March 2012
Sam pressed a cold bottle of beer to the bruise forming on his eye as he got into the passenger side of the Impala. He winced into the iciness. He really needed to work on his ducking. Being walloped by a ghost of a little girl wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, but Dean had found it hilarious.
"How's the shiner, Sammy?" Dean asked with a smirk. He didn't even look up from the open computer sitting on his lap.
"Feels great. It'll be even better after I have this," Sam said. "You're not looking at porn in the car, are you? I feel like there needs to be a line."
"Got a case," Dean said. Sam sighed loudly. "What?"
"Dean, this has been nonstop," Sam said. "We need time to sleep once in a while. We need a break. Hell, I'll even let you go to a strip club. Let's just hold off for a bit."
"First off, 'let me'? I'm a full grown man, I'll go to strip clubs whenever the hell I want," Dean said, earning an eye roll from Sam. "And second, monsters don't take a break so neither do we."
"This was our sixth case with no in between," Sam argued.
"And?"
"And there are other hunters who can handle cases, Dean," Sam said. "I have Bobby's whole contact list. We'll send someone that way and we can spend a whole weekend not getting thrown around by ghosts."
"We're the best there is and you know it," Dean said.
"Yeah, and I got my ass beat last week by a second class demon because I'm tired as hell," Sam said.
"You need more practice then," Dean argued. Sam fixed him with an exasperated look. "Come on, Sammy. There are some missing girls in Connecticut. You love New England girls."
"When have I ever said that?" Sam laughed.
"Doesn't matter," Dean waved him off. "We're only a state over, we've gotta be the closest ones and there's two missing already."
Sam twisted the lid off of his beer bottle, sighing as he took a heavy swig. "Fine, let's go." Dean clenched his fist triumphantly. He slammed the laptop shut, placing it in the back before pulling out of the gas station parking lot.
"What's the deal with the girls then, why do you think it's our sort of thing?" Sam asked.
"Their families said they had been acting strange before dropping contact all together," Dean said.
"Shape shifter, maybe," Sam said.
"Could be," Dean said. "They usually go for the higher class people, take their money and stuff like that. These girls were educated, came from old family money."
"It's Connecticut, everyone comes from family money," Sam said. Dean chuckled with little humor.
"Right, right, I forgot you did a stint there, huh?"
Sam felt his cheeks turn a bit red. He and Dean never really mentioned the two years he spent with the Foresters. It was a hard time for Dean. Especially because not long after Sam got back to his family, he left for Stanford. Sam was sure he hadn't forgotten.
"It was a bunch of spoiled little rich kids," Sam covered.
"No wonder you got into the Ivy leagues then," Dean said.
"Is there anything else," Sam asked, changing the subject. "Any sketchy new people in their lives, cults joined, stuff like that?"
"The first girl had some guy she was seeing for a while that the family didn't like but he just seems like run of the mill bad choice to piss off her parents. You know, motorcycle, bartender, the works. He was the one who reported her missing, though, so I don't think he has anything to do with it."
"We'll check him out anyways," Sam said. "What about the second?"
"Her parents tried to report her missing a couple days ago, but because she's in her late twenties, the cops wouldn't have it until she didn't show up for work Monday," Dean said. "The mom said that she hadn't called in a week and then didn't show up for a scheduled dinner, so that's when she knew something happened."
"Sounds fishy, sure," Sam nodded.
"We got a few hours ahead of us," Dean said. "Why don't you get some sleep, I'll wake you up when we get there."
The ceiling of Sam's room was starting to look a lot like a hole that he was falling down. He could smell the warm vanilla scent of freshly baked cake coming through the vents, but even that didn't make him want to come out. He knew he was being a bit dramatic, but he thought he had earned it.
The cellphone on his bedside table chirped loudly. Sam heaved himself up and put the phone to his ear. "I don't want to talk," He said roughly.
"Too bad, Sammy," The gruff voice on the other end said. Sam felt his chest tighten.
"Dean?" Sam said. "You guys are okay? You haven't called in weeks. Uncle Bobby was out looking for you."
"I know, I'm sorry, we had a bad run for a bit," Dean explained. "Dad's fine, I'm fine."
"Where are you guys?" Sam asked.
"That's the good news," Dean said. Sam hadn't heard him that happy in years. "We're in Hartford."
"What?"
"Your birthday's tomorrow, numbnuts," Dean said. "Eighteen, they can't do a damn thing if you leave. You're coming home, Sammy."
The pit in Sam's stomach that had weighed on him for days now felt even deeper. He missed his brother and father, but the life he had in Stars Hollow was all he had ever wanted. Well, it was until yesterday.
"Sammy?" Dean said.
"Yeah, I'm still here," Sam said.
"Well, pack your bags," Dean said. "Dad and I will be there tomorrow at dawn. I know you got your school and everything, but if you're eighteen you can pull yourself out, you can finish up somewhere else. You've got like, what, a month left?"
"Dean, I can't just pick up and leave," Sam said, without thinking.
"Why the hell not?" Dean asked. "We do it all the time."
"I've been here almost two years."
"Yeah, and it's been hell being apart, we're a family, Sammy. Families are supposed to be together."
Sam pressed his hand to his forehead, nodding. "You're right, I know."
"Well then, what is it?" Dean asked. He paused for a long moment. "Is this because of that girl you told me about? Rory, or whatever?"
"You mean my girlfriend," Sam said, putting salt into his own wound.
"I'm sure she's real cute, Sammy, but you can find other girls."
"It's not because of her," Sam said. "We broke up anyways."
"Dean, it's time for dinner," May called up the stairs. Sam ran his hand through his hair, squeezing the strands at the nape of his neck. He looked at the pictures he kept on his bedside table. A photostrip of him and Rory at the fall carnival last year, the last frame of her kissing him. Another, picture of him, Randy, Clara, and May, a cheesy one that he was sure Dean would make fun of mercilessly. The last, an old picture of Sam and Dean with their mother and father, not long after Sam was born. Sam had always kept it with him, usually in whatever book he was reading, but May had placed it in a frame for him not long after Sam arrived at the Forester house.
"Sammy?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Sam said. Sam grabbed the three photos and got up from his bed. He grabbed his backpack and threw them into the bottom. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Dean said, slapping Sam's shoulder roughly. Sam blinked up blearily, looking around the cab of the Impala.
"Where are we?" Sam asked. He felt immediately awake as he took in his surroundings. He thought for a moment that Dean was playing a cruel joke on him as he stared at the closed sign of the diner that proclaimed it was a hardware store. "Dean, where are we?"
"Stars Hollow," Dean said. He didn't seem to notice Sam's anxiety.
"That's not funny, Dean," Sam said. Dean finally looked up at him, his eyebrows knit together at him.
"What?" Dean asked. After a moment he laughed a little. "Oh, right, this is where you lived, huh?"
"You know this is where I lived, Dean," Sam said, annoyed.
"I didn't even think about it, do you know how many small ass towns there are in Connecticut, I don't remember which ones you played house in," Dean said. "We're just here because people went missing and we gotta find them. You know, our jobs? We gotta talk to the girls' parents, so get your shit together. The dad owns this diner, he said he'd meet us outside."
Sam stared at the darkened windows of the diner, knowing even after ten years that it should be open at this time of day. Dean looked over Sam's face.
"What's up, Sam?"
Sam watched as the sullen diner owner walked out of the front door, still in the same baseball cap and worn flannel combo that Sam had remembered him in. His eyes were red, his insomnia clear on his scruffy face as he stood outside in the brisk New England morning air, waiting on what he thought would be FBI agents.
"Dean, who went missing?" Sam asked, already knowing the answer.
"Michaela Rogers and Lorelai Gilmore," Dean said, still looking at Sam's face with concern. "Why? Did you know them or something when you were here?"
The diner owner made eye contact just as Sam nodded in answer to Dean's question. He narrowed his eyes at Sam, his face drawing in confusion.
"Dean?" Luke asked.