November 2nd, 2005, Palo Alto, California
Blood. All Sam can see is blood. Blood on the floor, blood on his clothes, blood drenching his family. His father and his brother, tall and lethal, with razor-sharp machetes, equally blood-drenched, held at their sides, as bodies and heads, separated neatly, cleanly, professionally, surround their forms. If it had just been heads and bodies, Sam would think they were insane. Serial killers. Brutal, evil, psychopaths with a penchant for decapitation. Except the heads had fangs where teeth should be. And the blood… it was darker, thicker, than any blood had any right to be. Something about it was… heavy. Evil. Cursed. So his father and brother don't look… well, evil and psychopathic anyways. Still brutal, but… righteous. Strong. Like warriors. Even still, they are terrifying. Terrifying to watch, to be around, and Sam feels overwhelmed. Scared. Not of them, necessarily, but of what they do. What that means. He isn't prepared to accept that monsters are real. And, more than that, his family fights them. That they seem to be used to… blood, and carnage, and beheadings. That it seems normal to them. So Sam does the only thing he can do. As cowardly as it is, as weak and as pathetic as it makes him feel, Sam runs.
Sam's eyes flash open and he sits up quickly, gasping for air as if he really has been running for his life. His eyes flash around the room, trying to ground himself, to push away the horrifying memory of that bloodbath from years ago. His eyes touch on the familiar landmarks of his and Jessica's bedroom. The second hand dresser they found at Goodwill. Jessica's vanity, cluttered with makeup, and jewelry. The closet, with its perpetually half opened door. The pile of shoes on the floor, the overflowing laundry basket in the corner. Sam closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he lets the nightmare slip away, grounding himself back in the familiar, safe space of his room, the warmth of his bed and his blankets soothing the raw nerves that the dream exposed. Sam's eyes flicker to the alarm clock on his nightstand, the ungodly hour of six am on the dot blinking at him. His eyes move towards the calendar, a heavy weight resting on his shoulders. November Second. The anniversary.
Sam lets out a small, sharp breath, throwing his blanket aside as he prepares himself for the day. Today has always been hard, every year of his life, but it has been worse since he has gotten to Stanford. At least, before, he had had Dean and his father to help carry the weight, the grief. Now he has to shoulder it alone. Another consequence of his spur of the moment, chaotic choice that he made that damn summer. Not that he will be entirely alone. Jessica has always been incredible, the last three years. Supportive, kind, understanding. Just amazing, as she always is. And Dean will call. He always does, to check in. Maybe even Dad to.
But that isn't the same as being together, being here. They will be somewhere else, who knows where, doing… work. Pest control. Sam snorts at the thought, anger and amusement mixing together. He can't exactly accuse them of having lied to him most of his life, but they had never exactly clarified what kind of pests they exterminated either. So it is less of a lie, and more like… a half-truth. But a half-truth isn't the full truth, and Sam's hurt over that, over being kept in the dark so long is partly why he is still so mad with them. So hurt. Why he barely calls them once a month these days, why he only ever texts Dean back every so often. He has never wanted to cut his family out of his life entirely, never could, but he can't see them the same way either. He can't pretend that his loving father, and his protective brother haven't hidden such a large piece of their lives from him for all of Sam's life, kept him separate from the family since he was an infant.
Whether it was to protect him or not is irrelevant. They chose to not include Sam in the family business, to risk their lives and limbs every day, knowing that if something happened to them, Sam would never know. Never understand. So, it is only fair that now, at last, they are the ones left out of Sam's life, Sam's choices. Even if he misses them more than anything. Even if he would go to them, in a second, if they asked, if they needed him. But they haven't, not once since Sam left for his freshman year. So he has kept away, and started his life over. He found Jess. And his once close knit family has splintered into one that includes occasional phone calls, and no conversation deeper than the weather, or what Sam is studying, how his school is going. Their job is never brought up, either by Sam, or his brother and father, which is fine by Sam.
Accepting the fact that vampires are real was hard enough. The nightmares are constant, especially on days like today, and for the first few weeks, hell, months even, after the whole warehouse incident Sam had been petrified of the dark. Petrified of overly friendly strangers, cars that got too close. Afraid he would be pulled into one, or held at gun point again, before being kidnapped and faced with more fangs, fangs that would do more to him than just sneer, and taunt, and use him for bait. He can still remember all the things that… thing, that had killed Jack and Emma had told him, while they were waiting for his dad and brother to arrive. All the things he said he would do to Sam. And Sam has no problem believing that a vampire could do all of that. And probably more.
It had ruined Halloween for him. Ruined night runs, or really anything involving the dark, or being outside after the sun goes down. Ruined monster movies. Even now, four years later, things involving vampires in any way are firmly on his Nope List. Like the new romance book Jess is so into, Twilight or something, that just came out in September. He had tried to read it with Jess, but the second he realized that there were vampires, he had had to bolt from the room. Jess had been curious, and confused, but she had backed off when Sam asked her to, and they haven't spoken about it since. She knows all about his aversion to vampires of course, so that helps, but she doesn't know the details. And, God willing, she never will.
Sam won't allow her innocence to be stolen, the way his was. And maybe that makes him a hypocrite, considering his anger with his family, but so be it. He is fine with being a hypocrite, if it keeps Jess safe. Sam glances down at his phone, frowning as he thinks about how it will ring later, and Dean will be on the other end, ready as always to help Sam through today. But maybe… maybe it can be more than that. Maybe it is time for Sam to start getting over his issues. Maybe that is the best way he can honor his mother, the woman he has never known. Maybe reuniting their family is what she would want from him.
"You think too much in the mornings, you know that?" Jessica's voice reaches him, and Sam looks towards the bedroom door, to see his very own angel smiling softly at him. Tiny, and slender, with gentle blonde waves falling around an angelic face, set with mischievous blue eyes and a kind smile, she is easily the most beautiful girl Sam has ever seen. Way out of his league, and he knows it. He smiles, unable to help himself in the face of the simple joy radiating from the love of his life.
"Do I?" He teases.
"Oh definitely." Jess grins. "Come on, some coffee will mellow you out." She extends her hand, and Sam rises easily, walking straight to her, his hand quickly taking hers. He has never been able to resist Jess, not once since they met in the library, crossing paths in the classical literature section. Jess gently tugs him from the bedroom, and towards their tiny kitchen. Sam follows without complaint, leaning against the counter as she starts to search through the cabinets for their coffee. "Oh crap." She sighs. "I think I used the last of it yesterday." Sam sighs dramatically.
"Okay, well, clearly we are going to have to break up." He jokes. "Some things just can't be forgiven."
"Or, my knight in shining armor can run on down to our favorite café, and bring something back?" Jess asks, her eyes wide and innocent and sweet, even as a wicked, seductive grin twists at her lips. Sam laughs, raising his eyebrows.
"Why do I have to go?" He jokingly complains. "You are the one who finished off the coffee in the first place, how is this now my problem?"
"Well, knights in shining armor always get rewarded for their brave quests, don't they?" Jessica asks, her voice low and sultry as she moves over to Sam, wrapping her delicate arms around his waist. "Maybe if you accomplish your goal, a certain damsel will be overwhelmed with gratitude… and eager to show it." Sam swallows, looking down at her wide, wickedly innocent eyes, heat rushing over him as he gently brushes a lock of blonde hair out of her face. His own voice lowers, coming out gruffer and rougher than normal.
"Well, if there is a damsel involved… how on Earth could I say no?" Sam asks. Jess grins wider.
"I think it's literally impossible to, at this point." She teases. Sam leans down, pressing his lips to hers, in a soft, warm kiss. Jessica responds, her arms tightening around his waist, before she pulls back, stepping away, a delightfully dark, heavy look to her eyes. "Better get going, Brave Knight." She teases.
"As you wish." Sam says, quoting one of their favorite movies, the first one they ever watched together. Putting on his best Dread Pirate Roberts smile, Sam turns and heads back to their bedroom, Jessica's warm, beautiful laugh, light and full of life, filling the air of their apartment, chasing away the lingering darkness of his nightmares, and easing some of the heaviness of the day. She has always been able to do that for Sam. Make a hard day easier, chase away his bad thoughts. And Sam loves her for it. He doesn't know what he would do without her steadfast, solid presence in his life. Changing quickly into some jeans, and an old, faded Metallica shirt that had once been Dean's, Sam grabs his jacket and keys, stuffing his wallet and phone into his back pocket, and heads out, bypassing Jess and her wicked smirk on his way out the door.
Smiling at her antics, and still feeling the heat from their playful banter, and all of its promises for later, Sam hurries down the stairs, exiting out of the student housing block and into the early morning air. Already the sun is rising, bright and clear, in a beautiful blue sky, and heat starts to shimmer, burning away the morning mist. Sam loves the California heat. The warmth, the sun, it is welcoming, and joyful. And, an effective deterrent to vampires, hopefully. Sam sets off across campus, the grounds of Stanford still and quiet, too early for classes yet. The only people Sam sees are the early birds, the all night studiers stumbling out of the libraries, and the athletes, going for morning jogs or bike rides. Everything is peaceful, right. Normal.
Letting the tranquility wash over him, Sam sets off towards his and Jess' preferred coffee shop, a small, local hang out for Stanford kids that has some of the best brews Sam has had in his life, and for someone who spent most of his life on the road, going from town to town, visiting thousands of different coffee shops, that is saying something. Gloriously open 24/7, the little Café, called Cool Beans Coffee, caters to every kind of student the prestigious college could offer- marathon studiers, surrounded by books and notes, partiers in desperate need of a morning pick me up, the early risers with no concept of the phrase sleeping in, and everything in between. Sam steps into the small space, a small chime announcing his presence, and his eyes sweep over the small space. A few booths line the windows, a couple of tables lay scattered around, and in the back corner, a low table is framed by a couple of bean bag chairs, in front of a roaring fireplace. Bookshelves, full of battered textbooks, a few novels, and board games, stand guard on either side of the fire.
And of course, the coffee bar itself stands just in front of the entry way, a glass case displaying rows of fresh baked pastries just off to the side of the register, and a large blackboard displaying the menu hangs over the back wall. As Sam makes his way to the counter, the door to the back swings open, a young woman stepping out in the all black uniform of the staff, a pink apron around her waist. Sam grins, recognizing her. She returns the smile, the same recognition in her eyes.
"Hey Sam." She greets excitedly.
"Hey Becky." Sam returns. "Morning shift huh? That sucks."
"It's not so bad." Becky shrugs. "Better than the midnight shift, to tell you the truth. Especially with exams coming up." Sam laughs.
"Fair point." He agrees. Becky is in the same social work program as Jess, and her young brother, Zach, is pre-law, like Sam, although a year behind Sam himself. Becky moves to the register, raising her eyebrows.
"The usual for you and Jess? Since we both know you are a dead man if you come back without anything for her." Becky teases. Sam grins, as a small chime and the sound of the door opening announces the arrival of another customer, though Sam ignores it, focusing on the glass display of treats.
"Yeah, the usual works. Plus a dozen chocolate chip muffins, if you can." Sam orders, pulling out his wallet.
"Damn kiddo. You aren't planning on eating all of those alone are you?" The voice, warm, and teasing, and so, so familiar, wraps over Sam, like a blanket on a cold night. Soft, and familiar, and safe. Sam spins around quickly, disbelief, and hope, coursing through him. Standing there, almost exactly the way Sam remembers from the last time he had seen him, is Dean. Clad in denim and flannel, a leather jacket, wearing the amulet Sam had gifted him, and a cocky grin like he owned the entire damn city, Dean stands tall and confident, at ease like he doesn't have a care in the world. His eyes, a deep emerald green, gleam with amusement and fondness, his blonde hair cropped as short as ever. He is a little paler than last time Sam had seen him, the weight in his eyes a little heavier, and there is a fading bruise on his cheek, but it is all Dean. One hundred percent annoying, frustrating, arrogant but irreplaceable big brother.
"Dean." Sam says softly, shocked. He had been expecting a phone call, maybe, but here Dean is. In the flesh, standing a few feet from him, for the first time in years. Without another moment of hesitation, everything else forgotten, Sam launches himself at his brother, pulling him into a tight hug. Dean laughs softly, his arms easily wrapping around Sam. They feel safe, and secure. Even after so long, after how they had parted ways, it still feels like coming home as Sam embraces his big brother, four years' worth of missing him pouring itself into the fierce embrace.
"Whoa, easy there tiger." Dean jokes, staggering slightly under the sudden impact of his six-foot-four moose of a brother slamming into him. "It's good to see you to."
"How… what… why are you here?" Sam asks, stepping back to give his brother some space, but keeping a grip on his arm, terrified that Dean might disappear as suddenly and as without warning as he appeared in the first place. Dean's eyes soften at the question, and Sam can tell Dean knows Sam didn't ask it out of anger, or irritation, or anything at all negative. Sam's tone is wonderous, as if Dean's unexpected visit is a miracle. Which it is.
"Why don't we grab a coffee, and I'll explain?" Dean asks. Sam nods, still stunned at the way this morning has changed so drastically. Dean glances past him to Becky, smiling his easy, charming smile that almost always gets him his way. "Hey sweetheart. The coffees and muffins that this dork ordered, and a large coffee, two sugar please." Becky nods, watching the interaction with wide, surprised and curious eyes.
"So you are Dean." She says, as she enters the order, glancing over at Sam who nods in confirmation.
"You know me?" Dean asks, glancing at his brother as well. Sam blushes slightly.
"Oh yeah." Becky grins at that all-but-confirmation. "Sam never shuts up about his big brother."
"Oh, really?" Dean looks at Sam, grinning wickedly, in a way that makes Sam groan. A whole ton of big brother mockery is heading his way, he just knows it. "Well it is a pleasure to meet you darling. Are you the lovely Jess he can't talk about without damn near causing cavities?" Sam blushes more as Becky laughs.
"No, I am just his friend, Becky." She answers, offering her hand. Dean shakes it. "Jessica is at home, waiting on her boyfriend and their morning coffee actually." She starts bustling behind the counter, moving to make the three coffees and the gather the muffins, as Dean sets down a wad of cash on the counter.
"Ah, I am sorry Sammy, I didn't know I was interrupting you love birds this morning." Dean apologizes mockingly. Sam rolls his eyes, gathering the coffees and muffins from Becky.
"Thanks Becky." He mutters. She smiles and nods.
"No problem. It was nice to finally meet you." Becky says, winking at Dean. He smirks, winking back.
"Likewise, sweetheart." He replies. Sam rolls his eyes and starts heading towards one of the booths. Dean follows, sliding easily into one side as Sam takes the other, pulling out his phone and texting Jessica to say he is going to be late. Putting the phone away, Sam looks up to see Dean already sipping his coffee, studying Sam with a serious, assessing gaze. Sam smirks, the look so achingly familiar. It was Dean's making-sure-Sam-is-okay look. "You're looking good, Sammy." Dean says after a moment. "College seems to be agreeing with you." Sam looks down at his own coffee, smiling slightly.
"Thanks." Sam mutters, looking back at Dean, doing an assessment of his own. "You're looking good to." Dean smiles wryly.
"Better than being covered in blood, anyways." He remarks. Sam snorts. Only Dean could make him laugh about something as traumatic as that day had been. Even still, Dean's gaze softens again. "Sam I… I am really sorry for all that. You have no idea." Sam looks down at his coffee. "We should have told you the truth, long before it came out like that."
"It's okay Dean." Sam looks up, his hazel eyes meeting Dean's green, his voice and expression earnest, sincere. "I mean… yeah, it hurts being left out of the truth for so long but… I get where you are coming from. I do. You just wanted to keep me safe."
"Yeah, we did." Dean sighs softly. "Worked out great, didn't it?"
"It did, Dean." Sam says quietly, but firmly. "You saved my life. You and Dad and Uncle Bobby. If you guys hadn't… done what you had to, then that monster would have…" Sam shivers, unable to finish the thought.
"It never should have come to that, though." Dean says guiltily. "Emma and Jack never should have been able to grab you in the first place. Dad and I… we should have done more. At the very least warned you, so you could have been prepared." So much pain and regret fills his brother's face, that Sam's heart aches. All his anger, all his betrayed, hurt feelings, fly out the window in the face of Dean's raw vulnerability. Sam leans forward, desperate to reassure his older brother, to comfort him, the way Dean has always comforted him.
"Dean, honestly, it isn't your fault." He says quickly, before flashing a grin. "Besides, you didn't see Emma's sundress… I doubt any preparation could have competed with that." Dean laughs, loud and raucously at that, all traces of guilt and regret wiped from his expression.
"Touche little brother. Touche." He says after his laughter dies down, although he still chuckles. "But you are lucky your girlfriend isn't here to hear that." Sam just grins.
"Yeah well, her sundresses are even better, and she knows it." He jokes lightly. Dean laughs again.
"I can't wait to officially meet her. See this rare creature who got Sammy Winchester's attention in a nerd Heaven like this one." Dean teases. Sam rolls his eyes, but a small spark of pleasure and delight fills him, tempered slightly by a little bit of doubt.
"You really want to meet Jess?" Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Why wouldn't I?" Dean asks. Sam glances down at his hands, biting his lip nervously.
"Well… Dean she… she makes me really, really happy." Sam looks up cautiously, but Dean just looks open, and curious, if a little concerned. Not angry, or judgmental, or hurt, like Sam half feared. "I love her, Dean. And I want… I want to spend the rest of my life with her." He hesitates, chewing on his lip, before spitting out the rest of the truth. "I am going to ask her to marry me, Dean." Dean's eyebrows raise, surprise flickering through his gaze. "And… I wanted to tell you sooner, wanted to introduce you sooner, but I… I just didn't want Dad, or you to think…"
"What?" Dean asks gently. "That you were replacing us, or something?" Sam looks down, ashamed that the thought had even crossed his mind, but unable to deny the truth of it either. "Sammy… Look at me." Sam looks up anxiously, Dean's expression calm, and sympathetic. "You are allowed to be happy kiddo. To find someone who makes you happy. Dad and I know that you want more for your life, that you wanted college, that you want that white-picket, stable life. And we want that for you to. So if this girl, your Jessica, can you help you get that, than we are behind you, a hundred percent."
"Really?" Sam asks, hopeful and excited.
"Absolutely." Dean smiles encouragingly, before his eyes gleam mischievously. "Although I reserve the right to reserve judgement. After all, she has to be some kind of basket case to settle for you." The teasing lacks any real heat, or malice, so Sam just snorts, shaking his head.
"I see your sense of humor still hasn't matured from when you were twelve." Sam says snidely. Dean shrugs.
"Why fix what isn't broken?" He asks, smirking. Sam rolls his eyes again, taking a sip of his coffee.
'So… proposing huh?" Dean asks after a moment of comfortable silence. Sam glances back at his brother's thoughtful expression.
"Yeah." Sam says softly.
"You think you are ready for something like that? Marriage?" Dean asks. Sam smiles, thinking of Jess. Her kindness, her gentleness, her clever, quick wit, and her radiant air of brightness.
"Yeah, I am. If it's with her, I am ready for anything." Sam says firmly, decidedly.
"Well, I am proud of you, kiddo." Dean says, pride and fondness evident in his entire being. "You've grown up. College, your girl… I think you made the right choice, that summer. Being on your own has done wonders for you." Sam smiles gratefully, before hesitating.
"Dean… you and dad know that I… I didn't leave because I was… mad at you, right? I mean, I was angry but that wasn't why I had to go…" Sam says, rambling. Dean raises his hand to stop Sam, smirking.
"Relax tiger, we know." He says gently. "Learning the truth about what is out there is brutal, for anybody. You were overwhelmed, and scared… we get it. We know you need your space." Sam studies his brother, and his thoughts turn to what he was thinking about this morning, to how he thought he could honor the memory of his mother. And seeing Dean, so open, so trusting, so… purely Dean, resolves him on the spot. He takes a deep breath, before speaking again.
"Needed." Sam corrects him softly. He watches the confusion flash across Dean's eyes. "I needed my space, yeah but… not anymore. I don't… I don't want to keep myself away from you guys, not anymore." Dean blinks, understanding and relief settling into his expression.
"What changed your mind?" Dean asks curiously. Sam smiles sadly.
"Mom, mostly." He admits. Dean's eyes widen in shock.
"Mom?" He asks. Sam nods.
"Yeah… I know she is gone, but… I don't think she would want us to keep going the way we have been." Sam says honestly. "Look, I am not saying I want to… er, join the family business, or anything. I don't think um… pest control, is something I could do. Or want to do. But I don't want to be so scared of it that I let it keep me from you guys, anymore. I am proud of you. And Dad. And I mean… you guys are heroes. You save lives. And clearly, you are good at what you do. You like it, I can tell. So… I think it is long past time that I give you guys the same curtesy that you gave me. You guys supported me going to college. You seem to be okay with Jess. So the least I can do is return the favor. Mom would want us to still be a family, and honestly, I want that to." Dean watches Sam thoughtfully as he speaks, gratefulness shining out of his eyes, but there is something else there to. A level of comprehension.
"Jess doesn't know about what happened that summer, does she?" He asks quietly, but shrewdly. Sam watches his brother, knowing that, as clever as Dean is, he has already put everything together in his head, he is just waiting for Sam to confirm it.
"No." Sam admits. "She doesn't. God forbid she ever finds out."
"So that's what changed… you forgave us." There is no judgement or accusation in Dean's voice. Just warmth, understanding. Sam nods slowly.
"I know what I am doing to her… is the same thing you guys did to me." Sam says slowly. "I see where you guys were coming from now. I understand it. And I feel exactly the same way. And if I am going to be with Jess, the way I want to, I can't keep holding that grudge against you." Sam sighs softly. "Besides, I am tired. Tired of the resentment, the frustration. I just… want a clean start Dean. And since… I plan on proposing to Jessica soon, and I am graduating with my bachelor's degree in June, before hopefully starting law school, so… it just feels like the right time to start over. Start fresh." Dean watches Sam for a long moment, before the hint of a smile tugs at his lips.
"I couldn't agree more, little brother." Dean says gently. "Actually uh… it's funny. You asked earlier why I was here… well, I've been thinking along the same lines."
"Really?" Sam asks. Dean nods slowly, his eyes growing distant as he looks out the window.
"I've missed you, Sammy." He admits in a quiet, regretful voice. "Dad and I… we weren't the same, after you left. It was like there was a hole, a gap, that nothing could fill. And we spoke a lot, about that day… that warehouse. What happened, what we could have done better, what we should have done… and, you know… in the aftermath, we weren't exactly the best support system either. Dad was a mess, drunk half the time, and I… well, I did my best, but I didn't know how to help you, since it was Dad who helped me the first time I saw a monster die. And we could have done more while you've been here at school, I know that. The… distance, the estrangement between us… that isn't all on you. So, for our part, for what its worth… I'm sorry." Warmth, relief, sympathy and gratitude wash through Sam at his brother's words.
"I'm sorry to." Sam says, as sincere as he possibly can be. And then, because he knows how uncomfortable chick-flick moments can be for his emotions-are-the-worst brother, he cracks a small smirk. "So uh… if I invite you over, to come meet Jess, no vampires are going to follow us back to my place, right?" It takes a lot in Sam to crack the joke, given the not-so-small shudder of fear that courses through him at even the word of that particular breed of monster, but it is worth every ounce of effort when Dean laughs, throwing his head back.
"No Sammy." He says grinning, when his wild, carefree mirth finally dies down. "No fangs, I promise."
"Great." Sam grins, standing up and grabbing the muffins and Jessica's coffee, glad that she drinks it at any temperature since it is tepid at best by this point, and definitely by the time they get back across campus. "Because that would really freak Jess out." Dean chuckles, standing as well, and following Sam out of the little shop, with one last wave goodbye to Becky at the counter. Sam shoots off a quick text to Jess, saying that he is on the way back with a guest, in case Jess was planning anything… special, for Sam's reward for his quest. But he keeps Dean's identity a secret, not wanting to ruin the surprise.
"Well, the last thing we want is to freak out your girlfriend too much." Dean says, in a mock serious voice, before striding off towards a nearby gun metal grey Dodge Charger. Sam hesitates, before following after him.
"Where uh… where is the Impala?" Sam asks curiously. Dean was almost always inseparable from the thing. Had something happened to the old beast? Surely if it had, Dean would have told him… Dean groans, breaking Sam out of his idle curiosity.
"At Bobby's, with Dad." Dean explains, looking thoroughly put out at the concept. "He, and the car got beat up on our last… job. So Dad is patching himself up, and Bobby is working on Baby." Sam snorts, and Dean tosses a glance towards him, raising an eyebrow.
"Sorry its just… I assumed you would have wanted to fix Baby up yourself." Sam points out.
"I did but…" Dean frowns, studying Sam carefully. "I knew today was coming up and… well, I just thought you might need me more than she does at the moment." This time Sam is more incredulous, than amused.
"You left your most prized possession in the world in the hands of another mechanic, even if it is Bobby, just to… come check on me?" Sam asks, feeling incredibly touched. Dean shrugs, shifting uncomfortably.
"What can I say… I just had a hunch." Dean says gruffly. "Now get in the car." Dean slides into the driver's seat, while Sam climbs into the passenger one, closing his door and buckling up.
'So uh… what happened to Dad? To the car?" Sam asks after pointing Dean in the direction of the student housing block.
"Ah, you don't want to hear about that." Dean says absently. "It was job related."
"I know. That's why I am asking." Sam says firmly. Dean glances at him, surprised, before he chuckles, shaking his head.
"You were really serious, weren't you?" He asks. "About wanting to reconnect. About wanting to be more… open, and supportive of the kind of work that Dad and I do."
"Yeah, I was." Sam says solemnly. Dean grins.
"Well, then if you really want to know, it was a shifter." Dean says. Sam raises his eyebrows.
"As in, shapeshifter?" Sam asks. Dean nods.
"Yup. Sneaky, dangerous bastards. And gross. They literally peel off their own skin to change forms. Teeth pop out of their skulls, fingernails are shed like scales, and skin slides off of their bone like melted ice cream." Sam wrinkles his nose in disgust at the vivid description. Dean smirks at Sam's discomfort. "They can take on any appearance, usually just with a touch of their victim's skin. Even access that person's memories, to become the perfect doppelgänger."
"So uh… how do you know you are dealing with a shapeshifter?" Sam asks. Dean grimaces.
"They are tricky, but they leave signs. Their eyes glow yellow in reflections, and they are vulnerable to silver. Knives, bullets, hell even candlestick holders if you are desperate. Silver burns them, like hot iron burns humans. And, if you pay close attention, you can usually track down where one is operating. People seeing double, people suddenly acting out of character. See, shapeshifters thrive on chaos. They set out to ruin the lives of the people they change into, if they don't just kill them first. The one we were hunting was particularly evil."
"How so?" Sam asks, a morbid sense of curiosity overcoming him. Dean grimaces, his eyes flashing with hate.
"He changed into someone and then targeted their family." Dean says coldly. "He would take on the form of a husband, or a father, or a boyfriend or something, and then when the wife, or kid or whoever got home, he would tie them up and… well. You don't need the details. Needless to say, monster is an apt name." Sam listens in horrified silence. "Dad and I caught up to him, after several guys were framed for the torture and murder of their family members. He had one lady tied up, and had hurt her, but she was still alive. Dad took on the shifter while I got her to safety. Dad got the bastard in the end, silver bullet in the heart, but he got beat pretty badly himself, otherwise he would have come with me." Dean glances over at Sam. "He misses you to, you know."
"Yeah… I figured." Sam smiles slightly, although his thoughts are still swirling on everything else Dean has told him. How anything could do something that evil, that… messed up, is beyond him. Those poor families… thinking they were betrayed by people they thought loved them, were supposed to protect them… and they will probably never know the real truth. "Jeeze Dean… I'm sorry you had to deal with that." Sam says, because he has no idea what else he could possibly say in response. Dean, in turn, just shrugs, as he pulls into the parking lot outside of the student housing. He turns off the car, sighing heavily.
"Yeah well… its why we do the job." Dean says after a moment. "At least the thing is dead now, and can't hurt anyone else." He starts to climb out of the car, and Sam follows, holding his gifts for Jess.
"So uh… what happened to the Impala?" Sam asks, curious despite himself.
"What?" Dean asks.
"You said Dad got hurt by the shifter, but how did the Impala get totaled?" Sam clarifies.
"Oh, uh… the thing tried to run, escape the house we caught it in. Managed to get to the street, and I guess decided that the car was perfect for throwing Dad up against." Dean says, looking annoyed at the very thought. "Busted the windshield, the hood, the passenger side windows, dented the doors… made a total mess." Sam groans in sympathy, knowing how much his brother and father love that car. Hell, how much he loves that car. He starts leading the way back towards his and Jess' apartment, nerves and excitement starting to settle in him. Two of the most important people in his life are about to meet for the first time, and he can't wait. Unlocking the door, while balancing the muffins and coffee in one hand, Sam leads Dean up the staircase, and down the familiar hall.
"Nice crib." Dean grins at the fairly worn, old building. It isn't derelict, or anything, but has definitely seen better days. Sam snorts.
"Shut up, it's cheap." Sam responds, unlocking the door. Dean follows him into the small apartment, and Sam's nerves suddenly shoot up. Will Dean approve of the home he and Jess have made? Will he like it? Would it measure up to his expectations? Even now, after all these years, Sam is petrified of letting his big brother down, in any way. Dean closes the door behind them, as Sam moves towards the counter, setting down his muffins and sniffing, the delicious scent of cookies filling the air. "Jess! I'm back." He hears movements coming from the bedroom, and smiles, glancing back at Dean excitedly, before looking back as their bedroom door opens and Jess walks into the living room, curiosity in her eyes, which immediately flicker to Dean.
A warm smile begins to grace her beautiful lips and Sam goes to introduce his girlfriend to his brother. But before he can get the words out, before he can speak, a loud, sharp cracking sound, like the breaking of a broom, echoes through the apartment. Everything seems to freeze, to stop, and Sam finds himself frozen, rooted to the spot, his eyes locked on Jessica's. Her expression turns to shock, then confusion, then pain and fear in the span of a second, as deep, dark red begins to blossom across her white blouse, directly over her heart. An eternity passes in another second, and then she is falling, collapsing to the ground like a puppet cut from their strings. Sam can't move. Can't breathe. Can't do a damn thing but stare at where, seconds ago, his girlfriend, the love of his life, stood, warm and welcoming, and alive.
And then, almost as if betraying him, Sam's eyes flicker, not towards his brother, but towards the apartment's metallic fridge. Recently cleaned and polished, he can easily see his reflection, his pale, ghost-white skin and blown eyes, wide with fear and incomprehension. Behind him, he sees Dean. Calm, collected, smirking his arrogant smirk, his hand held out, a gun nestled perfectly into his palm. With eyes that gleam gold in the reflective surface.