Thanks again for the reviews, guys! I see that a lot of people are checking it out and are maybe too shy to leave a review and that's okay. Just as long as you're enjoying it!
Well, this chapter has some angst, so I hope you enjoy!
Big, big thanks to Bayre, my sweet little beta!
"Hey, Sam! I'm back!"
Dean pushed the door to the motel room closed with his foot and set his keys down on the small dresser. Looking up, he saw Sam wasn't sitting on the bed up to his eyeballs in research like he'd left him an hour ago. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked around the room, searching for any sign of his kid brother. Seeing the bathroom door was closed, he set down the plastic bag of food and the six-pack of beer, and walked to it.
"Sam, you in there?" Dean asked, tapping lightly on the door.
No answer.
Dean knocked louder in case his brother didn't hear him. "Sam! Open up!" When there was still no answer, Dean twisted the knob and found it turned easily in his hand. Pushing it open, he rushed inside, damning Sam's pride. To hell with it, he would get what he deserved for not answering him. He quickly looked around the tiny bathroom but saw Sam wasn't in there.
Dean tried to calm the pounding of his heart. There were no signs of a struggle in the room, so that had to be a good sign, right? He shouldn't be reacting like this, but he couldn't help it. After everything that's been happening, with the demon and the threat of Sam being seen as a trophy to hunters, he couldn't help but react this way. His brother should have been here, should have been sitting on the bed waiting for him to return. The older hunter ran a hand through his hair and spotted a sheet of paper sitting on the nightstand between the beds. He didn't know why he didn't see it before.
Dean—went out to dinner. Be back in a little bit. –Sam.
Dean crumbled up the paper and threw it angrily at the trash can across the room. Why the hell was he so angry? Sam left him a note for crying out loud, which was better than what he usually did. Usually, he'd have Dean freak for about two hours and then finally call and tell him where he was. So the note was definitely a step forward. It was then Dean realized he wasn't angry about Sam leaving or even the note; it was because Sam had refused to come out to dinner with him, instead opting to go by himself.
Sam was definitely going to get a piece of his mind when he got back.
Thirty seconds after that thought hit Dean, he heard the key turn in the lock and his tall kid brother entered the room. Sam stopped as he closed the door, seeing Dean was glaring at him.
"When did you get back?" Sam asked.
"About ten minutes ago. Where the hell were you?"
"I went out."
"Yeah, I got that one, Sherlock. That note you left explained everything," Dean added sarcastically.
"What? At least I left you one." Sam shrugged out of his jacket and threw it on one of the chairs. "And I told you I was going out to dinner. I don't need to have your permission, Dean."
"I never said you did, Sam. But what pisses me off is that fact I asked you if you wanted to come out to dinner and you blew me off."
"I didn't blow you off, Dean. God, you make it sound like we're married or something."
"You're my responsibility, Sam. I need to know where you are at all times," Dean ground out.
"I'm not twelve, Dean. I'm an adult who can make his own decisions, quite capable of it, actually."
"Sam, I never said you couldn't. It's just with everything that's going on with you…" Dean turned away, refusing to look at his brother. "I can't have you go missing on me again. I can't deal with that again, not now."
"Dude, I left you a damn note! I told you I was going to dinner! What the hell could have possibly happened?"
Dean whirled around to face his brother once more. "What could have happened? Where should I begin? You could have been taken; you could have been killed; you could have been hurt…do I need to go on?"
Sam sighed. "I think you're overreacting now. I was out with Maggie, Dean. We just grabbed a bite to eat."
"Maggie? You blew me off for some chick?"
"She wanted to talk about Brad and Carlie."
"Yeah, and what did she say?"
"Nothing much…she figured out we weren't reporters, though."
"She figured it out?" Dean said, angrily. "How the hell did she figure it out? Did you tell her?"
When Sam only looked down, Dean felt even more anger course through his body. He was only guessing when he asked Sam if he told her. But Sam avoiding his gaze and all of a sudden finding the fading carpet interesting gave him his answer. "What exactly did you tell her?" Dean asked quietly.
"I…I told her what we did, what we were doing here."
"God dammit, Sammy!" Dean didn't stop his fist as it went crashing into the wall even though he wanted nothing more than to slug Sam. The impact put a small dent in the cheap paneling and sent spikes of pain in his hand, but he didn't care. He was pissed as hell right now. He couldn't believe Sam would do this. Sam was never this careless, so what was his problem now? "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I wasn't, Dean. It was like I couldn't stop myself," Sam offered lamely.
"You couldn't stop yourself? You couldn't make your mouth stop moving? You couldn't stop talking for once in your life?"
Sam whirled on Dean. "Look, Dean, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what else to say to you! And I don't know why you're so worked up about this—it was just Maggie."
"That's exactly what I'm worked up about, Sammy. You barely know this woman and yet you blurt out to her what we do? This is a woman who may have something to do with all the deaths going on around here!"
"Not this again," Sam muttered. He walked over to the bed and sat down hard. "Dean, why are you so against her? What happened to innocent until proven guilty? Why are you so adamant to pin her for these murders? And what about Cassie? You barely knew her and yet, you told her everything about our family."
"I don't know, Sammy—something about her just doesn't add up. It's a feeling I have. And Cassie was different."
"A feeling?" Sam scoffed. "Is that what we're going to do now? Base our suspects on a feeling you have?"
"What the hell, Sam? You have feelings all the time and we go after those. Why should it be any different for me?"
"It is different, Dean. My feelings are usually tied to my visions."
"Whatever." Dean walked away from Sam and went to stand next to the window. Pulling back the curtain, he stared out and watched as people were still filling the streets, having a good time. Why couldn't his brother just trust him on this, understand where he was coming from? Something about this girl had been off with him from the start, but he just couldn't get Sam to see that. And what was going on with Sam, anyway? Why the hell was he being so defensive?
"I know what this is about…you're jealous."
"What?" Dean turned to glare at Sam. "You can't be serious!"
"I am, Dean. You've been against this since the very beginning and it's because you're jealous. You hate the fact Maggie likes me and not you."
"You're full of shit, Sammy."
"No, that's it. You hate it that a girl may actually choose me over you. You hate that this is out of your control, that you don't have any say over this aspect of my life."
"Now who's overreacting," Dean grumbled.
"I don't see why I didn't see it before, why I've been so blind." Sam shook his head. "And that's not the only thing—something else has been bothering you since we got here and it has to do with Marie Laveau, the wish you made."
"You don't know what you're talking about." Dean walked over to the table holding the food and plucked out a beer from the six-pack he'd picked up at the liquor store next door.
"You've been off ever since I brought the name up, Dean. I know something is bothering you. Now, tell me what it is you wished."
Dean took a long swig of the beer. "I told you, Sammy—I wished for sex with a hot girl."
"I didn't buy that the first time you told me and I'm not buying it now."
"Well, I don't want to talk about it," Dean said stubbornly.
"No, we're going to talk about this now." Sam stood up to face his brother. "I'm sick and tired of stepping around your feelings and avoiding things because you don't want to talk about it. Now, talk to me, Dean."
"Sammy…" Dean shook his head and glanced up at his brother. Sam was fixing him with the patented Sammy Winchester puppy-dog eyes, a look Dean couldn't deny and he hated it. He hated that Sam could manipulate him like that, make him open up. He'd been able to do it ever since he was a child, and if anything, he'd only perfected it. "You want the truth?"
"It would be a nice change."
Dean sighed and sat down on his bed, holding the beer between his legs. He looked up to see Sam watching him intently. "Sam, you have to realize, I never believed in that legend for a second, I still don't as a matter of fact."
"So, why can't you just tell me?" Sam sat down across from him on the other bed.
"When I went to that tomb, I'd just gotten off a hunt and I was more than a little buzzed. I'd heard locals talk about it and I figured I would give it shot, if nothing more than for a good laugh." He took a deep breath. "Sam, I made a wish for you. I wished to have you back in my life."
"What's wrong with that?" Sam asked, confused.
"Nothing, or at least, I didn't think there was. I mean, for all I knew, it didn't work. But when I got back to the car, there was a message from Dad left on my phone. It was the message I played for you back in Palo Alto."
"The one where Dad said we were in danger."
Dean nodded. "The only thing I could think about was that I had to get to you, you were alone and that scared me. And for a brief second…" Dean trailed off.
Sam's eyes widened as he understood where Dean was going with this. "You think she granted your wish…that somehow, Dad's phone call wasn't a coincidence."
Dean shrugged. "I don't know what to think, Sammy." He looked up to see a flurry of emotions running across his brother's face—anger, fear, understanding, and back to anger again. He didn't like that he saw anger, it scared him the most, scared him about how Sam would react. This was why he didn't want to tell him in the first place because he had no idea how Sam would react. "But it has to be a coincidence."
Sam was shaking his head. "I don't think so, Dean. You were messing with a powerful spirit, it didn't matter if it was dormant or not. You made a wish, Dean—a stupid wish."
"It didn't seem stupid to me at the time," Dean bit out.
"It was stupid, Dean!" Sam said, his voice rising in pitch. "Don't you see? It was because of this wish that set everything into motion! It was because of this wish Dad went missing! It was because of this wish you came to get me from California! It was because of this wish…Jess died."
Dean flew up from the bed, getting in Sam's face. "Don't you dare say that, Sammy!" He pushed Sam hard in the chest. "That was not my fault, you hear me! That was the demon and you know that!"
"What if it was the wish that led the demon back to us?" Sam asked.
"That's bullshit, and you know it!"
"Is it, Dean? Can you prove that to me?" Sam demanded.
Dean opened his mouth, but shut it quickly. Could he prove it to Sam? Could he prove his wish hadn't been the cause of the bad luck that had rained down upon their family in the last year? The simple answer was no, he couldn't prove it. But that didn't mean he believed it, either.
"Sam, I'm…"
Sam held up a hand, silencing Dean. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Dean. I can't, not right now."
"Sam—"
"No."
It was one simple word but it hit Dean hard, harder than any punch to the gut could. He watched as Sam walked to the door and without another glance at Dean, he walked out of the room. The soft click of the door startled Dean, almost as if a gunshot went off in the room.
"What the hell were you thinking, Dean?" He glanced down at the bottle in his hand and with a guttural cry, flung it against the wall.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sam couldn't stop the rage building up inside of him. So many things were weighing heavily on his mind and he didn't know where to start, but it all had one source—Dean. Dean was the reason for his foul mood right now, the reason he wanted to scream at the world or anyone who happened to be in his way. How could Dean do that to him? Why did he have to be such a control freak and so possessive? Dean never should have kept this from him, should have told him from the beginning, then maybe they wouldn't be in this predicament now.
Sam honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been this angry with his brother. Yes, Dean had a tendency of pissing him off more than necessary, but that was just to get a rise out of him, to see how far he could push Sam. But now…Sam never felt this rage towards Dean before. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with him, much less the same city. But he wouldn't leave Dean. Even though he was pissed at him, he would never leave Dean like that, not again—he couldn't.
So Sam would settle for getting away from him for a while. They needed this separation, this time to work out their thoughts. Sam knew if he stayed in the room any longer, he and Dean would come to blows and neither would stop until someone was down for the count.
He walked down the crowded streets, not sure where he was going, but his feet seemed to. They seemed to be setting him on a deliberate path and he was more than happy to let them. He didn't think he could find his way anywhere if he tried, not with how he was feeling. He was surprised he could even walk a straight line, much less keep on his feet.
He walked around for about fifteen minutes and finally realized where he was headed. And the funny thing is, it didn't surprise him. What he was surprised about was that he never realized it before now. He was standing in front of the Baywood Commons, just staring up at Maggie's apartment. He knew why he was there—she would listen to him, talk to him. Not lecture or judge him and he needed that right now, he needed it badly.
Finally his feet moved once again and he made his way up the iron staircase to Maggie's apartment. Coming to a stop in front of her door, he knocked softly, hoping she would answer.
She didn't disappoint as she opened the door within a few seconds. "Sam! What are you doing here?"
Sam looked at her, shyly. "Can I come in?"
"Sure, come on in." She stepped back from the door to allow him in.
Sam stepped into the apartment, now not so sure this was the best idea. What was he doing here, anyway? What was it he hoped to accomplish by coming here? He should have stayed at the motel, so he and Dean could have discussed this more rationally and not screaming at each other. But it was too late to think about leaving now since he was already in and Maggie was looking at him expectantly.
"I'm sorry for springing up on you like this."
Maggie dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it and have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? I have beer."
Sam smiled gratefully as he sank down onto the sofa. "A beer would be great."
"Okay, I'll be right back."
He watched as she disappeared into the kitchen and let his mind wander. He really didn't know what he was going to do about his brother. He knew Dean was only looking out for him, but sometimes it got to him. Dean was only looking out for his best interests, but at times Sam felt as if he was suffocating from Dean's protection. He didn't want to be mad at his brother, hated it actually, but Dean backed him into a corner.
And Maggie…yes, Sam liked her, he wouldn't deny that. She was beautiful, smart, and seemed as if she could take care of herself—all qualities he found attractive in a woman. But what was he doing coming to her apartment late at night? Did he really think she wanted to listen to him bitch and moan about his problems with Dean? Here he was acting like the girl in their "relationship," running away as soon as it got to be too much. He was more than sure Dean would never let him hear the end of this for a month if he found out he'd run over here—this was at least a good month's worth of ribbing and Sam wouldn't even blame him for it.
Maggie came back from the kitchen, holding two bottles of beer. She handed one of the amber bottles to him as she settled onto the sofa. She popped the lid off her beer and took a sip, then smiled at him. "Don't think I'm not glad, but are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"
Sam popped his own top. "I just needed to get away from my brother for a while."
"Did you two have a fight?"
Sam barked out a laugh. "I think the entire motel may have heard us." He took a swig of the beer.
"Was it about me?" Maggie asked quietly.
"Among other things."
She put a comforting hand on his leg and he immediately felt himself grow tense, every tingling nerve telling him to be careful. "I'm sorry—I never meant to come between the two of you."
Sam shook his head. "This isn't your fault, Maggie. Dean and I—we just get like this sometimes. It's what you get when you spend so much time together. You have nothing to apologize for, I promise."
Maggie nodded and a comfortable silence grew between the two of them.
Sam allowed his eyes to roam around the room, anywhere but on her face. He couldn't look into her eyes, couldn't let himself be pulled into the deep green pools watching his every move. He knew if he went there, he'd get lost, never want to leave. He didn't know if he would be able to fight it, pull himself away before it got too far.
"I really am glad you came," Maggie said, pulling him away from his thoughts.
"You are?" He still wouldn't look at her.
Maggie nodded and put her beer down on the little coffee table in front of the sofa. "Sam, I'm not going to lie to you—I like you…a lot. And I may be imagining things, but I think you feel the same way about me, too."
"Yeah, I do," Sam said, softly.
"I haven't felt this way in a long time, not even with Brad. It's been a long time since I've allowed myself to feel this way." She brought a hand up and gently stroked his cheek with her thumb.
Sam swallowed the lump rising in his throat. He wasn't going to be able to fight this, wouldn't be able to stop himself. "Me, too."
He finally allowed himself to look into her eyes and lost the battle of will. Quickly setting down the beer, he cupped her face into his hands and allowed himself to let go as he kissed her deeply. Maggie returned the kiss and drew closer to him and Sam felt his nerves begin to stand on end as a warm sensation ran through his body. It was a feeling he thought he'd never feel again after he lost Jess and he loved it, craved it.
Sam and Maggie gave into the kiss more deeply allowing it to become more passionate. Maggie straddled Sam and they moved in sync to the kiss. Sam lifted them from the sofa and Maggie waved her arm behind him to tell him where the bedroom was. He carried her in as they continued to kiss and he pushed the door shut with his foot. He delivered her to the foot of the bed and she quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off of him. He returned the favor as he quickly pulled her shirt over her head and undid her bra, her hair falling across her back. They pulled off their pants and fell into the bed as one, still moving as one.
Sam let himself give into her, begging for it not to stop. This is what he needed, would take his mind off of everything that was going wrong in his life and he welcomed it with open arms. He'd forgotten what passion felt like, how much he needed it, missed it and she was making sure to remind him of what he'd been missing. He let his hands trail over every curve of her body, feeling as she tensed underneath him. She was letting him have control and he wasn't missing a beat.
He couldn't even remember what he'd been so angry about before…nothing else mattered but Maggie and his desire.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Dean sat at the table, staring at their notes but not really seeing them. He couldn't get his mind to focus—all he could think about was Sam and the hurt on his face. He never wanted to cause Sam that pain, never liked for Sam to be in pain. But it was worse this time because he knew it was his fault.
Maybe he had been overreacting lately, but he couldn't help it. Sam was his responsibility, it was his job to make sure the kid was okay. The older hunter had to admit he wasn't doing such a swell job of it right now. If anything, he was pushing Sam away from him and to God knows where—or to God knows who.
But he couldn't let his mind stay on that, worry about Sam. Sam was an adult and he would come back when he was damn well ready to, and there was nothing Dean could do about that. He had a case to focus on and he would be damned if he let Sam's bitch-fest steer him away from that. Like it or not, Dean still suspected Maggie—he now just had to find out how she was involved.
So, here he was going over the research and notes and not sure which way to go. There weren't any solid leads, nothing concrete he could go after. And staring at all these notes was starting to give the hunter a headache, the last thing he needed but an excellent way to cap off a shitty night if he really thought about it.
Realizing he was getting nowhere quickly and the answer wasn't going to jump out at him, he grabbed his keys and cell phone and headed out the door. He didn't know why he all of a sudden felt the urge to go there, but something was pulling at him to. And he knew better than to question one of his ideas.
Getting into the Impala, Dean drove the short distance in a matter of minutes. He got out of the car after making sure he had his cell—just in case Sam called—and walked back to the trunk. He didn't know what to expect, but he sure as hell wasn't going to go in unprepared, so he grabbed his shotgun and flask of holy water. Making sure the flashlight was full of juice, the shut the trunk and began on his trek.
He found it with relative ease this time. Of course, the lack of rain clouding his vision helped a lot. Coming to a stop in front of the tomb, he felt a chill go down his spine. This was the place that started it—the place Dean had possibly managed to screw up his and Sam's lives. He didn't know why he was there, he just needed to be, to face it once again. Maybe it was to convince himself it wasn't real, it wasn't true. To know he still had control and he could make things okay with Sam.
"There's no way it could be true," he said to the darkness. Trying to convince it or himself, he wasn't sure.
"Are you sure about that, Dean?"