Author's Note: Wow, this is such a long chapter for me. I spent most of the day working on it and I'm really happy with the pace that I've been able to keep on this story. Please enjoy!

"If you can't save your brother, you have to kill him."

Dean could hear his father's last words echoing around him as he stood in the middle of a grassy field. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and Dean shut his eyes trying in vain to block out John's voice. He would save Sam—his little brother wouldn't die, not by Dean's hand and sure as hell not by anyone else's. Dean would kill anyone that even dared to think about taking his little brother away from him, human or not. Sam would live or Dean would die trying to protect him.

"Dean!" Dean opened his eyes to see Sam calling to him from further into the field. His younger brother's face beamed at him and Dean felt a smile tug at his lips. As long as he had Sam, everything would be okay. As long as he had Sam, he could get through anything. As long as he had Sam—

It happened suddenly. The figure appeared beside Sam. Before Dean could even call out a warning or re-act, the shot had been fired with a sickening bang. His body frozen, Dean could only watch as Sam glanced down, the crimson color greedily devouring his white shirt. Dean watched in horror as the light went out in Sam's eyes and he collapsed to the ground in a heap next to the figure.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed as he forced his body to move, but found that he could only travel at a horrifyingly slow pace. By the time Dean made it to his brother's side, it was too late. Sam's eyes looked up at him—dark and unseeing.

"I only did what you were too scared to do." The figure with the gun told Dean before vanishing.

Dean held his brother's broken body, unashamedly crying.


"Sam!" Dean shouted as he came out of the dream, gasping for air and sweating. It took him a few seconds for the realization to set in that it was only a dream—a horrible nightmare. Dean ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm his pounding heart. It was all right; Sam was alive. No one had gotten him, and on Dean's watch, no one ever will.

The door opened and Dean jumped slightly as Sam walked into the room, a bag in his hands. Sam closed the door behind him and then sheepishly smiled when he saw that Dean was awake.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," Dean mumbled, trying to memorize every detail of his little brother. "Where'd you go?" Dean pointed to the bag and Sam grinned.

"Got a surprise for you," He seemed to be waiting for Dean's trademark smirk, but it never came. Dean was too busy trying to banish the vision of Sam falling to the ground, bleeding and dying and Dean not being to do a damn thing! "Everything okay?" Sam's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and Dean chose that moment to smirk slightly.

"Yeah," Dean lied. "What you bring?" Sam made a grand show of pulling out the two stacks of pancakes and then with a dramatic wave of his hand, Sam showed off the slices of pie.

"There's a diner nearby," Sam explained. "I thought after everything that happened, you might want some pie."

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean replied, sincerely and heartfelt. Sam grinned and the two settled into a comfortable silence as they ate their breakfast.

"So . . ." Sam began.

"Yeah?"

"What's the plan?" Sam asked as he slowly picked at his pancakes. Dean wondered how he was dealing with all of his. He had been the one that almost died after all. Yet he seemed to be dealing with it much better than Dean. Maybe it hadn't hit him yet, maybe any second now Sam would break down.

"We lay low," Dean began. "We don't tell anyone where we're going and we take a break from hunting until we're sure that Gordon didn't send anyone else to . . ." To kill you, to take you out, to torture you—the list went on and on. "Find you." Sam nodded, but avoided Dean's careful gaze. It seemed like his pie was the only thing he could focus on at the moment and Dean knew that this was just Sam's way of processing.

"Bobby?" Dean shook his head.

"We can't take any risks, Sammy."

"I know," Sam mumbled, sounding like a ten-year-old once again. "It's just . . . hard."

"What is?" Dean pressed, putting his food aside. Dean may not know how to keep Sam safe at the moment, but he sure as hell knew how to comfort him. Sam didn't say anything, still absorbed with his pie. "Sammy, what's hard?"

"This," Sam gestured to the room. "We're running from other hunters, Dean! It was bad enough before, but now . . . I mean, now we can't trust Bobby? We've known him for years!"

"I'm not saying we can't trust Bobby," Dean explained, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm just saying that we just need to lay low." Sam shook his head, as if he wasn't buying the reason that was being provided.

"For how long?" Sam persisted.

"I don't know." Dean answered, shrugging his shoulders. Sam then placed the food on the table and stood suddenly. He met Dean's gaze for a few seconds before walking over to the door. "Where are you going?"

"I need to go running."

"Sam—" Dean protested. He couldn't risk letting his brother out of his sight, not now.

"Dean, please," Sam's voice was practically begging Dean to let him go. "I have to go running." Dean nodded his head slowly and then walked over to stand beside him.

"Do you mind me coming along then?"

"It's fine." Dean noted that Sam was so upset that he didn't even bother to make a snide comment about how Dean was a horrible runner.

Without another word, they were both out the door.


They ran for what seemed like hours—sometimes they would go at a slow trot, sometimes they would sprint. Dean was sure that his lungs were going to explode any minute now, but he didn't dare mention that to Sam. He knew that Sam wasn't kidding when he said he needed to run.

Running was Sam's way of dealing with a situation. Unlike Dean who turned to alcohol to deal with his issues, Sam would run. Whenever Sam had been in a fight with their dad, he had run and when Dean asked him why he ran, Sam simply explained it as a sort of freedom. He couldn't control what happened around him, Sam had said, but he could control how fast and how long he ran. Dean supposed that was a type of freedom—one small thing Sam could do in this world that seemed to be against them.

By the time they had come back to the room, Dean realized that they had been out for two hours. Sam tossed Dean a water bottle and Dean gratefully shot him a smile before greedily drinking up all the liquid in the bottle.

"You made it longer than I thought you would." Sam told his brother with a small smirk on his face.

"Well, what can I say?" Dean drawled. "I'm in pretty good shape."

"Uh-huh," Sam played along. "And that's why you're acting like you haven't had any water since last year."

"Hey, can't get dehydrated now, can I?" Dean playfully asked. Sam nodded his head in agreement and the two fell into a comfortable silence. Then, with a sigh, Sam ran a hand through his hair and met Dean's gaze. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

The words catch Dean off-guard. What in the world did Sam have to be sorry about? It was his fault that Gordon attacked Sam, his fault that he had lied in the first place about what John's last words had been. If anything, he should be apologizing to Sam.

"For what?" Dean questioned, his tone incredulous.

"For causing this trouble," Sam explained. "I mean, if it weren't for me—"

"No what-ifs, Sam," Dean growled, anger surging within him. Sometimes Sam could be so stupid! Here he was blaming himself for something that wasn't his fault. "It's not your fault."

"Oh, it's not?" Sam challenged, an eyebrow raised. "I'm the one that Gordon was chasing, not you Dean. I'm putting you in danger!"

"Screw that then!" Dean retorted. "I'm in danger every single day—"

"But now other hunters are putting you in more danger." Sam interjected, guilt dancing in those puppy-dog eyes of his. "Look, Dean, I've been thinking. Maybe we should split up—"

"Hell no, Sam!" Dean hissed, clearly pissed off.

"Just hear me out!" Sam yelled.

"I said no!" Dean snapped, practically daring his brother to challenge his order. Because that's what this was now—an order. Sam was not going to leave his sight, not while hunters were after him.

Especially not after his disturbing dream.

"Dean—" Dean held up a hand for silence to which Sam complied. Taking a deep breath in to calm himself, Dean took a step closer to his brother.

"We need to stick together, okay?"

"Okay." Sam nodded shakily, but Dean could still see that his younger brother still wasn't convinced that this was the best course of action. Before Dean could interject further; however, his cellphone rang. Glancing at the caller ID—Bobby—Dean wondered briefly if he should answer it. He trusted Bobby with his life but— "Answer it." Dean nodded and then hit the answer key.

"Hello?" Sam watched as Dean exchanged a few words with the older hunter before finally deciding to go outside and get some air. He was surprised to see a familiar face already sitting on the bench outside.

"Amber?" Sam called out cautiously before Amber quickly spun around and met his gaze.

"Sam?" She questioned in her southern drawl. Seeing it was him, her eyes lit up. "Well, ah'll be! It really is a small world after all!"

"I guess so," Sam conceded. "What are you doing here?" Amber twirled one of her ringlets around her finger and Sam came to sit beside her.

"Remembering."

"Remembering?"

"Yeah," She replied. "My brother died right at this spot five years ago." Concern immediately filled Sam's features.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Amber told him with a sigh. "It's my fault anyways. Ah let him out of my sight and that's how he . . ." Tears welled up in her eyes and Sam felt the need to comfort this girl that he barely even knew. "The car didn't see him in time. He died right here in this parking lot."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault." Sam comforted as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Amber smiled sadly at him.

"Thanks Sam," She said, standing up. "It really means a lot to me." She glanced down at her watch and her mouth fell open in shock. "Well, dear Lord above, Ah'm gonna be late for my next shift!" She quickly jogged a few feet away before turning back around and calling, "Hey, Sam! If you decide to come back to the diner tonight, dinner's on me!"

"Thanks, that sounds great!" He shouted to her and she grinned genuinely.

"Ah'll see you then!" She then sprinted and vanished around a corner.

"Who was that?" Dean's voice startled Sam. The younger Winchester turned around to face his brother.

"What did Bobby say?" Sam's message was clear—you can't hide things from me right now—and Dean grimaced. "That bad?"

"He just wanted to see if we had gotten into some trouble because some of his hunting buddies were talking about you," Dean explained. "But Bobby said it was nothing bad. They were just wondering why you turned Gordon over to the police."

"How about because he's crazy?" Sam ventured and Dean chuckled.

"Bobby says that's the conclusion they reached," Dean glanced in the direction that Amber left. "Who was that?"

"Amber," Sam replied automatically. "She works at the local diner. She offered us some free food if we want to go back."

"Free food?" Dean mumbled, a bit skeptic.

"I kind of helped her out," Sam muttered. "Come on, we need to eat something." Dean wasn't sure what to make of Sam's answer, but against his better instincts he answered:

"Fine."

Author's Note: What's Amber's game plan? Please review!