Chapter Five

Sam groans and reaches to shut off his six-thirty alarm. He stayed with Kelly too long last night, didn't want to leave, but he's got to get up—his appointment is in two hours and the drive takes an hour by itself. Definitely worth it to get the damned cast off, though. He could probably have Dean cut it off—he's done it before—but this was a pretty complicated injury and he's getting the followup x-ray this time. He's not willing to walk with a limp for the rest of his life.

Sam gets out of the shower. That's another thing he won't miss, the half-assed bathing he's been doing for the last several weeks. He pulls on his jeans, surprised he hasn't heard Dean moving around yet. Must have been another rough night. Sam wonders if he should say something about the drinking, not that talking to Dean is likely to change anything. Something's going on with him, though. Dean's never really taken well to staying in one place too long, but this... Sam's honestly starting to worry about him.

It's still too quiet when Sam is done in the bathroom. Better get Dean up.

"Hey, Dean. Gotta hit the road, man. Let's go!"

Dean's sprawled diagonally across the bed, snoring loudly. Sam makes his way over, maneuvering carefully through a maze of dirty socks and t-shirts, almost goes down when the toe of a crutch catches on one of Dean's boots. He leans over the bed to shake Dean's shoulder and the smell of booze hits him.

"Jesus, Dean. What did you do, shower in the stuff?" Dean doesn't stir at the sound of Sam's voice. "Hey! You okay?"

He finally groans and turns over. "Wha'?" he mumbles. Sam was starting to think he had alcohol poisoning and he breathes a small sigh of relief. Dean starts snoring again before Sam can finish the thought.

Sam grits his teeth, irritation rising as he watches Dean sleep. Fuck this. He can drive just fine with one leg, and he can damn sure live without his brother's alcoholic reek for two hundred miles. No reason Dean can't just stay here and sleep it off. He wasn't going to work today, anyway.

Sam slips on his shirt and grabs his phone and wallet. He heads for the Impala, stopping at the front door to fumble in his wallet, make sure he has the address to the medical complex. He can't use his GPS; it hasn't worked since the accident—something busted in the fall and he hasn't had a chance to get a new one. Sam was kind of counting on Dean to find this place, in fact, because he has absolutely no memory of its location.

Sam's got the key in the car's door lock when Kelly comes out of the house with Jax on a leash. She's wearing a yellow wind suit and has her hair pulled up in a ponytail, obviously dressed for a run with the dog, nothing special. She still looks good, though.

Jax runs over to Sam, bouncing and whimpering, dragging Kelly and wagging his stubby tail for all he's worth.

"Hey, Jax," Sam says, reaching to pet him, but he won't stay still long enough for Sam to get a hand on him. Sam tries for a minute, finally gives it up. He looks up and smiles at Kelly then, says, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself. Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm finally getting this hunk of plaster off my foot," Sam says.

"By yourself?" Kelly frowns.

"I guess so. Dean's…sick."

She looks at him a little too long, enough that Sam gets a bit uncomfortable with the scrutiny, then says, "You can't drive all the way to Denver by yourself."

Sam says, "Uh, yeah I can. The cast is on my left foot."

Kelly looks doubtful. "Maybe, but the traffic's pretty bad on the interstate this time of day…why don't you let me take you?"

Sam snorts, smiles a little. "I appreciate the thought, but there's no way I'm making a two hundred-mile roundtrip in your car."

Kelly chuckles. "I guess I can't blame you. At least let me go with you. In case you need anything?"

"I have to be there at eight-thirty…"

"Plenty of time," Kelly says brightly. "Be back in a few." Sam starts to protest again, raises one hand toward her retreating back, but she's already gone. She wrestles Jax back to the house and disappears inside. Sam's expecting a wait, but Kelly returns in just a few minutes. Shortly after that they're heading up the interstate to Denver.

It's been a while since Sam's driven anywhere and it feels good, but it's weird having someone else in the car, someone besides Dean. Kelly's scent is jarringly feminine against the familiar background smells of sweat, smoke and leather. She's quiet for the first part of the trip and Sam watches her out of the corner of his eye. She's sitting with her left leg tucked partly under her, body angled a little toward him. For some reason an image of his mother flashes through his mind, and he thinks about how she could have sat like that, in that very spot. He pushes the thought away. It's not his car. That's not his life.

Kelly says, "So…Dean's sick, huh?" Her tone is perfectly neutral as far as Sam can tell, but the question still rubs him the wrong way.

"Yeah."

"I haven't seen him around much lately. He works down at Hughes, right?"

"Yeah," Sam answers again, pretending to focus on the traffic.

"He must know a lot about cars. I mean, this baby here. Really something."

Sam's racking his brain for a way to change the subject; Dean's not really on his top ten list of conversational topics this morning.

"Yeah, it was our Dad's car." Great. Two subjects even less appealing than Dean: Dad and the Impala. How do I get out of this?

Kelly smiles, seemingly oblivious to Sam's discomfort. "Car as family heirloom. You don't see that too often." She goes quiet for a minute. "So where did you guys grow up?"

It occurs to Sam then just how stupid he is. He's supposed to be disengaging from this, taking a step back from Kelly, and instead he lets her get in the car with him. Two-hour drive—Kelly's got a captive audience and Sam knows she's smart enough to make good use of the time. Sam Winchester, you're a moron.

"Um, all over, actually. My dad was in the military. We moved around a lot." Technically it's all true.

"That must have been difficult for you."

"Sometimes. You get used to it."

Sam sees Kelly nod, out of the corner of his eye. He gets the feeling she's looking at him a little too hard but doesn't check. Eye contact is a bad idea.

Fortunately for him, the congestion starts to get worse then, the exit signs for Aurora begin to flash by, and he has to concentrate on where he's going. Kelly knows a lot more about the town than he does and she's a big help getting them to where they're going. Best of all, the heavy conversation is over. For now.

**

The wheels of medicine grind slow and it's almost noon by the time they get the cast sawed off and the x-rays finished, and Sam finally sees the doctor.

"Well, Mr. Smith, it looks like everything has healed really well, not that I expected any less with your age and good physical condition," the doctor says, peering at the x-ray film, bright with light spots showing the chunks of metal that are now holding his foot to his leg.

"Just take it easy, work back up to regular activities gradually, and you should be fine. Some people have trouble with the pins, but you probably don't need to worry about that for a while. I'll give you a sheet of exercises to do…" The doctor rummages through some folders.

Sam's right calf is shriveled-looking, pale and about half the size of the left. He stands and carefully sets his weight down on his foot. The ankle is sore and stiff, but he smiles with relief at being able to use it at all.

The doctor finally comes up with the paper he wants. He hands it to Sam, shakes his hand and wishes him well, and that's it. Another injury survived, another set of scars added to his collection.

It's oddly startling to walk out into the waiting room and find Kelly there, smiling happily at him, and Sam realizes he was expecting to see Dean. Kelly gets up and approaches him, gives him a tentative look, like she's wondering if he wants help or something, but he waves her off. He checks out at the desk—no trouble about the credit card—and they head out the door.

Sam's limping slightly on the way to the car, but the pain is nothing he can't handle. He stops on the edge of the curb and checks his phone for messages, doesn't find any. He's not really surprised. Dean's probably still out of it, considering his condition earlier.

Kelly slides her arm around his back then, smiling up at him and he pulls her close almost reflexively.

"Mm, it's nice having those crutches out of the way," Kelly says.

Sam's in full agreement with that sentiment, looking into her eyes, watching the sunlight shine on her hair. Right then he doesn't care who might be watching; he kisses her full on the mouth. She tastes like cinnamon, and the look she gives him when she finally pulls away makes his stomach twist. He hopes to God it's just a hunger pang.

"Let's get some lunch," he says.

**

Lunch is fast food; they don't have anything special they need to do in the city and Kelly wants to get back and check on Jax. Sam finds his way back to the interstate with no problem.

"So…you're out of the cast. Now what?" Kelly asks when they've gone a few miles. It's a good question.

"I guess I look for a job. No excuse to lie around the house anymore," he finishes wryly.

Kelly nods. "What do you think you want to do?" she asks, not looking at him.

"Something will come along; it always does."

Kelly lets out a breath, a sound that falls somewhere between a sigh and an exasperated chuckle, and Sam knows he should just let it lie, but he says it anyway.

"What?"

She looks at him then, dipping her head and quirking her mouth, and a little thrill of fear runs down his spine when he realizes. He cares what she thinks of him.

"I can't see it, you just drifting like that. You don't strike me as that…passive, I guess."

Sam laughs shortly. He doesn't think he's been "passive," either—just helpless. The shit just keeps on coming at him and there's nothing he can do about it. And yeah, maybe he's a little bitter, but it's his reality, and none of it is anything he can explain to the girl beside him. This sweet, funny, smart girl.

"I know it's none of my business, I just…" she pauses, gives an exasperated sigh. "Okay, look, I suck at beating around the bush. I just need to have some idea where things are going…you know, with us. I mean, you just show up one day, you're the guy from nowhere, and I'm afraid…" Kelly makes a helpless gesture with her hands, lets them fall into her lap.

Sam looks out his window, bites his thumbnail. Clouds are gathering and he thinks it might even be cold enough to snow soon. It's Colorado, after all. He sighs heavily.

"It's complicated, Kelly. I can't really explain…I left college, that life, for a reason. Things happened, and now I just…I can't promise anything. I don't know where I'll be tomorrow, you know?"

"Okay," she says, folding her arms and leaning back against the seat. "Okay. I appreciate your honesty, really." The rest of the ride is very quiet.

They pull up to the house and Sam kills the engine. Kelly turns to face him, smiles a little. "I'd better see to Jax, before he tears down the fence." She looks down at her lap, then back up, takes a deep breath. "Here's the thing, Sam. You said you don't know where you'll be tomorrow, and that's something I need to know if we're going to keep doing this." She looks him in the eye. "When you figure it out, you know where I am."

There's a heavy, tight feeling in his gut, like he's swallowed a boulder, but he looks at her and nods, smiling faintly.

"I'm glad your ankle is better," she says. She kisses him on the mouth and he closes his eyes, keeps them closed until he hears Kelly shut the car door behind her.

Sam waits until she's inside before he walks to the house. He hadn't noticed Dean sitting on the front step when they pulled up, but he guesses he might have been a little distracted. He sits down heavily on the step below Dean.

"Got your cast off," Dean says.

"Managed to drag your ass out of bed," Sam replies, in the same monotone.

Dean gives him a look from under his brows. "Well, now that everybody's on the same page…" he says, rolling his eyes. "What'd the doctor say?"

"Just that it looks good, but I should 'work up to regular activities gradually'," Sam says sarcastically.

Dean snorts. "I'm guessin' you didn't tell him your 'regular activities' include digging up graves and beheading vampires."

"Yeah, I think I failed to mention that."

Dean nods toward Kelly's house. "You take your little girlfriend out for a ride in my car?"

"She's not my girlfriend, Dean," Sam says, then pauses. It sounds a little too high school, even to him. "She offered to go…insisted, really," Sam finishes.

"Told you you had a shot with her," Dean says, smirking.

"Yeah, but a shot at what," Sam mutters.

Dean goes suddenly still and Sam looks at him curiously. He can't read the look on Dean's face, exactly, but he doesn't think he's angry, though he wouldn't have been surprised if Dean had been a little ticked at Sam taking off in his car without him. Wariness, maybe? He doesn't have time to figure it out before the look is gone and Dean gets up, reaches a hand out to help Sam.

Inside, Dean goes to the kitchen and starts rattling around, looking for something to eat, maybe; Sam's not sure. Sam plops down onto the couch, exhausted and wondering why. It's not like he did that much today, other than hurry up and wait. Whatever the reason, he's sound asleep in a couple of minutes.

**

It's almost dark outside when Sam wakes up, dry-mouthed and disoriented. He can tell from the quality of the silence that Dean's not here. He starts to twist around to a position where he can get up, then smiles as he remembers he can walk on his own again. He goes to the window, sees the Impala's missing. Dean's off on his nightly rounds, apparently.

Sam goes to the kitchen, reveling in the freedom of mobility. He grabs a beer from the refrigerator and goes back to the couch to drink it. He keeps thinking about what Kelly said, that he's "drifting." It's such a lazy-sounding word, and he doesn't think it describes his life very well at all. Drifting, hell—it's more like flying down white-water rapids, out of control, bouncing off rocks and taking on water all the way. If he's passive, it's just because he's waiting for the current to finally pull him under. He's had a reprieve these last few weeks, but that doesn't mean his bill isn't going to come due, and soon.

A knock at the door pulls him out of his morbid thoughts and he realizes he's sitting in the dark. He gets up and looks out the window, sees Kelly standing uncertainly on the porch. He turns on the light and opens the door quickly, startling Kelly so that she jumps.

"Oh, geez, Sam! You scared me, I…" she pauses. "I just saw the car was gone and it was dark over here and I thought…" She chuckles nervously. "Okay, now you think I'm nuts…"

She's too cute, all flustered like that, and Sam grins. "It's okay. I have a thing for crazy stalker chicks."

She laughs but still seems a little embarrassed, looks down at the floorboards. Sam ducks his head a little and looks into her face, trying to get her to look back at him. He turns serious.

"I am kind of surprised you're here," he continues. "I don't have any more answers than I did this afternoon."

Kelly flicks her eyes to the side, wets her lips. "I was just afraid you left without saying goodbye."

He shakes his head, "No," and says, "I wouldn't," but he thinks I should; that's exactly what I should do. Just leave in the night and never come back. It would be so much easier, easier than this, having to look her in the eye and wrench away from her, pulling out by the roots, kill the growth of something he's been denying since the first.

They stare for a long moment. Sam sees the want in her eyes, but there's something else, a feeling he knows. He's afraid to give it a name, to make it too real. Something breaks inside him then and he reaches for her, pulls her in with both arms hard enough to make her grunt softly and bunch her hands in his shirt. He kisses her hard and she opens for him, soft slide of tongue against his, and he deepens the kiss, wanting more. Inside, they need to get inside the house, and he grabs her, half-carries her through the door, kicking it shut behind him and pushing her hard against it. They're both panting, kissing and clutching at each other, like they're afraid to let go.

Sam pulls back, puts his hands under her thighs and lifts her up, pinning her against the door with his body, never taking his eyes from hers. She wraps her arms and legs around him and he rolls his hips against her, soft grunt slipping out of him at the pressure on his hard cock.

His bad ankle gives a warning throb and he shifts Kelly further up his body, carries her across the small room and sets her down on the couch. He lowers himself over her, between her thighs, and kisses her again. She responds by sucking his tongue into her mouth hard and his hips buck against her without his consent. Fuck, so good, making his head spin with sensation, too much. He sucks and mouths along her jaw, down her neck, and she tips her head back for him, moaning and breathing hard.

Sam starts unbuttoning her shirt, pressing open-mouthed kisses into her neck, working his way down, and Kelly reaches up and pops the front clasp of her bra, pulling it back from her breasts. A soft laugh slips out of him then, it's so unexpected, and Kelly smiles, too. Sam leans back in, runs his tongue around her nipple, enjoying the feel of it hardening, the sight of the gooseflesh that spreads across her smooth skin. He sucks it into his mouth and she shudders, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling just short of too hard.

Then she slides her hands down, under his shirt, and he rocks back onto his heels and slips it off over his head. He kisses back down her stomach, tongue swirling and sucking, wants his mouth on her everywhere. He unfastens her jeans hurriedly and pulls them down. She reaches over to push one shoe off with the other foot, nearly clipping him on the chin with her knee. He jerks back just in time, making her smile and whisper, "Nice reflexes, cowboy."

He grins back a little dirty, letting his intent show and watching her face as he leans in and slides his tongue down the center of her, smiling against her when she throws her head back and moans. He hooks his arms under her thighs and sets her legs over his shoulders, spreading her open. He leans down, loses himself in the smell and taste of her, flicking his tongue against her clit, licking, sucking, pushing inside her, until Kelly's moaning and straining against his face. It's good, it's so good, he thinks, as she starts to shake, and he growls his approval against her. She gives a sharp cry as she comes, wet and heat pouring out of her, and he grips her hips and holds her hard against him until she comes down, panting and shaking.

Sam strips off his pants and fishes a condom out of his wallet. It's been there a while, but it should be okay. He's shaking as he lowers himself back between her legs, and she reaches for him, running her hands up his back, scratching gently with her nails. He pushes inside her slowly, wanting to feel every second, but it's so hot, so tight, God—so hard to go slow. He looks down at her face, her darkened eyes, and he kisses her, thrusting his tongue in rhythm with his cock, hot and wet, so damned good.He pulls back and looks, her face, God, she's beautiful, eyes locked on his, mouth whispering his name, as she rocks up into him. He can feel his orgasm tingling up and he lets it build, balls drawn up tight, until Kelly makes a soft sound against his ear and clenches around him, squeezing him. His thighs seize and he comes hard, pressing his face into her neck.

He lies there a minute, catching his breath, while Kelly cards her fingers through his hair. He hates to move, but he's sure there's too much of his weight on her, not like he can do much about it on the narrow couch like they are, so he gets up and gets rid of the condom, slips his jeans back on. Kelly watches him, then sits up slowly, stretching her neck and rolling her shoulders.

He grins a little uncertainly. "Are you okay?"

"Neck's a little stiff, but no permanent damage. I'm good," she says, smiling and reaching for her clothes.

There's a sharp noise in the front yard then, clatter of something falling. Kelly jumps and Sam tenses. He hears boots on the porch and the door bursts open, slamming against the wall with a bang. It's Dean.

He stands in the doorway for a minute like he's trying to get his bearings or something, and if the noisy entrance left Sam in any doubt as to how drunk Dean really is, there's none now. He's carrying it pretty well, but Sam's seen his brother in every state of inebriation and this is bad. Like minutes away from unconsciousness bad.

Kelly's looking at Dean in frozen horror, still half-dressed. Dean looks at her and starts nodding his head, glassy-eyed, but still managing a knowing expression, like he's finally figured something out. The head movement unbalances him enough that he has to put his hand on the doorjamb to keep from swaying.

"Dean…" Sam starts, and Dean puts his other hand up, palm out.

"No, Sammy, proud of you, man. Finally grew a pair and fucked her. Good for you," Dean says.

Sam sucks in a breath at the crudity and he gets up, positions himself between Kelly and Dean. Kelly has her clothes mostly on now and she gives Sam a sympathetic look.

"I'm going," she says. Sam nods and bunches his fist in the front of Dean's shirt, moving him bodily out of the doorway and bracing Dean against the wall with his forearm on his chest, not sure if he's holding him back or holding him up. Kelly squeezes Sam's arm as she passes him, and she's gone.

Sam shuts the door as soon as Kelly's inside her house and turns back to Dean.

"Jesus, Dean. What's the matter with you?" Sam says, hand still balled up in his shirt. "Never mind, don't answer that. You're drunk off your ass, so I'm gonna let that ugly little scene slide for now. You can apologize to Kelly in the morning."

"Don't do me any favors," Dean mutters. Sam shakes his head. There's no use talking to him when he's like this.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Sam says and starts to pull him toward the bedroom.

"I don't need your fuckin' help," Dean growls. "Who asked you, huh? When have I ever asked you for anything?"

Sam starts to speak, but then the look in Dean's eye brings him up short. It's hopeless, the face of somebody who looks for nothing good and gets exactly what he expects. It's a darkness Sam's seen before, but not since…

Dean jerks away from him suddenly, and evidently he's not as incapacitated as Sam thought, because he takes a swing at him. Sam's not ready and he's standing too close to dodge effectively. Dean manages to clip him across the jaw, not too hard, but enough to piss him off.

"Fuck! Knock that shit off, Dean," Sam warns, swiping at his chin with the back of his hand.

Dean overbalances slightly, but he comes back with the other arm for another go. He gets pretty close to hitting Sam again, but Sam's ready for him this time, gets him in a headlock. He drags Dean back toward the bathroom, trying to keep from hurting either of them too badly, but Dean makes contact a couple of times on the way. They're bouncing off the hallway walls, swearing and struggling, until Sam finally manages to wrestle Dean into the shower. He turns both faucets on full force.

"Fucking fuck!" Dean yells when the cold water hits him, then he's gasping too hard to say much else. Sam holds him under the shower spray until the water starts to warm up and Dean starts to calm down, then he turns it off and hauls Dean out. He's shivering and gasping, blinking water out of his eyes, and Sam helps him strip off the wet clothes without either of them saying anything more. He puts him in bed and Dean's out before his head hits the pillow.

Sam stands in the bedroom doorway, arms folded, watching Dean sleep. He tries to remember the last time he really looked at Dean, really saw him, and he can't. It's pretty clear when he looks back, though. He can catalog the signs of Dean's decay by the passing weeks. If he hadn't been so caught up in his own problems, busy thinking about Kelly, so damned self-absorbed, he'd have seen it a lot sooner. Sam decides he's been about the shittiest brother imaginable; so used to Dean taking care of him, it never crossed his mind to wonder if Dean was all right.

But Sam can fix this. He has to. First thing tomorrow.