Stranded Dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Summary: A series of one-shots that are missing scenes from Supernatural.

Chapter One

Season One, Episode one (The Pilot)

Dean does not leave Sam after he drops him off.

Dean turns the car around and drives back to Sam's place; he's just not ready to leave him yet. He wishes that Sam could understand that by him saying 'We made a hell of a team back there' he really meant ' I miss you, Sammy, and I just want you to come back, so we can find Dad and it'll be just like old times', but damn it, Sam didn't get it...and if he did...he didn't seem to care.

Dean is not like his brother. Sam likes to talk about anything and everything under the sun until he's sure there is nothing left to talk about, and he's always been the one good at all the emotional support and expressing love crap. But Dean's mind doesn't work like that; he shows emotions ex-marine style, a pat on the back or a manly hug. He and Dad are on the same page about this: emotions are for chicks. Best to bury everything deep within and move on, but apparently Sam doesn't think the same way, and maybe this was why he left them in the first place. Little brother was starved for some real affection and went somewhere he could get what he needed.

He parks in front of the house and stares at the enormity of it. He still can't believe it; can't believe that Sam is all independent now, living in a house with a girl and going to law school. He has his own friends, and, of course, Dean knows all about them; he has secretly checked them all out in the past two years and has made sure the right kind of people hang out in the bar he works in...Proper honest work…Dean scoffs; Sam has always been obsessed with humanity and values. He knows his brother hates all this protection crap, hates that Dad and him always try to take care of him, but he just can't help it. Taking care of Sammy is like an addiction and he just can't live without it.

Dean stares at the house and a sigh escapes from his parted lips. He knows it was foolish to hope; he knows it was a stupid wish, but he just thought Sam would have missed them by now, would have missed…missed...him enough to want to come back to them however it seems that two years is not enough to cool that stubborn prick down. He had always been the pig-headed one.

Just like Dad.

The thought of Dad makes his heart beat a little bit faster. Worrying about Sam wasn't enough, now he has to worry his ass off about the old man, too. This is just not fair. He hates being in the middle of this frickin war, trying to bring peace in their broken family and always failing. It shouldn't be so hard to keep them together, except that it is...Nothing is simple when concerning the Winchesters.

Dean rests his head on the cold window of the Impala, deciding that he'd leave the town after Sam finishes the God-damn interview. He knows Dad's trail is getting colder and colder, but Sam has an interview tomorrow and he just wants to stay and…what? Dean doesn't know why he can't leave, what's keeping him here. He's never been a fan of this apple pie kind of life, but if this is what Sam wants, then maybe, maybe he can let him be; let his baby brother live the life he wants and keep an eye on him from a distance.

He gets why Sam is obsessed with safety; knows that staying alone in crappy motels, worrying about him and dad, wondering if they're dead has made him crave it ; has made him desire a normal, ghost-free life where there is no worrying, salt and bullets and god-damn bleeding wounds and restless nights in the back of the Impala. He gets it because he gets tired too sometimes, but his family has always been his top priority and everything else loses significance next to it. He knows that he can't expect Sam to think the same. You can't force someone to love you as much as you love them, no matter how much you want to, it is impossible.

He is all alone again. Dad is gone to God knows where and Sam is determined to leave him behind and live his own life. It's just him and the impala again. He knows he's acting like a petulant child, but he can't help it. He has always been the needy one; the one who'd always wish to God to keep them all together, after Sam had forced him to blow out the candles on the crappy cake he would buy for his birthdays after stealing money from dad's leather-jacket pocket.

Dean gets out of the car and leans on the door, scrubbing a hand across his exhausted face. He looks up and stares at the window, half hoping to see Sam there, waving at him before coming down to tell him that he's changed his mind and is ready to hit the road with him.

How friggin pathetic was that?

And then he sees it, a black figure standing at the window and it can't be Sam because there are two yellow orbs shining in the dark, penetrating through the shadows. Even though Dean has never seen it before, he's heard enough to know about it. It is here and Dean stops breathing.

Everything's a blur after that. He runs to the door, his heart beating fast, adrenaline rushing into his veins, and he keeps repeating 'gotta save Sammy, gotta save Sammy', but the door is locked and Dean growls in frustration. He kicks the door once, twice, three times before it cracks open and he jumps in.


Everywhere is so God-damn dark and he hits a vase and a coffee table before making it to the bedroom

And there is Sam, on the bed, under the fire. Dean looks up, and, Jesus fucking Christ, the blonde chick is on the ceiling, burning. Dean hesitates for a moment or two and when he sobers up he knows what to do.

"Sam! Sam!"

He rushed into the bedroom, everything was burning, fire danced everywhere, and it was proving hard to even fucking breathe. Sam was still on the bed, seemingly reluctant to move. He grabs hold of Sam and tried to push him out the door, but it wasn't easy. Sam's screams of "Jess! Jess!" was not helping anybody.

They ran outside the house, or Dean ran out dragging Sam with him. People are already gathering and somebody says they called 911. They're giving Sam sympathetic looks that he hates so much, but Sam doesn't seem to notice anything. Dean's still dazed but he doesn't let go of his brother's arm, still afraid that if he lets go, Sam might just rush back in there to save his girlfriend. Not that there is anything left of her by now to save.

It's getting more and more crowded and soon the firemen arrived to put out the fire. Sam walks away and sits in a corner, shoulders hunched and silent tears falling onto the black asphalt. Dean's heart breaks a little right there. He wants to go to his brother and tell him everything's going to be all right, but that's a lie and that's not how Winchesters do it. Winchesters suck it up and toughen up; except that Dean knows that nothing is going to be the same again and he frickin hates it.

Some of Sam's friends approach him but he pushes them all away and walks to the back of the Impala. Dean carefully walks toward him, being extra careful not to utter a word. What can he say anyway? Sorry your girlfriend was burnt on the ceiling? Sorry this kind of shit always happens to us? Sorry I can never take care of you the way I should? Dean doesn't know who he hates more right now, the fucking demon or himself for his continuous failure.

He looks at Sam's face and watches as another tear falls onto the ground. Sam throws a gun into the boot of the car and stares right into his eyes with a look that Dean knows well. It's the look Dad had on his face all those years ago, when they were sitting on the Impala with Sam in Dad's arms and him leaning on his arm. This fact causes a shudder to erupt across his spine. Yeah, things will never be the same.

"We've got work to do." Sam says as he slams the trunk lid shut.

No kidding about that.