January 24
Chapter 4
There was a tentative knock at the door and Sam straightened up. His eyes blurred gazing up from his position still on the floor as it finally cracked open.
"Excuse me…" A hesitant voice followed, understandably, as this was a gentleman's room and the voice belonged to a girl.
"Jess!" Sam gasped. "What's wrong?"
The door widened, matching the girl's eyes as she took in Sam's disheveled form behind the door. Jess let go of the door to rush to her boyfriend.
"Sam! Are you all right?" Her face was contorted with deep worry. Sam clambered to his feet, slipping his cell phone into his trousers' pocket immediately.
"Yeah, Jess." He took the girl's arm, steering her to the door. "Let's get out of here."
But Jessica Moore was not one to be taken too lightly, especially when Sam showed no sign to say anything anymore. She waved her arm off Sam's hand and turned to look sharply at the man.
"No, Sam, tell me what you've been doing in here. Tell me you're all right, then we get out of here."
"Ssh. Not here, okay?" Sam's eyes scrunched shut for a moment. He really didn't need this. Dean was hurt badly out there, and as much as Sam loved Jess, she would never take the place of his big brother in his heart. Though for her sake, Sam felt deeply sorry.
Yawning, Sam threw a glance around the bus before resuming his long, lost gaze through the window. He had not been sleeping all night, hence the bags under his eyes, his clouded mind, and another yawn yet again. After convincing Jess that he was okay (although convinced was barely how the girl had looked last night) and that he did need to see his brother right away (yeah, right. How would Jess be convinced that this was more important than the both of them being together after the ruined birthday dinner, while not once did he ever talk about his family?), Sam managed to get the earliest bus to San Jose—Dean was treated at a Samaritan Hospital there. The city was not too far from Palo Alto, two hours, three hours top. That was the best Sam could get. He sighed slowly. Perhaps he could use some sleep after all.
"What are you doing here, Sammy?" Dean slapped his shoulder playfully, wide grin adorning his freckled bright face.
Sam frowned, tilting his head slightly to one side like he always did when being confused, and looked around. He was in…
"I thought you were in Stanford," said Dean again. "Hey, you decided to come back, huh?" The beaming feature of his brother definitely showed what it meant to be: joy at the sight of the little brother. But wasn't Dean supposed to be lying unconscious in a hospital bed?
"But, uh, Sam. You must know how I'd love to spend some time with you now that you're back, but Dad, you know, he's waiting for me out there," Dean started again when he saw Sam was not going to say anything. "This gig will be nothing, Sam. We'll be back already before midnight, I promise you." And his older brother stepped out of the door, turning around to catch Sam for the last time before he went, and waved and smiled again.
"See you, Sam!" Dean called out.
Sam jolted awake with a start, and found that he was still on a moving bus. No motel room. No Dean. That was a dream, wasn't it? Not some kind of a vision that might have meant that Dean was going out – away – from his life?
Suddenly a cold feeling ran through his body, and Sam shuddered.
Of course not, he tried to assure himself. And what did Dean say again? See you, Sam. That was it. It couldn't be a goodbye. It was a promise.
Making sure never hurt, though.
Struggling to calm his shaking nerve, Sam reached out for his cell and pressed a speed dial. Dad.
It rang once at the other end. And twice. A creepy, déjà vu feeling crept into Sam's gut.
Could this bus run faster?