The next prompt comes from Kas3y:
Dean stayed with Sonny back when he was 16 (I think thats how old he was) and Sam had to start hunting straight away as John became more focused on Sam becoming the best hunter out there. So Sam grows up a baddass, that doesn't take shit from anybody and his emotions are more closed off. He would be covered in scars as he has been hunting since he was 12 and Dean wasn't there to look after him, he drinks a lot, it could be a coping mechanisms or just because he picked it up from John. Would be cool if he had a nasty scar on his face, maybe down his eye or something, I dunno :P But just anything regarding this prompt. :)
I love this idea and I think it could really be a realistic idea of what might have happened if Dean had stayed with Sonny. This is set over a long period of time, telling the story of Sam and Dean's encounters with one another after being estranged. Enjoy!
He'd been studying when he got the call. It was late at night and Dean was cramming, as he usually did around the summer exam period. His roommate was out, partying, but Dean had turned down the offer in favour of not failing his degree.
Studying was something he could do, believe it or not. It was something that kept him focused, working towards graduation made him feel like he had a purpose. Dean had never guessed he would be like this at twenty years old, but here he was. A lot had changed in four years.
The sound of smoke on the water almost startled him. He glanced at the screen, not recognising the number, and frowned.
"Hello?" he said.
"Are you a Mr Dean Winchester?" a gruff, authoritative voice answered.
"Yes, I am," Dean answered, puzzled. He got to his feet, sensing this was something important.
"My name is Sheriff Krill and I'm calling from Augusta Police department in New York," the man answered. Dean felt his heart drop; he hadn't seen his family in four years, he didn't want their reunion to be in a morgue.
"What is it?" he demanded, "What's wrong?"
"Do you have a brother named Samuel, Mr Winchester?"
"Yes, I do," Dean told him, "Is he okay?"
"Well, we've got him here in lock-up and he says you can pay the bail and pick 'im up."
Dean froze. "Wait, wait… Sam's in jail?"
"Yes, sir," the sheriff confirmed, "I can tell you about the charges once you get here. That is if you're coming, otherwise we'll have to keep him."
"No, no, no," Dean interrupted quickly, "I'm coming. I'll be there in about three hours."
"Okay then," Krill snorted, "We'll keep an eye on him 'til you get here."
The phone call ended suddenly and Dean found himself staring at the screen for a long minute. He hadn't seen his little brother in four years, when the kid was still a kid. Now he'd be fifteen, almost sixteen. But the thought that was in the front of his mind was that Sam had called Dean for help, and it made him wonder where his dad was.
It took him under three hours to get to the small town of Augusta; his foot had barely left the pedal. It was a dreamy little town with just over two thousand occupants, it was the same sort of unmemorable town he would have stayed in when they'd moved around during his childhood. The small town had just as small a police department and Dean pulled into the parking lot.
He got out of his crappy little Skoda; it was good for getting around and not much else. When he drove he constantly found himself craving the feel of the Impala's rumbling engine, the smell of her leather seats, the sound of his brother and father bickering.
You want to stay? Fine. But remember, Dean, you can't have both lives.
He could remember his father's words so clearly. He'd always meant to find them again, but he'd forgotten how well they knew how to stay gone. Walking into the police station he tried hard to keep himself from sprinting and almost slammed into the desk. The woman behind it glared at him from behind her glasses.
"Can I help you?" She asked a little stiffly, smacking gum between her teeth.
"I got a call from Sheriff, er, Krill?" he said unsurely. She raised an unamused eyebrow.
"You here for the kid?" she asked distastefully. Dean shifted awkwardly.
"That would be me, yeah," he laughed uncomfortably.
"Okay," she began typing on her keyboard, "The bail is gonna be $500, Sugar."
"Five hundred?" Dean almost choked, "Jesus, what did he do?"
"The Sheriff will talk to you about that," she said, not looking up at him. Dean opened his mouth to speak but she held up a finger to silence him and picked up the phone. "Sheriff? Yeah, Mr Winchester is here to pay his brother's bail… Mm-hmm, I'll do that."
She put the phone down. "You need to go down this hall and knock on the office and the very end on the right, got that?"
Dean smiled tightly. "I think I can manage," he said and turned away, marching down the hall. Sheriff Krill was a large man with an obnoxiously thick moustache which was collecting icing sugar as he munched on a doughnut. It seemed that most small towns he came across in his life had the biggest clichés.
"Mr Winchester?" the Sheriff presumed once he caught sight of Dean. He set his half-eaten doughnut back in the box and dusted his fingers clean, "Let's talk about your brother."
Dean took the seat opposite and crammed himself in uncomfortably; the office was quite small.
"So," Krill cleared his throat and pulled out a file, "Samuel Winchester was arrested earlier today at 12.44pm. He was caught in his attempt to steal a silver jewellery box from an auction house here in Augusta, New York. Now, seeing as he has no history of crime and is under the age of 18 he will be granted bail, should you be able to pay it. If not, then he will likely have a meeting with the social services since his parents have been a no-show."
Dean bit his tongue.
"I believe Janice at the desk told you the bail."
Dean nodded.
"Good," the Sheriff beamed, "We only take cash."
Dean groaned. "I'll just go to an ATM then," he sighed, getting to his feet.
"Mr Winchester?" Dean turned around. "This is your brother's first known offence so make sure he doesn't make a habit of it; this will be in the system if he ever gets into trouble again."
Dean nodded. "Got it," he mumbled tiredly and headed out the door. It was late and dark and cold and Dean would rather be anywhere other than the middle-of-fucking-nowhere to bail his kid brother out of jail.
He got the cash out; cutting his hard-earned savings from $617.23 to $117.23, and he trudged back to the station, thumping the wad of cash down in front of Janice.
"Can I see my brother now?" he asked irritably. Janice rolled her eyes and counted up the cash then gave him some papers to fill out. By the time she and Krill were leading Dean to his brother he could feel his heart rate hammering throughout his whole body.
The small station only had two cells and only one of them was occupied by a boy with long limbs and floppy dark hair. He was wearing the usual Army Surplus getup they'd had since they were kids; a worn flannel shirt, scuffed up jeans, a second-hand t-shirt and a pair of sneaker that that had seen better days. He was lying on the cot with an arm thrown over his eyes.
"Samuel?" Krill called.
"It's Sam," came the irritable reply. Sam peeked out from under his arm.
"Your brother here's paid your bail," the Sheriff said coldly, not appreciating Sam's attitude one bit.
Sam sat up and looked at Dean. Dean had expected that blinding grin, those dimples, those bright eyes he'd been so used to. He didn't get anything.
"Awesome," Sam said, as if it were anything but.
Janice unlocked the door and Sam slipped by. Krill put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from going any further.
"We've done you a favour here, releasing you to the custody of someone who isn't your legal guardian. You better be going with your brother now," he said sternly.
Sam nodded, ducking his head and letting his hair fall over his eyes. Dean thanked them both and took Sam's shoulder gently, guiding him out of the station. In the parking lot the two of them stopped.
"Sammy…" Dean smiled.
Sam swallowed and averted his gaze. "Look, Dean, it was cool that you came to bail me out but I think I've got it from here."
Dean stared at him, confused. "So, you're just leaving?"
"Why? You did," Sam said sharply. He pulled up the hood on his jacket and turned away, Dean grabbed his shoulder. Reluctantly, Sam turned back around.
"I didn't just leave," Dean insisted. Sam made no reaction but to stare at anything but Dean. "I got sent to a boy's home, okay?"
"I know."
"And I liked it," Dean admitted, "I met a girl, I was doing well in school for the first time ever, I had a normal life."
"Good for you," Sam folded his arms across his chest and obviously tried not to look interested.
"I wanted to have that life and I could," Dean went on, "But I never wanted to leave. I asked Dad if we could stay but he said it was hunting or Sonny's. I stayed for the school dance and by the time I got back he was gone. I looked for you, I swear, but you were gone."
Sam bit his lip and sniffed. "So, all I heard was that you picked some girl and a prom over your own family."
"It's not like that, Sammy," Dean said calmly.
"It's Sam," he growled back. Dean rolled his eyes.
"I guess I'm not convincing you," he admitted, "But, can I at least give you a ride?"
Sam stared at him for a long moment, as if there was some trick behind it, then nodded. Dean led him to his car, which earned a snort from his brother.
"Nice wheels," he smirked. Dean huffed.
"It was affordable, okay?"
"I didn't say anything," Sam said in mock defence and hopped into the passenger seat.
"So, where can I take you?" Dean asked.
"Just drive east of here," Sam instructed, "I know where to go."
Dean nodded and pulled out of the space. He headed onto the town's small main road and steered the car east. Sam didn't say a word, just slouched so far down in his seat that it seemed he might have been hoping Dean would forget he was there.
"So, why were you stealing?" he asked. Sam shrugged. "Was it part of a job?"
"Yeah," Sam said, though he didn't sound convincing.
"Yeah?" Dean frowned, "You sure about that?"
"Mm-hmm."
Dean sighed, realising it was a hopeless conversation. He cleared his throat, looking between Sam and the road.
"How have you been?" Dean asked. Sam looked up and frowned.
"Fine. Same old."
"And how's school, geek-boy?"
Sam squirmed uncomfortably at the sound of the old nickname. "Got suspended."
Dean almost swerved off the road. "Jesus!" he exclaimed, managing to keep them straight. He held the wheel so tight his knuckles began to pale.
"You got suspended?" he repeated in disbelief, "You did?"
"Uh-huh."
"What did you do?"
"Got into a fight."
"That's it?"
"Got into a few fights. Okay, I might have broken someone's nose… but they deserved it!"
Dean shook his head angrily and turned the car to the side, pulling it to a stop. He looked at Sam and watched the realisation dawn on him. He reached for the door handle but Dean was quicker and he locked the car from the inside.
"You can go when you tell me what the hell is going on," Dean ordered. It seemed to have the desired effect and Sam sat back up straight, looking not too pleased, but at least he wasn't trying to escape.
"There's nothing to tell," Sam argued, "Can I go now?"
"You think I'm just gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere?" Dean scoffed, "Sure they didn't suspend you because you're a dumbass?"
"Fuck off, Dean," Sam groaned.
"Why didn't you call dad to bail you out? Or Bobby?"
Sam growled. "We don't talk to Bobby anymore."
"You mean dad doesn't talk to Bobby anymore."
Sam ignored him. "And dad's already trying to lay low so he couldn't exactly come get me from the cops. I'm supposed to get to out meeting point, then we'll get the hell out of dodge."
Dean stared sadly at his little brother; the usual spark and enthusiasm in his eyes was hard to find, he looked far older than his sixteen years.
"Sam," he began. He had a million questions on his mind but he realised now wouldn't be the right time to ask, he decided on something else. "Are you hungry?"
They found a small diner just off the road a couple of miles ahead. It was still open even late at night and it seemed appropriately miserably, but they promised great cheeseburgers and that was enough for Dean. They took a booth and a waitress came over immediately since they were the only customers.
"What can I get you boys?" she drawled, sounding tired.
"Two cokes, and a bacon cheeseburger for me," Dean ordered.
"I'll have one too," Sam added, not looking up from his hands. The waitress wandered off to the kitchen. Dean frowned at Sam.
"Since when have you liked bacon cheeseburgers?" he asked. Sam shrugged. "Sammy…"
"It's Sam."
"Right, Sam… What made you fight?"
Sam looked up.
"I know you, kid," Dean went on, "And I know you like to keep a low profile. I know you care about doing well at school. I know you're not acting like you."
Sam sneered. "You don't know me. The last time you saw me I was twelve. Do you honestly think I'm the same person as four years ago? Do you think you are?"
Dean's heart constricted, the sudden weight of responsibility for his brother's current situation came crashing down on him. "Sam, I am so sorry."
Sam looked a little surprised. "Why?"
"I wonder if things would be different for you if I'd stayed," he admitted, "I never wanted to leave you, please believe me, I looked for you."
Sam hesitated for a moment. "I believe you," he said quietly, fiddling with his napkin. He cleared his throat, "So, what do you do? Now that you're a normal person…"
There was a slight smile on Sam's face and Dean couldn't help but grin because, God, he'd missed this kid so much.
"I finished high school," he told him, "I go to Alfred now, I'm an engineering major."
"That's cool," Sam mumbled, but he sounded truthful, almost wistful.
"You know, you can have that too," Dean said, "You can still get out."
Sam's lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something. "I can't," he said quietly, Dean knew that wasn't what he'd almost said.
"You can," Dean insisted, "You're only fifteen, for Christ's sake, you shouldn't be doing this."
"If I leave then who'll take care of Dad?" Sam blurted. He shifted restlessly in his seat, obviously embarrassed by his outburst that had drawn the attention of the waitress. She came over and gave them their orders, eyeing Sam pityingly as she did before sauntering off.
"Dad can take care of himself."
"No, he can't," Sam said, voice becoming quieter, "What do you think it'll do to him if I leave too? Do you have any idea what he was like when you_"
He cut himself off with a shake of his head and shoved a fistful of fries in his mouth. Dean had no idea what to say, he'd had the impression that his dad had been fine with leaving him behind.
Sam chewed slowly and swallowed deeply. "He'll get himself killed if I'm not there to have his back," he said, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself. And he won't stop until he finds the thing that killed mom… I'm sticking with him until the end."
"God, Sammy, you're just a kid… you shouldn't have to have all this weight on your shoulders."
Sam was too busy wolfing down his meal; already half of his burger was gone.
"You used to tell me that the hunt was the most important thing," Sam said between mouthfuls, "You told me to suck it up when I told you how much I hated this life."
"I'm sorry," Dean told him, "I was wrong."
Sam snorted. "You're so different… It's weird."
"Right back atcha," Dean said, "It's like we've swapped personalities."
Sam lifted one shoulder in agreement and popped his last fry into his mouth. Dean looked down and realised he hadn't touched a bite of his food.
"You know, if you ever need a break," Dean offered, "You can come stay with me."
Sam's nose twitched. "I can't take a break."
"What about school, do you have time for that?" Dean pushed.
"I'm getting my GED."
"Sammy, but you love school."
"I used to," Sam corrected, "But it's a waste of time. I need to focus on hunting. I need to be better."
"You're breaking my heart, Sammy," Dean said sincerely, "Please, come stay with me for a while. We can call dad and let him know that you'll meet up with him later. He'll understand."
"I can't," Sam insisted.
"Sammy, I don't think Dad realises what this is doing to you… if he knew he'd be kicking himself."
"I'm fine."
Dean sighed and took a bite out of his burger. He chewed it thoughtfully for a while, watching as Sam arranged his napkin and cutlery so that they were perfectly straight.
"Come stay with me for a few days," he repeated, "Just a little while."
Sam moved his napkin a fraction to the right until it was aligned with the cutlery then looked up.
"Just a little while?" he clarified. Dean nodded encouragingly.
"Okay," Sam agreed and Dean felt himself grinning. "But I need to use the bathroom before we go; I didn't really want to pee in prison, you know?" he added, sliding out the booth, "I'll be right back."
"Okay," Dean nodded as Sam headed towards the restroom. He waited, paid the bill, chatted to the waitress, assured her Sam was fine, and waited some more. A chef came out of the restroom and Dean called him over on his way out.
"Did you see a kid in there? He's fifteen, nearly sixteen, has shaggy brown hair…"
The chef shrugged, "There wasn't anyone in there," he said, then his eyes widened, "But the window was wide open… which is weird because we normally lock it…"
"Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed, jumping to his feet, he dashed out to the parking lot where one of the diner employees was standing with his hands fisted in his hair. He turned to Dean.
"My car's gone!" he exclaimed, "Someone stole my car!"
Dean groaned and rested his head in his hand. "Son of a bitch."
Dean graduated two years later, found himself a job at a garage; he'd decided to stick to something he knew before venturing out in search of a career. The more days he spent fixing cars the more he realised he enjoyed it. He'd even considered finding a town to opene his own garage.
He was walking how one night, having worked late, to find his apartment door unlocked. Despite having been out of the hunting life for eight six years he still had all of his hunter's instincts. He grabbed the knife he constantly kept strapped at his ankle and held it in front of him, tiptoeing into his hallway.
The lights were on and Dean could see a trail of blood soaking into his carpet; drops of crimson dripped along the floor. He followed it, his hand clenching tighter around the hilt of the blade. It led him to his bathroom, the door was slightly ajar and he kicked it open.
"Hey, Dean…" Sam was sitting on the floor, his back rested against the bath tub. He was ghostly white and had his hand clamped over his chest. He grinned at him sloppily, "Where d'you keep your first aid kit?"
Dean dropped to his knees at his brother's side. "Jesus! Sam, what happened?"
"Hunt," Sam slurred. He blinked heavily a couple of times. "Look, I think you need to stitch me up… can't do it myself."
Dean gently pulled Sam's blood hand away from his chest and peeled back the fabric which was sticking to his skin. The gashes were long and deep and pulsing, Dean nearly gagged at the sight of them, but he took a deep breath and steadied himself.
"What did it?" he asked calmly, grabbing a towel to press against the wounds.
"Werewolf," Sam said, huffing a laugh, "At least it didn't bit me, huh?"
Dean dabbed pulled the towel away again and hissed. "This is bad, Sam, you should go to hospital."
"No, Dean, I'm fine," Sam insisted, "Just stitch me up and I'll be good to go."
Dean shook his head exasperatedly, "Stubborn ass," he muttered. He replaced Sam's hand over the towel and made sure he had a good grip on it, "Keep pressure on it," he ordered, "I'll be right back."
Sam gave him a weary thumbs up with his free hand. Dean dashed back into the hallway and hurried to the kitchen, grabbing the medical box he kept under the sink. He'd always kept the typical hunter supplies in there, despite the fact he wouldn't need them, maybe he'd been preparing himself for the situation he was in right now without realising. As a last thought he grabbed a bottle of whiskey as well. Sam looked up when he came back into the bathroom.
"You didn't say goodbye last time," Dean said, dropping back to his knees.
"Sorry," Sam breathed, "Might've not been able to go if I did."
"What about the car you stole?" Dean tried to keep Sam from falling asleep.
"Left it on the side of the road," Sam admitted, "He probably got it back…"
Dean checked the wound again, pleased to see that it wasn't bleeding quite so much. He opened the box and pulled out the needle and thread, antiseptic wipes and gauze.
"You opening a pharmacy?" Sam asked, peeping at the medical supplies.
"I like to be prepared," Dean admitted, "I guess that's something Dad drilled into me."
Sam laughed shortly, groaning in pain. Dean looked up and noticed Sam's hair had been cropped short, he hadn't noticed amidst the shock of seeing his little brother and the shock of the blood he was soaked in.
"Where's dad?" he asked.
"Hunting," Sam said, sighing, "He had stuff to do so I took this job for him."
"Dad let you hunt by yourself?" Dean gasped, "You took on a werewolf by yourself and you're eighteen. What the hell was he thinking?"
He began to clean the wound. Sam hissed and jolted a little, Dean grabbed him and held him still.
"Okay… maybe Dad didn't send me," Sam admitted, "I might've told him I was visiting you."
Dean looked up and raised an eyebrow.
"Wasn't a lie, really," Sam defended, "I'm here, aren't I?"
Dean didn't give Sam any warning when he made the first stitch. The yelp Sam made was a little satisfying, he had to admit.
"Why would you tell dad you're visiting me?"
"So he wouldn't know I was hunting a werewolf," Sam said.
Dean sighed, concentrating on the stitches. "And why didn't you want him to know?"
"I, er, I wanted to…" he trailed off, looking at the whiskey bottle, "Can I get some of that?"
Dean handed it over without even looking up. Sam took a long pull and Dean couldn't help but notice how at ease his little brother was at downing hard liquor. Sam rested the bottle on the tiled floor, his hand still clinging to the neck.
"I wanted to surprise him," he went on, "Prove that I was more capable."
"Bang up job you did there, Sammy."
"Hmmm," Sam agreed, taking another long drink. He rested it back down and watched Dean stitch his skin back together. "He doesn't trust me," he said miserably.
"How do you know that?" Dean asked sceptically, "I'm sure he does."
"I can tell," Sam insisted, already sounding a little drunk, it wouldn't be too hard after bleeding out all over Dean's apartment, "Sometimes he looks at me and… he seems scared."
Dean snorted. "Dad's not scared of anything."
"He's not scared of me. He's scared for me," Sam said loudly, he sighed sadly. "He misses you, did you know?" he went on, "I think he wishes you were there instead of me."
Dean looked up and frowned. "Now, I know that's the blood loss and whiskey talking," he said, "Because the Sam I know isn't that dumb."
"It's true," Sam pressed, taking another drink. Dean grabbed the bottle and set it down out of arm's reach.
"I think you've had enough," he said when Sam tried to protest, "Besides, I'm almost done."
Sam grunted and watched him finish the job. Dean covered the stitches with bandages and sat back, the two brothers stared at each other, one with bleary eyes and one with sad eyes.
"Let's move you to the couch, okay?" Dean said, carefully pulling Sam to his feet. The kid had grown considerably since he'd last seen him; it had been hard to tell that he was taller than Dean when he'd been sprawled out in the bathroom. Sam didn't seem to have a lot of strength so Dean took most of his weight, managing to get him to the couch before he collapsed. Sam lay down and Dean covered him with a blanket.
"Thanks," Sam murmured.
"No problem."
"For last time too," Sam added, "For bailing me out… and buying me food. M'sorry."
"It's okay," Dean said gently, brushing Sam's hair back without realising.
"M'glad you have a good life," Sam said, "Think that's why I was so mad… 'cause I was jealous."
"Sam, if you don't want to hunt, you don't have to."
"Doesn't matter what I want," Sam shook his head.
"Of course it does," Dean argued, "You'll get yourself killed."
"S'part of the job."
"Screw the job!" Dean yelled, "I want my brother alive. That's all I care about."
"I know," Sam said sadly, Dean could see the beginnings of tears in his brother's eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that," Dean sighed, "While you're under my roof you don't say sorry."
"Sorry."
Dean frowned. "How did you know where I live, anyway? And you gave the cops my number back in Augustav."
"You think I'd just forget about you?" Sam smirked, "I always knew where you were. You looked ridiculous in that graduation cap, by the way."
"You… you were there?" Dean sputtered, "Why didn't you say hi?"
"You got out, Dean," Sam said, voice getting more slurred, "I wanted it to stay that way."
He closed his eyes and Dean ran a hand through Sam's.
"I met a girl," Sam said suddenly, eyes still closed, "She's nice and smart and beautiful."
Dean smiled. "What's her name?"
"Jess."
"So, how're things going with Jess?" he asked.
"I met her in California and we had coffee… that was two years ago and I see her when I can."
"Why don't you stay in Cali for a while?" Dean suggested.
"I can't be with her," Sam said, "I know I can't… but, God, I think I love her."
"I think you have your answer then," Dean pointed out. Sam's mouth twitched into an almost-smile.
"Maybe I do," he agreed. He drifted off shortly after that.
Sam slept most of the next day at Dean's, and was couch-bound for a couple of days after. Foolishly, Dean had had the idea that Sam would be staying a lot longer but he wasn't surprised to wake up one morning to find the couch empty and a note resting on the coffee table that read:
Jerk,
Thank you. I'm sorry.
Bitch.
That didn't mean it didn't break Dean's heart.
It was another four years before Dean saw his brother again for more than a short period of time. There had been quick meetings for Dean to stitch him up or bail him out. Once, when Dean was late on rent and close to being kicked out he found a wad of cash sitting on his kitchen counter; there was no doubt in Dean's mind of who had left it there.
He was awoken by a thud from the living room and he found himself darting towards it because his mind just screamed at him that it was Sam. He'd expected blood, maybe a broken bone, maybe just Sam needing a place to crash.
What he got was his little brother sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of whisky.
"Sammy?" Dean called, already sensing that something was up.
Sam looked up and plastered a smile on his face, "Hey, Dean, I could use some help."
When Dean turned on the light he gasped at the grisly scar running from Sam's eyebrow to the bottom of his cheek. Dean hurried forward.
"What happened to your face?"
Sam shrugged away from his hand. "That's from a while back. It's nothing."
"That's not nothing!" Dean argued, "Where's dad?"
Sam shook a little, like he was suppressing a bubble of laughter. It was almost manic. "About that… he went on a job and he hasn't come back."
"When did he go?"
"A couple of weeks ago but he hasn't called and he won't answer his phone," Sam sat back down; Dean took the seat beside him.
"You need me to help you find him?"
"I already checked out his last hunt," Sam said, his voice was flat and his eyes were raw and puffy. "It was a woman in white… but Dad wasn't there."
Dean watched him, the way Sam's breaths were shaky like the slightest touch might shatter him. "Sammy, there's something you're not telling me," he said. A tear slipped down Sam's still face and he made no move to wipe it away. That's when Dean realised, "Sam, what about Jess?"
"Didn't work out," Sam took a slug of whiskey.
"How?" Dean asked gently.
"Demons," was all Sam said and Dean completely understood.
"My God… I'm so sorry."
Sam chuckled bitterly, "Exactly the same way as Mom."
Dean closed his eyes for a second, reeling in that information. "What do you need me to do?"
Sam looked up at him, his eyes were cold and filled with fire all at once, "We've got work to do."
I hope you liked that. Sam ended up being a little more emotional than I meant him to be, but to be fair I put him in some tricky situations and he spent about half of the story drunk. Also, I know he probably wouldn't have met Jess since he didn't go to Stanford but I like to think they were destined for each other.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and to everyone who has submitted a prompt. I have six prompts right now and I'm working my way through them.
Next up is Eruthiawen Luin.