Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own supernatural, but am an avid watcher.

Hey, long time no see, Guys. Hope y'all are doing good and are still interested. Anywho, here's the next chapter. Enjoy! Love, Brownie.


Chapter 10: Oh, Brother

Sam's heart started racing when he heard the familiar chuckle and he tilted his head up to look into familiar green eyes. And, out of the blue, emotions that he'd repressed for a hundred and fifty-two years hit him, and suddenly he's out of breath and panting, but he recovers quickly and comments, "You scared the crap out of me."

Still pinning Sam to the ground leisurely, Dean counters, "That's cause you're out of practice."

Like hell am I gonna take that standing down, thought Sam, then gracefully executed a flip, leaving him on top, and stared down at his big brother defiantly: daring him to comment.

"Or not," Dean laughed. Then, "Get off me."

Sam pushed himself off of the floor and Dean, and, knowing better than to offer Dean a hand-up, waited for his brother to follow suit. Once Dean was standing, he walked up to him and asked, "Dean, what the hell are you doing here?"

His brother answered with a grin, one that Sam knew meant that he was about to lie, and answered, "Well, I was looking for a beer."

Irritated, Sam barked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Putting his hands up on either side of his head defensively and replied, "Okay, all right, we gotta talk."

Sam frowned at him and matter-of-factly retorted, "Uh, the phone?"

With a sad look covering his face, Dean faced Sam and, with his right hand resting on his cheek, questioned, "If I'd have called, would you have picked up?"

Sam was struck speechless because he didn't have an answer to that; he honestly didn't know what he would have done. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Dean – there wasn't anything he wanted to do more – but he didn't know if he would have had the guts to actually pick the phone up. And what would he have said anyway, "Hey, Dean. Me? Oh, I'm good, just came back from hell; I can't walk, I can barely see and I hurt all over: you know, the usual. What about you?"

Yeah, that would have gone over great, he thought rhetorically as he tried to think of an answer, although he was pretty sure that his silence had already answered the question for Dean. He was jerked from his thoughts when he heard the click that he associated with the light switch, then suddenly the living room was bathed in light, and he was greeted with the enticing image of Jess with her sleep-ruffled hair wearing her Smurfs' pajamas.

"Sam," she called, before she spotted him and started heading his way. He noticed Dean's eyes run up and down the length of his girlfriend's body appreciatively and internally rolled his eyes. Externally, he turned to face his girlfriend and said, "Jess, hey," then pivoting to face his brother, he introduced, "Dean, this is my girlfriend Jess."

Jess, who had never seen his brother, even when they had been kids, asked, "Wait, your brother, Dean?" She left the 'the one you sold your soul for,' part unsaid, but Sam heard it anyway, and answered with a nod.

That was when his brother took over, and, staring at Jess's top, remarked, "I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother's league." Jess chose not to comment on that, having heard more than enough about Dean in the course of their relationship, and chose to try to make a good impression on someone that obviously meant so much to her fiancé, "Just let me put something on."

She started to turn, but was stopped by Dean, "No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it…" he paused for a second to grin at her wickedly, then continued, "Seriously." She could feel the shift in the air when he turned serious, even though his face didn't project it, "Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend over here, talk about some private family business, but, uh, nice meeting you,"

He chewed on his bottom lip as he waited impatiently for her to leave, but that didn't happen because Sam, who was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his girlfriend, chose that moment to proclaim, "No. No. Whatever you wanna say, you can say it in front of her." It's not like she doesn't already know it, thought Sam.

"Okay," complied Dean, "Um…Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

"So he's working overtime on a "Miller Time" shift; he'll stumble back in sooner or later."

"Dad's on a hunting trip," clarified Dean, making sure to emphasize "hunting," thinking that Sam would tell Jess to leave when he figured out what he was talking about, "And he hasn't been home in a few days."

Dean's eyes widened, but he recovered quickly when Sam's only reaction was to tighten his grip on his girlfriend's hand and drawl, "And…?"

"He's missing!"

Sam released Jess's hand and emphasized his words with his hands, "You remember the poltergeist in Amherst, or…or the Devil's gate in Clifton?" Then, without wasting any time, elaborated, "He was missing then too, he's always missing and he's always fine."

"Not for this long," Dean countered, looking his little brother in the eye, "I need you to help me find him."

"Dean, you can't just break in, in the middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you."

"You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing; he needs our help. Now, are you coming or not?"

"I'm not," asserted Sam, looking his brother right in the eyes.

"Why not?" asked Dean incredulously, like who wouldn't want to leave in the middle of the night to hunt a monster.

"I swore I was done hunting for good, Dean," answered Sam, remembering his promise to himself after he'd come back from perdition, the underworld – whatever you want to call it, and found a family who accepted him for who he was, I'm never hunting again, I'm gonna reinvent myself, be Sam Petrovich Winchester and have a normal life with my girlfriend and family.

"Oh, come on," complained Dean, "it wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad."

"Yeah?" asked Sam, "Dean, when I told Dad that I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me a .45."

"Well, what was he supposed to do?"

"I was nine years old, Dean. He was supposed to say, "Don't be afraid of the dark."

"Don't be afraid of the dark?" repeated Dean incredulously, "What…Are you kidding me? Of course, you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there!"

"Yeah, I know, but still – the way we grew up after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her, but we still haven't found the damn thing, so we kill everything that we can find."

"Save a lot of people doing it too," Dean pointed out.

"You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" Sam inquired, honestly curious about his brother's answer.

Of course, like every other time a topic that he didn't want to talk about came up, his brother deflected; "You think we should be talking about this in front of her," he said, flicking his head in Jess's general direction.

"It doesn't matter; she already knows everything."

"Everything," asked Dean, turning his head to look at the blonde-haired beauty that was his brother's girlfriend, "even the wea…"

Jess cut him off, "Yes, even the weapon training and the melting silver into bullets."
Huh," commented Dean, then turned his head back to his brother, "So, this is what you wanna do? You wanna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?"

"Not normal," argued Sam, "Safe."

"And that's why you ran away?" scoffed Dean.

If you only knew, Dean, if you only knew, thought Sam, before lying, "I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, then I should stay gone. That's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble, if he's not dead already, I can feel it. I can't do this alone, Sam."

"Yeah, you can."

"Well, I don't want to," Dean replied, turning to walk out and down the stair, and, after getting a nod from Jess, which approved more than just walking out the door, Sam followed suit.

"So what's he hunting?" asked Sam as they walked down the curved staircase.

"All right, where did I put that thing," muttered Dean as he dug in the trunk of the Impala, not seeing Sam run his hand along the car that had been home for as long as he could remember reverently due to his search. Sam jumped and moved his hand when Dean exclaimed, "Here it is," his voice getting louder with each letter as he pulled his head out from under the trunk.

He handed Sam the stapled stack of clippings and started explaining, "So, Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy, they found his car, but he'd vanished completely M.I.A."

"So maybe he was kidnapp – wait, you didn't go with him?" Sam asked, looking up from the clippings.

"Dude, I'm 26. I as working my own gig: this voodoo thing down in New Orleans."

Sam listened to Dean tell him about all the missing persons and listened intently as he played the voicemail Dad had left him, "Dean, something is starting to happen; I think it's serious. I need to figure this out." He frowned when the static took over and nothing could be comprehended, then concentrated when his Dad's voice started talking again, "Be very careful, Dean, we're all in danger."

"You know there's EVP on that?" asked Sam, swearing internally because he knew that he was getting pulled into this.

"Not bad, Sammy," complimented Dean, "Kind of like riding a bike isn't it? All right. I slowed the message down, and ran it through a Gold Wave took out the hiss, and this is what I got."

Sam listened intently and repeated what he heard the woman on the voicemail say, "I can never go home."

He was startled when Dean slammed the trunk shut and, bracing himself by placing his hands on the trunk, said, "You know, in almost two years, I've never bothered you: never asked you for a thing."

"All right, I'll go. I'll help you find him, "he conceded, "but I have to be back first thing Monday. Just wait here." With that he started to go back inside, but was stopped by Dean, "What's first thing Monday?"

"I have this…this thing…an interview," Sam guessed that was the best way to describe it.

"What, a job interview? Skip it," advised Dean nonchalantly.

"It's a law-school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate," explained Sam, who was now facing Dean.

"Law-school?" muttered Dean dumbly, trying to fit his head around the idea.

Sam chose to ignore that and asked, "So we got a deal?"


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