Notes: Thank you for the comments! Here is the next part. I'm sorry these are short but some of them are longer. This story switches POVs but they will be easy to notice and rarely in the middle of a chapter. I have this story already written up to ten parts on ao3 so you can read it there if you want to get ahead. You can find what to search on my profile. Thank you again for taking the time to read and comment. It means a lot to me that people are enjoying this story as much as I enjoy writing it!

Part Four

Jess walked into the room with her arms crossed. Her hair was slightly tousled, her face tired, her shoulders hunched, but her eyes, blue and bright and intelligent, darted from Sam to Dean and back again. Never in his life had he imagined Jess, the girl he was nearly positive he was going to be marrying one day, and Dean, his estranged older brother, would be standing in the same room, meeting for the first time at past midnight when Sam should have been asleep sharing the same bed with said girl. It was like witnessing a car crash. Sam couldn't seem to look away as Jess and Dean watched each other, one cautious, the other curious. His two worlds were colliding and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Hey, Jess," Sam said finally, having found his voice again.

He almost immediately regretted it as Jess turned her attention back to him. She looked tired and guarded, trying to figure out why there was a strange man in the middle of their shared living room in the middle of the night, dressed in old, dirty clothes and obviously wet from the rain outside. Sam could see the question in her eyes, "Who the hell is he?" He was about to reply but Dean beat him to the punch. He coughed lightly into his fist, drawing both of their attentions back on him.

"Hey, Jess, my name's Dean. Dean Winchester," his brother said, looking at Jess with bright green eyes. "Sammy's older, more charming brother." He grinned widely at her, stretching out his hand for her to shake.

Jess looked shocked at hearing that Sam had a brother. He winced when she blurted out, "I didn't even know Sam had a brother." She glanced down at his hand before tentatively taking it. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to offend you. Sam and I...we've been together for a couple years now and he doesn't really, uh, talk about his family."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up the longer he was in this room having to watch and hear the conversation he had been dreading for years. He hated how Dean was trying to hide the hurt he felt. It showed on his face for a brief moment before being smoothed over with an easy smirk and a playful twinkle in his eyes. "No offense taken. It's no big deal. We...had a falling out of sorts before this guy decided he wanted to get himself a proper education," Dean said.

The light jab at the end was like a punch to the gut. He and Dean hadn't had a falling out.

It was him and dad.

He remembered that night vividly. Dad said something stupid like he normally did and Sam had been at the end of his rope.

John Winchester had burst into the motel room in the midst of Sam packing up. He had seen the stash of clothes and an envelope filled with some money Sam had managed to squirrel away from his summer jobs. He'd been planning it for years, pocketing whatever he could for the day he knew he'd leave his only family behind. A part of him had felt that little thrill go up his spine at the thought of finally getting away from all the crappiness his life had become since his mom's death.

Dad had taken one look from the envelope to the letter that was neatly folded on the bed, then to the half packed little suitcase and finally he met Sam's eyes, a thunderstorm brewing in his hazel eyes.

"What the fuck is all this?" Dad had demanded. Not "Hey, Sammy", "How are you doing, son?", "You got accepted to that school yet?" None of that. Not even feigned interest in what Sam had planned for the future. It was never about Sam. It was never about anybody else, but himself. It was never about anything except his obsession of the supernatural. Or maybe a beer. John Winchester was a selfish man who had a vendetta that ran deeper than his love for his kids. And that one look that he had sent to Sam that night, the one that he got after a few too many and he was raring for a fight, well, let's just say that Sam had days worth of pent up frustration building inside him.

He remembered standing there and staring his dad in the eyes, "What the fuck do you think it is?"

John's eyes narrowed and his face became red in anger, "What the fuck did you say, Sammy? Is that how you talk to your father?" He had stormed over to the bed and knocked the suitcase off. Startled by his father's action, Sam remembered stumbling backwards. John then snatched the letter and nearly ripped it in half as he tried to open it. He skimmed over the paper and proceeded to crumple it. "You're not going."

"You're not going."

Those three words hit Sam like a pile of bricks. He'd gotten mad, stomped right up to dad and spat in his face, "Says who? You? I am going. I've been planning to go since I was sixteen. And you can't fucking stop me!" Then he pushed John Winchester and sent him stumbling back. He remembered feeling the ridiculous giddiness of standing up for himself. Just this once, he thought, I can have something of my own.

Something that wasn't hunting and living in fear and remembering the past and longing for mom to come back from the dead to make everything better. Sam Winchester could finally be his own person.

Then...there was Dean. His older brother who took to caring for Sam like a fish to water, taking up all the things Mary Winchester liked to do. And Sam thought, as he watched his dad's face burn with rage and Dean come between them as ever the peacekeeper, pleading for them to not fight, not tonight, he thought that maybe Dean could finally become his own person too.

"Sam. Earth to Sammy," Dean's voice snapped Sam out of his memories and back into the present. Jess and Dean were looking at him with some concern, although once Dean realized he was back with them, he started to smile. "There you are. As I was telling your dear girlfriend over here, we need to pack up. Right the fuck now."

"What?" Sam hardly had time to think before Dean was shoving him toward the hallway.

Jess quickly walked over to him to put a hand on his shoulder, looking worried, "Sam, what the hell is going on? Is there someone after you?"

"Something. Something is after you guys," Dean corrected, as he marched past them and into the room he assumed was their shared bedroom. He stuck his head back out, "Come on, you two."

"Dean, wait a second," Sam called out after his brother, but Dean had already gone in and was probably stuffing clothes into a duffel bag. Before he had time to do anything else, the lights flickered, and the room grew cold. Sam froze.

He could smell something horrible and foul. Like sulfur, his mind absurdly supplied. He slowly turned to the side where Jess was, fear seizing his body. "Jess?" he said softly.