A/N: The title for chapter one is taken from a song by Kansas. Enjoy!

Stairway to Heaven

Chapter One: Wayward Son

The headaches had been getting worse all week.

Even Jess in a nurse's outfit and the cold beer weren't doing anything to alleviate it. Beside him, someone was asking about the LSAT scores, and Jess was bragging for him. That was fine, because as Sam swayed on his stool, he was sure that he was either going to vomit, pass out, die, or some combination of the three, as another stabbing pain raced through his back and head.

It didn't help that he hadn't slept at all the past few weeks, dreams of his mother's and Jess' death all mixed into one. Between that, class, and these stupid headaches…Sam let his head fall forward, cradling it between his arms and the table. When he was younger and used to get these headaches, Dean would move all the blankets and pillows in the bathroom, and shut off all the lights, closing the two of them inside. He'd pull Sam close and gently rub his neck and back until the muscles stopped rebelling and his head would settle into a dull throb. In the morning John would find them curled together…

"Sam?" Jess' voice sent another sharp stab through his head, his gut twisting, and he couldn't help but wince. "Shit, Sam, why didn't you tell me you had a migraine coming on?"

Because you were looking forward to going out all week? "It just kinda happened," he muttered, trying to bury his head further under his arms to protect it against the sound of pounding bass.

"Come on. Let's get out of here. Sorry, guys."

He felt Jess tug on his elbow and he stood, trying not to sway as he stumbled out of the bar. The cool air helped, and he took a deep breath, stopping to lean against the brick wall of the building for a minute before following Jess. "I'm sorry."

"There's no reason to be sorry." Jess sighed. "I just wish you'd tell me when you don't feel well."

"Really, it was all of a sudden…"

Bright lights and a flash of wings…

"Ahh…" He felt the pavement below his knees, his head, his back, it was all going to explode…

Fire, sunlight…

"Sam!"

Jess, on the ceiling, blood dripping…

"Sam!"

Wind, so cool, soft, freedom…

The concrete was hard, small pieces of gravel digging into his palms. But the pain in his head wasn't as blinding, and if he could just get the world to stop tilting. "Sam!" "M'okay," he muttered, swallowing back the bile in his throat and pushing the pain into the small box in his head where he could take it out and reexamine it at a later date--like never. "Honest." He pulled himself up, watching as the sky and ground righted themselves, and took a shaky breath. "Let's just go. I think I'll be better after I sleep."

"Are you sure?" Jess had her cell phone out, clearly just a second away from calling for help.

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

The walk back to the apartment took far longer than it should have, and by the time Sam stumbled up the stairs, he couldn't do much more than shuck his jeans and collapse on top of the bed. Vaguely, he registered the sounds of Jess moving around and getting ready for the night, but he was exhausted, and it wasn't long before the sandman dragged him under.

Vague sounds registering in the back of his head were what brought him to awareness. Slipping his hand under the mattress, Sam reached for the knife that he'd hidden under there, just in case. Jess was still sleeping soundly, and Sam pushed the migraine into a hidden corner of his mind, hunter mode sliding into place as if he'd never been anything else. Carefully, Sam edged around the corner and out into the living area, registering a large black shadow bent slightly by the window.

Silently, Sam slid forward, reaching around the figure and wrapping the knife around it's neck…and then the smell of leather and gunpowder filled his senses, mingled with the fresh scent of Scope. "Dean?"

"Sammy," the word was almost a desperate plea, the sound of someone who found safe haven after a long storm…

"Dean," Sam pulled back, turning his brother around and dropping the knife on the convenient end table, pulling his brother close and wrapping his fingers in the jacket, suddenly feeling better than he had in years. "God, I've missed you."

"Sam," Dean's voice cracked, his face pressing into Sam's neck, hands fisting in Sam's t-shirt.

Instinctively, Sam could feel that something was wrong with his brother, and through his own pounding head, Sam knew that if he lost physical contact, one or both of them was going to break. He backed up, clutching Dean close and collapsing on the couch, pulling his older brother on top of him. Suddenly the pain wasn't so bad, not with his brother here, and for the first time in a long time, he thought he could rest.

Somehow, the two had managed to arrange themselves on the couch without losing contact, smashed against one another, knees, arms, hands, all touching. "Dean, what is it, what's wrong?"

In the pale streetlight he could make out the washed out face, prominent freckles, and dark circles under green eyes, circles that mirrored ones under his own. "I…I don't know, Sammy."

Dean leaned over, perfectly fitted against his brother, closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath. Sam was about to say something, when he heard another noise and the light flicked on in the kitchen, framing Jessica. "Hey, Sam, is your migraine still…"

"Uh, Jess, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is Jess."

"Hi," Dean gave a much smaller version of his usual 1000 watt smile, but Jess still smiled back anyway.

"Oh, hey. It's great to finally meet you, Sam talks about you all the time." She ran a hand through her hair, putting it back into place. "Sam, I'll go get some extra linens, why don't you set up the pullout couch. You two can have a sleep over and I can get some actual sleep before I leave for my parent's tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess," Sam smiled tightly, pulling Dean up so he could pull the cushions from the couch and release the bed. Dean reached over to help, somehow keeping his arm touching Sam's the entire time, even as they pulled the bed out. "Where's your duffel?"

"Car," Dean muttered.

"I'll get you a t-shirt to sleep in. I have an extra toothbrush and stuff, c'mon."

Sam tossed a shirt into the bathroom where he'd abandoned Dean. "Hey, this is my AC/DC shirt!" Dean appeared holding the shirt in one hand, with the toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

"Good thing you came back for it then."

Dean's eyes lit up and he disappeared again, the sound of loud gurgling following. Jess reappeared, standing on tiptoe, planting a gentle kiss on Sam's cheek. "Night, sweetie. Love you."

"Yeah, love you too." But Sam's attention was already on the man exiting the bathroom, Batman boxers and all. Jess just smiled, disappearing into their room, glad that Sam's brother had finally shown up, since she'd always been able to tell how much he'd missed him over the years. Maybe now Sam would be able to settle into some semblance of normal.

When she woke in the morning, Jess found the two of them tangled together on the pull out, the television droning in the background as light streamed through the blinds. Sam was on his stomach, half on top of Dean, arm thrown protectively around his older brother. In turn, Dean's arm seemed to be holding Sam in place, keeping anything from stealing his brother away. Jess knew that the two had grown up on the road, rarely apart, and she was glad to see them together, especially since that was the most relaxed she'd seen Sam in months. Quietly, she set out to finish packing her things and left Sam a note, letting him know that she'd gone to see her parents and would call him later, reminding him that she loved him and would see him on Monday after his interview.

She couldn't help but smile as she left the apartment, knowing that Sam was safe in the arms of his brother.

*~~*

The return to consciousness was slow, the pounding in his head increasing as the light from the window sliced through his eyes. He couldn't help the small moan that escaped his lips, pressing his head deeper into the pillow, only to realize that his pillow was harder than normal. An arm tightened around him, pulling him closer before smoothing down his back. Vaguely he registered that it was too strong, too broad, to be Jess' hand, and his breath hitched before he recognized the familiar scent beside him, and relaxed into the warm body, attempting to push the pain away so he could think.

He felt Dean ease out from under him, heard him moving around the room, and suddenly the light diminished, almost instantly easing some of the ache in his head. A minute later, his older brother was back, manhandling him so they were curled together, the broad palm splayed across his stomach tracing a lazy pattern as they both drifted off into sleep.

The next time Sam woke, it was to screaming. Distantly, he registered his own broken voice, could feel arms wrapped around him, rocking, soft, gentle, pleading words.

Jess, pinned on the ceiling.

Flames, feathers, blood, sunlight…

Wind, freedom…

It was hard to breathe, he was gasping, a fish out of water, a bird out of the sky…

And then it was gone, the pain receding to a dull thudding, exhaustion leading him to collapse shakily against the brother that he would always trust to be there when he needed him. Eventually, he was able to recognize the soothing words, feel the callused hands, but it was hard to care about anything but the encroaching dark.

Apparently the third time was the charm, though this time, he was alone in the bed and there was a good amount of clattering coming from the kitchen.

Leaning against the door jamb, Sam watched his brother move through the kitchen like he'd lived there for years. Clearly, Dean had made himself right at home. Without anyone watching him, Dean had dropped his shields, and Sam could see that his brother was exhausted, physically and mentally, his shoulders drooping and his movements shaky. No one else would have noticed, but Sam did. Dean turned suddenly smiling softly, and his voice was low. "Hey, Sammy. How you feelin'?"

"Bout as good as you look I guess," Sam smiled back, letting Dean know that he knew that something was wrong.

"Well, in that case, you must be awesome!"

The joke was forced, the lines around Dean's eyes giving him away. And suddenly, Sam couldn't help himself, emo moment taking hold, he crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Dean, relaxing as soon as Dean's arms pulled him close. "Shh, Sammy, I'm right here now, I'm here…"

"Dean…" He pulled back, one hand fisting into the fabric of Dean's shirt, just like when he was little and unsure of a situation. "Why aren't you with Dad?"

That had been their agreement. That Dean would stay and watch after Dad--but Sam hadn't realized how much it would hurt him, them.

Dean's lips quirked and he spun away, reaching for a bowl, feeling Sam step in sync with him, fingers still fisted in the back of his t-shirt. "Let's just say I think I'll be lucky if Dad doesn't shoot me on sight the next time he sees me." Reaching for cereal and the milk, Dean was unsurprised to find Sam still attached to him, but didn't say anything.

"What happened?"

"Can we talk about it after I eat--m'kinda hungry."

Sam nodded quickly. "You, ah, wanna go out to eat?" He cleared his throat. "I don't have much in the apartment, 'cause I wasn't going to hang around this weekend…"

"Sure, Sam," Dean cut him off. "Why don't you go grab a shower, while I go get my duffel and stuff out of the car."

Stiffly, Sam unwound his fingers and scampered for the shower, and for a second, Dean flashed back to a skinny, eager to please, ten-year-old. Tears pricked at his eyes, knowledge that their lives were never going to be the same burning in his mind, and a desperate wish to turn back time, to when his biggest concern was looking after Sammy, filling him to overflowing. Swallowing hard, he scrounged up his keys, quickly heading for the Impala, not wanting to leave his brother alone, and not wanting to be alone, for one second longer than necessary.

He managed to store all the weapons and get back up with his duffel bag before Sam shut the water off for the shower, and Dean was thankful for that at least, dropping his duffel and wincing as his back muscles rippled and pain sliced through them, fading as quickly as it came. By the time Sam reappeared, he'd managed to school his features into a neutral expression, hiding any of the residual pain. Worry quickly replaced the empty expression when Sam half stumbled and leaned up against the door jamb, pain and exhaustion seeming to mar his features, in a sick reflection of Dean's own feelings.

"Hey, Sammy, take it easy kiddo," Dean stepped forward, reaching out a hand to help steady the taller man.

"Sorry, the migraine's back…"

"Okay, maybe we should stay here…"

"No, I'll be fine," his voice cracked as he stumbled towards the couch. "I just need a minute." He missed the couch on his first attempt and nearly fell to his knees, strong arms catching him instead.

"Easy, Sammy." Dean carefully pulled Sam into a standing position, adjusting him to take the weight that his little brother suddenly seemed unable to carry. "Take it easy."

"Shit…Dean…"

"C'mon, I'm gonna get you to the bathroom…no, relax, let me do the work…"

"M'okay," Sam protested weakly.

"I know, just let me do this." Please, let me do this like Dad never did for me.

"'Kay." Sam let Dean press him down on the closed toilet seat, watched as he pulled down the blinds and ran back out, dragging in blankets and pillows, dumping them in the empty tub. Somehow, he managed to squeeze both of them in the homemade nest, even though logically, neither should have fit. In a tangle of limbs and blankets, Sam managed to drift off into sleep, catching up on four years of trying to sleep without his brother nearby. Dean dropped off not long after, happy that he was finally with the one part of his family that he loved and trusted unconditionally, growling stomach be damned.

They woke together this time, a cacophony of tangled limbs, blankets, and aching muscles, but still feeling much better than either had for a very long time. "You just can't keep your hands off of me," Sam muttered, and Dean elbowed him, both of them giggling like teenage girls.

"I'm officially starving, so you better move your rear."

Sam made a small pouty face before attempting to pull himself from the overcrowded tub, quickly losing his balance in the tangle of blankets and falling backwards, forcing the air from Dean's lungs with a hard, "Oomph!"

Dean shoved him and they both spilled out onto the tile, tears pouring from Sam's eyes as he laughed, feeling better than he had in years. "Shit!" his brother cursed, clutching at his aching ribs, and shoving Sam again. Sam just laughed harder, grabbing at the blankets and stumbling from the bathroom, causing Dean to fall and land flat on his rear-end when his foot got caught in the passing sheet. "SAM!" One hand cradled his ribs, the other rubbed at the offending sore tailbone, and he set about to slapping some sense in his brother, only to stop dead when he found the kid sitting on the edge of the bed and gasping as tears poured down his face.

"Sam, Sammy, you okay?"

Catching the panicked look on Dean's face, Sam dissolved into another fit of hysterical laughter, which only grew as frustration and amusement both played across his older brother's features when Dean realized that Sam was laughing.

"Very funny, hah, hah. Put on some clothes, you delinquent, so I can go get some grub."

Sam took a deep breath and held it, seemingly calming until it suddenly exploded from him again, causing him to fall backwards onto the bed when Dean whipped a t-shirt at his head. "Yeah, yeah, let's go Samantha!"

By the time the two were bundled into the Impala, Sam's hysterics had died down into sudden, small, giggling fits. Dean had quickly learned not to look at Sam, because that only seemed to further set him off. Luckily for him, by the time they reached the diner, Sam seemed to have composed himself, minus the stupid, idiotic grin that he was wearing. But Dean figured he could live with that.

He could also live with the large double cheeseburger and fries, topped with onion rings and barbeque sauce. Which he followed quickly with ice-cream covered pie and a giant milkshake. Sam smiled, joining in with his own milkshake, but opting out of the pie, and settling on a turkey club instead. Totally sated, Dean leaned back in his booth, cupping his coffee mug and poking absently at a stray piece of flakey crust with his fork.

"That was fantastic."

Sam pressed his hands against his own warm coffee cup, and couldn't help the grin that was still trying to plaster itself to his face.

"God, Dean."

"Nope, just Dean."

"Smart-ass."

"I'd just stick with Dean, bitch."

"Jerk."

Sam stuck his tongue out and grinned again, sipping at his black coffee in an attempt to hide his smile. "So, why are you here?"

"Don't I get to drop in on my little brother?"

"Yeah, you can, you just haven't before. And besides…" I thought you were taking care of Dad. "What could you have possibly done to make him that mad? I mean it isn't like you ran off to college or anything."

Dean snorted. "No. I think it's worse. And I have a suspicion that you're in the same exact boat that I am."

"Great," Sam sighed, draining his coffee in one go.

"Don't worry about it right now, Sammy. What I want to know is how you picked up that hot girl and thought you could keep her hidden from me…"

Sam grinned again and flicked a cherry tomato at his brother.

A/N: Feel free to R/R. Any and all flames will be sent down the YED's way. Or possibly directed towards Lilith…