Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
Thanks go to SnarkyMuch2 for beta'ing this and for all her help and encouragement through the writing process.
This story is completely written, so I won't leave you hanging too long between updates.
The story starts at the end of Slash Fiction (S7 E06) and becomes AU from there.
"Are you sure you want to dump these things?" Dean asked. "I'm thinking they might actually come in handy down the road. What do you think?"
Sam didn't answer. His mind was still reeling from what the Leviathan Dean had said. Was it possible that Dean had really killed Amy? He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to think that his brother would betray him like that, but what other choice did he have?
Dean had been acting strange ever since Montana, drinking more than ever and having nightmares. The more Sam thought about it, the more he believed it was true.
"Hey. What? What is it? Talk."
Sam didn't look up. "Nothing."
"Well, that's convincing. Did monster-us give you the jeebs, huh?" Dean grinned. "'Cause I gotta be honest, I ain't looking in the mirror for a while myself."
Sam drew a deep breath and straightened. "Okay. You really want to know what's wrong?
"Yeah. Yeah, you know my motto—here to help."
"Here to help. Kind of like you helped Amy?"
Dean's easy smile faded. "Listen, Sam..."
"Don't… don't lie to me again. No, don't even talk to me. Yeah, I can't." Sam opened the door of the car and pulled out his bags. "You know what, Dean? I can't."
Sam turned his back on his brother and walked away along the dock. He could hear Dean following, and it aggravated him.
"You can't what?" Dean asked.
"I can't talk to you right now, Dean. I can't even be around you right now!"
"I think you should just go on without me."
Dean nodded. He didn't want Sam to go, but he wasn't about to beg him to stay either. He had his pride.
"Go." Sam snapped.
"All right. Sorry, Sam."
Dean watched as Sam slung his bags over his shoulder and walked away. As Sam rounded the corner, Dean sighed heavily and raked a hand over his face.
"You could have handled that a little better," he muttered to himself.
He had always known Sam would find out the truth eventually. It was only a matter of time. But now it had happened, he was in shock. In all the responses he had envisaged—a sucker punch being one of them—he had never imagined Sam would just walk away. Upon reflection, he would have preferred the punch.
Shrugging his shoulders, Dean climbed into the car and rested his hands on the steering wheel. He knew he should start the car and move on, he looked suspicious sitting there, but he lingered anyway. He told himself he wasn't waiting for Sam to come back, but in truth, he couldn't help but hope Sam would get over his snit fit and come back.
Eventually, Dean accepted that Sam wasn't coming back. He had likely already stolen a car and was zipping down the freeway going who knows where. Wherever it was, it was away from Dean.
Cursing under his breath, Dean started the car.
They had come to this place to dump their doppelganger's heads in the lake, but Dean decided it would be better to bury them after all. He told himself it was the better choice, but in truth, he was just making excuses. Bobby was still out in Rufus' cabin, and that would be the perfect place to bury the heads. While he was there, Dean could see Bobby and maybe get some vindication for killing Amy. Bobby would surely understand why he had to do it. The prospect of a few days in the cabin—beers and good company—cheered Dean, and he gunned the engine and pulled onto the road with a smile on his face.
Sam was fuming as he walked away from his brother.
Dean had pulled some shady stuff over the years, but never something like this. He had killed Amy, Sam's friend, and even worse, he had lied about it.
Sam had gone on thinking that he and Dean had finally reached a point in their relationship that Dean could trust Sam to make the right choice, and it was all crap.
Sam had made the right choice, dammit. Amy had a kid. Sam couldn't just leave him an orphan. How was that right? Thoughts of Jacob came to him. Where was the boy now? What had happened to him after his mother had been killed? Sam's anger surged once more, and he hurried his pace away from his brother.
Sam's thoughts turned to his next step as he walked. The only place Sam could go outside of a motel on the road was Rufus' cabin in Montana. While there, he could go into Bozeman to check if Jacob was still around. He didn't know what he would do if he found him, but he needed to make sure that he was okay. Or at least as okay as it was possible to be after your mother had just been murdered.
His path decided, Sam made his way on foot along the road. He hoped against hope that Dean wouldn't drive past him. He knew that if he did, Dean would not be able to just leave things as they were. He would stop and try to continue the conversation Sam had walked away from. Sam didn't think he could be in the same vicinity as his brother without punching him.
He came into the residential area of the town and stopped a small apartment complex. At the rear was a parking lot for residents. Uncomfortable with what he was about to do, Sam surveyed the cars parked there. There was a pedestrian looking SUV that caught his attention. With a few practiced moves, Sam had the door open and the engine running. Casting the apartments an apologetic glance through the rear mirror, Sam pulled out onto the road and put pedal to metal.
Sam had to stop on the road to grab a few hours sleep when he could no longer hold back his yawns, so it wasn't until late morning that Sam pulled into Bozeman, Montana. He dumped the car at the edge of town and made his way to Amy's place on foot. He was lost in thought as he walked, so lost in thought that he didn't notice the van until it was too late.
His head snapped up as he heard the squealing brakes, and he caught sight of the driver's horrified expression even as the minivan slammed into him, throwing him against the windshield.
Sam was unaware of the screams and the slamming of car doors as people raced towards him. He didn't notice the hands pressing in on him, searching for injury. He missed the driver's frantic defense that Sam had stepped right out in front of him. He didn't hear the frantic 911 call or the sirens that portended the ambulance's arrival. He didn't feel the plastic tube as it was threaded down his throat or the regular pumps as air was pushed into his lungs. He missed all of this, as he had gone to a place within himself, away from sight, sounds, touch and most of all, pain.