Title: You're Not Alone

Author: Nobdyptclr

Disclaimer: Not mine

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Work is crazy, but I promise at least one update a week.

Chapter 2: A Demon From the Past

When Dean didn't react right away, Sam looked up from the laptop. His brother's face was a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Dean's mouth worked for a few seconds before he was able to force the words out, "Home again?"

Sam sighed and shook his head. "No. Not Lawrence this time." He drew back involuntarily when Dean hauled himself to his feet and rounded the table, scowling.

"What's the big deal then Sammy? Drama queen much?" The smack to the back of his head felt a little harder than necessary and Sam stood and moved away as Dean leaned over his shoulder to look at the laptop.

"It's not Lawrence, but it's still a big deal," Sam responded, as he began packing his bag. "It's Netawaka." Giving up any pretense of calm, he threw his clothes into the bag and angrily pulled the zipper closed. He didn't realize that he was alone in the room until he heard the click of the door closing.

Hesitantly, Sam moved toward the door, but settled on the window instead. He knew Dean would resent any offers of comfort, but he also knew beyond a doubt that his brother was remembering their last trip to Netawaka and once again shouldering guilt that shouldn't have been his. Moving the curtain aside, he watched as Dean stood motionless by his car for a moment, then laid his head on one arm resting on the roof. His other arm came up to cradle his injured ribs.

A small part of him wanted to rush to Dean's side – welcome or not – but the larger part of him was shaken by his brother's behavior. He understood his reaction, was feeling the same shock, with a healthy mix of fear and foreboding thrown in, but Sam was uncertain how to deal with it. He was so used to having Dean provide answers and comfort in these situations that he was at a loss without him. Sam laughed at himself without humor. Before the asylum, he would have gone to Dean without thought and asked him what they should do. Now he felt like – with all the complaints about his bossy brother – he'd given up that right. Sam moved away from the window and resumed his furious packing; stuffing Dean's belongings into his bag as old memories came rushing back.

Sammy was seven the first time the Winchesters visited Netawaka. By that point in his life he was used to their nomadic lifestyle and had a vague understanding that when his father left him alone with Dean at night it was because he was hunting bad monsters. His father was distant and sometimes scary, but Dean told him it was because Dad had an important job – like a super hero. Dean, at eleven, was his father-figure and his best friend, and Sammy viewed him with the hero-worship that is always reserved for big brothers.

Netawaka was a small town in Kansas and Dean had told him that they were only about an hour from their home town. When Sammy asked Dad if they were going home he'd gotten mad and yelled at Dean for "filling your brother's head with dreams and nonsense." Dean just stared at Dad with dry eyes and no expression on his face, but Sammy had cried for him. When his father threw his hands in the air and stalked out of the room, Sammy cried even harder. He felt Dean's arms come around him and turned to bury his face in his big brother's shoulder.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean consoled him. "Dad didn't mean it. He's just stressed 'cause he's going after the demon tonight."

Sammy sniffed loudly, burrowing deeper into the comfort of his brother's arms. "He doesn't like me."

"Of course he does," Dean sighed, covering familiar ground. "He loves you. He just gets busy chasing monsters and rescuing people. But that's why you have me. We'll always be together, Sammy, and I'll always take care of you."

"Tyler's dad is never mean to him," Sammy told his brother, refusing to let it go.

"Tyler's dad isn't a hero," Dean pointed out, "and he doesn't have a big brother to look out for him."

"Okay," Sammy accepted this without further comment, as only a seven year-old can. "Can we go out back and play?"

Dean sighed again, shaking his head. "You know Dad said we have to stay inside so people don't see us." They were illegally squatting in the house of a victim's family. The family had been so shaken by their loss that they had left town to stay with relatives. While the nearest neighbor was some distance away, their father had instructed them not to take any chances. "Besides," he added, "he said that this monster goes after kids." Dean frowned at him as he started to pout. "Come on Sammy, knock it off. Let's check out the house and see if we can find any games."

Sammy immediately stopped sulking and ran to help his big brother. He didn't want Dean to think he was a baby. Within twenty minutes both boys were on the floor of an upstairs bedroom running Matchbox cars around a racetrack. It was here that their father found them some time later.

Sammy wasn't aware of their father watching them from the doorway. He was happily making engine sounds as he pushed his car around, and didn't look up until he realized that dean had gone still beside him.

"Boys, I need to speak to you." Dad stepped into the room and perched on the edge of the small bed. "Dean, I'm going to need your help tonight which means, Sam, I need you to be a big boy and take care of yourself while we're gone."

Sammy hung his head, even as his brother's eyes lit up with excitement. "But Dad," he said in a low voice, "I want to help too."

I know you do, Sam," was the patient answer, "but we've talked about this before. This is not a game. It's dangerous and I don't want you to get hurt. You remember what we talked about – no hunting till you're ten."

"But you took Dean before he was ten." Sammy glanced at his big brother and saw that horrible blank look Dean got whenever their father was unhappy with one of them. He didn't like to use Dean this way, but it just wasn't fair. "And I know how to use a gun now. I shot at the closet monster," he added with pride in his voice."

"Sam," there was a note of impatience in Dad's voice now, "we've covered this before. Sometimes there was no choice but to have Dean help. Right now there is a choice and that means you stay here, inside the house." He rose from the bed and beckoned to Dean. "You come with me now so we can get ready." Their father walked out the door and Dean followed with only a quick backward glance before leaving Sammy alone.

By the time Dean returned Sammy had worked his way through a tantrum and was asleep on the floor with tear tracks drying on his cheeks. He woke reluctantly as Dean shook him.

"Sammy, wake up! Come on, I have to leave soon!"

Sam looked up at his brother then around the room in confusion, trying to remember where they were. After a few seconds everything clicked into place.

"Dean, I don't want you to go. What if something bad happens to you?"

"Don't worry, Sammy," Dean's face glowed with excitement. "I'm just going to be bait. When the demon shows up Dad jumps out of the bushes and cuts its head off and we come home. Simple as that."

"But what if it gets you before Dad kills it?"

Dean put an arm around Sammy's shoulders. "I'm going to be inside a magic circle so it can't touch me." He led his little brother to the window and pointed across the street. "See that clearing? I'm going to sit there and Dad'll be back in the trees so the demon can't sense him. You can watch the whole thing from here, just don't tell Dad."

Sam stayed nestled under his brother's arm until their father called from downstairs.

"Sammy, I have to go. You have to stay in this room, okay? And keep the door shut." Dean shut the door loudly behind him and Sammy was alone again.

Sammy watched from the window as his brother sat cross-legged in the clearing with his handgun on his lap. Their father made a circle in the grass around him, then disappeared into the woods. Sammy wasn't sure how long he stayed at the window, running his matchbox car back and forth on the windowsill and staring across the street, but dusk had turned to darkness when he realized that he could barely see his big brother at all in the faint glow of the streetlight. He realized that he was hungry and Dad had forgotten dinner again. This was not unusual, but this time Dean had forgotten too. The rare feeling of disappointment in his big brother enabled Sammy to open the door and go down to the kitchen without thought to Dean's instructions.

Pulling the stool over, Sammy tucked his toy car in his pocket and climbed up on the counter for some cookies. With his hands full he walked back to the front of the house and peeked out the living room window. He could just about see his brother in the dim light, but the reflection of the kitchen light on the window was distracting. With his only thought to check and make sure his big brother was okay, Sammy crossed to the front door and walked out onto the steps. Finally he had a clear view of Dean, and he settled on the bottom step, pulling his car out of his pocket to push it around as he gazed across the street. He met Dean's eyes and saw them widen in fear as he shook his head at him. Suddenly his eyes shifted away to Sammy's right and then Dean was standing and shouting at him.

"Sammy no! Run!"

Instead of turning to the immediate safety of the house, Sammy ran toward the certain protection of his big brother, not even pausing to look for what he was running from. He was almost across the street when he felt something sharp scratch down his back. Losing his balance, he fell to the ground and rolled away onto the shoulder of the road. Looking up, Sammy's seven year-old mind had an impression of a giant made of teeth and claws, towering over him. He shrank away in terror and then there were gunshots and suddenly Dean was there in between him and the monster, protecting him. His big brother emptied his gun into the demon, and then threw the empty weapon at its head. He turned and tried to pull Sammy to his feet.

"Get up Sammy!" Dean screamed in his ear. "Get up and run!"

As he struggled to rise, Dean was suddenly ripped away from him. Sammy turned to see the monster lift his struggling brother to its mouth as if he were a drumstick. It was too much. Sammy closed his eyes and turned away. One arm curled around his head for protection, the other stayed close to his side as his thumb found its was into his mouth. When Dean screamed in pain, Sammy cringed away and tightened his body into a little ball. The scream stopped abruptly and he felt something hit the ground beside him, but Sammy didn't look until he heard his father's voice.

"Dean! Sam!" Sammy had never heard fear in his father's voice before and this sparked him to open his eyes. Dean was on the ground next to him, and Dad was standing a few feet away, sword still in his hand, with the decapitated demon on the ground at his feet.

"Daddy?" Sammy sniffled as his tears began to fall. Dean's eyes were closed and he was not moving. His father rushed to his side and knelt, throwing an arm around him even as he checked for Dean's pulse.

"Sammy, are you hurt?" Dad's eyes didn't leave Dean, but Sammy found comfort in his father's rare embrace.

"The monster scratched my back, Daddy." Sam choked back his tears as best he could, knowing that they would make his father impatient. The scratches burned a little, but the pain couldn't compete with his fear for his brother. "Daddy, is Dean okay?"

"He'll be fine, Sam," his father replied, and his voice was reassuring. The fear was gone, replaced by his usual businesslike tone. "He has a bad bite on his shoulder and he got the wind knocked out of him. He should wake up any minute now."

Sure enough, as if he'd heard his father's words and interpreted them as a command, Dean opened his eyes and struggled to sit up. "Is Sammy okay?" he asked frantically.

Sam watched their father hold Dean down with one hand, checking his bite with the other. "Sam is going to be fine, Dean," Dad reassured, his tone hardening. "No thanks to you." He didn't notice the hurt and guilt on his son's face as he continued, "I told you to lock your brother in the room, just like I've told you so many times that he needs to understand the danger that we're all facing. But you've insisted on coddling him and protecting him, and I've let you do it. Well, it's all going to stop now. Now you've disobeyed my order to lock the door, and look where that got us," he shook his head in disgust. "Congratulations. You almost got your brother killed." Turning to Sam, he tossed over his shoulder, "Just lay there while I check your brother. I'll stitch that bite up when we get inside."

Despite the anger in his voice, his hands were gentle on Sammy's back, and he determined that the scratches weren't deep enough to require stitches. "These will hurt for a couple of days, but when they heal you'll have some pretty cool scars." Dad's voice was gentler, and the thought of scars was exciting to the seven year-old, helping to calm him down. He looked to his big brother for a reaction and was shocked to see Dean lying on his side looking back at him with tears running off his face into the dirt. Dean's eyes closed, and when he opened them again the tears were gone as if they'd never existed.

"Dad?" Dean asked tentatively for attention.

"What, Dean," their father snapped impatiently.

"I'm sorry I disobeyed," Dean told him. "It's just, what if there was a fire, like with…" Dean choked on his words and for a minute Sammy thought he wouldn't be able to finish. "…with Mom," Dean managed. "I didn't want Sammy to be trapped and I wouldn't be there to save him."

Sammy watched the grief cross his father's face, but he didn't really understand it. Dad stood up and took Dean into his arms to carry him across the street. "Come on Sam. Let's get you boys patched up."

Sam realized he had finished the packing and was standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. He shook off the pain and guilt that the memory had brought back as he heard the doorknob turn. He met Dean's eyes as he walked in. They were bloodshot and a little red, but not so much that someone who didn't know him would be able to tell he was upset. Unfortunately for Dean, Sam knew him well. He'd half hoped that Dean would change his mind about following the coordinates, but he recognized the determination in his eyes.

"Dean," he tried tentatively, "you know it was my fault last time. I was little and I didn't understand. I didn't listen to you."

Dean cut him off. "You didn't understand because of me. I wouldn't let Dad talk to you. I didn't want you to be scared."

"Listen, let's just forget the finger-pointing. It'll be different now. We're both adults and we watch out for each other."

"Sammy, thanks to me that thing almost killed you. I'm not going to just let it go." Dean stomped away to look out the window.

"And thanks to my stupidity it almost ate you," Sam retorted. "But Dean, we don't even know that it's the same thing. Dad killed that demon fifteen years ago. We're probably dealing with a completely different entity. Now, give me the keys and pack up the laptop while I load the car. If you're sure we should do this we should get going and get there before dark."

Sam smiled as Dean tossed him the keys. He had already checked them out and was settled into the driver's seat when Dean came out of the room. He felt a pang of concern when his brother slid into the passenger seat without comment, laying his head back and closing his eyes, but Sam resolutely turned the key and eased the car out onto the highway.

TBC