OMG, I've finally made it back! So sorry to have kept you all waiting! This has literally been typed up for a week, and I was just too damn lazy to put it up.

Chapter Nine: Brothers

"You're not going."

Dean's face was resolute, his voice ever dominating. But Sam knew how to stare him down, just as he did now.

"That's not up to you," he stated simply. He was adamant about remaining calm. Make Dean look like the jerk. Sam had his arms crossed loosely and was leaning against the kitchen counter. Dean stood across the room, though his angry presence seemed to fill the whole kitchen.

"The hell it's not," Dean spat. "This isn't just your decision." Sam swallowed and looked away. He knew what was coming next. "Does Dad know about this?" the expected question came accusingly. Dean knew damn well that if Sam had given their father one iota of a clue as to what he was planning, he wouldn't have had the guts to keep thinking about college, let alone tell Dean about it.

Sam just shook his head. He hadn't even really needed to respond. He hoped that Dean knew that there was a reason why he'd been told first. Because Sam always went to Dean first. Because, to Sam, Dean was always first in priority over anything.

"We stayed in the same place for four years, all for you," Dean continued accusingly.

"We still go on hunts," Sam defended, "We still save people!" He didn't believe that staying in the same spot had inhibited their fight against evil that much.

Dean's eyes narrowed, as if he wondered if his brother was really so naïve. "Sam, this isn't just about saving people," he voice was quiet, but the tone passionate, "If we'd kept moving around, we'd probably be closer to the thing that killed Mom."

Now it was Sam's eyes that narrowed. "That's bull," he growled, "Stop quoting Dad and think for yourself." He knew better and Dean knew better. It didn't matter if they'd moved around or not. They both knew that the monster that had killed Mom was as easy to find as a needle in a haystack.

Dean straightened his shoulders threateningly at Sam's remark. Sam didn't often talk about Dean's loyalty to their father. Dean didn't appreciate the negativity Sam associated with it. "You mean just think about myself and no one else, like you?" he snapped angrily. Sam was selfish. He was selfish for making them stay here, and even more so to even think about going to college.

"I'm trying to become educated! Is that such a bad thing?" Sam asked loudly. Those were words that he had been meaning to say for five years. He didn't understand why it was wrong to enjoy reading and learning other things that didn't have to do with poltergeists and zombies.

"If you think it comes before hunting, than yeah!" Dean shouted back. Why couldn't Sam get it? Why did he refuse to do what was right? He seemed to not even have a concept of what it was.

Sam sighed and leaned back on the counter, putting a hand to his temple. He'd known that this would be difficult. Hence the reason he'd chosen to talk to Dean when Dad was away. Talking to both of them would have been impossible. And talking to Dad after Dean wasn't going to be nearly as bad. Though Sam loved their father, that didn't really mean that he had to like their father. Dean was different. Sam loved, liked, even idolized his brother.

"Look," he said quietly, trying to eliminate all anger from his voice. Maybe if he backed down a little, Dean would too. "I'm not…" But he couldn't finish it. Memories, their past emotions, and the current situation, was making him a little emotional.

"Not what?" Dean snapped.

"I'm not like you and Dad, all right?" Sam finished, swallowing the lump in his throat. What he was saying was painful for both him and Dean, but it was true.

Dean wouldn't let the hurt show, however. He'd learned from their father to replace hurt with anger. "Well, seeing as how neither of us are spoiled bastards, I'd have to agree with you."

Sam ignored that remark. "What I mean is that…" Damn it, how could he say this? "…this isn't enough for me." As soon as he'd said it, Sam knew that those had been the wrong words to use.

"Saving lives isn't enough for you." Dean said, rage seething in his voice. What the fuck was wrong with his brother?

Sam sighed, looking over at his brother. He knew how angry Dean was, and translated that into how hurt Dean was. He remained calm as he could, trying to explain to his brother how he felt. How he'd felt for the past five years, unable to tell anyone. "You said it yourself. This…it's not just about saving people."

Dean jerked back suddenly, wide-eyed, like Sam had hit him. Sam couldn't be saying what Dean thought he was saying. If he was, than he was far worse than Dean had thought. But the look on Sam's face told Dean the horrible truth. Now Dean really was furious. He strode across the room in five steps and was soon within fighting distance from Sam. "Mom's not enough?" he yelled, "You selfish bastard!"

Sam steadied himself slightly. He and Dean had argued, he and Dean had tussled. But this was quickly escalating to what could be an all-out real fight. He was willing to accept that. But he wanted to explain. He had to at least try to get Dean to understand, or at least hear the full story. But he was angry that Dean was so quickly willing to jump to a fight. "I'm not the only one who's selfish here," he said coldly.

"Not from where I'm standing," Dean retorted.

"Look Dean, if this really was some crusade about good versus evil, maybe I'd be more accepting of it. But it's not. This is about revenge."
"And what? Your mother being nailed to the ceiling and set on fire just doesn't seem worth it?" Dean yelled in his brother's face. But Sam saw his brother's eyes become a little glassy, and he knew his own were too. Though Sam had never known their mother and Dean had only been four when she'd died, her death was still an unbearably painful topic.

"Of course it does! But it's been eighteen years, Dean," Sam said quietly.

Dean just shook his head and looked away. Sam knew it was to hide the glassy eyes. "You just don't care do you?" he said in a quiet, disgusted tone, "Just given up."

"No, I do," Sam protested, only raising his voice a little, "But I've moved on, Dean. Maybe you should try…"

"No, you know what?" Dean cut him off, turning back, no longer giving a damn what his eyes betrayed. "Fuck you, Sam. You want to run away off to college from this life, fine. But you can't out run the truth. You can't just push aside the fact that our mother was murdered."

Sam was taken aback by this. "I'm not trying to…"

"Yes you are!" Dean interjected, pointing at accusing finger at him, "Because normal people don't exorcise demons or cast spells or shoot rock salt at ghosts, right? Well wake up and smell the fucking Starbucks, Sammy; we're not normal. And no matter how hard you try, you never will be."

The brothers just stared at each other for a minute. Sam couldn't believe how much of what Dean had said was true. Dean knew very well how right he was; he'd come to this conclusion on his own long ago. He knew what it was like to yearn to be like everyone else. But Sammy was going too far. He had to get it through his head the reality of life. No more coddling; Dean didn't care if he had to fucking beat it into his brother's head, Sam had to understand.

Sam refused to let Dean win this. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be normal. It wasn't as perverted as their father had made it seem. "Fine," he said venomously, "But that doesn't mean I have to be a mindless soldier like you."

Dean's eyes flashed with anger and his took a step forward. For a minute, Sam readied himself to be hit. But the moment was cut short at the sound of a cell phone ringing.

Both brothers looked from Dean's ringing cell in his pocket to each other. No question about who was calling. Sam suddenly panicked. Dean would pick up and tell Dad. But when he looked desperately to his brother, Dean's face told him that he wouldn't tell.

Dean took out the phone and answered it. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound as calm and as casual as he possibly could. He couldn't let Dad know that anything was wrong. Despite his protectiveness over Sammy, if dad asked, Dean would answer.

"Dean," the familiar gruff voice came over.

"Hey, Dad," Dean greeted, immediately switching into 'glad to hear from you, but wasn't that worried' voice.

Sam sat back and listened intently to the one-sided conversation, the entire time locking eyes with Dean and begging him not to say anything.

Dean continued talking, acting with his voice as best as he could. "Yeah, I'm still at the house actually. … No, everything's fine. I just fell asleep on the couch." He winced slightly at the berate that came biting back at him. But as he always did when their father was angry with him, he took it in stride. "Yes sir, I'm about to leave right now. … Okay, I'll let Sammy know." And so the conversation ended. He turned to Sam. The moment of panic and protection made it rather awkward to pick up where they'd left off. "Dad's on his way back," he explained, "I've got to get going."

Sam nodded understandingly. God, what had he done? After everything he'd said, and Dean was still watching out for him. "Look, Dean, I…"

"I know," Dean finished sincerely, but shortly. He didn't want to leave on the chick flick moment. He turned to go, hoping that they could just leave it at that.

But alas, Sam couldn't just leave it at that. "When I go, that doesn't mean I'll stop hunting," he called after Dean.

Dean stopped and looked back at Sam. He wasn't angry anymore, but he wasn't happy either. "If you go."

Sam sighed. Okay, it wasn't over. "Dean…"

Dean waved him quiet. "Look, we'll talk after I get back Together, okay?" They had to talk about this like a family. Him, Sam, and Dad.

"Yeah, okay," Sam replied.

They waved good bye, and Dean was gone. Sam leaned against the wall, hating himself. He'd lied to Dean. The semester started in a week and Sam was going. He wasn't going to talk to Dean and John at once, it just wasn't happening. By the time Dean got back, Sam would have left.


"I know why Julian's really after Scott," Dean announced when Sam closed the door to Scott's room, "He's not trying to kill him."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Then…what's he doing?"

Dean sighed heavily. "He's turning him."

Sam's brow remained furrowed. "Into a vampire?"

Dean nodded. "All makes sense. Vamps have a natural instinct to make groups for themselves; you know, 'be fruitful and multiply'. Only way a vamp can 'multiply' is turn people into vampires. And the family it had when it was a human is usually where they start. Probably the same thing with Julian, especially if he really wanted to make up with Scott."

"But if Scott's right and Julian looks exactly the same, that means he's had eight years to turn Scott," Sam pointed out, "Why now?"

"Vamps can be drifters now and then," Dean answered simply, "Whatever vamp turned Julian might've taken him along for the trip."

"Well, where's his maker now?"

"Could be anywhere. Vamps will turn someone, lead them around for a bit, then just ditch 'em."

"But how could Julian know how to turn a person? Could his maker have taught him?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe, but I doubt it. The other vampires wouldn't like it either way. You have to ask for permission to turn somebody, and they have a pretty elite membership process. And they can only turn so many people at a time. Because if they turned every human…"

"There wouldn't be any food," Sam finished.

"Right. But you want my guess," Dean set his jaw. "These murders? It's Julian experimenting."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You think?"

Dean nodded. "Let's say Julian moved into town just two months ago. He finds Scott, wants to turn him, but he doesn't know how. So he starts practicing, figuring it out. Kills every two weeks to make it look like he's just feeding so when the other vamps catch him, they'll go easy on him."

Sam nodded. "I guess he finally figured it out."

"Yeah. His whole plan was to turn Scott tonight. See, to be turned, the vamp has to drain you until you're almost dead. Then, you have to drink the vamp's own blood," Dean explained.

Sam looked at Dean curiously. "How do you know so much about vampires, Dean? Aren't they notorious for how little is known about them?"

Dean straightened. "Experience," he replied shortly.

But Sam caught the underlying tone in his brother's voice. It was accusatory. 'Experience' was undoubtedly code for 'I learned important things like this while you were away wasting your time learning dumb things like calculus instead of how to survive in the dark'. A painful assertion, but Sam let it go. They did not have time for this.

"So how do we stop it?" Sam asked.

"We keep Julian away from Scott, then dust him," Dean replied, "Simple."

Little did he know how cosmically mistaken he was.

"So, we'll stay here, wait for Julian to show up," Sam said decidedly.

"Yeah, guess so," Dean agreed as he took a bag of M&M's out of his pocket. In response to the look Sam gave him, Dean held the bag protectively closer to him. "Get your own."

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean could be such a jerk sometimes… But he wouldn't say that out loud. No more fighting. "Maybe I will," he announced begrudgingly as he turned the corner towards the elevator. He didn't really want to have to go all the way down to the cafeteria for some M&M's, but he was hungry.

But as soon as he rounded the corner and looked up ahead, Sam froze at the sight that met him.

"Uh…Dean…"

As he popped some M&Ms into his mouth, Dean looked up concernedly at his brother. "What?"

"We won't have to wait that long for Julian," Sam deadpanned.

Dean quickly walked over to Sam, stuffing the bag of M&Ms into his pocket and reaching for his stake. He followed Sam's gaze and there he was. He had reverted into human form, but there was no mistaking the long auburn hair and long dark coat. Julian Meeson stood in the middle of the corridor, but his now blue eyes didn't see the Winchesters, because they were focused instead on Officer Clark and Officer Mendez, who were speaking with him.

Dean could only think of one word to sum up the situation: "Fuck."