Part Two

Sam sometimes imagined running into his older brother, at a grocery store, out on a jog in the park, at the gym, even at the local library where he liked to study because of the peace and quiet. He imagined his brother, older and a little worn around the edges, sporting a grin and those bright green eyes and he'd catch Sam at whatever he was doing and say, "Hi, Sammy." Sometimes in his imagination, Dean would pull him into a tight hug and he'd smell like leather and alcohol and a little bit of home and he'd whisper, "I missed you, baby brother." Every scenario, though, wherever Dean would meet Sam again, it always ended with Dean asking Sam to go back to hunting with him again. It was something a small part of Sam dreaded, if he was being honest.

Hunting had been a life that the Winchester brothers grew up in. Maybe not quite as young as they could have been. Thankfully Sam had a nice enough childhood, but John Winchester took up hunting when their mom died and that was when Sam was thirteen. For five whole years, Sam's life was full of fear and rage and moving from town to town. It wasn't until he was almost eighteen that he figured he could get away from the life completely. He applied for Stanford and got a full ride and he knew he had to leave his monster hunting obsessed father and brother behind. A fresh start, he had thought to himself, as he packed a small suitcase.

Never in a million years did he consider Dean Winchester would appear back into his life with the words, "You're in danger, Sammy."

He looked back at his older brother, taking in the earnestness on his face. Dean was sitting on his couch, muddy and wet, and absolutely serious. Suddenly Dean stood up and said, "You should pack a bag, Sam. You and Jess. Skip out of town for the night."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second," Sam said, trying to let his brain catch up with the words Dean was saying. He stood up as Dean began to pace the room, looking stressed and agitated. "Dean, wait. Stop for a minute," he snapped. He immediately felt a pang of guilt when Dean stopped and just looked at him. It wasn't his fault though. Dean couldn't just barge into his apartment and drop a bombshell like that, with no explanation whatsoever. He breathed out a sigh and dropped back on the couch, "How exactly are we in danger?" He caught his brother's eyes and felt his stomach drop at the realization that the only reason Dean would even be here right now if he was on a hunt. "You're on a hunt, aren't you?" he asked, dropping his voice when he realized he had been talking loud enough for Jess to wake up. He really didn't need Jess to come over here when Dean was here. How the hell was he going to explain to Jess that Dean was actually his brother? The one she had no idea he even had. He felt another pang of guilt for not mentioning Dean to Jess all these years. She had no clue about his family, what they did. He steered clear of talk of family. The only thing she knew about Sam's past was that he needed a clean start and maybe someday, he could introduce her to them. It had been an empty promise however. He had no intentions of letting her meet John or Dean. Until now. If Dean was on a hunt, he might not have a choice.

He stared down at his hand, clenching his fingers. His life was going to be ruined even before it truly began.

"I'm sort of on a hunt," Dean finally answered. Sam looked up, wondering what he meant by that. "It's really hard to explain."

"You're here now, Dean. You might as well try," Sam said. He didn't mean to sound irritated but the pained look Dean sent him told him he didn't succeed. He couldn't help it though. Even if this wasn't Dean's intentions, just coming here was already upheaving Sam's new life.

Dean watched him and Sam suddenly felt like he was a bug under a microscope. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat as Dean sat down on a nearby chair. He sighed, looking world weary, drained. It wasn't exactly a good look on a twenty-six year old. Sam frowned, wondering what happened in the four years he had been gone. He knew hunting could take a lot out on a person but Dean always struck Sam as someone who enjoyed it. He took after their father after all. As soon as John Winchester found out monsters were real, he just stopped being a father and took on the hunter mantle like he was born to it. He saw the way Dean came back from a successful hunt, the way his eyes lit up with genuine excitement while Sam would just roll his eyes and go back to studying.

"You're right, Sam. I do owe you an explanation," Dean said. He paused and Sam waited. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, like he was trying to soothe a headache. Sam frowned. For a long moment, they sat in complete silence. Finally Dean said, "Sorry. I...just...I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you."

Sam grimaced. "Try me," he said. There wasn't much he wouldn't believe, considering they both witnessed a lot of unexplainable things growing up.

Dean took in a deep breath, then released it. He looked Sam right in the eyes and said, "Okay. Well, I get these dreams, sometimes. Like visions."

Sam froze. "What?"

Dean sighed, not surprised by Sam's reaction, "See, Sammy? I told you-"

"No, no, Dean, I'm sorry. I believe you," Sam blurted out before he could stop himself. He watched as Dean stared back at him. Sam found himself sitting up straighter. "These visions...they don't start out with headaches, do they?" Sam had to ask, just to be sure.

Dean nodded slowly, "Uh, yeah, kind of. Sometimes."

"And, and the stuff that happens in these dreams, or visions, they happen in real life days later, don't they? Stuff you can't possibly know would happen, or explain," Sam continued, eager now as he watched Dean lean forward, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in what Sam was saying.

"Uh, yeah," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "I believe you, Dean," he said again, "because I get visions too. I've been getting them for the past couple weeks now."