Disclaimer: see chapter 1...

Thanks for reading if you've continued past the first five chapters. It's finally finished! I completed my take on how the break went for "The Brothers Winchester" between Season 5 and Season 6. I hope it turned out the way you expected (or maybe I hope it doesn't...) cause it did for me. Thanks for all the reviews and support I got. You guys are awesome.

As always, please review, whether you hate it or love it! Thanks again!

now, without further adieu: Sam's May...

Sam wasn't even aware of the date when he set out to find the library in a small town outside of Tulsa called Liberty. He was hunting a quanlier, a creature he basically knew little about except that it was similar to a werewolf. The savage killing of four people after Sam had arrived only further made him want to get in, get his research done, and finish the strange wolf-like creature. It was while passing the Periodicals section of the tiny library that Sam noticed the date.

For a moment, everything stopped, including his heart. For a split second, Sam could see himself sitting in the backseat of the Impala, a box of crayons and a coloring book in his lap as Dean rattled on and on from the front seat about some stupid music video he'd seen. John sat silently, his eyes focused on the winding road before them, his face stoic. Sam was convinced that his small family had forgotten the day, forgotten him, once more.

Suddenly, Dean stopped talking and turned in his seat, his arm draped over the back of the black leather bucket seat.

"So what do you want to eat for your birthday dinner, Sammy?" Dean had asked, his green eyes vibrant and sparkling with something little Sam couldn't pinpoint. A wide grin was stretched across his big brother's small features as Sam's head shot up and he stared at Dean with shock.

Sam caught the sideways glance John tossed at Dean, the tip of his mouth twitching upward a little. When all Sam did was gape at his older brother, Dean chuckled. "Well? What will it be?"

Sam gulped and looked over at John, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror before turning back to Dean.

"Pizza? Tacos? Cheeseburgers?"

"Um...," Sam hesitated, trying to figure out what he wanted and what would be the most acceptable answer. After a few more beats, he finally realized that what he wanted was to make Dean happy, to have Dean continue to grin at him the way he was now. "Cheeseburgers."

"Sweet!" Dean crowed out, his grin, if it was even possible, growing wider. Sam felt the replying smile stretch his lips wide and settled back against the seat, his crayons and coloring book forgotten as Dean began to rapid-fire questions at Sam.

Sam blinked and the memory faded, the pain of remembrance echoing through his chest. There were only a few times in the last year that he truly yearned to see Dean again, truly ached to hear one of his brother's sarcastic remarks. It took all Sam had to continue on his journey through the cold, stone building into the section he had been headed instead of turning around and bolting from the library. It took him every ounce of strength to return his mind to the task at hand and not rerun all the memories he'd stored within his mind of moments he truly treasured.

After a few hours of staring at pages in books that were thick and heavy, Sam finally had the information he need to kill the quanlier and he headed back out into the warm Spring day. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, heating the soft breeze that blew down the small street Sam had parked his car on. He pulled off the black denim jacket he was wearing and tossed it onto the passenger seat as he slid in behind the wheel. As he turned around to head in the direction of his motel, Sam flipped on the radio, something he hadn't done in months. Steve Perry's familiar voice crooned out of the crackling speakers, his words like salt in an already opened wound.

"I believe that every soul has a song to sing. The spirit's locked in every man waitin' for a wing. Oh so much is wasted and oh so little used. The trick of a dreamer is keeping yourself from the blues. And I don't mind runnin'. Everyone's a hero, if you want to be. Everyone's a prisoner, if you want to be. Every step I take, every move I make, always one step closer. I don't mind runnin' alone."

Sam sits, frozen in place behind the wheel of his car, and listens. He can't help but feel stuck in the past, reliving memories he's forced to the back of his mind in order to continue to work, to hunt, to live. He lets them flood over him, lets them force their way forward, and he lets the tears that they bring trail down his cheeks. Sam knows he's leaving himself open, raw for someone, or something, to use against him. But for a moment in time, he doesn't care. He suddenly feels more connected to Dean than he's felt in months and it's the one thing he would wish for if he had candles on a birthday cake.

Time with Dean. Time with his big brother.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Sam drops the Glock loaded with silver bullets into the trunk of his car, not caring that it's not in its place, that the safety isn't set and the chrome gun isn't snug in its foam home. He doesn't care that someone is going to see the smoke from the fire he set to burn the quanlier or that it might spread to the surrounding trees if the breeze blowing through the clearing gets any stronger.

All Sam cares about is getting away, leaving town, moving on. He doesn't want to be in Liberty anymore. He doesn't want to be in Oklahoma anymore. He doesn't want to be alone anymore either. Sam has made a decision. He's going to find Bobby, or Rufus, or someone that he and Dean knew from before everything went to hell - quite literally - and just hope word doesn't get back to Dean that he's topside. He's done being a ghost, done being vapor and shadow. He wants to live in the world again. Even if it's a world without Dean.

It's after Sam makes this decision that he hears the whispers, the murmurs of something out in the darkness. Something that's looking for a Winchester. Something that's looking, more specifically, for Dean.

At first, Sam thinks it's just rumor. That the few demons Sam has encountered, and sent back to Hell, are just toying with him, using his obvious isolation as a knife to wound him. Then he starts to hear about it elsewhere. In backwater bars where hunters sometimes drop in. Colleagues and friends whispering to their partners or children about a "big bad" that's looking for some retribution.

Sam tries to ignore it, tries to hope that if he's hearing about this then maybe Bobby is too. Or Rufus. That they'll make sure Dean's protected, that Dean and his new family are safe. But the doubt is there. Like an itch you can't scratch, it needles at Sam's brain, at his willpower, and poisons him.

Finally, Sam comes to the realization that he has to be sure, that he has to be positive that Dean, and Lisa and Ben, are okay. He figures, he'll just go and check. Stick to the shadows, to the darkness, and watch. Stay only long enough to make sure Dean is safe, that there isn't anything out there, lurking, waiting...hunting his big brother.

Sam climbs into his car, rolling down the windows to use the crisp night air to keep him awake, to keep him alert, as he makes the agonizingly long trip to Indiana. To Cicero. To Dean.