A/N Sorry this took a while. It was a bitch to get out. I'm still not completely happy with it. There will be a one more part than this story will be done.

I have two-shot sequel planed. I'm already writing it. I'll post it soon. Peace

The room was still dark but Sam could feel the sun coming. He'd been in bed for over six hours and still sleep hadn't come. It was his third month in this room and he still wasn't use to sleeping here, in this bed, in this space. He'd spent less time in a lot of places, a night, a week, but always with Dean. He was capable of this, being alone. He wanted to be capable of this.

The sound of Ryan's snores where muffled by the pillow Sam had placed over his face. The loud winded sound, muffled or unmuffled did nothing to bring Sam closer to sleep. There was a feeling in his, a grazing itch in the center of him that had sprung up as he got ready for bed and had yet to leave him. He wished suddenly for a CD. Any of Dean's CD's that he sometimes played late at night when he couldn't sleep but thought Sam was. He left them behind. He left most of his things behind. Dean would keep them. He was sure of that. Dad had told him to never come back but Dean would come to him. He believed that. It was easier to believe lying under his cover with the sun still an hour away, than it was to believe under the glare of bright California sun. But always he believed. Dean always came back for Sam.

He rolled on to his side trying to shake the memories lose. They held him elevated above sleep. The sound of Dean's laughter as he tackled Sam to the floor. The sound of his dad voice mumbling nonsense words as he hugged Sam hard and fierce after the first time Sam made a kill. He felt them sometimes, with his eyes closed tight, they where so close he swore he felt them, dad's hand heavy on his shoulder, Dean's arm warp tight around his waist as he pulled Sam back. Than he opened his eyes and they were gone.

He never thought he would miss them this much. It never seemed when he was with them that they were close. They where all he had but since the surge of hormones and growth there had been a growing distance between him and them. Between the soldiers and the diplomat. They were warriors and he was at best a reluctant fighter. He wanted to be normal and they could not exist in a world with rules, bounders. To cage them would be to break them. He could not do that, not to his father not to Dean. Especially not to Dean who seem to thrive on constant, free, movement. God Dean. He felt silly, small, younger than he'd felt in years. Tears tingled behind his eyes. Something was wrong that was the only thing that could explain this sudden feel of desperateness. He rolled over and lost the battle he'd been fighting since he got into bed six hours ago. He picked up his cell phone dialing the number he had not dialed in weeks.

Dean picks up on the sixth ring "what the fuck do you want bitch it's six in the fucking morning." his voice sounds, tired, worn, so stretched Sam wanted to reach through the phone and hug him. Even if that was possible Dean would never let him get away with it. He hardens his voice. "Did you go hunting tonight."

"What's it to you."

"Are you okay? Is dad okay."

"We're fine." He could hear the lie in Dean's voice.

"Dean, don't fuck with me."

"I ain't fucking with you Sammy where fine."

"Let me talk to dad."

"He's busy right now."

"Doing what."

"Stitch up my leg."

"You fucking liar you said you where fine."

Dean laughs on the other end, it sounds far and hollow. Sam misses him.

"I'll live dude. God you are such a chick princess." The phone is shifted. He hears muffled voices than his father's voice on the other line. "Don't worry Sam, Dean will be fine the other guy looked a lot worst."

"Dad hi. Are you umm are you okay."

"I'm fine Sam. Where both fine just a few cuts and bruise we'll live….. Are you doing well?"

"Great. I'm doing great."

"Getting good grades?"

"Yeah."

"That's good Sam" he was quite for a moment. Sam could feel him through the phone, his silent demanding presents that had been the backdrop to Sam's childhood. When he speaks again his voice is both heavy and soft, full of words Sam know they would never verbalize. "Dean wants to talk to you….Listen, Sammy take care of yourself watch your back." His father hadn't called him Sammy in years. He heard the phone moving around. Than Dean's laughter explodes over the line. Sam felt a shock go throw him. The tight frantic feeling that had plagued him all night was gone. Was this normal to react so severely to his brother's laughter.

"You still there Sammy."

"My name is Sam."

"Your name is bitch."

"You are such a 4 year old. I don't know why I bother calling you."

"Because you would worry your prissy little brain away to nothing if you didn't call."

"You are so vain for no reason at all."

Dean laughs. "Didn't you get the memo Sammy I'm hot."

"Sam. My name is Sam. Fuck Dean it's been six years can't you call me Sam."

"I'll call you bitch. Look I got to go. The pills are starting to get to me and we still have to put up a few wards. Let me call you tomorrow."

"You won't call. Do you want me to call you?"

"I'll call. Dude stop being such a girl."

"Someone has to be sensible. If you attribute sensibility with femininity that is not my problem. You should take that issue up with a good shrink."

Dean snorts on the other end. "Your college poofs telling you all that shit princess."

Sam rolls his eyes before remembering Dean couldn't see it. "I hate you."

Dean was back to laughing. Sam wished he could see him, the way his eyes crinkled up at the side when he really got into it.

"I'm slipping Sammy I call you tomorrow."

"Yeah you do that. Tell dad I said bye."

"Will do bitch."

Dean hung up with out a good bye. Sam rests his phone on the nightstand and rolled on to his back eyes closed. Dean was okay. Dad didn't sound like he was still angry. Not the hot ferocious anger he held when Sam last saw him. Maybe he got over it. Maybe he didn't mean forever, just not for awhile. Sam snuggled under the covers, Ryan's snoring was starting to even out, he would be getting up soon.

Sam was pretty sure he would never be just Sam to Dean, there would always be other names for him. He didn't mind. This was something Sam could only admit in the semi darkness of his dorm room. They were not unwanted, the other names, not so much anymore. It didn't matter what Dean called him, as long as Dean was smiling as he said it.