean seem like a faded memory to him now, a strange circumstance in his life that was better left in the past? Did he ever wonder about Dean, think about him? Did he do what Dean himself did when he had too much to drink, imagine what would have happened if Dean had had a normal life, if he had stayed? Would they have been together?
Too many questions with answers that didn't matter and Dean forced himself out of his head and back into the now. The case Bobby had sent him on was a demon, it was pretty clear. Few cases of people doing out of character crimes and then no memory of them later, witnesses claiming to have seen black smoke at the scenes and the scent of sulfur hanging in the air.
Dean drove down the main drag, finding a small rundown motel quickly. Checking in for two days with a fake credit card, he got the key and drove his car to park in front of his room.
It was the same motel room he stayed in everywhere, same ugly green carpet, the same faded paint, the same particle board beat up furniture. The air conditioning unit was wheezing slightly and he hoped it wouldn't break down during his stay.
Throwing his bag on the bed, he stripped and went to take a quick shower. He brushed his teeth and shaved mechanically, avoiding his own gaze in the mirror. Returning to the room he picked out his best fitting jeans and a dark shirt, leaving it open at the throat. He shrugged his leather jacket back onto his shoulders.
Fifteen minutes later he was parking the Impala across the street from Dukes, a neighborhood pub that the last victim was at minutes before their memory lapse. Maybe he would get lucky, run into someone who had seen something. Besides, he was getting low on cash, so a few games of pool were needed to replenish his stash.
The place was crowded and Dean weaved his way through the tables, his eyes moving back and forth over the crowd. He didn't know what he was looking for exactly, only that he would know it when he saw it.
Towards the back, he was about to turn towards the pool tables when a large man stood up from a table, his eyes on Dean, his mouth open in shock.
Sam
Dean almost shook his head, certain he was having some sort of strange vision. Because it couldn't be.
But it was.
The man moved towards him, his face registering the same shock and surprise that Dean was feeling.
He stopped in front of Dean and stared. Dean, unsure of what to do, fell back on his usual cockiness.
"Heya Sammy."
In hindsight, he should have seen the punch coming.
