a/n: I'm BACK! sorry guys, I was banned from the internet for a couple days. BUT-I am back with a new chapter!

Once again, hugs and kisses to my reviewers!

yes! Over 20,000 words! w00t!

Chapter Eight: Scott Meeson

The tired hunters ran full-speed all the way back down the 7 levels of the parking lot, across the street, back into the hospital, only slowing to a quick walk when they were around people who might ask where the fire was. Dean let out a sigh of relief when he saw the waiting room. No bodies, no blood-that appeared to have been spilled by their vampire anyway. Everything looked pretty normal. He and Sam remained alert, closely surveying their surroundings. No sign of foul play or the vampire. Each was gripping the stake he'd hidden in his coat pocket. Dean had slipped his pistol into his jeans' waistband. He knew it wouldn't kill the vampire, but he hoped it would at least act as a deterrent.

Sam shot Dean a questioning look when no baddies showed up after they had discreetly swept the first floor. Had they been wrong about the DeSoto?

Dean only moved his head to the side and back again in answer. No. No way. He glanced around once more then said, "Scott's room. That's where he's headed."

"I don't want to make any mistakes, Dean," Sam said carefully, a slight bit of anxiety slipping into his tone. He had come up with the idea that Scott was the target, however he didn't want to spend the night in the hospital and find out the next day that someone else had turned up dead.

"I know," Dean said empathetically as they started for the elevator. He finished determinately, "We won't."

But as they stepped into the elevator-very happy to find themselves without any company-Dean was getting nervous. Their vamp was in the hospital, he was absolutely certain about it. He rubbed the rough texture of the pointed weapon in his pocket. He would've preferred the crossbows, especially for Sam. Stakes had to be used right up close, and even being within any seeing distance of a vampire was too close for comfort. Dean looked at his little brother's reflection in the elevator doors. Fighting the vamp with a stake made him nervous enough, but the Sammy factor increased it by tenfold.

"You've never fought a vamp before," Dean stated to Sam's reflection.

"No," Sam replied simply. He smiled. "But hey, never hurts to try something new, right?"

Dean faked a smile back. "Right." But that squirmy feeling in his gut that he hated, because it made him feel like a pussy, just wouldn't go away. "Well, uh, remember: they don't look so tough, but they'll surprise you. They're faster and stronger than you. But that doesn't mean they're smarter than you."

Sam nodded. He was glad that his brother was offering advice, but he'd actually already known that piece of information. "Yeah."

Dean went on, wanting to give Sammy as much advice as he could before they reached the third floor. "And they can look like humans. Watch for that."

"I know, Dean."

"Right. And don't hold back, 'cause they won't. Vamps'll fight dirty." He shrugged a shoulder. "Vamps are more animal than demon really. Don't even know the difference between right and wrong."

"They're sociopaths," Sam said in agreement.

Dean turned and looked at Sam, a blank look on his face. "Uh…yeah. Right…"

Sam tried not to smile in slight amusement. Dean didn't know the word. "That means they don't know the difference between right and wrong," he explained, trying his best not to be condescending.

But apparently that didn't work, as Dean scowled, looking insulted. "I know what it means!" He lied with such strong conviction.

"Okay," Sam said, humoring him.

Dean opened his mouth to say some smartass retort, but didn't. He had to remember: no more bickering. He had to keep coaching Sam while he had the time. The elevator had already stopped. "When you go to stake the vamp, use a lot of force, 'cause-"

"Dean," Sam interrupted as the door opened.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, looking at him, trying to pretend that he wasn't being a bit of a mother hen.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him as they stepped out of the elevator. "You gonna tell me not to forget my lunchbox too?"

Dean smirked. He couldn't help but nag the kid. He was worried for his little brother whom he felt a practically holy duty to protect. "And you've got soccer practice at six tonight."

Sam chuckled, but he was at the same time a little uncomfortable. It wasn't like Dean to mother him like that. Poltergeists, demons…Dean usually trusted Sam to get rid of them. True, Sam had never gone up against a vampire before, but they had gone up against new evils before with little discussion about it. What was different about this hunt?

But Sam couldn't really dwell on those thoughts anymore. The brothers switched back into hunter mode, scanning the hallway. Nothing seemed unusual… No sight of a brunette in a big black coat. Just nurses that Dean was wishing he could stop and make 'appointments' with.

"Scott's room?" Sam asked expectantly.

"Let's go," Dean replied.

They headed down the corridor to Scott's room. Both were inwardly met with great relief when they neither saw nor heard Nikki Wales. They spotted the door down the hall, and it started to open. At the sight of a white coat, Dean and Sam wordlessly and simultaneously ducked into an intersecting hallway. Dr. Bridge was becoming more of an obstacle than an asset. The Winchesters had decided to avoid her whenever possible. Both pressed themselves up against the wall as they heard the doctor's quick steps coming closer. She paused at the intersection, and Dean bit his lip nervously. She was literally inches from him. One glance their way and… But fortunately, her beeper went off. The brothers watched silently as she passed, her gaze fixed on her beeper.

Dean poked his head out cautiously to watch her go. She was headed to the elevator, apparently headed to some emergency on the first floor. When the coast was clear, the brothers resumed walking to Scott Meeson's room.

Sam chose this moment to pause and ask Dean what he was so worried about. If there was something he had to know, Dean had better tell him before they went any further.

But Dean spoke first. "Okay, we can either hang around here, or go in. Probably be less conspicuous if we just stick around out here."

"Yeah," Sam said distractedly. "Uh, Dean, is there something…" He was trying to choose his words carefully. Like the older Winchester, the younger had realized that there could be no more irrelevant arguing. "Something you're not telling me?"

"'Bout what?" Dean asked blankly.

"We go up against new stuff all the time with no problem. Why're you so worried about me this time?"

"I'm not worried," Dean replied too quickly. But in response to Sam's 'yeah, right' look, he shrugged. "Look, it's like I said. Vamps are more animal than demon. Like animals, a vamp is unpredictable. They can catch you off guard. And plus, the fuckers are pretty hard to kill. And, unlike most demons, vamps won't just try to kill you…." He gave a sarcastically cheerful smile. "They'll make a tasty snack out of you too."

Sam gave half a nod in reply, Dean's answer acceptable. "All right, well… I think we should go in."

"You think?" Dean asked, wanting to keep a low profile. The two of them had already attracted enough attention.

"How do we know the vamp's not in there right now?"

"Ah. Good point."

They entered the room quietly, and it turned out to be wise that they had. The brothers had come in the middle of the police officers interviewing the now-awake Scott Meeson. Dean quietly signaled to Sam to duck behind the curtain of another bed in the room. Like Dr. Bridge, the cops were best avoided.

The plan was to just sit back and listen. Their vamp wasn't in the room, but it was still lucky that the brothers had entered when they had. The police could save them the trouble of questioning Scott.

"I thought Dr. Bridge said for you guys to come back later," Scott's slightly scratchy voice said quietly. He sounded like he really wished the police would leave him alone.

"We're sorry, Mr. Meeson," Officer Clark said, sounding rather insincere, "But we want to get to the bottom of this."

"I'm sure you do," Scott replied rather curtly.

"Mr. Meeson…" Now Mendez stepped in, trying to play the nice guy. It was probably an easy roll to play because he was closer to Scott's age. "We just want to know what happened, that's all."

There was a pause as Scott thought about whether to trust Mendez, but he gave in. "All right."

"Okay. Now, you said that you were walking home from the bar," Mendez prompted.

"Yeah," Scott replied, "I was pretty wasted." He seemed to have no problem admitting to that. In fact, he even sounded a little proud.

"You're blood alcohol level was point-one-five," Clark remarked in a rather accusing tone.

"Yeah, like I said, I was wasted," Scott replied in a shrug-off tone. In response to the look he was getting from Officer Clark, Scott's brow furrowed in irritation. "What? I was walking home, not driving. Can't a guy get hammered now and then without people jumping down his throat?"

"What happened while you were walking home?" Mendez asked, cutting Clark off from continuing the argument.

"I…" Scott hesitated, but covered it up by pretending to clear his throat, "I guess I just wandered into the street. All I remember are these bright lights comin' at me… Guess that's when those assholes hit me."

Sam looked over at Dean, who looked like he was really fighting to keep quiet.

"But hey, the doc told me that those guys saved me, so, whatever."

" 'Whatever'?" Dean quoted under his breath incredulously, " 'Whatever'? Maybe we should've just left you bleeding in the street, you ass. Bet it wouldn't have been 'whatever' then!"

Sam nudged him non-too gently in the ribs to shut up.

The officers meanwhile exchanged a look. Scott had skipped a part of his story, and that was sending up a red flag.

"Mr. Meeson," Mendez said, Clark letting his younger partner take the lead, "Did anything happen between you walking home and you getting hit by the car?"

"No." The response came just too quick and with too much force behind it.

"But, Mr. Meeson, what about-"

"My name is Scott, all right?" the young man snapped irritably, "Scott. Not 'Mr. Meeson'; that's my father."

Sam raised an interested eyebrow at the tone Scott used when referring to his father. It didn't sound like Scott was at all appreciative of any association to the man. Well, he's not the only one with parental issues, Sam thought to himself rather darkly.

Mendez seemed rather thrown off by Scott's remarks about what he was to be called, so Clark moved in to catch the ball. "You've noticed those injuries on your neck?"

"Kinda hard not to," Scott shot back.

Clark smiled tightly. Kid had a point. "Where do you think they came from?"

"Gee, I dunno," Scott retorted sarcastically, "Could it possibly have anything to do with the fact that I was hit by a car?"

Now Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Sam's was more questioning, and Dean just shook his head in response. There had been no mistake. Scott had definitely been bleeding before he was hit. And Dean knew that there was no way Scott had just conveniently 'forgotten' about it. Being bitten in the neck isn't something you forget. So much for letting the cops do all the questioning…

Clark let out a breath in defeat. "All right, Scotty-"

Suddenly, Scott's face went from irritated to tense. He went very still, and his eyes got very wide before he became conscious of them and quickly lowered his gaze. "Don't call me that. Ever. No one calls me that." His voice sounded very serious, not just pissed. "No one except…" But then he stopped, having apparently said too much.

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Except for who, Scott?" he pressed.

Scott just shook his head-very slightly. He put a hand to his temple, feigning pain. "I think you guys should leave now. My head hurts." When the officers didn't start to move, Scott put down his trump card. "…It hurts so bad…maybe I'll call Dr. Bridge…"

That did the trick. Clark opened his mouth, but a look from Mendez shut it. "Right…well… We'll talk later, Scott."

"I'm already not looking forward to it," Scott replied openly as the officers turned to leave.

Dean looked over at Sam. "I think I like this dude," he whispered.

Sam smirked. Scott's parting words to the cops had been very Deanish in both the language and tone.

The officers passed, passing the brothers without even noticing it. When they were gone, Sam and Dean stepped out from behind the curtain. Sam thought to himself how damn lucky he and Dean were that neither the officers nor Dr. Bridge happened to look their way.

Scott was lying back on his bed, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, apparently trying to calm down. For the first time, Dean was really looking at the man he'd injured. Scott was still a little pale, but he was looking better. He looked a little thin, just slightly malnourished. The close-cropped brown hair made him look even thinner. Dean was a little impressed that the young man could pull off sounding like such a bad ass, when he looked more similar to a cancer patient.

When they approached him, Scott suddenly opened his eyes, aware that he was no longer alone. "Who're you?" he asked, suspicion breaking through his tired voice.

"The assholes," Dean replied without missing a beat.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Sam introduced in a more traditional fashion. Then, as an afterthought, added, "We're brothers."

Scott sat up slightly. "Wait…you're the guys that hit me?" He sounded somewhere between pissed and frightened.

"Uh, yeah…" Sam said, trying to appear very non-threatening. "Sorry about that, man." Okay, how lame was that? Sam thought to himself.

"Not as much as I am," Scott retorted.

Dean and Sam exchanged an exasperated look. How many bitchy people were they going to have to deal with tonight?

"Look, dude," Dean tried, "It was an accident. Sorry."

Scott opened his mouth like he was going to say another retort, but then he stopped, wincing at the pain coming from his ribs. He leaned back on his pillows, crossing his casted arm over his stomach. "Look," he said, sounding tired again, "I'm not gonna sue you guys or anything. You've got nothing to worry about from me."

Dean and Sam were rather taken aback by the comment. They hadn't even considered any more legal ramifications of the accident than being thrown in jail. "No, dude," Dean said sincerely, "We seriously just wanted to know if you were all right."

Scott didn't seem to believe him, but he didn't say so. "Yeah, well, I figure, you almost killed me, then saved me, so it all works out right?" He added, more to himself than to the brothers, "Besides, I got bigger stuff to worry about than you."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Like what?" Dean asked, trying to sound casual.

Now Scott's anger became more apparent. "Like none of your damn business," Scott shot back, glaring at Dean.

Dean stared him down. Scott just wasn't intimidating enough as he lay there in that hospital gown, his neck bound in medical tape and gauze, his arm in a tan cast. "Like where you got those holes in your neck?"

Scott suddenly became very rigid, his face becoming similar to the way it had been when Officer Clark had called him 'Scotty'. "That happened when you hit me with your car, you son of a bitch," Scott said, his voice drenched in venom.

Dean rolled his shoulders back in an 'oh yeah?' motion, but Sam intervened.

"Look, Scott, we know you got that injury from somewhere else," Sam stated. He paused a moment for the information to sink in before he continued as he sat in a chair, "And if you just talk with us, tell us what really happened, it'll all end well."

Scott shook his head, looking very skeptical. Dean decided to go with Sam's approach. "Look, dude, I'll tell you this much: me and Sam, we're the only ones who'll listen to the truth. I've bet you've got a pretty crazy story, right? Don't think anyone will believe you? Well if anyone will, it's us."

Scott seemed hesitant to take Dean's word for it. "Why should I trust you? And why do you even give a shit?"

"It's what we do," Sam explained. "We help people with things they can't explain."

"Things like what?" Scott asked, raising an eyebrow.

"All kinds of things," Sam said, avoiding a real answer, "And right now, it's whatever attacked you."

Now Scott looked very mistrusting. "How do you know I was attacked?"

"Because your buddy thought it'd be fun to smash me into the pavement," Dean replied, pointing to his bruises.

Scott sat up, his eyes wide. "He attacked you too? I…" But then he stopped, looking to he ground again.

Sam knew that Scott was definitely hiding something, but he decided to ease into the subject. Scott had been through a lot, and the brothers were very lucky that they'd gotten through to him. "Scott, while you were out, you said a name." Scott looked back to him, a shade of nervousness cast over his features. "Who is Julian?"

Scott hesitated to answer, looking away.

"Come on, Scott," Dean pressed, "Just tell us. We can help you out, man."

Scott finally gave in, taking in a deep breath. "Julian…is my brother." The Winchesters raised their eyes in surprise. But, the name Julian could've been referring to anyone really. It was what Scott said next after taking another deep breath that really shocked Sam and Dean. "And he's the one that gave me this," the young man said, referring to the injury on his neck. "He bit me. He fucking bit me!" he said, sounding like he still didn't quite believe it.

While this information set in with the Winchesters, Scott laid his head back and closed his eyes. At first, he'd been struggling to keep going. Now he just let it all pour out to two complete strangers. "We grew up together, you know? Right around here, actually, in some shit hole neighborhood. Our parents liked the drinks. They'd hit the bottle together just about every night…"

The drunken couple, Mr. and Mrs. Meeson, stumbled down the rundown hallway of their house together, stumbling and laughing, each with a bottle of beer in hand.

They passed a white door, the whitewash paint starting to chip off. Beneath the crack of the door, their shadows passed. In the room were the two young Meeson boys with short light brown hair, each sitting on his own ratty bed, as they watched the shadows pass and the sounds of their drunken parents going into their own bedroom.

"Sometimes they'd just go to bed, have a hangover the next day, then start all over the next night. But then there were the other times…"

Young Scott fell back as his mother pushed him away. Both of his parents towered over him. They did that sometimes; teaming up on one of their boys. The father raised his hand to strike Scott, but then the insignificantly older Julian stepped in the way. The father paused momentarily, but went through with the hit anyway, backhanding Julian rather than Scott.

"All me and Julian had was each other."

Little Scott and Julian were in their room, nursing their wounds. Scott had started to cry. Julian leapt to his brother's side, comforting him.

In the present, Scott smiled slightly at the memory. "Julian…he used to say that. Told me that were all that mattered. We were brothers, blood." Scott's face fell suddenly. "But…but then Julian got older. And he got meaner."

In another memory, Scott was walking home from school, his Goodwill backpack slung over his shoulder. As he passed an alley, something caught his attention. He looked down the alley and froze, his eye widening. He saw Julian in the alley with some other thugs, beating the shit out of some kid. As kid curled up into a ball in fear, Julian stood up to his full height, towering over his victim.

But as his friends praised him, something made Julian look out the alley. There he saw Scott, watching. Smiling in a chillingly brotherly way, Julian waved Scott over in welcome. Scott slowly shook his head, then took off.

"He'd get into trouble with the cops…"

Mr. Meeson, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, opened his door to reveal a uniformed police officer, his arm clapped firmly on the scowling Julian's shoulder. Julian's hair was long now and he was wearing the same black coat he has today.

As the officer told Mr. Meeson what had happened, Julian fixed his eyes on something behind his father. It was Scott, who was now about 14. Scott just stared at Julian, anger in his eyes. Julian stared back, a smile playing on his lips.

"Until one day, they finally just took him away. Went to juvie for two years. By then…" Scott shook his head. "I was glad to see him go. I just got sick of him.

"Well, when Julian turned eighteen, they cut him loose. He came home, and he hadn't changed at all. But I had. Two years without Julian around had done me a lot of good. I was sixteen, so I had a part-time job. Was getting okay grades too." Scott sneered at the memory. "But did Julian care? Nah. He wanted me to be more like him. Guess he figured if we became more different, we'd grow further apart too." Scott shrugged. "Guess he was right. One night, we got into this huge fight. Said some pretty shitty things to each other. Even threw a couple punches at each other. It was Julian who left. Just walked out the door and didn't come back.

"He was eighteen by then," Scott took a deep breath, "So, they didn't try very hard to find him. It was mom that called the cops to look for him in the first place." Scott raised his head, set in the feelings he had felt toward his brother. "I never cared. I was glad he was gone, and soon I just stopped thinking about him altogether."

Sam listened intently to Scott's story. He didn't interrupt with questions, he just let Scott tell all. Sam had found in his experience that sometimes it was better for the victim to first tell as much as they chose. Sam was also interested in Scott's story. How had Julian gotten to the point where he'd come to bite his own brother in the neck?

Dean was starting to wish that Meeson would hurry up. He was glad that he and Sam had gotten Scott to open up, but that didn't mean that he wanted to hear the kid's life story. Oh well. At least they knew for sure that Scott wasn't being sucked dry by the vampire-er, his brother… Unlike Sam, Dean didn't dwell on why Julian had bitten Scott. It was rather simple: Julian was a vampire and he just didn't know any better. Plus, he was probably still pissed about that fight. Dean had seen many horrible things, and most of them had revealed how twisted and primal human beings were. This was just another day at the office.

"So I went off to the local college after spending a year just wandering around," Scott went on, "Took my classes. And then, tonight…" Scott hesitated, but forced himself to go on. "I'm in my apartment, and there's a knock at the door…"

Scott, dressed in jeans and his Black Sabbath t-shirt, gets up from his kitchen table to answer the door. He opens it, and his eyes grow wide as he sees who is there.

"It was Julian."

Julian stood there in his black coat, smiling coolly at his brother.

Scott sank back against the pillows. "I hadn't seen him, hadn't heard anything from him in eight years." He shook his head slightly, in disbelief. "He looked exactly the same. Like he did the night he took off. I mean, it was kinda weird… He should be twenty six by now, but he looks like he's even younger than me."

Dean was suddenly paying full attention to Scott. Vampires didn't age past the age when they had been turned into vampires. It seemed that Julian had been turned recently after he left home.

When Scott didn't keep going, Sam gently prompted, "Did he ask if he could come in?"

Scott gave Sam an odd look. "Yeah, actually… He kept asking if he could come in."

"Did you let him in?" Dean asked concernedly. If Julian already had an invite into Scott's apartment, that could complicate things.

"No," Scott replied, "I told him he wasn't welcome. He seemed kinda pissed about that, but he didn't come in. He said he missed me." Scott gave a mirthless laugh. "I knew that was bullshit. I told him so. I asked him how he'd found me, he said he had 'connections' and whatever. I said that if he wanted money from me, he wasn't getting it. Then he goes 'No, I just wanted to talk to you. Let me come in.' And I tell him no way, again. Then he says we should go out together, hang out. I thought he was joking. He says no, he really thinks we should. Then he starts talking about the old days…" Scott bit his lip. "Talked about how we were blood. Julian said he wanted us to go back to the old days…" Scott looked down and swallowed. "…when we were friends."

Scott stopped again. The Winchesters let him regain some control. Sam opened his mouth to prompt Scott again, but he didn't to. Scott raised his head, showing renewed strength. "Sorry, I don't remember much after that," Scott admitted truthfully, smiling in spite of himself.

"Well, that's what happens when you get bumped on the head," Dean joked generously.

Scott smiled tightly back. Sam could see that Scott had a lot of strength and he felt that he had to keep showing it, especially when he talked about Julian. Scott seemed to be forcing himself to either not care about or hate Julian.

"What can you remember?" Sam asked quietly.

"Uh…well, after what Julian said, I just gave up. I grabbed my coat and went with him. He seemed really happy that I was going with him." Scott grimaced at the last sentence, but kept going. "We got in Julian's car…"

Dean's ears perked up. "A black DeSoto?"

"Yeah…" Scott was starting to get a little freaked about how these two guys kept finishing his sentences.

"Son of a bitch…" Dean said. He had been right about that car.

"What?" Scott asked, not understanding the meaning behind the comment.

"Where'd you guys go?" Sam asked, keeping the discussion focused on Scott's story. He also didn't want to worry him by telling him that Julian was probably in the building looking for him. Or the Winchesters. Or both.

"This club," Scott replied.

"What was the name of it?" Dean asked. The name of the club would give them somewhere to go looking for Julian if they had to.

"Nosferatu."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding."

Scott raised an eyebrow back. "Would you forget a name like that?"

Dean looked to Sam. "How more obvious can they get?"

"'They'?" Scott quoted questioningly.

"What happened in the club, Scott?" Sam asked, once again covering for Dean.

"Well…" Scott shook his head. "I don't remember much after that. I remember I had to wear this weird necklace to get in. Something about not being a member. Anyway, in the club there were a lot of red lights. Julian took me over to this back area. I thought it was to do acid and shit like that, and I told Julian I wasn't into it. But Julian says no, it's just a place for privacy. I didn't really believe him, but I went along with him anyway.

"So we're in the back room and there's no drugs. But there's plenty of drinks." A smile played on Scott's lips at the memory. "Some girls, but I was more focused on the drinks. Julian keeps calling for more, I keep putting him down."

Dean saw where the story was going. Julian had taken Scott into the back room for privacy to bite him. He'd also probably had been drinking very little. He had purposely gotten Scott drunk as sort of a pre-bite anesthesia. But why would he bother if he was planning on killing Scott? Suddenly, Dean had an epiphany. He knew why Julian was stalking Scott.

"Well, I remember Julian taking the necklace off," Scott went on. He took a deep breath. "And this is where it gets kinda…kinda 'Tales from the Crypt'. I look over at Julian and…"

Scott sat in a room with his brother, the room completely red because of the colored lights that illuminated it. Scott downed another shot of Jack Daniel and looked over at Julian, his face showing how hammered he was. His alcohol-induced expression of easygoingness vanished when he saw Julian's eyes glowing a brilliant green, even under the red lights. Scott shook his head, thinking that he'd had one too many.

Julian reached over and grabbed Scott's shoulder, pulling him close, as if for a brotherly embrace. Scott was too scared and confused to resist; he just went rigid as Julian's canines grew into fangs. With a deep breath, Julian bit down into his brother's neck. Scott cried out in pain as rich red blood starts to flow from the bite..

"How'd you end up outside?" Sam asked curiously.

Scott looked at him strangely, then at Dean strangely. "Uh…you guys don't think that whole part is kinda…you know, weird?"

Dean shrugged. "Nah. Not really."

Scott stared at him, then shook his head. "Quit shining me on. Just say it: 'Scott, you're a Looney tune'."

"Okay," Dean said, "Scott, you're a Looney tune." Scott looked up at him in surprise and offense, despite Dean had only done as he'd asked. "But, what you saw wasn't the drinks or your head. It was real."

Scott looked from Dean to Sam, who nodded in agreement. "It's true. It's real."

Scott seemed to no longer think that he was crazy, but seemed positive that Dean and Sam were. "Uh-huh… Right…"

"So how'd you get outside?"

Scott raised and lowered his shoulder, his mind still reeling from the fact that he'd just been told that he wasn't crazy. "I just ran, I guess. I ran out of the club… Then…" He shot a look at the brothers. "And then the bright lights came and you assholes hit me with your car."

"And then we saved your life," Dean finished, slightly irritated. "Get over it. Life sucks, get a helmet."

Scott sat up, his jaw clenched. "Oh yeah? Well, you can shove that little piece of advice right up your-"

Sam stood up then, cutting Scott off, "Okay, I think it's time we got going."

"Yeah," Dean said, looking at Scott, "Got stuff to do."

"Like what?" Scott asked as the brothers turned and headed for the door.

"Like stuff," Dean replied quickly as he hurried out the door. He had chosen to quiet his anger before he blurted out 'Like go ram a piece of oak through your bastard brother's chest!' Dean could tell that Scott still cared about his brother, despite what had happened. It wasn't just his insecurities about his sanity that had kept him from mentioning Julian to the police.

"Hey," Scott called to Sam.

"Yeah?" Sam turned back to him, halfway out the door already.

"Look, um," Scott looked down. "You and your brother…watch out for each other, all right?"

Sam gave a small appreciative smile. "Will do."