No! He's My Sam

Someone wants a piece of Sam, it's a shame then that Dean doesn't like to share.

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys because if I did, I'm sure I'd be busy right now : )

No beta on this one so all mistakes are mine. Warning for some bad language because Liz has a potty mouth. Set just after AHBL part 2.

Chapter One

Sam's been gone two hours. Two hours and Dean has almost got a bald spot on the top of his head from where he's been yanking at his hair. Sam only left to fetch some food and Dean's starting to think he needs a new hobby because Sam watching sucks big time. He's been glaring out of the motel window now for the last thirty minutes and no, not one Sammy in sight. If this keeps up he'll never earn his Sammy spotting badge.

It's not like Dean hasn't got a right to be worried. Sam's not exactly got a great track record when it comes to fetching food...that motel room in East Texas, went out to fetch some burgers and...see if they've got any pie, bring me some pie...but Dean doesn't want to think about that thank you very much, not when he's already gagging on his heart which is lodged in his mouth.

Another hour drags by and Dean really has got a bald spot on the top of his head now. He's shuffling around the motel room clutching his cell phone because Sam's not called and Dean's called sixteen times but just keeps on getting voicemail. Yes, Dean's pretty sick of hearing Sam's voicemail message but that doesn't stop him from calling again and he doesn't hang up until the message is over.

Ten minutes later and Dean's out the door, shoving on his coat and hurrying into the biting cold air. Freezing hail and wind slapping at his face like the weather felt some sadistic need to join in the conspiracy to guarantee Dean has a really crappy time. Sam went on foot, but three hours and ten minutes is a heck of a long time to fetch food especially when you've got circus stilt legs like Sam has. Dean leaves the motel realising he doesn't know which way Sam went but this is Hicksville Nondescript town, USA and there are only so many places where Sam could buy food. Dean knows there's a burger joint just a short walk from their motel, so that's as good a place to start as any.

Dean's almost at the burger joint when he spots a familiar figure bobbing down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Dean knows it's Sam from the way his brother's chestnut haired head is towering above the milling locals but Dean pauses to take a second look because whilst Sam is carrying a bag of food under one arm and a bottle of soda under the other, he's sauntering in the wrong direction, he's walking away from their motel.

"Sam!" Dean shouts crossing the street and breaking into a little jog to try and catch up with Sam, whose mammoth strides means he's nearly out of sight. The whole situation would be a lot less aggravating for Dean if he didn't really fucking hate jogging. Running for pleasure, when there's not some frighteningly hideous hell spawn chasing you, just pure craziness.

Sam doesn't stop, doesn't even look round so Dean shouts again only louder, "SAMMY!"

Sam's still walking which is weird because Dean nearly popped his own eardrums with his yell that time and although Sam doesn't seem to have even heard him the locals sure have. Various men, women and children scuttle to get out of Dean's way as he barrels down the sidewalk after his brother. Dean's virtually purple in the face and panting but he finally captures up with Sam grabbing himself a handful of Sam's tan jacket sleeve, effectively pulling him to a halt. Sam turns and seeing Dean breaks into a huge smile. "Oh. Hi Dean."

Dean's furious. Whilst he's been panicking Sam's fine, without a scratch and he's sauntering. As though he suddenly thought it would be a nice idea to go for an afternoon stroll whilst their food goes cold and Dean and his rumbling stomach sit at their grotty, not been renovated since the first moon landing, motel twiddling their thumbs.

"Jesus. Where the hell you going Sam?" Dean manages to blurt out in between gasps for air and Dean thinks maybe he really should take up jogging because he was pretty sure he was fitter than this. Dean knows he's still shouting but doesn't care, although the stares he's attracting from nosy locals isn't helping to improve his mood.

Sam's not answering; he's gawping at the horizon over the top of Dean's head. Dean realises now that Sam looks strange although if you ask Dean, Sam's always looked strange but this is different. His smile has dropped and his expression is blank. His eyes are vacant, unoccupied because evidently Sam Winchester is not in right now. Dean's still furious but worry is beginning to creep in.

Dean shakes Sam's arm, trying to elicit some kind of response but Sam ignores him and his legs start working so that he's moving again, away from Dean and away from their grotty motel. Dean jumps aside so as not to get flattened by scary starey Sam and watches open mouthed as his brother continues on his way.

"Friggin' hell Sam, stop goddamn it!" Dean's getting pissy but it's only because he's meant to be relaxing. The whole reason for stopping in this dead-end burg was so Dean could catch up with a little R&R (Raunchy Rebecca Dean keeps her cell number on speed dial). By rights, he should be on his third beer by now. Sucking dried ketchup from his fingers and patting his full stomach before heading out for a night of fun and frolics with R&R but he's not. He's freezing cold, icy water dripping from his hair, running in rivulets down his forehead and he's chasing Sam. Sam, who he let out of his sight for ten minutes (okay so three hours and ten minutes but Dean's not in the right frame of mind to discuss fine details) and he's gone and got himself whammied.

Dean's not the genius Sam is when it comes to research and Dean's had exactly diddly squat amount of time to do any research but he's almost certain that's what's happened to his brother. Either that or Sam's suddenly decided to do a little method acting for a role as an extra in a remake of "Children of the Damned". Dean doesn't know, doesn't care. Someone's getting their ass kicked for messing with his brother's head and for wasting his precious R&R time which, by the way, Dean had really been looking forward to.

Sam's still heading down the street and disappearing round the corner. Dean doesn't know what else to do apart from physically haul his brother's heavy ass back to the motel but that's not going to answer the question as to what the hell is going on. So Dean does the only other thing he can think of, he follows Sam.


Sam's walking relentlessly and he's started talking to himself too which is freaking Dean out more than the staring and the striding because at first Dean thought Sam was talking to him and Dean was trying to make out what Sam was saying before he realised Sam wasn't talking to him, Sam was having a conversation with someone only he can hear and see. Like that dude in 'Quantum Leap' Dean thinks, only Dean doubts it's Al that Sam's talking to, especially because Sam keeps mumbling "I'm coming, my love."

Sam stops striding so abruptly that Dean almost smacks face first into the back of Sam's jacket, except that Dean's totally like a ninja so he's way too swift and agile for a clumsy mistake like that, he likes to leave that kinda thing to Sam. They're stood outside a ramshackle house that looks older than God and Dean's nose crinkles in disgust at the weird smell wafting from the open windows. Sam doesn't hesitate; he runs up the porch steps, opens the front door and hurries inside, promptly being swallowed by the yawning darkness within. Dean can feel his heckles rise and knows he's going to be kicking the crap out of something pretty soon so he pulls the semi automatic which he had tucked in the back of his jeans and advances towards the front door.