24

Amelia was scared, she still loved Sam, but this love was beginning to be surrounded by a kind of chill. She realized that Sam was not the same, he had become another person since he came home that night, perhaps his shell was already cut open some cracks since that day Dean appeared, but now it had completely fallen off. He had become a completely different Sam. He stilled looked exactly the same as before, he was gentle and considerate and civil, he had gotten his job back at the law firm. He's like a desensitized newborn, on one hand he's perfect as new, on the other hand, he no longer cares about anything.

Amelia looked at him, he was in front of the mirror, picking out tie to match his outfit for the party.

He's not here.

A voice inside Amelia said.

She still didn't know what had caused this change. Yes, she knew that Dean and him were intimate, his running away must have been one of the reasons. But a lot more happened that night: their hasty engagement made her lies about her ex husband a laughingstock, and it was also her first time seeing Sam's hidden side, he mutilated a thing that looked like Don. Amelia was so worried that she couldn't sleep, she needed him desperately, she needed Sam to hold her in his arms and tell her it's fine, but Sam just left furiously. Amelia knew well that the matter with Don was on her and she couldn't get away with it, she waited for Sam to hit the roof, but he was too calm. When he came home, he had already become the Sam he is now, he told her that he's sorry for everything, and never again did he bring up anything about that night.

"Blue? Or red?" His eyes met hers in the mirror.

She walked over, picked up the red one and tied it for him, "You look fabulous."

Sam kissed her on the cheek. He picked up the car keys, not those of the Impala, he had got himself a new car, the Impala had been parked in the garage ever since it was sent back.

They went together to the Welcome Back party the law firm held for Sam, at which Sam was asked continuously about the date for their wedding, on the third time he was asked he directly took out his phone and asked Amelia after he checked the calender: "How about Valentine's Day? We need to make an early appointment if we want to register on that day. As for the wedding," he said to his colleagues, "we'll settle down the date as early as possible and let you guys know, but I can assure you all that it won't catch you off guard again like our engagement." He smiled timely to show that it was a very successful attempt to make fun of himself.

The boss was particularly happy: "It wasn't easy to find someone that can replace you, Mr. Wesson."

"Looks like I was worrying for nothing." The boss was about to leave after Sam exchanged a few words with him when he remembered a minor case, "There's a Dean Smith, you were once the guardian for that one, NYPD now wants a lawyer for him, interested?"

Amelia awaited Sam's reaction with close attention.

"The public defender's office can take care of this, I've got enough cases on my plate already. I'll take a few more cases after February, now I'm just gonna..." He put his arm around Amelia's waist meaningfully.

"Valentine's Day, I heard." Boss laughed, "Won't there be a honeymoon next?"

"No honeymoon, at least not recently, I promise."

Amelia watched as he answered competently and fluently, that chill was now twining tighter around her limbs, she suddenly had this feeling, it isn't Sam who's not here, but she is, all of them are not here. They don't matter anymore to Sam, she's no longer Amelia but "Sam's fiancee", she's no longer a person to him, but only a symbol, a part of his perfect life.

Amelia gave a shudder. She slipped out of Sam's arm, looking pale. Sam went over to talk to Lindsey, they had a nice chat, until Lindsey gestured to her and Sam walked towards her.

"She asked me to come and look at you." A smile was still lingering on his face, "Lindsey volunteered to take over the Dean Smith case. I know you're a bit worried about this, I don't think I'll be seeing him again."

He spoke as if that was a stranger.

Amelia felt a little nauseous: "I think I want to leave now."

On the whole way home Amelia did not say a single word, there weren't any of those old rock music to fill the silence in Sam's new car. The car stopped, she refused to get out, she folded her arms and made up her mind to ask: "Sam, what on earth happened?"

"What?"

"On that night we got engaged, something happened, Dean left... I want to know why."

"You don't have to worry about these."

"Can't you just tell me? It's me, you can tell me anything."

Sam must have laughed after hearing this, for Amelia heard the little sound of him breathing out. She turned to look at him, Sam said cruelly: "'You'? You're just my fiancee."

He finally said that out loud.

Amelia felt her nausea just got more severe, she realized the man she loved was completely gone.

She stared hard at Sam and asked shakily: "Who are you?"

He was a little stunned. But finally he decided to answer that question, because he had had enough.

"Sam Winchester." He explained further, "A brother, a hunter, a once hero, a coward."

For a while Amelia could only hear herself breathing, but at the same time she felt a hint of absurd sense of relief, as if she had already guessed that a long time ago and now her wisdom had just been confirmed.

"You can leave me, you can also stay. I'll love you in the same way as before and be your partner, we'll make a great team."

She opened her mouth, she accused: "You died on that night."

"It's close, but I didn't die," he was extremely calm, "I'm receiving my punishment."

It's true that the last time he saw Dean was on that night, but it wasn't at the cemetery.

By that time he was already aware of Dean's pain, so he accepted such retaliation. When Dean ordered him to stand there and watch him leave, he got it all at once, this was that night all over again, that night when he left for Stanford. Perhaps Dean didn't even realize it himself that he was being sarcastic without saying it, but Sam—he deserves—to accept all these.

He stood there in thin clothes, and if it weren't for that Dean was still hurt he would've let himself to stand there longer, perhaps even for the whole night. By the time he got to the hospital, Dean was still getting his wounds stitched up in the emergency room. The large amount of blood loss made him look even paler in the light, and he was asleep like a child with his fluffy head tilting towards one side. Sam took his hand, and that was when the nurse came, he questioned quietly about his brother's injuries, thankfully they were all superficial and none of the vital organs were harmed, Sam couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

It took the nurse a while to remember to ask about his relationship with the wounded, it was a small negligence for her. This was entirely because the anxious and sincere look in the tall gentleman's eyes was unmistakable, she made excuses for herself silently.

He smiled politely: "We're brothers."

Dean, whose eyes had been closed all these time, suddenly opened his mouth to deny it, "Not brothers." He mumbled, and squeezed Sam's hand hard, an action so vigorous that you'd doubt a patient could manage it with his strength.

"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that." The nurse's hand holding the pen stopped a moment and hung in the air, she looked at him inquiringly.

"Nothing, he's too tired." Sam sighed, he stood at the bedside, maintaining a vigilant and defensive position. The young nurse surveyed them, she then tore a piece of paper from her pad and handed him, "This is the dosage for each medication." She felt the heat of Sam's gaze on her as if she was some sort of threat. He was haggard, and frankly looked no better than the wounded. She tried to make a joke to ease the tension: "Let him rest a bit more, you can spend the night here, it's not a busy night for us so there are a lot of vacant beds."

"Thank you."

Sam unconsciously crumpled the edge of that piece of paper, his other hand was still holding Dean's hand. The smell of disinfectant had him momentarily lost in his thoughts, he reminded himself that he still had to come up with an at least plausible story, there were only two more hours left before morning would come and he would have to bring Dean back to the police station to cooperate with the investigation. If his body is strong enough to endure it, that is.

He let go of his hand to take the temperature on Dean's forehead, accidentally waking him, Dean groaned.

"Sorry, you alright?"

Dean nodded, his eyes fell on Sam briefly before they slid back to the incandescent lamp. Sam withdrew his hand in silent, he dared not say a single word.

"Go."

"What?" It took Sam a whole second before he realized what Dean had said, "No!"

"I don't have the strength to argue with you anymore." Dean paused, somewhat discouraged, "Just, go."

Sam brushed the hair on his forehead back with his fingers, he frowned helplessly, his eyes wandered and it took his a long time before he finally turned to Dean and stared at him hard. Biting his lip, he gave a stiff smile as if he had only recovered his own voice.

"Drop that thought, Dean, I'm not leaving. Wanna know the reason? Because if I let you go, someday I'll get a phone call telling me, your brother is dead. And I won't even know why, because I won't be by your side. Look at yourself, Dean, you're not going out there to save people, you're going out there to commit suicide, like there's nothing holding you back anymore. You want me to live my life, but you don't care about yourself at all." His words poured out never-endingly, as he said that last sentence Sam wiped his face to press back the tears that came to his eyes, his palms were wet, he continued, "But I care, Dean, I care about you, I can't—"

He looked at Dean, Dean closed his eyes, his eyelashes were fluttering. He couldn't go on.

"Just, think about it, okay? I can't just go live my normal life if you're not safe, isn't it?"

For a while, Sam thought that he had convinced Dean, for Dean nodded slightly, just like what he did every time he compromised with his little brother's puppy eyes.

Nurse came again to check some information with Sam, he hesitated for a moment, patted Dean on his shoulder, and went out. By the time Sam came back, there was already a completely different scene in the ward.

Dean was sitting hunched on the bed with his back arched, he had his head down with his face buried in the covers, one of his hands was tapping on the edge of the bed in a cheery rhythm, while his another hand was block from view by his bent knees. Sam called him, he raised his head slowly, and then, he grinned: "Hi, Sammy." There was a strange sparkle in his eyes.

Sam froze briefly, he knew Dean all too well.

"What did you do—" Sam cried out. At this moment, Dean lowered his knees, revealing his right hand. In his grip lay a cell phone. "What's that?"

"Don't make such a fuss about it, Sammy." Another nurse came over and Dean returned her the cell phone, "Thanks, Lily, you're a real sweetheart."

"Wish you a speedy recovery." Lily winked at him, "Tell me you didn't forget to put in your number."

"Of course not."

"Dean!" Sam's voice of rage.

Please don't, don't be what he thinks it is. Thoughts were roaring in Sam's brain.

"I've thought about it, and indeed I shouldn't let you worry. How should I put it, Sammy, all I want was just for you to live your life happily." Dean laughed, "So—I'm so fucking brilliant—I'll let myself live where you can see me and under absolute safety."

Sam's teeth clattered against each other: "What. Have. You. Done."

"I called 911." He said. "I'm going to jail, nowhere safer than there."

At that moment Sam admitted his defeat. For the first time in his entire life, his stubbornness gave way before his brother.