Well, I lied a little. I got a little spooked, so I decided to post the next two chapters tonight instead of tomorrow.

Also, the chapter after this turned out longer than I thought it would. I'll post the first half later tonight, once it's ready, and the second half sometime tomorrow.

When Sam woke up again, he knew a long time had passed. He was jerked into consciousness, as if his mind had been ready and waiting to wake up the very first moment his body would let him. As soon as his eyes opened, he pushed himself upwards until he was sitting up in his bed.

Memories of the day before rushed back to him at a frightening speed. The heavy revelations, the intensity of emotions—Dean. He was with his brother. After a year of separation and searching and dazed confusion, he was suddenly faced with a brutal onslaught of answers.

He remembered the past year, how he went through every day missing a large piece of himself. He remembered the past few days of traveling with a man he knew as John. He remembered the strangeness he felt learning about the world of the supernatural, the new thrill he got out of fighting evil and solving mysteries. More strongly, he remembered the overload of emotions as it all came together when he found out that Dean was his brother. When he found out that Dean did this to him.

But—

He remembered that day over a year ago, the one other time a sudden fatigue had overcome him. Even then, though he had no reason to be suspicious, he had known something was wrong when he collapsed on his bed, struggling to keep his eyes open. He had looked at Dean for help, for answers, but Dean only watched him as he drifted away. The last thing Sam saw before he woke up in Rebecca's apartment had been Dean's miserable eyes.

He could remember everything else, too. Everything. His childhood, Dean and their dad, every job and every creature they faced, the pain and determination after Jessica's death…All of it had come back, a scrambled mess of memories that he wouldn't even try to pick apart just yet. But he knew he could when he wanted to, because they were all there in his mind again.

It left his head throbbing.

Sam looked around. The hotel room looked mostly the same, though there was more garbage in the undersized trash cans. He wasn't surprised that Dean would turn down maid service with Sam in an almost coma-like state.

Dean was gone, but Sam wasn't ready to determine if it was for good or not.

The bedside clock read 7:35, but he didn't know whether that was AM or PM. But he suddenly realized he had more pressing matters – his bladder.

After he had finished, opening the bathroom door must have masked the sound of the hotel door which opened at the same time. He wished it hadn't, he wished he had some warning, because when he stepped from the bathroom, he was unprepared to see Dean standing in the doorway leading into their room.

They both froze, staring at each other. "You're up," Dean remarked awkwardly.

"You're back," Sam replied. That broke them from their spell, and they both moved again, stepping deeper into the room, shutting their respective doors behind them.

"Did...did it work?" asked Dean, looking at Sam apprehensively.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I have my memory now," he told him coolly. Dean nodded in return and looked away, clearing his throat. "How long have I been out?" Sam asked him.

"A little over 24 hours."

That would mean it was in the PM. Sam sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Damn." At least it was a shorter sleep this time. Then again, undoing a spell always took a less energy.

"I brought you some burgers," Dean told him, holding up the white sack in his hand. "Figured you might be hungry."

Sam took it from him. There were four sandwiches in the bag, so he handed two back to Dean and then sat down at the desk while Dean dropped onto his bed. Sam didn't think he was hungry, and he only started to eat so he'd have something to do. He didn't know what else to do. But once he chewed and swallowed a mouthful, he realized how starved he really was. He quickly devoured his two burgers, ignoring his brother.

"So now what?" he asked flatly as he wadded up the wrapper of his last burger and tossed it into the trashcan. He meant it as a rhetorical question, one he directed more towards himself.

Dean, who had been sipping a soda, replied anyway. "I, uh-" He cleared his throat, setting the cup down on the bedside table. "I got you a bus ticket back to Stanford."

Sam felt his jaw drop, but he quickly closed it, clenching it shut. He stared at his brother, unable to speak.

In Sam's silence, Dean went on, elaborating. "It leaves at two AM. It was the best I could do." He pulled the ticket from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the desk beside Sam.

Sam stared at the pieces of thin cardboard, reading the words printed across the top. Then he turned back to his brother. "What the hell, Dean!" he exploded.

Dean looked back at him with wide, startled eyes. "Things are tough, so you're going to send me away, just like that. Is that it?" Sam asked him acidly.

"I just thought you'd go back to Stanford," Dean said defensively.

"There you go, making decisions for me again!" Sam shot back immediately. "Dammit, Dean."

Dean looked back at him with steely defiance, saying, "I thought that's what you'd want. You know it is."

Sam met his gaze with one of his own. "You should have waited, you jerk. You should have let me decide."

"I'm sorry, all right? I just thought it'd be easier if I got that out of the way--"

"Don't ever make decisions for me again," Sam interrupted, slapping the ticket against the desk for emphasis. "Just because you happen to be right this time, doesn't give you any right to choose for me."

For a very brief moment, Dean couldn't hide the raw emotions from his eyes. But he recovered, slamming walls up so quickly that Sam wondered if he had even seen the crestfallen expression that had passed his face. Sam, though, was too angry and hurt himself to care. What did Dean expect?

"Don't worry," Dean replied. "I won't need to anymore."

Sam snorted derisively. "You got that right," he said, glaring at him. "The spell was lifted, but in the end you still got what you wanted, didn't you? You're getting rid of me."

Dean glared back at him, though it lacked anger.

It was a look Sam knew well, a hardened expression his older brother took on whenever he was uncomfortable with his emotions, or with Sam's. He'd always been so stubborn, always refused to acknowledge whatever he was feeling.

And Sam had long grown tired of trying, and right now, he wasn't the one who owed anybody anything. It pissed him off that Dean wasn't putting any effort. Sam deserved at least that.

If Dean wanted to part ways with Sam without any attempt at apology or reconciliation, then Sam will take that. But he'll be damned if he would ever reach out to Dean after this.

Sam gritted his teeth. After all of this,he couldn't see how he could go back to his "normal" life at Stanford. He couldn't imagine facing Rebecca and Zach, didn't know how he could live the same life he had before he knew about Dean.

But more critically, he knew he could never stay with Dean, not after what he had done to him. His trust was gone.

"Dammit, Dean!" he said again, standing up suddenly. "I can't believe you did this to me!"

Dean didn't reply.

Shaking his head, his eyes trained on the wall, Sam felt heat burn inside his chest. "I can't even look at you," he spat furiously. And if any emotion crossed Dean's face, he wouldn't know it. Didn't care to know.

With a burst of anger, his arm shot out and punched the wall, slamming his fist into wallpaper and plaster. Without looking at the damage he caused, he spun around and stormed out of the door.

It wasn't until he was outside that he noticed the tears that blurred his eyes. He cursed them, refusing to cry.

ooOOoo

Sam stayed away for most of the evening. It was harder than it seemed – the hotel was located just off a major highway, surrounded by places meant for the traveling commuter, not a car-less pedestrian. The choices were made worse by Sam's desire to be alone, and he had trouble finding a place where he could suffer through his emotion freely and privately. The last thing he needed was to break down into tears in the middle of a strange town.

He ended up at the McDonald's. By the time he walked into the brightly lit building, he no longer felt an urge to cry. Instead, all of his emotions had congealed into a lump deep inside his chest where it rolled and burned dully.

He ordered a coffee and took a seat in the far corner, out of sight from the counter in a small wing that held only two other occupied tables. He ignored the other patrons as he slid into the last booth, his hands wrapped around the warm cardboard cup.

Time passed slowly and all he had were his miserable thoughts. He ended up nursing three cups worth of coffee, just so he had something to do with his hands. His thoughts kept repeating over in his head, and he finally forced himself to move on.

His next steps wouldn't be too difficult, he told himself. They were already laid out before him, neat and tidy.

It wasn't be too late to sign up for law school. He could still start in the fall. And this time, he'd be more ambitious than settling for a job at the grocery store. It was also time to start dating again, he realized. Jessica was irreplaceable, but he knew there were other women out there who could make him happy. He needed to stop sulking, he needed to rebuild so he could eventually settle down.

Someday he would have the life he'd always wanted, and he could forget all of this.

At least he knew he had a place to go to until all that happened. But before he could, he had to know.

Sam pulled out his cell phone and stared at it for a long moment. He didn't feel like talking, but he had to find out what they knew, had to find out what exactly they had been keeping from him.

"Hey, Rebecca," he said when she answered.

"Oh hi, Sam!" Rebecca greeted cheerfully on the other side. But then her voice suddenly turned sober when she realized something was wrong. "What's up?" she asked carefully.

Sam answered instantly. "I know John is Dean."

There was a long pause before she responded. "I've been waiting for this call," she admitted softly. "Sam, I'm so, so sorry. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Can you...Can you explain everything to me?" he asked. His voice was suddenly shaky. "I don't—I still don't understand what happened."

"Oh, God, Sam. I'll-I'll try," she replied. She took in a deep breath before she continued. "Dean showed up with you unannounced that night, said he'd been driving all day to get here because he didn't know where else to go," she told him through the phone. "He had to carry you in from the car because you were unconscious. He said that you were hit with a voodoo spell."

She paused, and Sam could hear the frown in her voice. "And then he said that when you woke up, you wouldn't remember anything about your family or your past - but you would remember us. He wanted to leave you here so you could go back to school, get on with your life. It'd be too dangerous if you stayed with him."

Dean was a goddamn liar, Sam thought for not the first time.

"And he told us to keep him a secret from you. He didn't want you to know. Said it would be too... complicated." She didn't seem to hear his snort.

Sam shook his head, even though she couldn't see it. "Why couldn't you just tell me?" he asked her.

"He made us promise, Sam. And because..." She hesitated for a moment, but then continued in a rush. "At first I thought he had a point, that it would be easier for you. After that thing in St. Louis, I didn't think you would leave your brother, but I thought this was your chance to have a normal life."

Sam wanted to crush the phone in his hand. It was already digging into his fingers, he clutched it so tight. A normal life. He never wanted to hear anyone say those words to him again.

Rebecca continued quickly. "Sam, I would have broken that promise the moment I realized you weren't happy. I swear, I really wanted to."

"But you didn't," he pointed out.

"He was your brother, Sam. I couldn't just get in the way of family like that. I didn't think it was my right to make that decision."

"So you just let him go on lying like that?"

"He's family and I wasn't," she told him, pleading with him to understand. "He should have been the one to tell you, not me."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm so sorry, Sam," he heard her say again. "I know it was a mistake. It took me way too long to realize it." He remembered the frustration she showed at their graduation. He remembered the night she sent him home early from the bar so he could run into Dean. She tried, he realized. She did what she could.

He had to work his throat before he could speak again. "Did he…did he tell you why? How it happened?"

"Not really. But from what I gathered, it sounded like you guys had been on one of your, um, hunts, and I guess it ended badly. Sounded like the voodoo lady had it out for you, or something."

She didn't know. It was a small relief, but it didn't make him any happier. Sam sagged against the hard plastic seat. He almost told her the truth, but couldn't get himself to.

"He kept checking up on you," she told him. "The whole time, he never stopped worrying about you."

So what? Sam almost retorted. "Don't, Rebecca," he said instead. Don't make excuses for him.

"Where are you, Sam?" she asked again.

"Northern Texas," he replied dully. He didn't tell her he was getting on a bus. He didn't tell her that in 24 hours he'd be standing at her doorstep again. He knew he should, but he couldn't admit that out loud.

She was quiet for a moment. "What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"I don't know," Sam replied, scrubbing his face with his hand. "I don't know."

ooOOoo

When he walked back out of the McDonald's restaurant, ready to pick his things up from the motel, he saw the Impala sitting in the parking lot.

Sam thought he would swerve around to avoid it, but his traitorous legs took him there anyway. He needed more, he realized then. He needed more from Dean, and he couldn't stop himself from looking for that.

His brother was sitting behind the wheel, watching him through the windshield as Sam approached. Sam refused to look at him directly as he came up to the passenger side. He yanked the door open and slid inside.

"What are you doing here?" he asked him, keeping his gaze forward.

"Looking for you," Dean replied.

"Well, you found me. Congratulations."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"I called Rebecca," Sam told him without really meaning to.

"Oh. Good."

Sam sighed. This was ridiculous. "What do you want, Dean?" he asked tiredly.

"I know I messed up, Sam. I knew it the minute I called Ms. Valerie and asked her to do the spell."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. Of course not." Dean scrubbed his hair with his fingers and then dropped the hand onto the steering wheel. "I just…I'm so goddamn sorry, Sam."

Sam looked away. The apology was something, but it wasn't enough.

ooOOoo

Since it was the middle of the night, the bus station was mostly empty. Only two buses were scheduled to pass by the rest of the night, including his. It's too quiet, Sam thought with a frown.

He sat on the cold tiled floor of the station, his back propped against the wall. His bags were spread around him, laying exactly where he dropped them. There were plenty of seats, but he had felt like falling to the floor.

He and Dean had exchanged awkward goodbyes when Dean dropped him off half an hour earlier. They didn't say much on the short drive there. Dean apologized again, but even he realized how inadequate his words sounded.

Dean asked him to call once he got to Stanford, but neither of them expected him to.

Sam drew his legs up and dropped his head onto his knees. He wondered how his life became so messed up.

Dean knew he'd eventually go back to school. He had to have been prepared for that sincethe moment he picked Sam up to search for their dad. There was no reason he had to resort to something so drastic.

Sam groaned miserablyto himself. He didn't see why he should have to feel guilty for wanting what anyone else could have.

Dean and their father were both hunters. But Sam was never satisfied with that. He found contentment at school instead. It gave him what he wanted.

"What are you going to do now?" Sam asked despite himself as he grabbed his bag from the back of the car.

Dean gave him an ironic half-smile. "There're reports of a doppelganger or shapeshifter near Tulsa," he said. Sam almost laughed at that.

Some things never changed. Dean was one of those things – although apparently he still managed to find ways to surprise him. After all, Sam never thought he'd ever betray him like that.

How did Dean get so messed up?

Sam rolled his head backwards and let his eyes slide close. His head hurt, and so did his stomach. Everything hurt.

Dean's words from the other night echoed in his head.

"…He left again. He didn't say where he was going, just that he needed to get away, needed some time to himself. To reflect."

"Sam…You had nothing left in you. You were miserable and depressed and...that fire was gone. You just...Your heart wasn't in it."

And then Sam remembered why.