Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The landline in the master bedroom rang around 1:56 in the morning. A half-awake Mary answered.

"Hello?"

"Mom?" a voice whimpered.

Mary sat up in bed. "Sam? What's wrong?"

"There was an accident."

"What happened?" Mary asked, jumping into overprotective parent mode. "Are you hurt?"

At this point, John started to wake up on the other side of the bed. "Who is it?" he grumbled.

Mary turned the phone away from her face and gave a quick: "It's Sam."

John flipped his lamp on and moved next to his wife on the bed. "Is he alright?"

"Sammy, baby, who else is there with you? What's going on?"

There was a sob on the line before a muffled sound and a new voice came on the phone. "Hi, Mrs. Winchester."

"Brady," Mary said, recognizing the voice and sighing in relief. At least her son wasn't alone. "Are you boys okay?"

"There was a fire at the apartment," Brady explained calmly. "I hate to say it, but... Jess is dead."

Mary clutched her chest and gasped.

"What?" John asked. "What is it? Is it bad?"

"Brady, can you give the phone back to Sam?"

Another muffled sound was followed by another sob and sniffle on the phone. "Yeah?"

"Sammy, we'll be there as soon as we can, okay?"

Sam let out a shaky breath into the receiver. "Okay."

"Can you stay with Brady until we get there?"

"Mhmm."

Mary listened to her son cry on the phone for a minute. Her heart was breaking for him. John was already grabbing the suitcases down from the closet and setting them up on the bed for Mary to begin packing.

"We love you and we'll see you shortly, okay?" Mary asked.

Sam sniffled and drew in a quick breath. "Okay. I love you too."

He hung up the phone. Mary relayed the information quickly to John. "We need to get to the airport."

"I'll call Dean," John said.

At 3:03 AM, Dean pulled into the lane to drop off passengers. He parked the car and helped his dad unload the luggage.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Mary asked her oldest son. "I packed my valium."

Dean smiled sweetly at the offer. "No, you two should go. I'll just be in the way. Besides, someone's gotta look after the house, right?"

Mary hugged him goodbye. "I love you."

"Love you too," he said quietly in her ear. "Keep me posted."

"I don't know when we'll be back," John said. "If Will comes over for tools, just let him get what he needs. Don't bother Ms. Harrison across the street. Park in the garage, not the driveway."

"Dad, seriously, I got this!" Dean said, starting to get annoyed. Like he was a freaking teenager all over again. "Just take care of Sam."

"Don't drink all my beer."

"Dad."

"And no house parties or guests staying the night."

"John, would you stop!" Mary snapped. "We have to get to Sam."

John grabbed the luggage and started heading into the airport. Mary ran over to Dean for one last hug and kissed his cheek quickly before following John to the ticket line.

"Just had to go to school in California, didn't ya kid?" Dean muttered to himself as he closed the trunk and got back inside the car. He and Sam weren't so close after Sam moved away for college four years ago, but his big brother instincts were still on high alert. He honestly wasn't sure if Sam would have wanted him there.

Dean pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts. He pulled up Sam's and dialed the number.

Voicemail. "Hiya it's Sam- Jess stop! You're the one who told me to set it up! Leave a message. What do you mean I did it wrong? BEEP."

Dean felt uncomfortable hearing Jess laughing in the background of Sam's outgoing message. Like hearing a ghost.

"Hey, little brother. I just dropped Mom and Dad off at the airport for ya. Um... let me know if you need anything, okay? Just a phone call away."

Dean hung up as a car pulled up behind him and honked.

"Yeah, I'm going!" Dean yelled at the car. He pulled away from the spot and left the airport. "Asshole."

It was just after 11 when the taxi pulled up outside an apartment complex. John and Mary had landed a while ago and checked into their hotel. Now they were sitting outside of Brady's to see their son.

John knocked outside the apartment and Brady opened the door.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Winchester," Brady greeted.

"Hey Brady," John said, "How are ya?"

Brady shrugged. "Still in shock."

"Is Sam still here?" Mary asked, desperate to see him.

"Yeah he's in there," Brady said, pointing inside the apartment. He let them in and led them to a closed bedroom door. "I took the couch and had him crash in my bed," Brady explained. He opened the bedroom door and stuck his head in. "Sam? Rents are here."

There was a muffled response.

"I'm going out to give yall time. You know where I keep the extra key, right?"

Another muffled response. Brady turned back towards John and Mary. "He's all yours," he announced before grabbing his wallet and keys and leaving the apartment.

John opened the bedroom door the rest of the way. They found Sam sitting on the side of the bed, resting his head in his hands, anxiously bouncing his leg up and down.

Mary immediately ran over to the bed and sat next to him. "Oh Sammy," she whispered.

Sam turned and greeted her with a hug. He could feel the tears starting again and choked back on a sob.

"It's okay," Mary whispered in his ear. She cradled the back of his head and rubbed his back. "We're here. It's gonna be okay."

John awkwardly grabbed Brady's chair from his desk and drug it over next to the bed. "What happened, son?"

Sam sniffled and pushed himself off his mom. "Ummm," he said, trying to find his words and wiping his face on his shirt. "The guys and I went up to Tahoe to go camping. Just to get away for the weekend after midterms. And... when I came back, there were cops everywhere and I asked what happened and they said there was a crime scene at one of the apartments." Sam started choking up again. His breath became very shaky. "And that's when one of them told me!"

Mary started crying just listening to Sam tell the story. John found himself getting emotional as well but still had the best composure out of the three of them.

"What happened to her, Sam?" he asked gently. "What happened to Jess?"

Sam felt like throwing up. "Someone broke into the apartment and killed her. And then they tried to set it on fire to get rid of any evidence."

The room felt heavy. No one knew what to do.

"Mom, she was baking cookies!" Sam suddenly wailed. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on her chest as she wrapped her arms around him and began rocking him. "She didn't deserve to die!"

Mary started softly humming 'You Are My Sunshine' to soothe him, just like when he was a baby. John went out to the other room to get a glass of water. When he returned, he sat on the bed behind Sam.

"Here," he whispered, offering it to Sam. Sam shook his head. "Take it," John demanded. Sam held his shaky hand out and reached for the glass, taking a sip.

So, where do they go from now?

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Jess' death. Jess is from Palo Alto and her family is hosting a wake for her. Because of the ongoing investigation, and lack of viable remains, the police still had Jess' body. The plan was for her to be cremated and a headstone built on the family plot.

Sam stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fiddling with his tie. He had bought this suit for his law school interviews. Jess went with him to help pick it out. He was nervous about the black, said it felt too easy and overdone and that everyone else was going to be in black. But then Jess pointed out that he could wear any shirt and tie with it and it'll match. She also said he looked hot but that's neither here nor there. Sam couldn't help but feel the strong irony behind her helping him find his suit and him now wearing it to her funeral service.

"Sam? May I come in?" a female voice asked, breaking his thoughts. Sam felt as though he couldn't speak with this giant lump in his throat so he didn't respond. The doorknob turned and the door opened a crack. "Are you decent?"

Sam stepped to the side so his mom could enter the small apartment bathroom. Sam was still crashing with Brady, just until he could find another one.

"You look so handsome," she said, smiling sweetly. She reached up and moved some of Sam's bangs out of his face. Sam didn't mind, still focused and frustrated over his stupid tie. "Would you like some help?"

Sam handed the tie to Mary. She hummed as she threw it around his neck.

"Does that feel okay?" she asked gently and somewhat cheerfully like she was forcing herself to stay positive for him.

Sam sniffled. "Yeah. Thanks."

"You're welcome, baby." Mary turned around to exit the bathroom, satisfied with the current state of her son out of bed and dressed.

"She used to do it for me."

Mary turned back around. "Hm?"

Sam's face started to scrunch up. "Jess would..." Voice crack. "She would have to do my ties. And she'd tease me about it."

Mary knew where this was going. She walked back over to Sam and put her hand on his shoulder.

"I can't do it, Mom!" Sam sobbed. "I can't go in there!"

"Yes, you can," Mary responded, matter-of-factly, hoping her tone would instill some type of confidence.

"No, I can't!"

Mary grabbed his hand and instructed him to sit down on the closed toilet lid. "Listen to me, Sammy. You can do this. You have to go. I'm so sorry that you have to go through this right now, but you owe it to yourself to go. You'll hate yourself if you don't."

"Mom's right bud," John added, suddenly appearing in the doorway to the bathroom. "We'll be right there with you."

Sam continued to cry into his hands. Mary and John exchanged a look. This was going to be a very long day.

John sighed. "Brady's asking if you want to ride with him to the church," he continued.

Sam quickly stopped crying. "Yeah, I'll go with him." He stood up and turned the sink on, starting to splash water on his face.

"You don't have to, honey," Mary suggested. "You can ride with us."

"Mary-"

"I'm fine, Mom," Sam interrupted, insisting and drying himself off with one of Brady's extra towels. He touched up his hair, moving his bangs back to the front of his face. "I'll see you guys there."

John and Mary watched Sam leave the bathroom. Mary started tidying up Sam's mess.

"You're doing it again," John accused.

"What?"

John looked angry. "You need to stop babying him. He's all grown up now and he doesn't need his mommy holding his hand all week."

Mary returned the energy. "His first serious girlfriend just died, John. It's called being a supportive parent; not babying." She ran into his shoulder as she passed him to exit the bathroom. "Would it kill you to at least pretend to do the same?"

Sam had no idea how he made it through the service. Jess' parents invited him and Jess' closest friends to the pews in the front. John and Mary stayed in the back. It was an hour of people sharing stories into a mic in front of a giant canvas with Jess' face on it. Sam knew that picture well. It was taken the day before she started Stanford. Standing in a white sundress in her parents' driveway. Obviously that Jess didn't know Sam yet, but Sam had seen the picture on the mantel many times at her parents' house when he would visit. Sam sometimes teased her about it, calling her a dork for taking a first day of college picture, but Jess just came from that type of family.

Sam was asked to speak. He couldn't do it.

The service ended and doors to a dining hall opened for the reception. People slowly started to gather themselves and leave to go eat and mingle. Sam remained in his seat, leaning over and resting his head in between his knees, softly crying. Brady stayed by his side, running his hand across Sam's shoulder. With the exception of Jess, Brady was truly Sam's only best friend. The other kids in their group gave Sam condolences and offered to help him with anything he may need, but Brady was really the only one who was actually there for him. And Sam knew that and really appreciated it.

"Well that was a very nice service," Mary said, walking over to the two.

"It was," Brady agreed, not taking his eyes off Sam. Sam didn't seem to react to his parents joining them. "How long are you planning on staying?" Brady asked, thinking that changing the subject might help ease the tension.

"Not much longer. We'll probably leave tomorrow," Mary admitted. She took over comforting Sam. "We're going to go back to the hotel but we'll call later to check in, okay?"

Sam nodded. Mary pulled him into a hug and Sam let out a quick sob.

"Keep an eye on him?" Mary asked. Brady looked her in the eye and nodded. Mary kissed Sam's forehead and let him go, walking with John out of the church.

"Sooo whatcha wanna do now?" Brady asked.

"I'm gonna throw up," Sam confessed. Not that that was necessarily true; Sam hadn't really eaten much the past couple of days. Brady didn't quite catch what Sam had said, but as soon as Sam gagged and jumped up to run to the restroom, Brady was right behind him.

Brady waited outside the stall door while Sam got sick. Thankfully everyone was in the dining hall so no one else came into the small restroom. After a few minutes, Sam flushed and came out of the stall. Brady greeted him with a wet paper towel.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled, taking the paper towel and wiping his mouth. His face blushed from embarrassment. Not that it was the first time Brady had seen Sam hurl before, but usually alcohol and gross clubs and bars were involved.

"I take it you don't want to go back out there?"

Sam laughed. "No, I really don't."

"You're probably just hungry, man. Why don't we go for a little bit and get you something?"

Sam gagged again at the mention of food. "Thanks Mom," he teased. "Can we just go back to your place?"

Brady nodded sympathetically. "At least say goodbye to her parents first."

Sam agreed. Brady left the restroom to go find Mr. and Mrs. Moore while Sam cleaned himself up. The two were amongst the first to leave the church, heading back to the apartment, where Sam inevitably crashed and Brady promised himself he'd keep watch.

Chapter Text

Mary frowned as the call went to voicemail again. "Hiya it's Sam-"

She hung up the hotel phone and set it back on the receiver. John exited the restroom, rubbing a towel on his wet hair. "Still no answer?"

"No," Mary sighed, finally allowing herself to give up. She was starting to get a headache from wearing her hair up so she started to take it down. They had come back to the hotel from the service a couple of hours ago and taken a nap. Since they woke, she had been trying to reach Sam to check-in.

"Wanna take a shower and go get dinner?" John suggested, flipping on the tv. Sucky hotel tv only had news, old movies, or documentaries. He flipped through a couple of channels until he landed on a ghost-hunting program for background noise.

Mary rolled her eyes at her husband's choice of entertainment. "Did you leave me any hot water?" she teased. John grinned guiltily at her. "I think I want to stay here in case Sam calls," she admitted.

John sighed and hung his head. "He's probably out with his friends," he mumbled.

Mary scoffed. "Yeah right, like he's in the mood to be with his friends."

"Well then, he's probably passed out at Brady's!" John suggested, collapsing on the bed next to his wife. "Either way, he's probably not going to call anytime soon."

Mary surprised herself nodding in agreement. Sam was fine, right? He was probably just going to stay in and remain low for a while.

"What's wrong?" John asked, catching his wife zoning out with her thoughts.

"I don't know how to help him, John."

"All those parenting books you read while pregnant and none of them covered this?" John joked.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

Mary ran her hands through her hair. "Can we just pack him up and take him back home with us?"

"Mary."

"I don't want to leave him! I'd feel so much better if he came with us."

John grabbed her hand. "Honey, I would too, but his life is out here. His school, his job, his friends. He wouldn't have any of that support back home," he said, trying to be as sympathetic as he could.

Something was still bothering Mary. "Maybe we could stop by one last time? Just to check on him in person?"

John sighed. "Sure," he said, giving in. "If it'll help you feel better."

The cab dropped them off outside the apartment fifteen minutes away from the hotel. John rang the doorbell outside the apartment. No one answered. Thinking maybe it was broken, John knocked instead.

"That's weird," he commented when no one answered the second time. "Maybe they did go out."

Something inside Mary said otherwise. "Can you tell if anyone's inside?"

"They're not here, Mary."

Mary brushed past her husband and knocked on the door a third time.

"Mary-"

"Damn it, John! He's inside and something is wrong! I know it!"

John stared at her in disbelief. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I just do!"

As if on cue, a very distressed and anxious Brady swung open the door. "Good, you're here!" he said, "He is, like, freaking out."

Mary and John ran past him inside the apartment. They found Sam walking around the bedroom in the apartment. He was whispering to himself and it looked like he had been crying recently.

"Sammy?" Mary called. "What's going on?"

"I can't- I don't- I- She-" Sam continued muttering total nonsense while pacing. Fresh tears kept falling down his face but he made no attempt to wipe them away.

"What happened?" John asked Brady.

"I thought he was asleep," Brady said defensively. "I was watching tv when I started hearing noises so I came to check. He started screaming and throwing shit. I thought he had finally calmed down when he started doing this. Then you two showed up."

John and Mary exchanged a look.

"Should I call 911?" Brady continued to ask, his fear rising in his voice. Sure he had seen his fair share of Sam's breakdowns. There was that one particularly difficult class last semester and the time he and Jess got in a major fight that came immediately to mind. But Sam usually cried it out on his couch, had a beer or two, then bounced right back the next morning. This was uncharted territory.

"Maybe not yet," Mary assured him. Brady seemed to relax a little after that. Sam's stories of Mary often reminded him of his mom.

Sam continued pacing and mumbling. John stepped into the bedroom and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. This warranted Sam's immediate reaction to collapse on the floor just absolutely wailing. "JESS!"

John did his best to try to catch his adult child. He scooped Sam up in his arms, who then clung to John for what felt like his dear life. Mary kneeled down next to them, shushing Sam and brushing his hair out of his face. Brady continued to awkwardly watch from the doorway. He wasn't sure if he should go or stay for Sam.

Sam continued to sob into his dad's shoulder. John instinctively started to rock him, like when he was little and upset at Dean for being a shitheaded big brother. John and Mary exchanged another look. There was no way they were going to fly out the next morning and leave Sam like this.

"Brady," Mary asked, collecting her own emotions. "Where's your landline?"

Chapter Text

Dean pulled up to the passenger pick-up line at the airport. He opened the trunk and leaned against the side, smiling as he watched his mom come out of the catwalk.

"Hey!" he greeted.

"Hi baby," she greeted back, reaching for a hug. "I missed you."

"Dad and Sam ditch you or something?" Dean joked, hugging her back.

"They're in the restroom," Mary explained.

"Together?"

Mary blushed. "I didn't want Sam to go alone."

Dean nodded in understanding. He was excited to hear his parents were bringing Sam back home but knew it was a last-minute resort. Obviously whatever happened in California was bad if they felt it was needed.

"There they are," Dean said, watching as Sam and John also made their way out of the catwalk. Sam had his arms wrapped around him like he was trying to hug himself, with his head hung low. For someone who's now 6'4", he looked really little compared to their dad, who had one hand on Sam's back, as if guiding him through the crowd toward the car.

"Hey little bro," Dean said, faking a smile and tone that hopefully came across as cheerful. Sam nodded his head towards him but didn't speak, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"I gave him one of my pills so he's a little out of it," Mary explained to Dean. She turned back to Sam. "Sam, you can ride up front with Dean so you don't get carsick, okay?"

All three looked at Sam and waited for a response. Eventually, Sam nodded to show he understood. Mary helped Sam get in the car while John and Dean threw the luggage in the trunk the best they could. All four of them piled into the small car and Dean pulled away from the airport. The car ride back into town and to the house was pretty quiet, with the exception of John's backseat driving for Dean and Mary constantly asking Sam if he was okay. At one point, Dean looked over to find Sam resting his chin on his fist, staring out the passenger window.

"I went ahead and got your room ready for you so when you get back to the house you can just crash in your bed, okay?" Dean said to him. Casually, like he makes his little brother's bed all the time.

Sam, fighting sleep, finally closed his eyes and nodded.

Dean looked up in the rearview mirror and saw Mary softly smiling back at him. She mouthed 'thank you' and Dean playfully rolled his eyes.

He pulled into the driveway and everyone immediately began unloading. Sam still had his house key and snuck off inside before anyone could stop him, not that anyone would.

"Hey, Mom?" Dean asked once they had carried all the luggage inside and there weren't any little brothers in sight.

"Hm?"

"How long do you think Sam's gonna stay?"

Mary sighed. "Hard to say. He took the rest of the semester off."

"And that's all he brought with him?" Dean pointed to the single suitcase and carry-on bag. It was enough for a week, maybe two, but not for the next couple of months, assuming Sam would stay home all through the holidays too.

Mary bit her lip. "It was all that your father and I could find in his apartment that wasn't ruined from the fire or sealed as evidence," she responded, her voice breaking. "Sam didn't want to go with us so we just grabbed what we could. Brady will pack up the rest as soon as he gets the all-clear and ship it to us."

Dean felt like punching a wall. He and Sam had lived fairly good lives so far. Moving to Stanford was the best day of Sam's life. The only bad thing their family had gone through was John's cancer diagnosis three years prior. What had any of them done for Sam to deserve this?

"Why don't you take it to him?" Mary suggested, breaking Dean away from his thoughts.

Dean panicked. "Oh, uh, are you sure?" Mary gave him a puzzling look. "I mean, he hates when I touch his stuff."

"Yeah up until you both moved out," Mary answered, laughing to herself. "Never stopped you."

Dean nervously looked over at Sam's luggage again and reconsidered.

"Trust me. He's happy to see you," Mary said, gathering the small luggage John had yet to carry upstairs. "He just may not show it for now." She carried it upstairs. Dean gathered all of Sam's and followed her, going to the opposite end of the hallway towards Sam's room. The door was closed, of course, and Dean didn't see a light on under.

"Sam?" he asked, remembering to knock. "I got your stuff."

No response.

"I'm just gonna open the door and set it inside, okay?" Dean offered. "You know how Mom gets about things sitting out in the hall."

Still no response.

Dean slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door with a crack. Sam hadn't thrown a shoe or book at him, so so far, so good. He entered the room and rolled Sam's suitcase over to the corner for Sam to unpack later. He heard muffled sobs coming from the other side of the room. Turning around, he found Sam lying on his stomach on his bed, face shoved into a pillow. His shoulders were shaking slightly and Dean just knew he was crying.

Get Mom. I should get Mom.

"Sam?" Dean asked. He gently crossed over to the bed, like any sudden movement would scare Sam off. "You okay?" Dean stood next to the bed and placed his hand on Sam's back. Sam immediately tensed up and let out an even louder sob. Dean quickly removed his hand.

Get Mom. You need to get Mom.

Something inside Dean's chest was screaming at him. Call it big brother instincts or whatever. He needed to fix this. Make baby brother feel better. That was his job, right?

NO. GO. GET. MOM.

"Sammy," Dean caught himself by surprise saying, busting out the old nickname he hasn't called Sam in years. "I'm so sorry about Jess. She was a nice girl and what happened wasn't fair to her or to you." He paused, waiting to see if Sam would react. He didn't. "Look, Mom and Dad haven't told me anything, so you don't need to worry about them spilling any of your secrets. But if you ever want to talk, just say the word and I'll come over, okay? Or you can come to my apartment. Really, I don't care. I know I haven't been the best big brother but I am on your side for this one, okay?"

He watched as Sam lifted his head and ran the back of his hand along his face.

"Seriously, man, is there anything I can do? Can I get you anything?" Dean felt silly for pleading but he just wanted to help.

Sam sniffled and rested his head back on his pillow. He turned and looked up at Dean. "Can you get Mom?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

Dean watched Sam. Watched as his face twitched and fresh tears kept falling. Watched as Sam bit down on his knuckles and started anxiously chewing on the edge of his sleeve to try to stop. Watched as Sam's body continued to shake and he tried to take deep breaths to mask it. Dean had never seen or heard his brother so heartbroken before and they shared a wall throughout high school.

"Yeah, sure, of course," Dean said, straightening up. He quickly turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him. He ignored the hurt feeling growing in his chest that came with Sam basically rejecting him.

"Sam wants you," he announced as soon as he hit the doorway to his parents' bedroom.

Told ya.

Chapter Text

Dean groaned as he woke up, forgetting how bright the sun was coming through his bedroom window first thing in the morning. He stayed over last night, per his mom's insistence. Something about wanting both her boys near for a little bit, sentimental mom stuff, blah blah blah. Dean just said yes and Mary made John clean some of the stuff they kept in his childhood room for storage.

He literally rolled out of the bed and shuffled over to the door to the Jack and Jill bathroom he shared with Sam. He jiggled the doorknob, frowning when he found out it was locked.

"I'm in here!" he heard Sam yell through the door.

"Can I take a piss real quick? Please?"

Footsteps, followed by the click of the lock, and Sam opening the door with a toothbrush hanging out his mouth. "You can come in. I'm almost done."

At least he's talkative today. But if Dean wasn't already so desperate, he would have waved Sam off and told him he could wait until Sam was done. He was already practically unrolling the waistband of his high school wrestling team sweats; the only clothes his parents still kept that were worth sleeping in.

As Dean stood there, he watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. Sam was almost in a trance, zoning out as he leaned over the sink to brush his teeth. He wasn't sure if Sam was thinking about something or if he was just going through the motions. At least he looked like he got some sleep, but it also looked like he could burst into tears again any second. And Dean was already swearing not to do something to set off that bomb.

Dean finished and flushed. Sam stepped back from the sink so he could wash his hands. "Thanks," Dean whispered, drying his hands off on some decorative towel his mom hung on the rack.

Dean walked past Sam, who spit out his toothpaste in the sink. "Did Mom make you stay last night?" he asked, either sounding annoyed or pissed off. Dean couldn't tell the difference.

"Um... No, I, uh- It was late so I just-"

"Liar," Sam accused, not even looking at Dean. He just cleaned up his mess on the sink, shut off the lights, and went back into his room, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

"Yeah, okay," Dean mumbled, rolling his eyes and also slamming his door behind him.

Dean threw on his clothes from the day before back on. He figured today he'd go back to his place and get some things, stay at least a week, and make his mom happy.

He skipped down the stairs to the kitchen, finding Mary making muffins and John reading the paper at the table.

"Who's slamming doors up there?" John asked, not looking up from the article he was reading.

"Him," Dean answered bitterly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "He's in a mood."

"Well, what the hell did you say to him?"

"Nothing! He started it!"

Mary sighed. "Alright, that's enough." She handed Dean a plate with a couple of muffins and bacon on it. "Is he coming down for breakfast?"

Dean took the plate and sat at the table across from his father. "He didn't say."

Mary made a second plate and left to go upstairs, already calling for Sam.

"You better not be trying to start shit with him," John huffed.

"I'm not," Dean mumbled, feeling like a teenager about to get scolded for pranking his little brother for the umpteenth time.

"I'm serious," John said, turning the page of the newspaper. "I'm not pulling the two of you off each other. You're too old for that."

"Dad! Stop!" Dean snapped. "How horrible of a human being do you think I am? I know he's going through his shit right now and I know better than to try to add to that."

John glared at his oldest, eyes barely peering over the edge of the newspaper. He didn't have anything else to say so he went back to reading as Dean munched on his bacon.

"But I'm not gonna let him act like a bitch to me either," Dean muttered under his breath. John pounded his fist on the table and scrunched up the newspaper. Dean feared for a second that John was going to smack him with it.

"Good news, he's eating," Mary announced, waltzing back into the kitchen, oblivious to the tension growing in the room. "He just wants to be left alone right now."

"I thought we brought him back home so he wouldn't be alone," John argued, still frustrated with Dean.

"We brought him home because it was the right thing to do for him," Mary corrected. John grunted in annoyance, obviously wanting to argue back that that's now how he remembered it. Dean started chugging his coffee. Good to be back home.

It was later in the day. Sam felt like he was going crazy. He had already unpacked and rearranged some of the belongings in his room, which looked the same as it did when he left for Stanford in the first place. He found some boxes in the garage and started packing up some of his old stuff that he didn't want out anymore. Posters, soccer team trophies, the teddy bear from when he was a baby. All of it was packed away and sitting in a box in his closet. The room was almost boring and empty now.

When Sam felt content with his cleaning, he finally sat down on the floor with the cordless phone line he had in his room. Many hours were spent on it, talking with friends or crushes. Discussions about homework, rumors about the girls at school, bitching about strict parents and stupidass older brothers. Now, it was being used to call Sam's voicemail.

"Hiya it's Sam- Jess stop! You're the one who told me to set it up! Leave a message. What do you mean I did it wrong? BEEP."

The first time felt like a stab to Sam's stomach. The second time felt like someone twisted the knife. The twentieth time felt completely numb.

"Hiya it's Sam- Jess stop!" Hang up.

"Hiya it's Sam," Giggles, "Jess stop!" Hang up.

"Hiya it's Sam," More giggles, "Jess stop!" Hang up.

"Hiya it's Sam," Uncontrollable laughter, "Jess stop!" Hang up.

"Hiya it's Sam," Uncontrollable laughter and relentless teasing, "Jess stop!" Hang up.

"Hiya it's Sam," Uncontrollable laughter and relentless teasing, "Jess stop! You're the one who told me to set it up!" Jess' blonde hair and blue eyes stand in the background. "Leave a message." Jess ran across the room towards him, smiling as big as she ever did. She says something the phone doesn't pick up. "What do you mean I did it wrong?" More laughter, right in Sam's ear. "BEEP."

"I come bringing lunch!" Dean announced with a silly voice, opening the bedroom door and holding a plate with a sandwich on it. Without hesitating, Sam threw the phone at him. Dean barely ducked as the phone smashed into the wall next to his head. "Dude!" Dean yelled, returning to his usual tone.

"Get out!" Sam screamed.

"Mom asked me to bring this to you!" Dean screamed back.

"Well I'm not hungry so just get out!" Tears of frustration clung to Sam's eyes. He stood up from the floor and Dean realized for the first time that his little brother is taller than him for a change.

Dean set the plate down on the dresser. "You wanna be mad, Sam? Be mad! But don't take it out on me."

Sam walked quickly over to Dean and shoved him out of the room. Dean stumbled backward, but caught his footing just in time. It took everything in him not to push Sam back. Sam could punch him, kick him, cuss him out, whatever. Dean knew he didn't mean it. Before, Dean would have just tackled him to the ground to redeem himself and show Sam not to fuck with big brothers. Today, Sam just wanted a punching bag that wasn't going to punch back.

"What happened up here?" Mary asked, running up the stairs. No doubt she heard all the commotion throughout the house.

"Nothing," Dean said quickly, turning around and going into his room.

Mary looked over to Sam. The kid looked like he had no idea what just happened.

Dean immediately tiptoed into the bathroom he shared with Sam. Sam's door was propped open, allowing Dean to stand in his doorway and hear everything.

"Sammy, Dean's just trying to help," he heard his mom's muffled voice say.

Sam said something back but it was so quiet Dean didn't catch it.

"What are you talking about?" Mary asked.

There were a couple of whimpers. Dean could hear the mattress squeak as both of them likely sat on Sam's bed. More muffled and hushed talking, still too quiet for sound to travel through the bathroom towards Dean. About a minute later, Dean heard Mary close the door to Sam's room shut and start making her way down the hall. Dean immediately jumped away from the bathroom, pretending he was interested in the books on the shelf next to it.

Mary knocked lightly on Dean's open door. Dean acted casual and turned to look at her. "He told me he pushed you and he's sorry," she explained, almost embarrassed for both of her sons. "Are you okay?"

Dean's eyes widened and he nodded. "Mhmm, yup I'm good." Even gave a thumbs-up for extra convincing.

Mary smiled gently at him, turning to go back downstairs. Not long after she left, he heard the shower in the boys' bathroom turn on.

Yup. Good to be back home.

Chapter Text

Dean sighed as he hung up his cell after talking to another irate customer he had to reschedule yet again. Since John got sick, he started taking over the family business, a small mechanic shop just off one of the main streets in town. He closed it down to part-time so he could be more available to help Sam and his family. The employees understood. The customers, not as much.

Mary bounced into the kitchen. "Morning!" She grabbed a mug from the cabinet. "Are you going back to work today?"

Dean pointed at the calendar with appointments in front of him. "This is working. I'm calling people who were scheduled this afternoon to reschedule."

Mary filled the mug with coffee and sat down next to him. "Why do you need to do that?"

"Cause we do. Since Dad basically retired, I took a break, Dave had a baby, and that's a third of our staff already. We just don't have the time or manpower."

Mary couldn't help but smile at her son taking leadership. Unlike Sam, who always knew exactly what he wanted to do and who he wanted to be, Dean was more of a mixed bag. Not saying that he was troubled, although there definitely were some moments he would never want to speak of again... No, it was more that he was content being and doing whatever came his way. He tried community college for a while, but realized he was better with his hands than his brain, and signed up for trade school instead. It wasn't a big surprise to anyone when Dean volunteered to take over when John was trying to figure out what to do with the shop.

They both looked up when they heard footsteps approaching the entry to the kitchen. They were both surprised to see Sam out of his room for a change. Realizing they were both staring, Sam stopped in his tracks. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and rolled back and forth on his heels, ready to turn around and bolt once he realized he made a mistake.

"Hi, honey!" Mary said with a cheesy, but sweet, smile. "Would you like coffee?"

Sensing they weren't about to overreact or anything, Sam nodded and shuffled over to his usual chair at the dinner table.

"Dean, would you make some more coffee for your brother, please?"

"But-" Dean began to protest, gesturing to the calendar and phone in front of him. Mary looked at him, almost begging him with her eyes. You wanted to do something nice to help your brother. Dean sighed, pushed his chair away from the table, and walked over to the coffee machine, switching out the filter and filling it with fresh coffee grounds.

Mary turned back to her youngest. "So, now that we are a full household again, I need to go grocery shopping and I would love it if you could come with me and help."

Sam noticed the hidden message right away. You need to get out of this house.

"Do I hafta?" Sam mumbled.

Mary shrugged. "I just think it might be a good idea for you to get out for a bit. Change of scenery, you know?"

Yup, there it was.

Sam nodded to surrender. No point trying to argue with his mom about that. Dean dropped off a mug of coffee in front of him. "Thanks," he said, blushing. Dean grunted a response and sat back in his chair across the table.

"We can leave when you're ready," Mary said, kissing the top of Sam's head before leaving the kitchen.

Sam and Dean sat at the table in silence for a few moments. Dean scribbled something down, crossed it out, then scribbled again just above it. Sam reached for the tray of sugar packets on the table and started dumping them in his coffee. Dean snorted when he saw how much Sam was using. Sam didn't notice. He was too focused on getting his leg to stop bouncing from anxiety.

"Can we talk?" Sam asked. He cleared his throat. "I promise I'm not going to cry this time."

"Hey, man, I'm not judging," Dean said, flipping through a couple of pages in the calendar. Sam used to cry all the fucking time when they were kids, about everything, and it used to drive Dean absolutely fucking insane sometimes.

"I'm sorry I've been such an ass to you-"

"Sam, you really don't need to," Dean said suddenly, interrupting him.

"I do!" Sam argued. "You were just trying to be nice to me for once in your life and I tried to push you away for it."

A pang of guilt tugged at Dean hearing that.

Sam continued. "I'm sorry."

Dean looked up at his little brother across the table. Sam was hunched over, running his finger over the rim of the coffee mug out of nervous habit. The kid may have said he wouldn't cry, but he sure as hell looked like he might.

"Apology accepted," Dean said genuinely. The two had a moment of eye contact and Dean gave him a side smile. Sam looked down immediately, picking up the coffee and sipping from it. Dean went back to work, dialing the next number into his cell. Sam finished his coffee and went upstairs.

The grocery store wasn't so bad. It was the morning on a weekday so there were hardly any people there. Mostly older couples and single parents with children too small to be in school.

Sam strolled behind his mom as she pushed the grocery cart around the store. Occasionally she would use him to get something off a shelf she couldn't reach.

"Okay, I have a coupon for buy two, get one free," Mary announced, turning the cart down the cereal aisle. "What do you think we should get?"

Sam didn't realize he had zoned out a bit. It was nice spending some time with his mom that didn't involve ranting about school or bitching about Dean or talking about J-

"I know your father has been eating a lot of Cheerios lately," Mary said, interrupting Sam's ruminating and grabbing a box of cheerios off the shelf and tossing it into the cart. "Dean usually likes Cocoa Pebbles. What do you want?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm cool with Cocoa Pebbles."

"Lucky Charms?" Mary asked with a smile, knowing her son's weakness. Sam blushed. Mary took that as a yes and tossed a box of Cocoa Pebbles and Lucky Charms in the cart. "Okay, next stop, bread aisle."

Sam went back to his thoughts. He liked that his family was starting to back off for a bit, even if it was just for today. Sam needed the feeling of normalcy as much as he could get it and he appreciated his family acting like it was just another regular day at home.

They got back a little while later and found Dean still sitting at the table calling people. He was clearly busy arguing with another customer so they didn't even bother asking him to help them unload the car. He had finally hung up when Sam mosied into the kitchen with a Snickers bar hanging from his mouth.

"Where's my candy?" Dean asked.

"You don't get any," Sam explained with a mouthful of Snickers. "This is my treat for helping Mom today."

"Oh, so you came in here to rub it in my face, huh?" Dean joked.

Sam shrugged. "You get Cocoa Pebbles," he teased.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're in a better mood," he commented.

"Mom was right. I did need to get out of this house." Sam shoved the rest of the candy bar in his mouth, throwing the wrapper in the trash. "Tell her I said that and I'll kill you." Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small bag of M&Ms, throwing them at his brother. Dean was stunned by the candy hitting him in the face. Sam laughed at his brother's stupid face. "You're welcome!" he yelled, walking out of the kitchen.

"You little shit!" Dean yelled back.

Chapter Text

"Dean! Get out of the bathroom!" Sam screamed, pounding his fist on the bathroom door in his room. How he had forgotten the joys of living with his brother. He had been trying to shower for the past hour but Dean had locked himself in there, doing God knows what, and wouldn't open the door. Annoyed, Sam left his bedroom, running into his mom in the hall. "Mom, please tell Dean he can go back to his place today," he begged.

Mary chuckled. "What'd he do now?"

"Holding himself hostage in our bathroom."

"You know you can use ours if you need to."

Sam whined. "I just want to take a shower. My hair feels gross."

"What's going on out here?" John asked, joining the conversation.

"Dean's hogging the bathroom," Sam complained.

John groaned and walked over to the bathroom door facing the hallway, banging on it hard. "Dean! Quit jerking it off and let your brother in so he can have a turn."

"John!" Mary scolded.

"What?" John asked innocently, making his way towards the stairs. "It worked back then, it'll work now."

Mary rolled her eyes in disbelief at her husband. She looked back at her son, who was now aggressively rubbing his eyes.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked.

Sam yawned. "What? Nothing. Why?"

"Cause you should have laughed at that."

Sam rubbed his eyes again. "I'm tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It was like anytime I did fall asleep, I would start having weird dreams that would wake me up."

Mary hummed in sympathy. "Honey, maybe we should take you to talk to someone."

Sam threw his head back and groaned. "Noooooooooo!"

Mary continued anyway. "What you went through was traumatic. It's okay to need some help to process it."

"I don't need help!" Sam continued to whine. "I need to stop eating tacos when you make them for dinner."

Mary smacked him on the arm and Sam let out a laugh.

"Dude!" Dean cried out, emerging from his bedroom dressed with wet hair. "You tattled on me!?"

Sam shrugged. "You locked me out of the bathroom."

Dean gasped in shock. He took the wet towel and threw it over Sam's head, proceeding to give him a noogie with it.

"Okay, that's enough," Mary said, breaking her sons up after letting them struggle for a second. "Sam, go take your shower."

"Better have left me hot water you jerk."

"Bitch."

"Hey!"

"What? It's a term of endearment," Dean explained. "Brotherly love and shit."

"I know, but that still doesn't mean I think it's nice," Mary admitted.

Later that day, John and Dean went back to the auto shop. While John was technically retired from the physical labor aspect, he would still check in on the finances and paperwork and make sure everything was okay. Not that he didn't trust Dean, but Dean didn't know how to run a business. He just knew how to fix up the cars and charm the customers.

"Dad, I'm telling you, everything is fine," Dean repeated annoyingly for the umpteenth time. "I got this."

John flipped through some receipts. "I just want to double-check some numbers is all."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why? Because you don't trust me to do it?" Dean snapped.

"I trust you," John semi-lied. "I just want to see things for myself."

Dean grinded his jaw to stop himself from snapping back. Every couple of weeks or so, John would do this. Usually, Dean would hide out back with the cars to avoid him, but his jumpsuits were at the apartment and he wasn't completely back at work yet.

"I'm kicking you out," John said suddenly, hoping the change of subject would prevent a screaming match with his son over work.

"Whoa, flashback," Dean joked.

John ignored his little quip. "I know your mom asked you to stay for Sam, but now it's becoming an issue, wouldn't you agree?"

Dean was confused. "Are you talking about this morning?"

John let out a harsh sigh. "I'm talking about my adult son living at home point blank period."

"And what is Sam?" Dean retorted.

"Sam doesn't have his own place. But best believe, as soon as he's able to, I'm booting him out too."

Dean bit his lip and laughed. Unbelievable. "Fine! Soon as we're done here, I'll get my shit from the house and I'll go back to the apartment."

John's only response was to grunt in agreeance.

Dean left the small room and went out to the back lot with the cars. He should have been there from the beginning anyway.

Mary went about her day cleaning up the house as usual. She did some laundry, tidied up the kitchen, vacuumed, dusted, etc. Sam even helped her with some of it by cleaning up the bathrooms and changing the sheets on his and Dean's beds.

When Mary had finished, she grabbed a new James Patterson book she had been reading and went out to the living room. She found Sam passed out on the couch as an episode of Maury played in the background. Carefully and quietly, she turned off the television and reached for a throw blanket draped over the back of the couch. She did her best to lay it on top of Sam, even tucking him in a little. She settled in a chair on the other side of the living room, reading her book as Sam slept.

One chapter later, Sam started to stir and mumble in his sleep. He talked in his sleep as a child so Mary didn't think much of it. She found it cute and flashed back to memories of younger Sam sleeping on the couch. Her flashbacks were interrupted by Sam sitting up on the couch gasping for air.

"Sam?" she asked, throwing her book and crossing over to the couch. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Sam tried to catch his breath. "Yeah... just another weird dream."

Mary looked at him quizzically, hands on her hips. "Are you sure? Because you look kinda freaked out."

"Yes, Mom, I swear, I'm fine!" Sam yelled. Mostly because he was crabby from lack of sleep.

Mary opened her mouth to ask another question, only to be interrupted by the sound of the front door being swung open and her son and husband bickering with each other. "What the hell is this?" she asked instead.

"Dad's kicking me out!" Dean yelled from the doorway. "Again!"

"John!"

"Oh come on, Mary, there's no reason for him to keep staying here!" John argued in defense.

"Don't you think you should have talked to me about this first?" Mary ran over to the doorway. "Dean, honey, you don't have to go."

Dean turned around at the top of the stairs. "Why would I want to continue to stay here when he's just gonna keep ragging on me anyway!?"

"Dean! Wait!" Sam called. He jumped off the couch, brushed past his parents, who continued to stand in the doorway arguing, and followed his brother up the stairs. "Please don't go yet."

"I can't do it, Sam," Dean said, throwing what little items he brought over into his overnight bag. "I promised to stay until you were better, and you are, you're doing a lot better and I've overstayed my welcome so I'm gonna go."

"Please don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Justify Dad's reasoning for being a jackass!" Sam screamed. "You always do that when you two fight and it drives me insane."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, well, no offense Sam but Dad's been driving me insane since you called them from California. And I've had it!"

Sam sighed. He walked over to Dean and wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder. Dean put his arms around Sam's back in automatic response.

"Thank you," Sam whispered, "for staying and putting up with him anyway."

Dean felt himself immediately soften. Stupid older brother guilt.

"You know," he said, after letting Sam pull away from the hug first. "On the bright side, if he goes after you next, you can always come run off to my place."

Sam smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."

Dean tossed the overnight bag over his shoulder and went back downstairs with Sam right behind him.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Mary asked, waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"It's time, Mom," he said, giving her a hug goodbye. "Don't worry; I'll call later."

Mary gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, sending him on his way.

Chapter Text

Jess ran into the bedroom, locking the door. She looked around the room for something to put in front of it. Anything to stop him from coming in. When nothing seemed to look like it would work, Jess thought she'd take her chances, locking herself in the bathroom. She hid in the shower, pushing the buttons on her cell phone as everything in her body shook.

"911. What is your emergency?"

"Someone broke into my apartment!"

Sam woke up in a panic, tears rushing down his face. It took him a good amount of time to realize he was in his childhood bedroom and not his apartment in Palo Alto. Pulling his knees to his chest, he allowed himself to sob for a few minutes. What kind of cruel joke was this? It's like he was there in the apartment but there was nothing he could do except watch his terrified girlfriend scream and cry.

Sam gathered his thoughts and emotions. Throwing off the blankets, Sam stumbled into the bathroom. He didn't even bother turning on the light; the old t-rex nightlight his mom dug out of god knows where was perfectly fine to make his way around. He ran the water in the sink and splashed some on his face. When he came back up for air, he swore he actually saw Jess standing in the mirror behind him. Gasping, he turned around quickly to check for himself. Reality set back in and Sam shut off the water.

Sam went out through the main bathroom door, tip-toeing his way down the hall toward the stairs. When Sam was younger and had a nightmare, he'd go into his parents' room, tap his mom on the shoulder, and say he had a bad dream. She'd let him climb into bed with them and he'd cuddle with her as she wiped his tears away and sang quietly to him until he went back to sleep. John would usually be annoyed about it and act grumpy the next morning, but Sam didn't care. His mom made him feel better and that's all that mattered.

For a moment, he wondered if she'd still do it at his grown age.

Sam walked down the stairs, avoiding that one creaky step, and into the kitchen. He made a bowl of Lucky Charms and turned on the television. Law and Order was having another all-night marathon. Might as well. Nothing else good is on.

So Sam munched on his cereal and watched the show. He made it through about three episodes before he drifted off to sleep again.

John ran to the front door, hoping to answer it before the aggressive knocking woke up everyone and their brother in the whole neighborhood. He peeked through the peephole and groaned. Bracing himself, he opened the door.

"What can I do for ya, Ms. Harrison?" he asked, dreading this conversation already.

A little old woman stood on the front porch, waving her keys in his face. "Your boys peed in my flower bed again!" she accused.

John sighed. "I can promise you they did not."

"Well, they did something to it! My petunias are wilting!"

"Maybe it was that alcoholic boy toy of yours," John retorted.

Ms. Harrison gasped. "Jason is not an alcoholic!"

"Takes one to know one."

The woman was too stunned to speak.

"Have a nice day, Ms. Harrison," John said, shutting the door in her face. He watched through the peephole as she adjusted herself, turned around, and marched back down the driveway across the street to her house.

"Who was that?" Sam asked on the couch, waking from the commotion.

"Did you piss in Ms. Harrison's flower bed?"

"What?" Sam asked, still groggy.

"Nevermind," John mumbled. "Clean up your mess!"

Sam looked over at the coffee table. His dishes from his late night snack were still out and there were throw pillows and blankets everywhere. Groaning, he sat up on the couch and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Today was going to be a rough one.

Mary came skipping down the stairs. "Morning!" she called. She stopped at the bottom when she saw her son. "Did you sleep out here all night?" she asked, frowning.

"Uhhhhh... No?"

Mary tsked and walked over to the couch. "Are you feeling alright?"

Sam groaned again. "I'm fine, Mom. I just woke up and couldn't go back to sleep so I watched some tv."

Mary put her hand on his forehead anyway. Sam rolled his eyes and let her. Almost disappointed he didn't feel warm to her, she asked again: "Are you sure you're alright?"

"The boy said he's fine, Mary," John said, walking through the living room with a cup of coffee. "Leave him alone."

Mary looked back at her son. He gave her a cheesy grin to help sell it. Mary dropped the subject. Hoping to escape her hovering, Sam quickly grabbed his dishes and booked it out of the room.

"I just had a great idea!" Mary said. "John, what if Sam worked at the shop for a bit?"

Both men came back into the living room. "WHAT!?" they both asked.

"Well, you need something to do," Mary explained. "And it is a family business after all."

"Dean taking over for me does not make it a family business," John corrected.

"Oh come on! Like you weren't hoping one of our kids would take over someday," Mary argued.

"Mom, I don't know anything about cars," Sam said, using his only defense.

"I'm sure Dean could find something for you. It'll be fun! The two of you working together."

"Are you forgetting the last time Dean and I worked on something together? Ms. Harrison's garage caught on fire."

John snorted, trying not to laugh too hard at the memory. Fun times that summer was.

"Well, yes, but that was when you were younger. I'm sure you'll both be less likely to destroy something now."

John and Sam both stared at her, absolutely flabbergasted. Was this woman serious?

"You don't have to make a decision now, but promise me you'll think about it?" Mary asked, walking past Sam into the kitchen.

Sam turned to his dad. "Help me get out of this one?" he asked hopefully.

"Alright," Dean said, rolling up the sleeve of his jumpsuit. "Do you know how to change an oil filter?"

Sam sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room, feeling like a little kid again, about to have his big brother determine if he was cool enough to hang out with his friends. He shook his head no.

"Do you know how to change a spark plug?"

Sam shook his head again.

"Can you rotate a tire and check the pressure?"

Another shake.

Dean bent down and looked Sam in the eye. "Do you know what a car is?" he asked in a high-pitched voice, as if he was speaking to a toddler.

"Don't be a dick!" Sam accused. "Mom made me come here."

"Oh, well, since Mom said," Dean muttered. "What am I going to do with you?"

Sam shrugged. "We could always lie? Pretend I work here or something?"

"Can you lie to Mom?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head for a fourth time. "Yeah, I didn't fucking think so." Suddenly, the phone rang. Dean practically flew over the counter to answer it in time. "Winchester Auto, Dean speaking."

Sam blew his bangs out of his face. He stood out of the chair and walked around the small waiting area, waiting for Dean to finish on the phone. He typed something in the computer, made some inside jokes, and hung up the phone.

"I got it," Dean said. "Receptionist."

"Sit here and answer phones all day?" Sam asked. "Yeah, no fucking way."

"It's not just phones," Dean explained. "Come here." Sam waltzed behind the counter where his brother was standing. Dean pulled some things up on the computer. "Customer calls to make an appointment, you go to this screen. Checking people out when they pick their car up, you go to this screen. All transactions happen on this screen, and this is a little bonus screen if someone wants something from the gift shop."

"You guys started a gift shop?"

Dean tapped on the glass case behind him holding snacks, drinks, car air fresheners, and small gadgets. "Had to pay for your college somehow, law boy."

Sam cringed at the nickname. That felt like a whole other lifetime ago.

"What do you say?" Dean asked.

Sam thought it over. "I guess I could give it a shot."

The phone rang again. Dean pointed to it. Sam sat on the stool behind the counter and answered the phone.

"Winchester Auto, Sam speaking, how can I help you?"

Chapter Text

"Stop staring."

"Oh, come on!"

"No."

"Just a little?"

"Mom."

"Around the sides?"

"Mom."

"At least your bangs. I can't even see your eyes anymore. I miss seeing your handsome face."

"I'm a grown man! I can wear my hair how I want to."

Mary didn't like that answer. She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a car horn honking outside.

Sam looked at his watch. "Shit, I'm late!" He ran over to the sink and quickly rinsed out his cereal bowl.

Mary followed him out to the front door. "Have a good first day!" she said way too excitedly. She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

"Love you too," Sam mumbled out of obligation. He threw his jacket over his work polo (really Dean, polos?) and ran out the door towards Dean's car waiting at the edge of the driveway.

"What the hell, man?" Dean yelled out the rolled-down window. "Take extra time to do your makeup?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he opened the door. "Sorry, Mom was hounding me."

"About what?"

"Does it matter?" Sam groaned as he sat down and buckled his seatbelt.

Dean noticed their mom standing in the doorway, waving them goodbye. They both waved back and Dean drove off down the street.

Bored out of his mind, Sam spun around on the barstool behind the counter. Because of the weather, it had been a slow day at the shop. Only a handful of appointments and one walk-in. Unless people showed up to pick up their car and check out, he didn't have anything to do.

"How's it going?" Dean asked, dropping a bag of sandwiches on the counter.

"You guys need a tv or radio or something," Sam commented. "It's too quiet."

Dean tossed one of the sandwiches at him. "To be fair, no one usually sits in here all day."

Sam unrolled the wrapping and made a disgusted face.

"What? You don't eat ham and cheese anymore?" Dean asked, hurt by his brother's lack of appreciation.

"They put tomato on it," Sam mumbled, picking it off and tossing it on a napkin.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Wuss." He walked over to the back door leading out to the garage. "Bobby! Food's here!"

The other mechanic for the day, and old-time family friend, Bobby came into the office. "Thanks, son," he said, taking the sandwich and going into the breakroom. "By the way, that car you've been looking for was dropped off while you were gone."

"Shut up!" Dean said, sounding like a teenage girl. He did a little happy dance in excitement. Sam was wondering where his brother went for a minute. "Holy shit, Sam, come on, you gotta see this!" He grabbed Sam's hand and dragged him to the back of the garage where a beat-up 67 Impala sat.

"What is this?" Sam asked.

"This is an anniversary present for Mom and Dad," Dean explained. "Assuming I can clean it up in time."

Sam was confused. "You got them a car?"

"A car?" Dean scoffed. "This is what they drove before you and I existed, dude."

Sam laughed. No way his parents were that cool to own a sports car. "Yeah right."

"Wanna help with it?" Dean offered. "I could do all the technical shit but it's going to need a lot of cosmetic work too."

Sam thought about it. Dean was obviously very excited about this and he didn't want to ruin it. "I don't know..."

"Eh, whatever. It's not like you could get them anything better anyway," Dean teased.

Sam was offended. "Fine, I'll help you."

Dean clapped in excitement again and Sam swore he heard him squeal. "This is going to be so much fun!"

The two brothers walked in through the front door, laughing and joking about their workday, looking forward to family dinner, when they found both their parents standing in the living room in front of the television.

"What's going on?" Dean asked.

"Sammy," Mary said, walking over to him and gently pulling him into a hug. It was clear she had been crying.

Sam and Dean exchanged a scared look.

"Dad?" Dean asked again, hoping someone would give them an answer.

All John could do was turn up the volume on the television.

"Breaking news from Palo Alto Police Department," the news reporter announced, "law enforcement needs your help finding what they believe might be a serial killer copycat wanted for a double murder two weeks ago. Twenty-one-year-old Jessica Moore was pregnant and a student at Stanford University when an unidentified man broke into the apartment she shared with her boyfriend, killing her and her unborn child. The crime scene is similar to those in a string of unsolved murders across the country in the 80s, leading police to believe this is likely a copycat killer. The suspect has been added to the FBI most wanted list and they are conducting a nationwide manhunt."

Everyone looked at Sam. He could feel his family staring, but he felt too numb and his mind was too busy racing to notice. Why hadn't anyone warned him about this? Why didn't anyone tell him anything? This was all news to him. He didn't about any of it. There was no actual way Jess was pregnant, was she?

The next thing Sam knew, he was dry heaving into the upstairs toilet as his family waited downstairs, trying to figure out what to do now.

Chapter Text

Sam woke up the next day to his cell phone ringing on the bedside table. He looked at the caller ID and saw Brady's name.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Dude, are you alright?" Brady asked, sounding slightly panicked. "None of us have heard from you in days, man."

Sam sat up in bed and groaned. "Yeah, I've just been laying low, you know?"

"Yeah... We all saw that news broadcast last night."

Sam wanted to throw his phone. He was so hoping that was just another fucked up dream.

"Thank god you're not here," Brady continued. "The campus is flooded with investigators and reporters. So many classes were canceled today."

Sam bit his lip. "So... everyone knows, huh?"

"About the serial killer?" Brady asked, practically screeching into the phone. "Dude, that's fucked up, right? They can't actually be serious with that shit, can they? I mean-"

"No!" Sam interrupted, trying not to get upset. "No, Brady, I mean the other thing."

Oh. "Yeah. Yeah man, we all know now."

Sam went silent for a minute to collect himself. "Did anyone else know? You know, before?"

Brady sighed. "Becca said something earlier. She might have known."

Sam took a deep breath. Becca and Jess were in the same class, one year behind him, Brady, and Zack. They weren't besties, but everyone considered them to be pretty close.

"By the way," Brady said, not wanting his friend to get too upset with him on the phone, "I got the first package of your belongings ready to ship to ya. It's mostly your stuff but I managed to convince Jess' parents to leave some of her things for you to keep."

Sam smiled at that. He figured Jess' parents would let him keep something to remember her by. He wondered what they agreed to let him have. "Thanks man."

"Samuel?" he heard his dad call as he knocked on Sam's door.

"I gotta go."

"Please call me later? We worry, Sam."

"I promise," Sam said, hanging up the phone. He tossed it back on the bedside table. "Come in."

John opened the door and entered the dark bedroom. He flicked on the light switch, amused by his son who, judging by his bedhead, just woke up.

"It's late so I thought I'd check up on ya."

"Where's Mom?" Sam asked, betting that she asked his dad to check up on him for her.

"Lunch with a friend," John casually explained. He sat on the edge of the bed across from his son. "You didn't know did you?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't understand. There's just no way! I mean, it's not possible!" Sam answered earnestly. "Dad, I am so, so sorry!"

John watched as tears started to form in Sam's eyes. He put his hand on Sam's thigh. "Hey, Mom and I aren't mad at you," he said quietly, hoping his cool demeanor will help calm his son down.

Sam was confused. "You were mad at Dean," he accused.

John knew immediately where he was going with that argument. "Stop it." he snapped. "That's not fair. To him or to you. We would have welcomed Jessica and that baby into this family."

Sam scoffed. "Really? You wouldn't throw me out in the middle of the night to go stay with her forever? You wouldn't disown me as your son?"

John took a breath and bit his tongue. There were a lot of things he did when he was drunk that he regrets. "You're upset so I know you don't mean that," he noted, patting Sam's leg as he stood up to leave the room. "I'm making grilled cheese for lunch. If you want one, come down."

Sam watched his dad leave as tears slowly started to roll down his face. He grabbed his pillow from behind him, desperately wanting to throw something. He watched as it knocked over a cup of pens and a couple of books off his desk.

Wanting to keep his own pity party going, Sam picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts list, and dialed a number.

"Sam!" a girl screamed when she answered. "How are you? I miss you!"

"You knew!?" Sam asked, not caring how he came off. "You fucking knew!?"

Becca remained on the line, stunned. "Sam, I-"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't my place to tell you!" Becca tried to argue. "Jess had a whole thing planned and she was going to tell you when you came back from Tahoe."

"You should have warned me!" Sam was sobbing at this point. "When it happened! At the funeral! Anytime before the rest of the world found out!"

Becca choked back a sob of her own. "Sam, please believe me. I didn't think anyone would ever find out."

"That doesn't matter! The right thing to do would have been to tell me!"

"Sam-"

Anger bubbled up inside Sam. He hung up the phone and began pacing around his room. He stripped off his pajamas, threw on an old tee shirt and pair of jeans, and dialed another number.

"What do you want?" Dean answered, in that playful older sibling answering the phone sort of tone.

"Can you come get me?" Sam asked, trying to put on a brave face.

"I'm working, Sam," Dean responded nonchalantly. "And last I checked, you're not on the schedule for today."

"Please Dean," Sam pleaded. "I just- I can't- I have to get out of this house. I'll just hang out. I won't even get in your way."

Sam listened as he heard what sounded like a door opening and Dean calling out to someone. "Bobby! I'm taking my break!" Dean grabbed his wallet and keys. "I'll be there in fifteen. Meet me at the curb."

Sam went back to the apartment with Dean after the shop closed for the day.

"Here we are, home sweet home," Dean said, walking in through the door carrying a pizza. Sam walked in behind him, closing and locking the door as Dean set the pizza down on the small kitchen table and opened the fridge. "Do you drink beer?" he asked. Sam nodded. Dean grabbed two beers and got down a couple of plates from one of the cabinets.

Sam walked around the small living room. The last time he was at this apartment was right before he left for Stanford. Dean had invited him over to hang out. That was the night Sam learned to never touch spiked lemonade.

"Here, bitch, come make your plate," Dean said, already helping himself.

Sam pointed to a picture of a little boy, standing in a graduation cap and gown. The caption read 'Preschool, Class of 2003'. "Is this Ben?"

Dean looked at the picture on the wall Sam was pointing to and smiled. "Yeah, it is."

"God, he's so big," Sam said, admiring how freaking adorable his nephew is. "He's, what, eight now?"

"Seven," Dean clarified. "He'll be eight in April."

Sam noticed the look of guilt Dean had on his face for a second. "I'm sorry you lost custody."

Dean scoffed. "Can't lose what you never had."

"Does Lisa at least let you see him?"

Dean shrugged. "I mean, I try to do as much as I can. Hard to do when I have no legal rights over the kid."

Sam sighed for his brother. The breakup and custody battle with Lisa and her family was so hard on Dean. He's tried to take Lisa to family court a couple of times to negotiate a fair custody arrangement, but every time something goes wrong in his favor. Sam only knew parts of it when his mom would call him every week while he was away at school. Dean never really shared any of it with him.

They both sat on the couch eating pizza and drinking beer. Well, Dean started eating pizza and drinking beer. Sam was anxiously twiddling his thumbs and trying to figure out his next question.

"What did you do? When you found out Lisa was pregnant?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?" Dean whined.

"I'm never gonna know how I would react to Jess telling me, so I guess I'm trying to live vicariously."

That got Dean to laugh. "Oh, dude, you don't want to react like I did. I mean, I was fucking terrified. We were eighteen and Lisa was about to start college. I was dicking around doing fucking knows what. I'm still convinced she's mad at me for ruining our lives."

Sam lost himself in the train of thought. Lisa dropped out of college to be a single mom, even though Dean was right there. Even when they got in a huge fight and broke up, he was still right there. If Jess stayed pregnant, would she have dropped out during her last year? Would she have given up on nursing school to be a stay-at-home mom? Sam could only imagine the conversation they would have if he volunteered to be a stay-at-home dad instead of doing law school so Jess could do what she always wanted. He thought about marrying Jess one day, but would it look like he was marrying her only because of the baby?

"What the fuck you wanna watch?" Dean asked, scrolling through tv channels. Sam didn't even notice he had turned it on.

Chapter Text

Sam rushed down the driveway towards the car, slamming the door behind him. "Drive." he demanded.

Dean took a sip from the coffee he was holding. "The fuck got you so freaked?"

"Dude, I can't take it with Mom anymore! She is everywhere." Sam confessed, emphasizing the word.

"So?" Dean asked. "Tell her to back off."

"I CAN'T!" Sam exclaimed. "She's in the kitchen making me food, she's in the basement doing my laundry, she's in the bathroom while I'm in the shower asking if I had a clean towel!" Dean let out a loud laugh. "This morning she came into my room while I-"

Sam bit his tongue to stop before he got too ahead of himself.

"While you what?" Dean asked. Sam didn't answer. "Come on, I can't help ya if you don't tell me."

Sam's face turned redder than a tomato.

The worse thing imaginable popped into Dean's head. "NO!" he gasped, horrified for his little brother.

"Don't." Sam warned.

"Did she see anything?"

"DEAN!"

"Oh, man! That's ballsy dude!" Dean said, bursting into laughter again. "No pun intended." Sam reached over and smacked him upside the head, causing Dean to swerve a little. "OW! Sam, I'm driving!"

"I was under the blanket," Sam muttered, almost out of spite.

"You need to get laid," Dean commented.

Something about that made Sam nervous. "No, I don't."

"Uh yeah, ya do!" Dean took another sip of coffee. "Make you a deal, you can come stay for a little bit if you go out with me tonight."

"How is that fair?" Sam snapped.

"It's not," Dean answered simply, "Come on, we'll have a couple drinks, watch Bobby do some karaoke, get you to know the guys in the shop. What do you say?"

Sam whined. "Can't you just leave me your key?"

Dean groaned. "Damn it, Sam!"

"I'll let you in this time!" Sam said, referencing an incident that happened when they were younger. "I promise!"

"I already promised the guys I'd join them tonight," Dean said. Sam didn't respond so Dean resorted to: "Would you rather I drop you off back here with her?"

Sam pouted. "Fine."

Dean smiled, satisfied with that answer. He looked over at Sam picking at a hole in his jeans. "I love you," he teased.

"Shut up!"

"Alright, when you're ready, you can swipe your card."

Sam waited behind the counter as an older gentleman fumbled with his wallet to pull out a credit card and swipe it in the card reader. Sam smirked as the man mumbled something about this new damn technology.

"Have a nice day!" he said cheerfully, handing the man his keys and finishing out the checkout. The man didn't even mumble a thanks. Rude.

"How's it going Sam-derella?" Dean said, coming into the shop from the parking lot and dropping off a set of car keys that clearly belonged to a girl.

"You have the rudest customer base," Sam told him. "Not one 'thank you' or 'have a good day' back all day."

The bell to the shop rang as a 20-something-year-old girl walked in through the door. Instinctively, remembering their conversation earlier, Dean practically threw Sam into the counter to greet her.

"Hi!" she said, all smiley and cheery. "I'm picking up from an oil change."

Sam struggled to find his words. "W-what's the name?"

Dean snorted, still standing behind him. Sam threw his hand back and smacked his brother in the stomach.

"Tiffany Adams."

Sam typed the last name into the computer, pulling up the girl's information.

"Blue BMW?"

The girl smiled. "That's the one!"

Dean pulled out the keyset he just had a minute earlier and tossed it across the counter. "Here ya go. All good to go."

She sighed. "Thank you so, so much! I'm so embarrassed for even bringing it. Usually, my dad does it but I'm kinda on my own right now."

"No problem. That's why we're here," Dean said. "Right Sam?"

Sam just nodded and pointed to the card reader. "Whenever you're ready."

The girl swiped her card. "Have a good day!" she sang as she left the shop. Both boys watched her get into the car out front and drive off.

"She wasn't rude," Dean said, winking at his brother and grabbing his next set of keys.

After they closed the shop for the day, Dean took Sam home so he could pack a few things and spend the weekend at Dean's. Just to get away from his parents for a little bit.

"Hi honey!" Mary said from the couch where she was reading. "How was work?"

Still embarrassed from this morning, Sam ran right up the stairs, avoiding her as much as possible.

"Is he okay?" Mary asked, looking over at Dean still standing in the doorway.

"He's fine. He's gonna pack a bag and stay with me for the weekend," Dean explained.

Mary frowned. "Why? Did something happen?"

Dean shrugged. "Just some brother bonding time, you know?"

"Brother bonding time?"

"What? Is it so hard to believe my little brother would want to hang out with me?" Dean joked.

Mary rolled her eyes. "No, of course not."

Dean crossed over and sat next to his mom on the couch. "We need to talk."

Mary set her book down and faced him. "Of course baby. Is everything okay with you?"

"You need to let up on Sam," Dean said, practically whispering. Mary went to object, but Dean stopped her. "He's twenty-two Mom. And I know you're just looking out for him, given everything, but this whole-" Dean waved his arms around -"Stepford Mom act is weirding us all out, okay? He took care of himself for almost four years without us. I think he'll be fine if you give him a little space."

Mary blushed and looked away. She could admit she may have overstepped a little. "I guess I just wanted to make sure he knew someone was here for him if he needed it."

Dean grabbed her hand. "He knows that, Mom. But he's got all of us too, okay?"

Mary nodded in agreement. "Fine. I'll stand down."

Sam came running down the stairs with his overnight bag. "I'm ready!" he announced sounding like a little kid excited for a sleepover.

"Have fun with your brother," Mary told him, "Please don't be the reason the cops show up at my door tonight."

They gave her hugs goodbye and left for Dean's.

"Alright," Dean said, picking a spot at the bar. "Pick your poison."

Sam looked over the drink menu on the counter. "Beer."

"Noooo," Dean groaned. "Four years of college and you pick beer?" He scoffed. "Four tequila shots," he told the bartender.

Sam was shocked. "I am not doing four tequila shots!"

"We're splitting them dumbass," Dean answered. "I'm gonna need to get just as wasted to forget that I brought you to a bar just to order beer and embarrass yourself."

The bartender brought over the shots and set two in front of each of them. Dean threw his back-to-back. Sam, on the other hand, carefully studied the liquid before taking a sip of it.

"Uh uh," Dean said, desperate to stop the kid from embarrassing himself. Has he ever fucking drank like ever? The hell was he doing at college anyway? "No, you gotta throw it back." Dean motioned his hand and head to demonstrate.

"Throw it back?" Sam repeated as if he had never heard this before.

"Yeah, uh, pretend it's that crap Mom used to give us when we were sick."

"Cough syrup?"

"Yes!" Dean snapped his fingers. "That! Pretend it's that!"

Sam looked back at the drink and made a face.

Dean rolled his eyes. "What?"

"I like the taste of cough syrup," Sam admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

Dean didn't hesitate with: "Of course you do you fucking weirdo."

It was a slight struggle but Sam managed to down the two shots. The rest of the auto shop arrived, ordering their respective drinks and spreading out throughout the small bar. Sam zoned out. He wasn't really interested in getting to know the rest of the people who worked at his dad's shop. He knew that might come across badly, but Sam was just the receptionist. He didn't know how to talk to these guys, let alone bond with them. No matter how many times Dean tried, and failed, to bring him into the conversations.

"I'll be back," Sam said, standing from the booth they were now occupying with Bobby and someone else and making his way to the restroom. The urinals looked disgusting so Sam went into a stall.

He heard the door open. "Sam? Are you okay? You're pretty quiet out there."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Dean."

"Good, cause you'll never guess who just walked in."

"Who?"

"Wash your hands and come see for yourself."

The door closed. Sam finished and exited the restroom. Dean was still standing in the hallway. When he noticed his brother come back out, he nodded towards a girl at the bar. "Wasn't that the nice chick from the shop earlier?"

Sam looked to where Dean was. Tiffany. The girl with the BMW.

"I'm good," Sam said suddenly.

Dean laughed. His brother was so flustered it was adorable. "Go talk to her. She's cute! Plus she was totally flirty with you earlier."

"She was not!"

Dean had an evil look in her eye. "Hey Tiffany!" he shouted. The girl turned around and noticed them standing in the corner. She obviously recognized them too, waving nicely back.

"Seriously," Dean said quietly. "Go order your stupid beer and just talk to the pretty girl for one drink."

Sam swallowed nervously and nodded. He shuffled over to the bar.

Dean lost sight of his brother. It had been over half an hour. Guess Tiffany was sick of sitting at the bar. Last he saw they went around the corner towards the billiards table. Dean wasn't too worried about it. Like he told their mom: Sammy's a big boy now and he doesn't need anyone hovering over him like a helicopter parent or sibling or whatever. He wasn't going anywhere; Dean had the car and apartment keys. Sam knows where he's at.

As soon as Sam crossed Dean's mind, it was like he was magically summoned, because Sam showed up, looking even more flustered and upset. "Can we go?"

"What? What are you talking about? What happened?"

Sam just headed quickly for the door, slamming it open.

Dean turned back to the guys. "Guess we're calling it a night!" he said, trying to make a joke to cover for his brother's little scene.

Dean went outside to find Sam, sitting on the ground next to the car.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean asked, starting to get worried. "Are you sick?"

Sam's breathing was shaky and his lip was trembling. Dean unlocked the car, helping the tipsy Sam in the passenger seat. He grabbed an oil collection pan from the trunk (What? So Dean takes supplies from the shop sometimes) and handed it to Sam. "If you're gonna hurl, use this."

Sam took the pan and folded in half on the seat. Dean didn't want to leave just yet with his brother mid-panic attack so they just sat in the car in the dark parking lot until it passed.

Dean finally cleared his throat and spoke up. "Was it the girl?"

Sam sniffled and sat back up in the seat. "Yeah," he said, barely able to get the word out.

"She do something?"

"No."

"Then what?"

Sam's crying turned to laughter. Troubling laughter. "Jess is fucking dead and I feel like I'm cheating on her!"

Dean felt like someone punched him in the gut. He now realized how lowkey insensitive he had been all day. "Yeah... yeah that's my bad buddy. I'm sorry."

"No!" Sam screamed. "No, I'm not mad! I mean, what, I'm just supposed to accept Jess was my one true love and never interact with another girl ever again? Like I'm a fucking widower at twenty-two or some shit?"

Maybe Sam was drunker than Dean thought. "What happened, Sam?"

"She kissed me!" Sam said, still screaming. "We were playing billiards, badly might I mention, and she couldn't figure out how to get the balls to bounce off each other so I showed her and she turned around and kissed me!"

Dean nodded in understanding. "And that's when you flipped out?" Sam nodded. "Why though? Cause you felt like you were cheating on Jess?"

"No, it's more like-" Sam tried to find the right wording. "Okay, if I tell you something, will you promise not to be mean about it?"

Dean smirked. "Come on, when have I ever done that?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Before Jessica... let's just say I've never been with anyone," he slowly confessed.

"What, like she was your first girlfriend? I know that. So what?"

"Yes, but I'm saying I've never been with anyone. Like that before." Dean was confused. Sam made a gesture. "You know... intimately?"

The dots slowly started connecting in Dean's brain. He didn't want to be insensitive more so than already, but he just couldn't hold back anymore. "NO!" he snorted. "No way she's the only girl you've had sex with!" he looked over at Sam wishing he could slip under the dash and disappear. "Was Jess really your first!?"

"Dean," Sam whined, already regretting everything.

"I'm sorry I don't mean to laugh just... are you sure we're related!?"

Sam started crying again. He folded back over the front seat, holding his face in his hands. Dean immediately stopped laughing.

"Alright, I'll stop. I'm sorry."

Sam wiped his face and gathered himself.

"Not even at prom?" Dean couldn't help but ask.

"I wanted it to be with someone I knew really liked me."

Dean thought back to his first time with Lisa. They were in love. Maybe a little young, but in love. "I get it, man," he said, patting Sam's shoulder and starting the car, hoping to get Sam home and sleep it all off. Bonus points if he doesn't remember any of this tomorrow.

Chapter Text

"911. What is your emergency?"

"Someone broke into my apartment!"

"Okay, honey, where are you at?"

Jess crouched down further in the tub behind the shower curtain. "I'm at the off-campus apartments across from Stanford. Apartment 2. I'm hiding in the bathroom."

"That's good, honey, just stay as quiet as you can on the line with me."

Jess slowed her breathing down as much as she could. She looked for anything she could use as a defense. Her razor might work if he got close enough and she got a good swipe at him. Or she could throw a shampoo bottle at his groin.

There was a thud on the bathroom door and Jess had to muffle her screams and cries.

Sam woke up in another panic on the couch. Throwing his hand over his mouth, he ran into the bedroom, opened the bathroom door, and violently threw up in the toilet. When he was finished, he closed the lid and flushed, allowing himself to rest his forehead on the lid and close his eyes. As he sat there gathering his breath, he was suddenly very much aware of his surroundings and remembered where he was.

"Morning," Dean said on the other side of the shower curtain, allowing Sam to finally notice all the steam that had filled the tiny apartment bathroom.

"Sorry," Sam muttered, embarrassed.

Dean didn't seem to care too much. "I can see now why you don't drink."

Sam continued to sit on the floor. The steam comforted him and started to help soothe the pounding that had started in his head. He knew he was going to have to do something soon for his hangover unless he wanted to be miserable all day.

Dean turned off the shower. "Don't look," he threatened, opening the shower curtain and reaching for his towel.

"Why would I? I thought the goal was to stop hurling," Sam poorly joked. Dean kicked him in the thigh, causing Sam to cry out in pain.

"Shut up, I didn't kick you that hard."

Sam groaned, rubbing his forehead and now his thigh. "Everything hurts."

Dean wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the bathroom. He opened the linen closet right outside and grabbed a fresh set of clean towels. Then he dug through the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. "Here," he said, balancing everything on the small bathroom sink counter. "This apartment has, like, a magical unlimited supply of hot water. Might feel good."

"Thanks," Sam mumbled.

Dean shut off the lights and closed the bathroom door, very much in Sam's favor. He was content to spend all day on Dean's bathroom floor if it would help.

Dean got dressed quickly and went out to the kitchen to make breakfast. He also had a slight hangover so microwaving frozen waffles it is. While his waffles heated up and his coffee brewed, Dean checked his phone for the first time. There was a call from the house, likely their mom just calling to check in after their first night out. Dean wrote a note to himself to call her back when he and Sam were more human and less zombie. There was also a text from Lisa.

Call me. Need 2 talk about Ben.

Shit.

Fearing something might have happened, Dean immediately called his ex.

"Hey!" she greeted when she answered. "I didn't expect to hear back from you so soon."

That caught Dean off-guard. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that last night was Friday and I know you like to go out with the guys on Fridays. I thought I might get a call back on Monday, honestly."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You said it was about Ben. What happened? Is he okay?"

"Ben's great. He brought a flyer home from school yesterday and wants to try softball next semester."

Dean sighed in relief. "Softball, huh?"

"Yeah, it's a lot but I was thinking maybe you and I could split it and go half?"

"I might be able to do that. How much are we talking? 50? 100?"

"250."

"250 dollars!?" Dean's mind started racing just trying to do the math on how he would be able to come up with that.

"That's for the whole season, including travel expenses," Lisa explained. Dean could hear in her voice she was trying to be reasonable. "My parents said they'll cover his uniform so really, it's not as bad as it could be."

Now Dean was pissed. Why couldn't Lisa's upper-class family just cover everything? They dictate what his son can and can't do anyway. "I'll see what I can do."

"Is that Dad?" he heard a little voice say on the line. "Can I talk to him?"

"Not right now, honey, he's busy."

"Come on, Mom!"

"Maybe next time. Go help Grandma clean up breakfast."

"You never let me talk to him!"

"Benjamin Matthew Braeden."

Dean couldn't listen to this any longer. "Come on, Lis, let him say hi."

There was a childish scream, followed by a loud bang and Lisa groaning. "He just slammed his door. I have to go. Let me know. Bye."

Dean threw his phone against the wall, the battery cover flying off.

"Fuck, who were you on the phone with?" Sam asked, looking a little more alive after his own shower and coming into the main room of the apartment.

"Lisa," Dean snapped. He ran his hands down his face and started pacing around the room. "Ben wants to play softball."

"That's good, right?" Sam asked, pouring himself some of the coffee that just finished brewing.

"Lisa wants me to chip in for half. It's $250."

Sam sat down at the table and shrugged. "That's not so bad."

"NOT SO-" Dean felt his eyes actually pop out of his head. "Sam, I can't help with that! I can barely cover rent and child support already as it is."

Sam felt awful. He knew Dean had some financial troubles. Running a small family business is tight enough as it is. Hell, Dean has been on his own since he was eighteen technically. But it never occurred to him that it could be this bad. It explains why he was over almost every night after work for family dinner and why he didn't have much stuff at the apartment.

"Why don't you ask Mom and Dad?" Sam suggested. "I'm sure they'd love to help their grandson."

Dean scoffed, sitting at the table across from Sam. "Yeah, 'cause that will go over well."

Sam fiddled with the coffee mug. "Are you talking about Dad?"

"Of course, I'm talking about Dad!" Dean angrily stood up and walked over to the microwave, pulling his now cold waffles out. "You've seen the way he treats me. I don't need another reason for him to think I'm a failure."

"You're not a failure, Dean!" Sam argued, hoping to cheer his brother up. "You're doing the best you can!"

"Which obviously still isn't good enough," Dean responded bitterly.

"Well, then I'll ask."

Dean snorted. "What? Like they're just gonna hand you $250."

"I'll tell them I want my own car so you don't have to drive me everywhere anymore."

"And when you suddenly don't have a car?" Dean challenged.

Fuck. "I didn't think that far."

Dean almost threw the syrup bottle at Sam's face. Fucking idiot.

"Come on, Dean, let us help!" Sam all but begged. "Ben's not just your responsibility, you know? No matter what our dad or Lisa's parents think."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." Shocker. Sam dropped the conversation.

"Do you have sugar?" he asked instead. "Your coffee's gross."

Dean grabbed a small tupperware of sugar down from one of the cabinets. That he actually did aim at Sam's face.

Chapter Text

Dean rolled up outside his parents' house and parked along the curb. "Here we are ladies and gentlemen," he announced, mimicking a silly tour guide voice, "home sweet home."

Sam rolled his eyes and opened the door.

"Oooo I'm telling them you got out of the car before I turned it off!"

Sam opened the back door and grabbed his overnight bag. "Bite me."

"Why are you always so mean?" Dean fake-cried.

"Oh, shut up."

"Is that any way to thank me for letting you stay all weekend?"

Sam threw his brother the cheesiest grin he could muster. "Thank you, Deeaaannnn!" he said, acting like a child. Dean smacked him on the shoulder and Sam unlocked the front door.

"You're back!" Mary greeted, running in from the kitchen. "And I see you're both still alive and in one piece."

"Yup. He's back to being your problem now," Dean teased.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Mary turned her attention to Sam. "Sammy, Brady's packages were delivered yesterday," she explained in a gentle voice. "I had your dad put them in Dean's room so you can open them when you're ready."

Sam's heart skipped a beat in panic. "Cool thanks," he said, trying to downplay his emotions as he headed for the stairs.

"Dean, come help me finish dinner so your brother can get settled," Mary said as she walked back into the kitchen.

"Talk to her!" Sam harshly whispered from the steps once she was out of earshot. Dean tried to fight him back. Sam pointed and gestured for him to go. Dean gave in and stumbled over to the kitchen as Sam continued to run up the steps.

"What are we having?" Dean asked, trying to keep casual.

"I asked your dad to get pizza. They should almost be done," Mary said, cracking open the oven and taking a peek. "Can you make the salad?"

Dean walk over to the fridge and pulled out the ingredients his mom had set aside. He started washing and chopping the lettuce as she set the table.

Just fucking do it. "Mom, I need a favor."

"Of course, honey, what is it?"

Do it. Just ask. "Ben wants to play softball and Lisa wants me to pay for half."

Mary turned and looked at her son. "Let me guess, you can't help cover?" she asked sympathetically.

Dean's face was red from embarrassment. "I know I shouldn't ask but I wouldn't if it was even possible for me," he answered, feeling shameful. "But he's so excited and I don't want to let the kid down."

Mary thought it over for a second. Dean was a good father and he really was trying. Sometimes it was like she was the only one he had in his corner for support. She also hated the custody arrangement Lisa's parents had fought in court for. Dean's never asked for help covering anything before and she knew he was feeling absolutely horrible even considering asking.

"Let me get my checkbook."

The breath of air Dean let out; he felt like he could cry. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said, like a little kid who was told he could go out. "I can pay it back."

"Don't worry about it," Mary said, "Although, I could use help with some work around the house."

"Sold!"

Sam stared at the boxes sitting on the empty mattress in Dean's room. They weren't huge boxes; definitely smaller than Sam had in mind when Brady told them he shipped them.

Sam took his pocket knife and sliced the tape on the biggest of the two, finding it packed with more clothes and shoes. Sam let out a laugh. He was sick of wearing what felt like the same five outfits over and over. Some of the clothes he didn't recognize when he pulled them out. At the bottom of the box was a note.

Throwing some old stuff out. Thought you could use it instead. -Brady

Sam smiled and carried everything to his room, shoving it all inside his dresser. Breaking the box down and throwing it on the floor, he focused on the smaller box. If that was my stuff, then this has to be...

Tears immediately flooded Sam's eyes. He laughed nervously, confused why he was getting more emotional than he thought he would. He knew it would be hard to see Jess' belongings again, but he never anticipated this gut-wrenching weight in his chest.

"Dinner's ready," Dean said, knocking on the door. Sam jumped from being startled but Dean didn't seem to notice. "Get anything good?"

Sam quickly wiped his face. "Got the rest of my clothes."

Dean suddenly felt the energy in the room. "Clothes are good," he said softly, noticing that Sam had been staring at a closed box. "Better hurry. Dad got that pineapple crap you like."

That got a smile out of Sam. "Tell them I'll be a minute?"

Dean simply nodded and went back downstairs.

Sam turned back to the box. Maybe another time. He went into the bathroom to wash his face quickly before joining his family for dinner.

Sam lay in bed staring up at his ceiling. He couldn't fall asleep and he had been trying for hours. His mind was just racing and all he could think of was the box. He was curious about what was inside but was still on the fence about opening it yet.

He reached over and grabbed his phone, flipping it open and clicking on Brady's contact.

Thx for sending the boxes

Not even one minute later, the phone buzzed. Sam snorted. Of course, he's awake right now.

Yea no problem dude! followed by Sorry it's not much. Cops still have a lot in evidence.

No worries. Appreciate you trying.

Dude you never told me you got her an engagement ring

Sam slowly sat up in bed.

What r u talking about?

Um hello the giant ass ring? I put it in the box with her stuff

Sam stared at his phone in confusion. I never got her a ring. Worried he somehow did fall asleep and this was a dream, Sam pinched himself. His phone buzzed again.

I found it in your underwear drawer with your pocket knife. Odd hiding spot btw

Fuck your feelings. Sam bolted it from his bed. He crossed through the Jack and Jill bathroom to Dean's old room. Ripping open the box, he dumped all the content on the bed and dug through it. Indeed he found a small blue jewelry box with what could be an engagement ring inside and a pocket knife similar to the one Sam usually carried with him. Sam dug through the other items to see if maybe he could make some sense of it. A teddy bear from when they went to homecoming, some books Jess read while they dated, a couple of journals, a tee shirt she stole from Sam and slept in all the time, her Stanford zip-up, pictures still in their frames, her favorite coffee mug. No, these were all definitely hers. Sam recognized them all instantly. But the knife and ring...

Sam went back into his room and texted Brady back.

These aren't mine dude

Well they were definitely in your apartment followed by Maybe she was gonna propose to you lol

Something about this made Sam feel uneasy. He didn't like any of this. This didn't sound right. None of this made any sense.

Yeah. Maybe.

Chapter Text

Time flew by faster than Sam could process. Last night was Thanksgiving and it was a little rough. He and Jess had talked about possibly staying in Palo Alto and eating dinner with her family this year. Since that obviously didn't happen, Mary suggested a really small family dinner, just the four of them. Though that didn't really help much with Sam's sour mood. He did appreciate her parents calling to check on him, however. That was nice of them. And his friends were all sending each other pictures of their breaks back home so that was a nice sense of normalcy for a minute.

The next morning Sam came downstairs in his pajamas. The shop was closed for the four-day weekend so he didn't have to worry about Dean picking him up. While he was making his cereal, he found a note on the fridge.

Took Dad to doctor's appointment. We'll bring home lunch. -Mom

Sam snorted at the little smiley face she drew next to her name.

Tossing the note in the trash, he went out to the couch and flipped on the television, settling for a Maury marathon. Content with having the house to himself all morning, Sam happily ate his cereal for breakfast and watched people argue over petty family drama.

The phone behind Sam's head rang. He reached behind him and grabbed the cordless phone, recognizing Dean's name on the caller ID screen. Speaking of petty family drama.

"Yea?" Sam answered.

"Hey, where's Mom?"

"She took Dad to an appointment."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered. Sam began to notice the slight panic in his brother's voice.

"Dean?" Sam turned off the television. "Is everything okay?"

"Lisa's dad had a heart attack last night. It's not looking good."

Oh shit. "What are you gonna do?"

Dean sighed. "Lisa left a message asking me to pick up Ben from the hospital. I'm on my way there now."

"Yeah, get Ben and bring him here," Sam agreed.

"The house? Why?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Your apartment isn't exactly kid-friendly, Dean."

Fuck. "Good point. I'll let you know."

Sam hung up the phone. He stared at the half-empty bowl of cereal and the now turned off television. So much for a quiet morning alone.

Dean exited the elevator in the hospital, anxiously rubbing his hands together. The only other time he had heard Lisa call in a panic was when that pregnancy test turned positive. He's just a dad picking up his son; what's so nerve-wracking about that?

Lisa practically burst into tears when she saw him. He greeted her with a hug. It had been a while since they had any physical contact but Dean thought the sentimental moment was a good excuse. Plus she looked like she needed it.

"How is he?" Dean asked although he couldn't actually care.

"They just took him into surgery," Lisa explained. "I don't know what. It all happened so fast."

Dean could fake his feelings for him, but not for Lisa. "What happened? He just collapse or something?"

Lisa ran her hand through her hair. "I don't know. He wasn't feeling well after dinner last night so he went to bed early. A couple of hours later, my mom found him on the bathroom floor and we called 911."

Dean shuddered. He didn't know what he would do if his mom found his dad just lying on the bathroom floor. "What can I do, Lis?" He asked, busting out an old nickname. "Seriously. Name it."

"I just really need you to take Ben for the next couple of days. Just until we figure out what's going on."

"You got it."

Lisa reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys. She took one off the ring and handed it to Dean. "In case Ben needs something from the house. Alarm code is 1975. He was sick last week so he has some makeup homework to do. Don't let him lie to you and say he already did it. And his bedtime is now 8:30 because he gets cranky in the morning."

"Yes ma'am."

Lisa smiled at Dean. "I owe you."

Dean smiled back. "Yes, you do."

They heard footsteps approaching behind them. Dean turned around to see Ben coming down the hall accompanied by Lisa's mom.

"He didn't like anything they had in the cafeteria," she uttered, almost as if she were bothered by a seven-year-old. Dean tried not to take it personally; her husband is in the hospital after all.

"That's alright," Dean said, "we'll find something. Right, Ben?"

The boy nodded and rubbed his eyes.

Lisa bent down in front of her son. "You're gonna stay with Dad for a little bit okay?"

"What about Grandpa?"

"Grandma and I are going to stay here and make sure Grandpa's okay."

"But I wanna stay here with Grandpa too!" Ben tried to fight.

Lisa sighed, frantically trying to avoid the too-tired kid from throwing a tantrum. "Come on, Ben, you're always asking me to take you to Dad's and now you have the chance! Doesn't that sound exciting?"

Dean caught onto the game she was trying to play. "Yeah bud, I'm going to take you to hang out with Uncle Sam at your other Grandma and Grandpa's and I bet we're going to have a lot of fun."

Ben yawned and rubbed his eyes again. "Do you have games?"

Dean and Lisa laughed. "Hell yeah dude, I'm sure Grandma has all kinds of games in the garage."

That seemed to win the child over. "Okay," he shrugged. Dean picked Ben up, who practically fell asleep with his arms wrapped around Dean's neck. Lisa walked with them to the parking lot so Ben had his car booster seat and whatever quick overnight bag she had packed for him. She promised to keep Dean updated and off they went.

The realization hit as soon as Dean pulled out of the parking garage. Holy shit, I have my kid all to myself. I'm alone with my own child.

Dean snuck a peek in the rearview mirror. Ben had fallen asleep in the back with his head against the window. Suddenly, Dean was transported back to when he was nineteen, driving Lisa and a newborn Ben home, going just below the speed limit and avoiding taking any chances.

Those thoughts didn't stop Dean from cringing when he pulled into his parents' driveway, hit that curb, and Ben's head rolled around on his neck like a fucking bobblehead.

This was already turning out to be the most nerve-wracking experience of Dean's life. How in the hell does she do this every day?

Dean gently shook Ben awake so he could get out of the car and go inside the house. Sam greeted them at the door.

"Ben, this is your Uncle Sam," Dean explained. "You probably don't remember him but he's been away at college."

"Hi Ben," Sam waved. He had about as much experience with his nephew as Dean did. "Are you excited to hang out with your dad?"

Ben tugged on Dean's sleeve. "I hafta go to the bathroom," he whispered.

Dean took a second for his brain to process. "Uhh, yeah, sure, okay, let's uh, let's go upstairs," he said, guiding the kid to the second floor. Sam snorted at his brother's awkwardness and followed behind them. "Do you need any help?" Dean nervously asked. Ben shook his head. Obviously, because the kid is old enough to be potty trained, you fucking idiot. "Awesome. We'll be in this room next door when you're all done, okay?"

Ben went inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Dean groaned at his own stupid acting and Sam started failing at holding back laughter.

"Shut up," Dean mumbled.

"Dude, I thought you were gonna shit your pants when I opened the door!"

"I said shut up Sam."

"Oh my god, you're so bad at this. How are you so bad at this? He's your kid!"

Dean punched Sam in the chest. "You gonna keep making jokes or are you going to help me?" Dean threatened, grabbing a fresh set of sheets from the closet.

Sam held his hands up in surrender. "Fine, guess I'll help you."

The two of them quickly made up Dean's old bed for Ben. A minute later, Ben emerged in the doorway, still looking tired as hell.

"Here, bud, you can finish your nap here," Dean told him.

Ben didn't hesitate to get into bed. "I can't sleep without Teddy," he whined.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Is Teddy in the bag Mom packed ya?" Dean asked. Ben nodded, his hair getting fluffed up by the pillow. "Okay, I'll run down to the car and get your bag. You just... go to sleep. Okay? Deal?"

Ben nodded again, yawning and closing his eyes.

"Stay here with him," Dean ordered Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and fought back from saying some sort of stupid retort. He stood in the doorway and watched his nephew slowly drift off to sleep. Dean returned, rummaging through Ben's bag and pulling out a small brown teddy bear. Dean's heart burst when he recognized it as one of the stuffed animals he picked out for Ben's nursery.

And just like when baby Ben was brought home from the hospital, Dean placed the teddy bear under his arm and tucked them both in with the blanket.

Chapter Text

Mary and John returned later that afternoon. Everyone sat around the table as Dean explained what was happening with Lisa's dad.

"That's horrible," Mary commented when he had finished. Yeah, no shit Mom. "Do they think he'll pull through?"

"He was still in surgery when Lisa last texted," Dean explained. "I think it's a bypass or something."

"Well, you let her know we're here to help if they need anything."

"We are?" John asked. Sam snorted at the immediate glare Mary shot his way.

"Dad?" a voice called from upstairs.

"Must be mine," Dean said, laughing awkwardly to himself as he rose from the table. He jogged into the other room towards the stairs. "Yeah?"

Ben came down the stairs rubbing his eyes. "I'm hungry."

"I don't suppose you like cheeseburgers?" Dean asked, recalling what his parents brought home for lunch. Lucky for him, Ben nodded. Dean smiled. "Well, come on dude, I'll heat one up for you."

Dean led a very nervous and shy Ben into the dining area. "Here, you can sit in my spot next to Grandma," Dean said, pulling his chair out. Ben slowly walked over and sat down in the chair. It had been a long time since he last saw his grandparents. Dean could remember his fourth birthday when he and Lisa were still together. It could easily have been the last time.

"Ben!" Mary greeted. "Oh my gosh, look how big you've gotten."

Ben bit his lip and slid down in the chair.

"So Ben, how old are you now?" John asked, throwing his Grandpa hat in the ring.

"Seven," Ben answered quietly.

"Is that so?" John turned and looked at Dean waiting for the microwave to finish. "You know, when your dad was seven-"

"He doesn't want to hear any stories, Dad," Dean said, loudly interrupting him.

"I do!" Sam playfully argued, eager for more embarrassing material on his brother.

Dean walked over with Ben's burger and set it on the table in front of him. "No the fuck you don't," Dean hissed in Sam's ear. Sam rolled his eyes as Dean smacked him upside the head.

Ben stared at the burger, feeling nervous in a room full of strangers all watching him. He started to sink into the chair and kick the legs under the table.

"How about we go upstairs?" Mary asked John, offering them a way out. John didn't seem to notice and grunted in response. He was tired from his doctor's appointment anyway.

With them gone, Ben started to relax a little. He picked up the burger and took a big bite, smearing ketchup on his cheeks. Sam was impressed with how quickly Dean had picked up a napkin and started wiping his son's face.

"How's Grandpa?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Ooooo on a roll Daddy-o.

Ben swallowed dramatically so his dad could see. "When can we go back and see him?"

"When he wakes up."

"When will that be?"

"I don't know, kid. Whenever your mom calls me and says I can take you back."

Ben frowned at that answer. He took another bite, leading to more ketchup on his face. Dean gave up on the napkins.

Sam was having fun watching the scene play out in front of him.

"What are you looking at?" Dean asked snarkily.

Sam took a sip of his soda. "Like father, like son," he said, pointing to Ben who had practically devoured the entire burger at this point.

"Here," Dean said, sliding over a half-full container of french fries. "Because he's being a bitch, you can have the rest of these."

Sam faked a dramatic gasp. "Dean! Swearing? In front of your child?"

Ben shrieked with laughter. Sam smiled and winked at him.

"He's my kid; he's heard worse," was Dean's only argument. "Hell, Lisa has said worse."

Nothing like watching a seven-year-old nod as he munches on french fries.

After lunch, Dean thought he'd play it safe and throw the kid in the bath. None of the ketchup went in that kid's mouth. And he still smelled like hospital cleaning products. Lisa would not appreciate either of those two things. Or the stains on his shirt, which Mary happily taught Dean how to treat and threw in the wash.

"Alright, Ben, I'm sure that water's freezing by now," Dean said from outside the bathroom. "Time to get out."

A little "aww" could be heard down the hallway.

Dean propped open the door. "Grandma washed your shirt."

"Don't look!"

"I'm not looking, dude, I'm trying to give you clothes to help you out so you're not running around here naked."

A sound of disapproval lingered down the hall.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Look, I'll leave your clothes here on the sink. You can get dressed on your own and then we'll find something to do. How does that sound?"

Another sound of disapproval.

Dean was starting to get annoyed. "You have five minutes or I'm taking you out of the tub myself," he threatened, latching the bathroom door behind him.

John came out of the master bedroom chuckling to himself.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked.

"That kid aint even as half as stubborn as you were at his age."

It took everything in Dean not to stomp back to his room and slam the door.

Ben was absolutely adamant about playing Monopoly for whatever odd reason. Dean only agreed if they played as a team because he wasn't explaining the rules every five seconds. John and Mary weren't in for very long and Ben absolutely destroyed Sam's ass by raising the rent on Boardwalk and Park Place. A very bitter and bankrupt Sam suggested something quicker like Sorry or Trouble. Dean voted for his favorite Clue, which Ben had never heard of before so they absolutely had to play it. Sam won that one, which proved Ben to be a sore loser. But it was also getting late so Dean thought he was just getting tired.

John pulled out a box of old Scooby Doo movies and popped one into the DVD player. Mary smiled, remembering the days when that was all it took for her sons to fall asleep.

Ben started out sitting in the middle of his dad and uncle, sharing a bowl of popcorn with Sam. At some point, he started to rest his head on Sam's shoulder and his eyes started to close. Sam started to panic; Dean was just grateful it wasn't him getting smushed by a kid. Mary stopped the movie and Dean scooped Ben up and carried him upstairs to bed. John pulled out an old air mattress from the hall closet so Dean could sleep on the floor in the same bedroom.

As he was about to go to bed himself, Dean's phone went off. In a quick attempt not to wake the sleeping child, he grabbed his cell and ran out to the hall. He had already missed two calls so he checked his text messages.

"Son of a bitch."

"What's up?" Sam asked, coming up the stairs.

"Lisa's dad died."

Chapter Text

Jess jumped at the loud thump as he pounded his fist on the bathroom door. She hid the phone behind her on the edge of the bathtub and covered her mouth with her hand, hoping he won't hear her and will think she isn't home.

"I'm trying to track your cell phone location," the 911 operator tells her as the locked doorknob starts to aggressively jiggle.

Now he knows she's here. How does a bathroom door lock from the outside?

"Hang on with me one more minute, honey."

Jess lets out a final scream when he kicks in the door.

THUD!

Sam woke up after body-slamming the floor. He was shaking so much that it took him a while to process where he was. Still shaky, he pushed himself up and sat against the bed. It was like an out-of-body experience. His brain was there screaming at him, telling him what to do, but his body refused to move. In a small attempt to comfort himself, Sam curled up and started rocking back and forth. He focused on a patched spot on the wall next to his bed. He and John got into a really big fight when he was sixteen and Sam threw a soccer trophy, missing John but damaging the drywall. That went about as well as you think it did.

It wasn't until the nerves settled into his stomach and Sam knew something was about to come out of somewhere that he suddenly jumped up and darted into the bathroom.

"I cannot believe you invited him."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "I know you and Dad never liked it, but he is Ben's father," she started to argue.

Ms. Braeden crossed her arms in disapproval. "I just don't see why he had to come today. This is a family matter."

"He's Ben's family!" Lisa had to watch her tone, aware of other family members awaiting down the church hallway in the chapel. "I don't want him to remember this as a day when his father wasn't there. He needs him."

Ms. Braeden stuck up her nose, about to come back with some snotty retort when a red-faced Ben appeared in the doorway with Dean right behind him.

"Sorry," Dean apologized, "he started to worry you weren't coming back."

Lisa walked over to her son and wiped the tears from his face. "What's wrong, baby?"

Great question, Lisa. But Dean still felt warm inside feeling reminded of his own mom.

"Can we sit together?" Ben asked, still crying.

Lisa couldn't help but smile at her son's silly question. "Of course, we can. Did you find a good spot with Dad?"

Ben sniffled and nodded his head. "Right in front of Grandpa's picture."

"Well, that sounds like a very good spot to me." She wiped away more tears and kissed his forehead. "I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"

Ben nodded again. Dean held his hand out. Ben didn't even hesitate to take it and allowed his dad to lead him back into the chapel.

Ms. Braeden tsked. "Can't even control his own child. He had to bring Benjamin back here for you to cheer him up."

Lisa lost it. "And how many times did Daddy comfort me when I was upset about something?"

Ms. Braeden was at a loss for words.

"Exactly."

Lisa left the suite. It was essentially a closet the church had set up for immediate family members who need privacy. But Lisa was done trying to reason with her mom. She did not think Ben would take his grandfather's death this hard, but the poor thing had basically been clung to her constantly since. Lisa wasn't sure if it was normal childhood anxiety, thinking something would happen to her. No matter how much she tried to assure him that she wasn't going anywhere, he did not seem to accept it. Dean, thank fucking god, had been a complete savior these past couple of days leading up to her father's memorial service. He opened his apartment for refuge and showed up at the house at sunrise to help with Ben.

Her mom didn't know what she was talking about.

Sam aggressively scrubbed the dishes in the sink as he listened to Simple Plan on his iPod. He needed to keep busy today. If he wasn't, the reminder of his recurring nightmare would immediately resurface.

Which brings Sam to now, rising off a spoon and not realizing the angle he was holding it at was about to launch soapy water back onto him. "Gah!" he cried out, immediately dropping the spoon back in the sink. "Fuck you too," he mumbled, mostly directed at the spoon. He shut off the water and grabbed a dishtowel, drying off the other dishes he had previously washed. As he put the dishes away in the cabinets, he just listened to his iPod, focusing on the lyrics. It was oddly comforting him, reminding him of high school, before he knew about college and Jess and death and grief. Back when he only thought the world was ending and his life was over. Now he knows what that was really like.

I'm sorry I can't be p- POP!

Sam reached up and rubbed the pain on the side of his face from the earbud being suddenly ripped out.

"Your mom's calling ya," John said gruffly like he was annoyed that Sam couldn't hear and he had to go around the house and find him.

Sam rolled his eyes and quickly cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. He'll come back for the spoon later.

"Now what does she want?" he whispered to himself as he ran up the stairs. Realizing his iPod was still playing music, Sam turned it off, wrapped the earbuds around it, and shoved it in his back pocket.

He found Mary in the master bedroom, folding laundry all over the bed. "Hi baby," she greeted, reaching over for a stack of towels and handing them to Sam. "Come back, I washed some of your jeans too."

Sam carried the towels down the hall to the bathroom, setting them on the sink. He was the only one here using them anyway. Why put them all the way under the sink if he's just going to take them back out again?

Sam huffed and went back into the master bedroom, where Mary waited for him with a stack of jeans. "Remind me to take you shopping. You've blown out the knees in most of these."

Yeah, I know. I wear them, like, all the time.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"What are you doing today?" she asked, returning back to folding John's undershirts.

"Nothing."

"You were up pretty early this morning. I heard the vacuum going in your room."

Sam shrugged. "I ate breakfast in my room and spilled some cereal on the floor."

Mary sighed. "You know that's why you're not allowed to eat upstairs."

Sam looked down at the floor, running his toe over a worn-down spot in the carpet.

Mary was worried that her son hadn't left the room yet. "Are you okay?"

Sam's head snapped back up. "I'm fine," he said, faking a small smile.

Mary gently smiled back. "Alright. Well, that's all I have for you." She pointed to the jeans Sam still had in his arms. Sam could swear his arms suddenly went completely numb from the weight. He wasn't even sure he would make it down the hall to his room and put them away.

It was a lovely service. Lisa's brother took the lead, telling stories about their dad and childhood growing up. Lisa even joined him for a while, sharing her own memories. She started to tell a story about a day she had to leave him in charge of babysitting Ben. That was when Ben got really upset and Dean had to attempt to gracefully carry him out as family members aww'd at the heartbroken seven-year-old.

Finding a chair in the lobby, Dean sat down and positioned the kid on his lap. Ben ended up keeping his arm deadlocked around Dean's neck and straddled Dean's hips. Keeping one arm under his bottom to stable him, Dean ran his other hand up and down Ben's back. The last time he held his son like this he had dislocated his shoulder trying to jump up on the couch when he was three. It was a long painful night at the emergency room.

"Dad?"

"Yea, bud?"

"Do you think Grandpa's in Heaven?"

Dean panicked. Don't fuck this up, Winchester. "Do you believe in Heaven?"

The kid shrugged his shoulders as he continued crying into Dean's chest. Obviously, it wasn't uncommon for Lisa and her family to attend the occasional church service on Sunday morning, but the Winchesters were far from religious. The most religious they got was Mary telling Dean angels were watching over him. Other than that, Dean joined when he and Lisa were together and he even agreed to Ben being baptized as a baby. But Dean committed a lot of sins growing up so he had his own opinions.

Dean took a deep breath and tried his best. "I think if you believe he's in Heaven, then he's probably in Heaven."

"But do you think he's in Heaven?"

Another deep breath. "I don't believe in Heaven."

"What do you believe in?"

Dean definitely has not clocked enough single-dad hours for this conversation. He tried to think of a way to change the subject but couldn't come up with anything. "I don't really believe in an afterlife, you know. I believe that when you die, nothing happens. You just die and that's it."

Ben didn't like that answer. "But, in Heaven, you get to see everyone again, don't you? When I die, don't I get to see Grandpa again?"

"Maybe. There's not really a way of knowing for sure, kid."

Ben really didn't like that answer. He squirmed in Dean's arms, shoving his face deeper into Dean's suit jacket. Dean realized at some point in this conversation Ben had stopped crying. And he really wasn't looking forward to Ben starting back up again.

"Listen to me," he said, brushing Ben's hair out of his face. "You are allowed to believe in whatever you want to believe in. If you want to believe your grandfather's in Heaven, that's perfectly okay. For all I know, I could be wrong. Maybe something does happen after we die."

Ben didn't respond. Dean continued to run his hand up and down his back and started to gently rock the child.

"Dad?"

"Yea, bud?"

"I believe Grandpa's in Heaven."

Dean smiled and kissed the top of his head.

Sam lay in bed and twirled the ring box in his hand. It had been weeks since it was delivered in Brady's package with the rest of his and Jess' belongings. For all Sam knew, this was the reason he was continuing to have nightmares. Like the ring is burning into his subconscious and causing him to try to make sense of it all. Once or twice was one thing, but Sam could not keep watching every single night.

There was a knock on the door. Sam shoved the ring under his leg to hide it. "Dinner's ready," Mary announced, opening the door and sticking her head in.

"I'm not hungry," Sam answered.

Mary frowned. "Have you had anything to eat today?"

Yeah, I had cereal earlier, remember? The vacuum? "Uh huh," Sam nodded. "I'm just not feeling well today."

Mary didn't appear to be buying it. Sam ran his hand across his stomach trying to convince her otherwise. Luckily, it's not like he had to lie to the woman about a stomachache.

"Okay," Mary said, giving in. "We'll try to keep it down. Lisa and Ben are joining us for dinner."

Sam faked a smile. Mary began to close the door. "Oh!" she said, opening it and sticking her head back in. "There's Pepto in our medicine cabinet."

Sam's face flushed with embarrassment. "Thanks, Mom," he muttered.

"Goodnight!" she said, finally leaving and latching the door behind her.

Hearing her footsteps down the stairs, Sam pulled the ring box back out. He opened it and inspected it. It was a beautiful ring but definitely not something he would have picked out for Jess. Sam looked at rings once for shits and giggles around their second anniversary. Not an engagement ring, but more like a promise ring. Contrary to popular belief, Jess hated flashy jewelry. She preferred smaller, more discreet accessories. The girl behind the jewelry counter showed Sam rings with multiples of small diamonds around the ring, much more suited for Jess' style compared to the single massive fucking rock on a piece of silver metal. Sam didn't even want to think about how much the single diamond cost, but he was sure he could sell it and pay off his student loans.

Sam closed the ring box and tossed it back in the drawer of his bedside table. None of this was making any sense.

Chapter Text

"We're late, we're late, we're so late!" Lisa screamed, running around the apartment and gathering Ben's and her belongings. "Ben, come on, we gotta go!"

Dean showed up behind her, actively brushing his teeth. "I'll call the school and let them know he'll be late as you're driving him."

Lisa rummaged through Ben's backpack. "Shit, did he throw his homework in here last night?"

"Check the table!"

Lisa started going through the mountain of random junk piled on the table while Dean ran back to the bathroom, only to find the door locked. Mouth full of toothpaste, he knocked.

"I'm getting dressed!" the voice on the other side shouted.

Dean ran back out to the kitchen and spit in the sink. "Find it?"

"Benjamin!" Lisa called. "What did you do with your homework?"

"It's in my folder!"

Lisa went back through Ben's backpack and pulled out his folder, indeed finding his homework inside. Both she and Dean sighed in relief.

"Least he's starting to get the hang of it," Dean remarked, knowing Lisa had been struggling with getting Ben to put his homework away in his backpack since the beginning of the school year.

Ben showed back up in the kitchen. "I'm ready!" he announced.

"Brush your teeth?" Lisa asked. Ben nodded. "And wash your face?" Another nod.

"Did you remember clean underwear?" Dean asked, adding to the fun.

Ben's face turned pink. "Dad! Stop!"

"What?" Dean defended. "It's a valid question!"

Lisa gave Ben his backpack, took his hand, and started leading him toward the door. "Say bye to Dad, Ben."

Ben turned around and quickly waved. "Bye Dad!"

Dean smiled and waved back. "Bye, buddy."

Lisa opened the door to suddenly reveal Sam standing on the other side. "Jesus!" she cried out when he startled her. "Hi, Sam."

"Bye Uncle Sam!" Ben said cheerfully.

Sam continued to stand outside awkwardly. "Uh, bye Ben, have a good day at school."

Lisa ushered Ben past Sam out to the car as Dean walked over to the door. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Sam scoffed playfully. "You were running late so Mom gave me the keys to the station wagon and sent me over here to make sure you weren't dead."

"Well that's awfully considerate of her," Dean teased sarcastically, "your son's already seen one crime scene, why not send him to another?" Sam's face fell at the snide comment. Dean instantly knew he was in the wrong. "Fuck, Sam, I didn't mean it like that. I was trying to make a joke."

Sam's nose twitched. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. Fuck, I'm really sorry."

Sam couldn't bring himself to look at him. "It's fine," he repeated like he was trying to convince himself more than Dean, "you look like you're still getting ready so I'll just meet you at the shop."

"Sam!" Dean called out as Sam walked off. But Sam was already too far away.

It was another slow day at the shop. Luckily, Bobby heard about Sam's boredom and brought in an old television set just for him. It only had local channels, which pretty much played news or documentaries or all-day marathons of old shows Sam rarely heard of, but hey, it was something.

On commercial break, Sam would spin around on the barstool behind the counter and look out the window into the garage. The other mechanic, Josh, and Dean were out there tinkering with the broken-down Impala Dean purchased a while ago. He had slowly started to clean it up and repair it so it ran again. Sam didn't know what exactly they were working on now; every time Dean tried to explain, the words just went right over Sam's head.

Still bored, and honestly sick of watching TV, Sam hopped off the stool and went out to the garage to join them. They were laughing about something when he snuck up behind them.

"Hey Sam," Dean greeted with a nod.

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Whatcha doin?" he asked, sounding like a little kid.

"Well, we were trying to replace the belt," Dean explained, "but I'm pretty sure this asshat just snapped the tensioner."

"I told you, dude, it was already broken!" Josh playfully argued.

"Right, yeah, just like that one dude's gas cap?" Dean playfully argued back.

Sam was confused as hell. "You broke someone's gas cap?"

"It was already broken!" Both Josh and Dean quoted. "You had to be there," Dean further explained to his brother. "Fucking liability, I swear."

Sam tried to pretend to laugh like he was part of the joke, but he still wasn't sure he was getting it. He was trying to fit in with all the car guys at the shop, but it was still really hard.

Josh's cell phone started ringing in his pocket. "Hold on, it's the girlfriend," he explained, walking off and answering the phone.

"Hey, Sam, find me a bottle of blinker fluid, will ya?" Dean asked, pointing to a wall full of bottles of liquids.

Sam smirked. "Nice try. I'm not ten anymore."

Dean chuckled as he leaned back over the engine. "I still can't believe Dad actually pulled that one on you."

Sam decided to have some fun. "So, is Ben getting a sibling soon?"

"What!?" Dean said as he banged his head on the hood. Sam busted out laughing. "Who the fuck said that?"

Sam had to catch his breath before he started to speak again. "I just think it's interesting that she's been hanging around more since her dad died. First family dinner, now she's staying the night-"

"No, she and Ben stayed the night," Dean corrected. "She's been fighting with her mom so I let them get away for a little bit."

"Hm."

"What?"

"Just interesting," Sam noted. "Think she wants to get back together?"

"I don't know," Dean confessed.

"Do you want to get back together?"

"Mom?"

"Mom?"

Dean pointed to the window between the garage and the lobby. Sam turned around to see Bobby and Mary walk in together, smiling and chatting. Now that's something you don't see often.

"Sam, grab the tarp!"

Sam turned back around to see Dean anxiously closing the hood and trying to cover as much of the car as he could with a sheet. Sam grabbed one of the sides and helped him pull it around. Their parents rarely came to the auto shop, so it was fairly easy to hide their gift.

Dean wiped his hands on a rag as the two ran towards the lobby.

"Mom!" Dean greeted. "What are you doing down here?"

"Bobby picked me up and took me out to lunch," she explained. "I'm here to take my car back."

She held out her hand towards Sam, who sheepishly fished for the station wagon keys in his pockets.

"I'm running errands. Do either of you need anything?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"Thanks again for lunch, Bobby," Mary said, smiling. She turned around and walked out of the shop. All three of them watched as she got in the car and drove off.

"Sooooo," Dean said, "lunch with our mom, huh?"

Bobby waved him off. "Just two friends catching up. Don't go getting any ideas." Bobby walked out towards the garage. "And nice job hiding the car!"

"What do you think that was about?" Dean asked Sam once Bobby was out of earshot.

Sam shrugged. "He and Mom knew each other before she knew Dad. They're just old friends."

Dean scoffed. "You're so naive."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Not."

"Too!"

Dean came home fairly early that evening. He dropped Sam off at the house, not staying for dinner. He was surprised to walk in through the apartment door to find Lisa, standing in the kitchen area, surrounded by candles and what looked like a romantic dinner.

Dean was at a loss for words. "Uhhh what's this?"

Lisa sauntered over to him. "Just a little thank-you dinner," she said slyly, putting her arms around his neck. "Ben's staying the night at a friend's."

Dean gulped nervously. "Yeah, about that," he started to remove her arms, "I think we really need to talk."

Lisa gestured around the apartment. "Well, duh, that's kind of what this is for. There's something I need to tell you."

Oh my god, Ben's going to have a sibling. "What?"

Lisa walked over to the table, now wiped clean of all the miscellaneous junk that was there that morning. Did she clean the entire apartment?

"I want to take you to court."

Dean snapped back into the moment. Lisa was standing in front of him holding a big envelope. Lisa, who was also wearing a fairly short black dress, Dean might add. He nervously took the envelope and opened it, pulling out a stack of papers.

"I want to undo everything my dad and his legal buddies did to you," Lisa continued to explain. "I want you in our lives. I know it won't make up for the past few years, but I want Ben to have his father. I want him to have someone he can trust and go to, especially as he gets older. And I don't want to be that mom who keeps her son from his dad anymore."

Dean rummaged through the paperwork. "What are these then?"

Lisa smiled. "I'm refiling his birth certificate. I want him to have your last name."

Dean was overwhelmed with emotion. "Really?"

Lisa started to cry. "That's what it should have been in the first place."

"That may be the sexiest thing you've ever said to me," he said, scooping Lisa up. She wrapped her legs around him as he pinned her against the wall, only stopping their kissing to come up for air.

Dean: So Ben may be getting a sibling now... If u know what I mean

Sam: Gross

Sam: Pls dont talk to me about ur sex life

Dean: U brought it up

Dean: And Lisa wants Ben to have our last name

Sam: What

Sam: How

Dean: Idk can u adopt ur own kid

Sam: Idk

Dean: Good to see skipping law school wasnt a waste

Sam: Dude ur kid's initials are gonna be BMW

Dean: Fuck off bitch

Sam: Jerk

Dean: U know Im really sorry about this morning right?

Dean: Been thinking about it all day

Dean: I feel really bad

Sam: Dont worry. U r forgiven.

Dean: Love u

Dean: U better be fuckin urself if ur not gonna txt back

Sam: Love u 2

Chapter Text

Mary ran across the parking lot quickly in the pouring rain. A car pulled up alongside the curb. Balancing a tray of coffee cups, she opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

"You got enough coffee there?" the driver asked her.

Mary chuckled. "You making jokes today Bobby?"

Bobby shrugged, pulling away from the coffee shop. "When I feel like it."

"I told the boys I'd bring them something back," Mary explained. "They think I met up with a girlfriend for breakfast."

"A girlfriend, huh? Like who? Ellen?" Bobby teased. Mary rolled her eyes. Bobby chuckled as he pulled into a parking spot next to Mary's car. "You must like having Sam back home, don't you?"

Mary smiled. "I really do. I just wish it was under different circumstances."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Speaking of..."

"I'm telling you, M, there's no connection."

"There has to be!"

"I've looked over all the evidence available. There are no signs of demonic anything."

Mary scoffed. "Are there any similarities between that and Sam's nursery fire?" she asked. Bobby shook his head. Mary groaned in annoyance. "None of this makes sense."

Bobby leaned across the center console. "Mary, you know I'm sorry that Sam had to lose his girl like this. There are some sick sons of bitches out there and maybe they just happened to cross paths. I know you want answers to help with his pain, but maybe we should just leave law enforcement to deal with it."

Mary sighed. "Check again."

"Mary-"

"Check again!"

"This thing hasn't appeared since that night Sam was a baby," Bobby tried to reason. "Why would it suddenly come back now? After 22 years?"

Mary started to tear up and she quickly wiped her face. "I just don't know how I could live with myself if I'm the reason bad things keep happening in Sammy's life."

Bobby sighed sympathetically and handed Mary his pocket hanky. "I'll check again."

Mary smiled genuinely. "Thank you, Bobby."

Bobby nodded gruffly. He watched as Mary got out of his car, into her own, and drove out of the parking lot.

"The things I do for this damn family," he muttered, driving off in the opposite direction. "Good thing I moved out here in the first place."

Mary walked in through the front door, coffees in hand, to find her youngest son lying on the couch, still in his pajamas. "You're not going to work today?" she asked while frowning.

"No," Sam pouted. "Dean won't let me."

"Why not?" Mary set the coffees on the end table and crouched down next to him.

"I fell asleep at work yesterday," Sam shamefully admitted. His face turned pink. "There's a couch in the breakroom where we eat for lunch. Apparently, Dean told the guys to just leave me there and now he won't let me go in today because he doesn't think I'm sleeping."

"Well, are you sleeping?" Mary examined her son. He did not look like he was doing well. Sam's eyes were bloodshot and he was acting like he could barely keep them open. His skin looked pale and his breathing sounded shallow.

"I'm sleeping fine!" Sam reached behind him and grabbed a coffee. "He's the one being all paranoid and shit."

"Yeah, maybe you shouldn't be drinking this," Mary said, taking the coffee back. "Why don't you go back to bed for a bit?"

"Mom, noooooo!"

That's it. "Samuel James Winchester, I know you are behaving this way because you are tired. Go to bed and I will come to check on you later."

Sam jumped off the couch and proceeded to stomp upstairs, like a child that had just been scolded. It's been years since he got the Mom Voice. She mostly saved it for Dean.

Mary sighed, listening as her son went upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

"Leaving town, huh?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I gotta go see my sister," Bobby lied on the phone, trying to come up with some explanation. "Family emergency."

Dean's bullshit radar started going off. "You don't have a sister," he accused.

"You don't know that! I'll be back in a few days."

Give the old man a break, Dean. He deserves some time off anyway. "Fine. Maybe while you're gone, I'll teach Sam how to use your socket wrench."

"Boy, I will shove that same socket wrench up your ass if you touch it."

Dean smirked. He loved it when they poked fun at each other. "Have fun with your sister, Bobby. I hope for her sake she's just like you."

Dean hung up his cell. No Sam, no Bobby. Today was going to be hell in the auto shop.

Sam woke up to someone opening his bedroom door. He quickly glanced at the alarm clock and realized it was 11am; much later than Sam would sleep in on a normal day.

"Hey champ," John said, coming into the room. "Mom sent me up here to check on you. She said you weren't feeling well again?"

Sam nodded into his pillow, closing his eyes again.

John's instincts kicked in. He rested his hand on Sam's forehead before retreating into the bathroom. Sam could hear him rummaging through drawers and cabinets. "Mary!" he also heard John call, followed by footsteps coming up the stairs.

Sam swore he fell asleep for a minute, because the next thing he knew, something was getting gently shoved into his mouth, followed by someone brushing his hair out of his face.

Mary hummed, removing a thermometer from Sam's mouth. "101.3," she read out loud. "I knew it."

John sighed. "I'll make a supply run. Been a while since we had anyone sick here."

Sam felt like crying. He hated being sick. The last time he was sick, he and Jess had matching food poisoning from a new take-out restaurant. Jess was over it after a few hours, but Sam was down for almost three days. It was embarrassing with his girlfriend tending to him and it felt equally embarrassing now with his parents. He was an adult now who had been on his own for almost four years; he didn't need to be babied now that he was home.

On the other hand, it felt nice when his mom pulled his blankets up over his shoulders and when his dad got a humidifier down from the hall closet and set it up in his room. He fell asleep to the sounds of his parents whispering as they went through the bathroom making a supply list.

Okay, maybe this won't be so bad.

Dean had never felt more relieved to flip around the "open" sign hanging on the door. Today felt like one of their busiest days ever.

Finally feeling a migraine coming on, Dean dug around the drawers behind the counter for the emergency pain medication. He heard the bell on the front door ring. "We're closed!" he yelled out, but there was no response. No voice or any indication that a customer had heard him. Irritated, he yelled out again: "I said we're closed!"

Dean prepared himself for a fight. Head throbbing, he stood back up and turned to face the door, seeing a familiar blonde standing in the middle of the shop. "Jo?" he called, jaw dropped from shock.

The girl smiled and rocked back on her heels. "Hey Winchester."

Chapter Text

Dean stared down the girl standing in the lobby. "What are you doing here, Jo?"

Jo held up a set of car keys. "Well, I was hoping you could do a tune-up on Bessie? You know, since it's been a while since I've driven her."

A while. Dean scoffed. "Why should I give her a tune-up? So you can get another DUI?"

"Dean-"

"Are you even allowed to drive?" Dean pressed on. "Didn't the court take your license away or something?"

Jo rolled her eyes. "It's suspended, Dean!" she snapped. "I could get it back when I finished my rehab program and traffic school. Both of which, I did so," she held up the keys again, "are you going to help me or not?"

Dean rubbed his jaw. He knew he shouldn't. He knew Ellen would put his head on the end of a very sharp stick. But she was a family friend...

"Does Sam know you're back?" he asked, taking the keys from her.

"No one does," Jo explained. "I'm trying to keep it on the low."

"Good." He threw the keys in the drawer of the counter. "I'll look at it tomorrow." He walked past Jo, grabbing his belongings and shutting off the lights. "I'm assuming you need a ride?"

Jess screams as the door is kicked in. A masked figure stood in the doorway.

"Ohhhh Jess?" he calls.

Jess takes this opportunity to fight. She lunges at the man using as much strength as possible, briefly knocking him backward off his feet. When he slammed into the wall behind him, she snuck through the small opening.

She trips.

"Hey!" he yells, crouching down and sitting on top of her. "You're not going anywhere."

Jess rolled over onto her back. They tussle and she grabs the mask, pulling it off the man's head.

"Brady?"

Sam woke up in a cold sweat. Feeling like he was in a sauna, he kicked the blankets off the bed and looked at the bottle of flu medicine his mom left on his bedside table. This shit fucking works.

He slowly sat up on the bed, preparing to make his way to the bathroom. As soon as Sam stood up, he got a sharp pain right behind his left eye, causing him to lean on the bed. "Agh!" he cried out, scrunching his face and praying the pain would go away. It didn't.

"Sam?" his mom called, coming down the hall from the master. "Are you awake? I thought I heard-" she stopped in her tracks in his doorway. "Sammy?" She helped guide him to the floor and knelt next to him. "John!" she called downstairs. "Sammy, honey, what's wrong?"

Sam put his hands over his ears, squeezing his head. "Head... hurts..." was all he could mutter.

"Where?"

Sam pointed to the left side of his head.

Mary ran her fingers through his hair, inspecting the area. "I don't see anything." She started to massage his temple. "Does that help?"

It didn't. But Sam nodded anyway.

And just like that, the pain was gone.

Sam gasped for air, finally able to open his eyes. He felt disoriented and confused.

"What happened?" John asked, finally showing up in Sam's room.

"Help me get him back in bed," Mary ordered. She grabbed one of Sam's arms while he grabbed the other. Slowly they lifted him up and sat him up on the edge. Sam was still struggling to catch his breath. "You're pretty sick Sammy," Mary comforted, "it's not surprising you have a migraine."

That was a pretty fucked up migraine. But the next thing Sam knew, he was on his back, his mom inserting the thermometer in his mouth and pulling his blankets back on him. She removed the thermometer and smiled. "Good news. Your fever's gone down." She fluffed his pillow and gave him a kiss, right on the spot he was just feeling pain a second ago. "Do you need anything?" Sam shook his head. "Okay. Go back to sleep," she said, closing the door behind her and John as they left his bedroom.

Sam relaxed. His mom always knew how to make him feel better. Maybe he does need to go to sleep. Once this flu passes, everything will return back to normal.

Except Sam still had to use the bathroom.

Annoyed, he frowned and kicked all the blankets back off him, bracing himself for another "migraine" once he stood back up.

Nothing happened.

The drive to drop Jo off at home was quiet. Dean didn't want to talk and Jo didn't really have anything to say. Until Dean pulled up outside her house.

At least he put the car in park. "Thanks for the lift," Jo said, unbuckling her seatbelt and grabbing her bag. Dean didn't even look at her. "Dean, I don't know why-"

"Are you back for good this time?" Dean asked sharply, interrupting her.

Jo was speechless. "If you're asking if I'm sober now, then yes, but-"

"And you're going to stay that way?"

Jo remained speechless. "What are you really asking me?"

Dean turned his head, glaring at her. "Sam's back too, you know."

Jo relaxed a little in her seat. "I know. My mom told me what happened. I feel awful."

"So then you understand that the last thing he needs right now is more drama with you, right?"

Jo laughed. "Of course. You think I'm going to relapse again and drag Sam down with me this time."

"I know I don't usually go all 'big brother' for Sam," Dean explained, "but you two were best friends and whatever happened between you two really fucked him up."

"Fuck you, Dean," Jo said, suddenly throwing open the door and climbing out of the car.

"Welcome home!" Dean yelled after her as she slammed the door and walked up to the front porch.

John entered the living room, looking out the window behind the couch. He stopped in front of it. "Is Dean coming over tonight?"

Mary sat on the couch and turned around to look out the window behind her. "He didn't say anything about coming over," she said, closing her book.

John pointed. "Aint that his car parked across the street?"

Mary stood up to join her husband. It was definitely Dean's car, and thanks to the bright street light above, they could see it definitely was Dean driving. They continued to watch as a girl got out of the car and walked towards the house and Dean sped off.

"Son of a bitch," John said, "is that Jo?"

"When did she get back?" Mary asked.

"Don't ask me!" John quipped. "Did Ellen say anything to you?"

"No, I haven't run into her in weeks," Mary admitted. "Weird that she didn't come by to let us know."

"Should we tell Sam?" John asked. "Bet he'd be glad his friend is back."

"Hmm I want to hear from Dean and make sure nothing is happening there first."

John was shocked. "You think Dean and Jo-" Mary gave him a look. John regained his composure. "I suppose it is Dean after all."

"I always want to believe in the best of our boys," Mary said. "However, I just think it's weird that none of us knew and suddenly he's giving her a ride home."

All John could do was nod. "Agreed."

Chapter Text

"ME AND JO!?" Dean asked, standing in the middle of his mom's kitchen. "Gross!" he said, followed by fake gagging.

Mary sat at the table and stared at her son quizzically. "So nothing's going there that we need to know about?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Fuck no!" Fake gag. "It's Jo!" More fake gagging.

Mary stood up, rolling her eyes at him being dramatic as she walked over. "Oh, stop that!" she said, smacking him in the arm. "Your brother's still asleep upstairs, you know."

"This is what you called me over here for!?" Dean asked, still distressed. "To ask me if I'm hooking up with Jo!?"

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it!"

"I just wanted to see what you knew," Mary shrugged. She grabbed a mixing bowl from under the counter. "Get milk, butter, and eggs from the fridge, please."

Dean scoffed. He walked over to the fridge and opened the door. "Yeah, well, I didn't know. She just showed up at the shop after closing the other day and asked me to tune up her car."

"Did you?"

"What was I gonna do? You can't exactly tell the girl no."

"I need to figure out how I'm going to tell your brother," Mary said. Dean set the items on the counter and Mary started measuring out dry ingredients. "Why'd they stop being friends? Do you even know what happened between them?"

Dean laughed. "Oh yeah."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Oh no." Dean threw his hands up. "Sorry. I'm not breaking little-brother-big-brother-confidentiallity."

Mary sighed. She dumped everything into the mixing bowl and handed it to him. "What did she do? Break his heart or something?"

Dean made a face.

Mary's jaw dropped. "No! She did?"

"I'm pretty sure there's a bit more to it than that, but yes," Dean sheepishly admitted, stirring the ingredients.

"When did this happen?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Back when they were still in high school, I think? It was around the same time Lisa and I broke up."

Mary scoffed in awe. "I can't believe I didn't know."

"How could you not?" Dean asked confused. "He talked about her all the time." Dean turned on his best teenage Sam impression. "Jo's so pretty. Jo's so smart. Jo told the funniest joke. Jo's coming over; how do I look?" Dean laughed at himself. "My god, it was so obvious he liked her."

Mary bit her lip. "He never told me all that."

Dean sighed, feeling guilty. "Come on Mom, I'm sure he was embarrassed. I didn't tell you about my relationships either."

Mary laughed. "No, you just showed up one day announcing that one of them was pregnant," she teased.

"Exactly!" Dean joked back.

Mary took a deep breath. "Well, it was so long ago, I'm sure it'll be fine. I just hope they can go back to being friends again."

Dean looked down at the bowl. "Does this look mixed enough?"

Mary took a peek. "Looks great! My little sous chef." Dean blushed as Mary turned the stovetop on and dug out the biggest pan in the kitchen. "Go find your dad and ask him if he wants any."

Dean happily jogged upstairs. "Dad!" he called. He turned the corner to go to the master when he ran into a wet Sam in the hallway.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled out of habit.

"Hey! You're alive!" Dean cheered.

Sam snorted. "Enough to at least take a shower."

"Mom's making pancakes downstairs if you want any."

"I could eat," Sam said shrugging. He held up a towel he was carrying and rubbed it over his hair. "Lemme just put this away," he said, disappearing into the bathroom to throw it in the laundry basket on the floor.

"Dad!" Dean called again, going into the bedroom. "Grub's up! Let's go!"

Sam snuck past downstairs to the kitchen. Mary had already started stacking pancakes on a plate next to the stove. While her back was turned, Sam snuck a small one and took a bite. "Hot!" he said, sticking his burnt tongue back out.

Mary turned around from the outburst and laughed. "That's what you get. Go get a plate like how I raised you, please."

Sam got a stack of plates down from the cabinet, taking one for himself, and throwing a couple pancakes on it. Making sure to grab syrup on the way, he sat down at his spot at the table.

"You must be feeling better," Mary noted.

"I am!" Sam confirmed with a mouthful of pancake. After a couple of days with no appetite, he was starving, needless to say.

The doorbell rang. Still chewing, Sam ran to the front door.

On the other side stood Jo.

It was pretty obvious neither of them were expecting the other.

"Hi," Jo said, breaking out a smile. "I saw Dean's car and realized I forgot to pay him the other day for working on mine."

Sam swallowed mostly food but also nerves. Jo held out a check in an envelope. Sam hesitated but took it from her.

"I'll give it to him," he mumbled.

Jo played with a ring on her fingers. "It's good to see you back too."

Sam let out a laugh. Is it?

"Bye Jo," Sam said, closing the door on her.

"Tell Dean I said thanks!" Jo said before it could latch shut.

Sam bit his lip and inspected the envelope. He turned around to see his entire family standing in the entryway with him. He walked over to Dean and held out the envelope. "Jo says thanks for fixing her car," he said, worried it wasn't coming across as bitter enough. Dean didn't react taking the envelope from him. "I'm going to eat in my room," Sam announced, returning to the kitchen to get his plate and retreating upstairs.

Chapter Text

A/N: Just wanted to issue a quick TW. There is a scene where John comments swatting a child. It is relevant to the moment, but will not be recurring in the story. I just wanted a moment to highlight the parenting differences between him and Dean. If you wish to scroll past, I will put in asterisks before and after.

The tradition of pancakes on Sunday mornings had continued. Dean would come over for breakfast and then hang out, help out around the house, annoy the fuck out of Sam. You know, the usual. Lisa and Ben were staying with him again so today he brought them over for pancakes and decorating the house for Christmas. Mary and Lisa took shop in the living room, digging through boxes John and Sam grabbed from the garage the night before.

"Dean!" John yelled, throwing open the door leading to the garage. "Get out here! We're burning daylight!"

"Dad, I said I was helping Ben into Sam's old snowsuit first," Dean said annoyed as he skipped down the stairs, Ben excitedly running after him.

"How's it fit?" Mary asked, happy to see her sons' old clothes being used. She missed the days when Dean dressed him in their old baby clothes and was very glad to know she could continue to give him hand-me-downs.

Ben did a quick spin in the living room, showing off the outfit. "It's good!" he said.

"What do we say?" Dean asked.

"Thank you, Grandma!" Ben said, smiling wide.

"Ben, I hope you went potty before putting that on," Lisa said.

Ben's face immediately turned red, almost matching the color of the snowsuit. "Mom!" he whined, stomping his foot.

"Don't worry about it, bud. Maybe today's the day you learn how to write your name in the snow," Dean teased playfully.

"Dean Winchester, don't you fucking dare!" Lisa yelled after him.

Dean just cackled as he and Ben went out to the garage, closing the door behind them.

"I don't know how you raised two boys, Mary," Lisa said once they were alone.

Mary laughed. "I don't either." She opened a box of ornaments and carried it over to the tree. "But Ben's at a fun age when they start finding new hobbies and interests."

"I know," Lisa sighed, "I just wish he was still little sometimes. And not acting stupid or getting into trouble."

As if rehearsed, Mary watched as Sam started to slowly come down the stairs, still in his pajamas. "Yeah, I know what that feeling's like," she said to Lisa. Turning back to Sam, she said: "Hi honey. We missed you at breakfast."

Sam rubbed his face. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I was up late."

Mary frowned. "Maybe you should go see that doctor I told you about. See why you keep having trouble sleeping."

"Mom!" Sam snapped, not wanting to have this conversation in front of his... whatever Lisa is to him.

Lisa found it funny; the resemblance between Mary and Sam and her and Ben. Moms gonna Mom.

"There's leftover pancakes in the freezer," Mary added, changing the subject. "Hopefully your brother and nephew didn't use up all the syrup."

"I'm not hungry," Sam said, sitting on the couch and continuing to mope.

"Are you planning on helping them outside?" Mary asked.

"Nope."

"Good." She tossed a pile of stockings at him. "You can help us in here."

Realizing that was not a suggestion, Sam gathered the stockings and stood up. He walked over to the fireplace and hung them on hooks John had installed over twenty years ago.

"Mary, why is there a blank one?" Lisa asked, pulling a small stocking out from the bottom of the bag. It slightly resembled the others, but the trim on the top was wavy instead of straight across.

"Aww," Mary said, "I think this was one Dean picked out when Ben was little. The boys used to decorate stockings when they were little and I think he was hoping Ben would do the same."

Lisa dug deeper into the box, finding other stockings Sam and Dean made throughout the years. Nothing said Christmas stockings like glitter, puff paint, and stick figure families.

"The boys didn't like them as teenagers. I think they were embarrassed by them," Mary continued to explain. "So I splurged and bought a whole new matching set one year and we've been using those ever since."

"Nice," Lisa commented with a smile. She pulled out one of the smallest stockings she had ever seen. 'Dean 1983' was written on the back in a permanent marker. On the front were two big stick figures, one small stick figure, and an even smaller stick figure that looked like it had been smudged.

"I remember when he made that one," Mary said, seeing the stocking in Lisa's hands and feeling nostalgic. "It was our first Christmas in the house after our other one burned in a fire. Dean was frustrated that he couldn't figure out how to make a baby out of puff paint, so John had to do it for him."

"I didn't actually look like that as a baby, right?" Sam said, coming up behind the two ladies.

Mary laughed. "No. Your father accidentally smudged it while it was drying. And then Dean screamed his little head off saying your first Christmas was ruined."

Lisa pocketed the small stocking, thinking it could be fun to show Dean later. Mary closed the box of stockings and pushed it to the side. "Let's decorate a tree now, huh?" she said, moving onto the box of ornaments on the floor. "Sam can help us with the ones we can't reach."

"Alright Ben, what do you know about decorating a house?" John asked as soon as the two came out to the garage.

"Nothing."

"Wanna learn?"

Ben excitedly nodded yes.

"Well, come on then," John gestured to the ladder in the driveway. "Hop on up here. You can help us hang the first set of lights."

"Dad, I don't know," Dean said reluctantly. "He's too small to be on a ladder."

John waved him off. "He's no smaller than you or your brother were. And we're right here with him."

Dean sighed, holding onto one side of the ladder to keep it sturdy. John grabbed the other side. As Ben started to slowly ascend the ladder, Dean kept one hand on his back.

"Not too high Ben," Dean warned, "stop on the fifth step, okay?"

Ben climbed to the fifth step and stopped.

"You see that nail in front of your face?" John asked. Ben nodded. John handed him a part of the strand of lights. "Wrap this around it."

As gently as Ben could, he took the lights and wrapped them around the nail. It was a little challenging with his mittens on, but he succeeded. "Got it!" he announced excitedly. To avoid Ben potentially falling off the ladder, Dean grabbed him around the waist and set him on the ground. John rolled his eyes at his son being so cautious. "That was fun!" Ben said, jumping up and down.

"I'm glad you thought so," John said playfully, "because we have to do the same thing all along the garage door."

Much to Dean's dismay, the trio slowly made their way along the garage door. Dean dragged the ladder and then Ben climbed up and hung the next section of lights John would hand him. Luckily for Dean, Ben was bored by the time they finished the garage door. He ran off to play in the snow in the front yard while the two finished around the house; this time Dean climbed the ladder as John continued passing out strands of lights.

"Ben!" Lisa called from inside the house. "It's time to get cleaned up!"

"Aww," Ben started to whine.

Knowing where this was going, Dean tried to think of how he could help. "Go on Ben. I'm sure it's nice and warm inside."

"No!" Ben screamed. He crossed his arms and pouted. "I wanna stay out here!"

"Ben!" Lisa called again, coming out to the edge of the garage. "Come on! Mary's making hot chocolate."

"I said no!" Ben continued to scream. "I'm still working on a snowman."

Neither of them had the heart to even mention that Frosty wouldn't survive the snowplow coming later that night. "Benjamin, you need to listen to your mother and go get cleaned up," Dean finally snapped.

"But-"

"Now Benjamin," Lisa added sternly.

Ben started to cry as he ran past his parents. He already got two full Benjamins; he did not want a third.

*** BEGIN OF TW ***

*** BEGIN OF TW ***

*** BEGIN OF TW ***

"Should have swatted that kid after that first no," John commented after Ben and Lisa had gone back into the house.

Dean was flabbergasted at the off-handed suggestion. "What the fuck!?" he asked, horrified. "Why would you even say that?"

John just shrugged. "Worked on you and your brother. You two never behaved like that ever again."

"Dad, no one hits their kids anymore," Dean tried his best to reason.

"It's not hitting," John explained, "it's reprimanding and teaching the kid not to act out or talk back."

*** END OF TW ***

*** END OF TW ***

*** END OF TW ***

Yeah and how's that going for you? Dean wanted so badly to ask. Instead, he said, "I'm going to go check on Ben." as he hopped off the ladder and went inside the house.

"Ben!" Mary called from the kitchen, unaware of the tantrum he just threw in the front yard. "Hot chocolate's ready!"

She and Sam watched as Ben ran past them up the stairs, still dramatically crying, followed by what sounded like Dean's old bedroom door slamming shut.

"Thank you, Mary," Lisa said, following in right behind him, "but Ben will not be getting any hot chocolate."

Mary and Sam continued to watch from the kitchen; Mary was slightly worried and Sam was trying not to show that he was sorta kinda enjoying this. It was like watching your sibling get into trouble. There was a second door slam, followed by a second of Ben screaming.

"Ah, I do not miss those days," Mary said, suddenly understanding exactly what was happening. She set a mug of hot chocolate on the counter in front of her son. Sam happily took the drink and started to mix in far too many mini marshmallows.

Dean suddenly came into the kitchen in a huff. "Sam, if you ever have kids, do not take parenting advice from Dad."

"Okay?" Sam agreed, very confused about what his brother could mean by that. Dean took off upstairs, slamming the bedroom door a third time. Sam spun around and faced his mom. "Spoke too soon?" he joked.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Shut up and drink your hot chocolate."

Once everything had calmed down, the rest of the day was lovely. Sam sat on the couch watching TV while Lisa and Ben sat on the floor around the coffee table. When Mary showed Ben the old art supplies, Ben was thrilled to make a stocking he could keep and hang at his grandparents' house. Course, in his seven-year-old mind, that just meant he would get more than one stocking of presents for Christmas.

"Hey," a freshly showered Dean said, coming into the room. "What's going on in here?"

"Dad! Look!" Ben said gleefully, holding up the stocking for him to see.

"Whoa! That looks good dude." He took a seat next to Lisa. "Watch the paint. Don't let it get on your clothes."

Lisa took this moment to pull out the stocking she pocketed earlier. "Remember this?"

Dean busted out laughing. "Oh my god, please tell me she did not show you that!"

"She didn't," Lisa laughed back, "I found it."

Sam smirked on the couch. "Mom said you were pissed when Dad ruined it."

"That's cause she's the only one who thought you were cute," Dean retorted back. "I think it's fairly accurate. You look like a smudge."

Sam picked up one of the couch throw pillows and chucked it at the back of Dean's head. Lisa set the stocking aside and the two turned their attention back to helping Ben decorate the stocking. Not wanting to be third-wheeling on a family moment, Sam shut off the TV and slipped out of the room.

"Look what I have," he heard his dad say playfully.

"Oh god, what is that?" he heard his mom ask.

"Mistletoe," John teased. "You know what that means right?"

Sam stuck his head around the corner into the kitchen. He watched as his mom kissed his dad while he held a piece of mistletoe in the air.

"Still got it, don't I?" John asked after pulling away, causing Mary to laugh sweetly.

"Sometimes," she joked.

Gross. But also adorable.

Sam was suddenly hit with a wave of emotion. He looked back and forth between Dean and Lisa in the living room and his parents in the kitchen and couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Feeling his eyes get wet, Sam snuck upstairs. He tried to blink the tears away, but they just kept coming. He went into his room and gently latched the door behind him. He tried to muffle a sob with his hand. He hoped no one heard him, not wanting to ruin the good day everyone else had been having. No matter how hard he tried to cover it up, he just couldn't ignore the growing empty ache in his chest.

It had been six weeks today since Jess died. And it was the longest six weeks of Sam's life. He thought he was doing better, except for the constant nightmares. He hadn't even cried or thought of Jess for a while now. And while Sam felt guilty for admitting that to himself, he thought that was a normal thing with grieving, that it had been a sign he was finally moving on.

"Sam!" he heard his brother call from downstairs. He sniffled and quickly started to wipe his face with his long sleeves. Footsteps came up the stairs and stopped in the hall. "Cookies are done if you want any."

Sam started to get frustrated as he continued to cry. He ran his sleeves along his face aggressively but the tears just kept coming.

Not hearing a response, Dean walked closer to the door. "Sam?" he called again, quieter this time. "Are you in there?"

Yes! Sam wanted to choke out. I'll be down in a minute! But he couldn't find the words. Couldn't get them out. Couldn't move his vocal cords and mouth to even form them.

Dean scoffed on the other side of the door, sounding annoyed. "Dude, seriously, did you fucking leave?" He pushed down on the handle, swinging the door wide open and revealing Sam standing in the middle of the dimly lit room. "Oh fuck."

Sam lost it. "Jess is dead!" he sobbed, not caring who heard him downstairs now. "She's fucking dead!"

"Yeah, man, I know," Dean said awkwardly, wanting to support him. Big brothers help little brothers, right? "I know and I'm sorry."

Sam continued to cry as he stood in the room, arms wrapped around his stomach. Dean wanted to go to him. Wanted to hug him and give him kisses, like when little Sam would skin his knee or his elbow and Dean would slap a bandaid on and tell Sam he was all better. When was the last time he had even done that? Comforted his little brother as he cried? Would Sam even let him as an adult?

"Mom!" Dean called downstairs over his shoulder. "Dad!"

"What's going on?" they both asked as they came upstairs. One look at Sam told them all they needed to know.

Chapter Text

"We need to do something about this."

"John, will you just let it go already? He's doing enough already."

"No son of mine will stay in bed all day and do nothing."

"He isn't doing nothing! He is grieving his girlfriend. This is part of it."

Sam closed his eyes and pushed into his temples with his fingers. His parents had been going at it all morning, arguing about him once again, unaware that he could hear everything they said travel throughout the house. The auto shop was closed for a week for the holidays, and Sam didn't have anything else going on. Without work, he'd stay up in his room, claiming that he just wanted time alone. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep getting away with it.

"He needs to man up and get over it. That happened, what, almost two months ago?"

Pause. "And if I had died in the same horrific manner, would you have gotten over it so quickly?"

"Oh don't be so ridiculous. Of course, I wouldn't have! But a thirty-year relationship and marriage compared to one year in college?"

"John Winchester, I hope for your mother's sake, she doesn't know how much of an ass you truly are sometimes."

Well, guess that ended today's argument.

Sam tried his best to curl up and pull the blankets over his head. He waited in anticipation as he listened to his mom come upstairs.

Knock, knock. "Sammy? Are you awake?"

Sam continued to listen as Mary quietly opened his door, flipped on his light, and walked over to the bed. She sat on the edge as she pulled the blanket back, causing Sam to groan and quickly shut his eyes to block out the new sudden light.

"Why don't you try a shower and come downstairs?" she suggested, slowly revealing more of Sam's face under the blanket. "I'm sure you'll feel a lot better." When Sam failed to react, she added: "Dean's coming by in an hour. He has a surprise for you."

Now Sam's curiosity was piqued. "A surprise?" he asked, his morning voice sounding deeper than usual. He cleared his throat. "For me?"

Mary smiled in a way that only played with his curiosity even more. "The only way you'll find out is if you shower and come downstairs."

Dean snuck his head in through the front door. "Mom?" he called. "Dad?"

John appeared in the living room with a cup of coffee. "Coast is clear. He's upstairs."

"Sweet!" Dean threw open the door. "Welcome to Casa de Winchester."

Brady entered behind him. "I can't believe this is the first time I'm seeing Sam's house. I feel like I'm picking him up for a first date," Brady joked.

"I mean, in a way, you kind of are," Dean joked back, closing the door behind him.

"Brady!" Mary said, coming down the stairs. "Thank you for coming on short notice."

"Thank you for inviting me. You have a lovely home."

"Thank you!" Mary gave her son a look that said, See what a real gentleman looks like?

Dean gave her a look back that said, I don't know what you're talking about; you're the one that raised me.

Oblivious to all the looks, John said, "Well, I sure hope Sam is excited about you being here. Hate for you to fly out here just for him to continue to lock himself away in his room."

Mary smacked her husband's shoulder.

"So what's the plan?" Brady asked. "Do I hide in his closet? Pop up from the backseat? Wake him up in the middle of the night?"

"You can wait in his room," Mary said, "he should be out of the shower soon."

Dean gave Brady a quick tour of the house before leading him upstairs towards Sam's bedroom.

Sam exited the shower, feeling the same as he did before. Cleaner, but still the same. His headache wouldn't go away and all his muscles felt tight and sore. He threw on clean underwear, followed by the same pajamas; he's not disgusting.

He opened the bathroom door leading to his bedroom, finding Brady spread out on top, like someone waiting for their lover to return home. One leg up in the air and his head propped up on his elbow.

"Hello Samuel," Brady said in a sultry voice.

It took a minute for Sam's brain to accept this was real. "Oh my fucking god," he mumbled.

Brady jumped up off the bed. "Ha ha! Surprise!" He walked over to Sam to greet him with a bro hug. "We so got you!"

"We?"

Dean threw open the bedroom door laughing. "Um, yeah, we!" he added. "Man, I wish I grabbed Dad's camcorder. You should've seen your face!"

Anger started to bubble in Sam's chest. This was the absolute last thing he wanted right now. "What the hell are you even doing here, Brady?"

"Your 'rents invited me to stay for a few days," Brady explained, "before I gotta fly back for spring semester."

Spring semester is starting already?

Guilt joined the anger. Sam should be getting ready to go back to Stanford. Packing his bags one last time for his final semester. Planning graduation and law school. Moving to a real apartment away from student housing and proposing to Jess... All of that is just gone and Sam had never even thought of trying to go back.

Fuck, what should I even do now?

"Yeah, I thought you two could go out on a date tonight," Dean added, not aware of the dilemma his brother was currently facing. "Then tomorrow you can bring your boyfriend to meet the guys from the shop and Monday, you can give him a romantic farewell at the airport."

Sam took a deep breath and weighed his options. He had not felt like going out lately so on one hand, it might feel good to spend time with friends. On the other, he might be sticking out like a wet blanket and ruin everyone's night. On the third, Brady did fly all the way out here for one little weekend just for him. On the fourth, Sam knew it was going to feel like the longest weekend of his life.

"Sure," Sam said with a fake smile. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Chapter Text

Sam took a sharp breath as Brady pulled into the parking lot of Harvelle's. The place looked the same as it did when Sam saw it last. Ellen let Jo host a senior graduation party. What happened there was promised to never be mentioned; both at the party and between Sam and Jo.

That was the night their friendship officially ended.

"Dude, what are we doing here?" Sam tried to ask casually as Brady parked and shut off the car.

"Alright, promise you won't act weird?"

"No."

"I looked up things to do in Lawrence on the internet and this was one of the places that popped up."

"You web-searched my hometown?"

"Okay, so your brother may have suggested it," Brady finally admitted. Sam ground his teeth together. Dean. Of course. Brady continued: "He said it was a nice place and that you guys know the owners so we might be able to get some hookups."

"You brought me here in the hopes we'll get free booze?"

"No! I was hoping we could get free food." Brady looked over at Sam and winked.

Sam couldn't help but smile. "You're such a fucking idiot."

Brady eagerly climbed out of the car and started making his way towards the entrance. Sam followed behind him, a little nervous at what to find inside. More specifically, who. But there are several cars in the lot so at least he knew there would be other customers. Maybe if he's lucky, they'll be too busy dealing with them instead.

They grabbed two seats at the bar. Sam watched as Ellen came over to greet them.

Please don't recognize me. Please don't recognize me.

Ellen took one look at him and her face lit up like the Christmas tree still sitting in the corner.

Damn it.

"Sam!" she said. "My, it's been a while since I've seen you around here."

"Hi Mrs. Harvelle," Sam greeted sheepishly.

"Oh shut up and just call me Ellen now," she said, grabbing two glasses and setting them on the counter. "Who's your friend?"

"I'm Brady," Brady said, taking the opportunity to introduce himself. "I'm just visiting before I gotta go back to Stanford."

Ellen nodded. She saw Dean drop Sam off one day back in November and asked Mary about it. She knew what happened. She told Jo, who acted like she couldn't care less about anything that happened to Sam. That was a fun screaming match over the phone.

"So, Sam, you like living back at home?" Ellen asked, trying to make casual conversation as she poured her finest beer on tap for them.

Sam shrugged. "It's alright."

"Parents driving you crazy?"

Sam laughed. "When are they not?"

Ellen laughed back. "You boys let me know if you need anything. It's good to see you, Sam."

She went around to the other end of the bar to tend to other customers.

"Okay, who is that?" Brady asked, dragging one of the beers closer to him and taking a sip.

"Neighbor," Sam explained.

"That was way more friendly than just a neighbor."

Sam made a face. "Ew. No, dude, don't."

Brady threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying!"

"I went to school with her daughter, okay?" Sam tried to keep all information limited, not really wanting to get into that drama. "We were pretty close."

"She work here too?"

Sam looked around, but alas, no sign of Jo. "Nope." Thank fucking god.

"You mean I don't get to meet anyone else who knows you?"

"You met Ellen." Sam scoffed, finally reaching for his beer. "I don't really have any friends, so you're kinda shit out of luck."

Brady was confused about that. Sam had a whole friend group at Stanford. "You mean to tell me you don't keep in touch with anyone from high school or childhood?"

"Fuck no."

Brady frowned. "Figures. You don't even keep in touch with us."

Now Sam was confused. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Come on, Sam! When was the last time you called me?" Brady asked. "Or responded to a text from Becca or Zack?"

Sam looked down at his glass, suddenly feeling nauseous. He had been neglecting his friends lately. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to any of them. The realization hit Sam that he didn't even call them to wish them Merry Christmas or ask them what they were doing for New Years. It was now January and he had no idea what any of his friends were up to.

Brady continued. "You could also take a peek at MySpace every once in a while. Becca found some pics of you and Jess that she posted. She thought maybe you were still mad and avoiding her."

Sam sighed and took a long sip from his beer. He was definitely going to get wasted tonight.

Brady still kept talking. "Shit, dude, hit us up on AOL or send a fucking email! Something to let us know how you're doing?"

Sam set the glass back down on the countertop. "You really want to know how I'm doing?"

Brady made a gesture like please, the floor is yours.

"I miss her. Like really fucking bad."

"We all do," Brady tried to mention sympathetically.

"No," Sam immediately argued, "not like I do. You all can go back to school and move on with your lives! I had to come back home with no idea what to do next! Everything I worked for just stopped the night she died and everything in my life that I had going for me is just..."

"Gone?"

Sam nodded, unable to continue talking.

The tension between the two had shifted, but Brady could see that no one in the bar seemed to have a damn clue what was happening.

"Sam, I didn't come here to fight," Brady said calmly. "Your mom called me and said she was so worried about you. She wanted to know if you had been talking to us about how you're feeling because you won't talk to anyone in your family."

"Because I don't want to talk about it."

"But you have to, Sam!" Brady felt like he was begging at this point. "Becca started seeing a grief counselor at school. It seems to really be helping her process Jess' death. Maybe you can find one here and get some help."

Sam started to focus on his breathing. In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4...

"You know, Zack said Becca has been taking everything really hard too. Maybe the two of you could be each other's support system or something?"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the one who killed her!"

Brady felt like his head was going to explode. "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"

"If I had been there, this wouldn't have happened! I knew I shouldn't have gone on that camping trip."

"Sam, there is nothing you could have done to save her!" Brady was grasping at straws trying to reason with Sam, but my god, is his head thick. "What if you died too?"

"I wish I did," Sam snapped. "Then I wouldn't have to live with the guilt knowing I'm the reason she's dead."

Brady was absolutely speechless. There was nothing he could say to that.

Dean woke up on the wrong side of the bed. He thought he'd be generous and told Sam and Brady they could sleep off their hangovers at his place, away from Mary asking a million questions about their night out. He regretted that when the apartment door was slamming shut at four in the morning.

Not bothering to clean himself up or anything, he walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen, surprised to see Brady up and about.

"Hey," Dean greeted. "Surprised to see you and Sam made it back alive."

"Well, I did," Brady said, "Sam didn't come back with me."

Dean froze. He did a quick scan of the one-bedroom apartment. Sure enough, no Sam in sight.

"Did you drop him off at my parent's house?"

"No."

"So what happened?"

Brady shrugged. "We were at the bar, talking, shit got heavy, we took a break, I started chatting up this girl and next thing I knew, Sam had left the bar."

"And you didn't think to go look for him?"

"It's not like this is the first time he's left a party early. He'll be fine."

Dean was seconds away from punching this dude in the face. "WHERE THE HELL IS MY LITTLE BROTHER!?"

Chapter Text

"Sam? Come on dude, open the door." Dean begged outside in the hallway outside his brother's bedroom. "Be mad at me, alright? Don't take it out on Mom and Dad. It was my idea for Brady to come out here."

Dean anxiously shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the floor.

"Look, I didn't know this would happen. Honestly, I thought it would cheer you up! Can you open the door so I can explain?"

He began to pace up and down the hall outside Sam's door.

"Come on, Sam, please?"

EARLIER...

Sam woke up in a purple bedroom. Except for the pillows and blankets sprawled onto the floor, the room was spotless. There weren't any belongings scattered about, giving Sam any indication where he was at. All he knew was his head was pounding and he needed to pee. Sam slowly climbed out of bed and opened the bedroom door. As soon as he saw the hallway, he knew exactly where he was. He had been in this house a million times. He waltzed down the hall to the bathroom and then he helped himself downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast, as he had done many times before. Like he owned the fucking place.

There was arguing. And threatening. All in sharp, tense whispers like the voices were cautious not to wake him.

"I cannot believe you brought him here!"

"His friend abandoned him and he was upset! I wasn't going to let him leave on his own."

"You should have! He probably deserved it! Fucking jerk."

"Joanna Beth-"

Sam stepped on a creaky floorboard, causing both women to abruptly stop their conversation and look at him. Ellen quickly changed her attitude, putting on a friendly smile. Jo still looked epically pissed. "Sam!" Ellen greeted. "Are you hungry? There's frozen waffles in the freezer and bananas on the counter."

Sam awkwardly stood in the doorway to the kitchen, like he was twelve again. "Yeah, thanks."

"You drink coffee?" she asked, getting up from the table and going to the brewer. Sam nodded. Ellen got down two mugs and filled both of them. "Help yourself. Everything is still where you remember it being."

Sam opened the freezer and got out a box of Eggo waffles. He popped two in the toaster, then rummaged through the pantry for syrup and butter.

"May I please be excused?" Jo asked snarkily. She kept her head down, glaring at Sam with her arms crossed at the table. A cup of coffee and a piece of toast sat in front of her.

"No." Ellen carried the mugs of coffee over to the table. "Eat."

When Sam's waffles were ready, he joined the ladies, sitting across from Jo, still giving him the stink-eye. Ellen chose not to feed her any attention. "So, Sam, what's new with you?"

"Not much," he answered nervously.

"What have you been doing since you moved back home?"

"I work at the shop."

"Doing what?" Ellen asked, sounding surprised.

"I'm at the counter," Sam said, refusing to use the title 'receptionist', no matter how many times Dean tried to correct him. "I answer the phone and cash people out."

Ellen let out a laugh. "Oh thank god, I thought Dean was letting you touch the cars!" She sighed in relief. "Not that you wouldn't be good at that, but you did flood my kitchen."

Sam's face turned pink from the memory. When he was a teen, his dad told him he needed to put down the books and start being good with handy work if he was going to get any girls. Ellen's sink kept getting stopped up with water and he thought he could snake it for her. He was wrong... And Sam never tried to be handy ever again.

"So, how, um... how did I..." Sam started to get flustered, not knowing how to ask the question currently weighing on him.

Luckily, Ellen could finish it for him. "How did you stay the night at my house?"

"Yeah, in my room," Jo snapped. Ellen about popped her in the mouth if Sam hadn't interrupted.

"Do my parents know I'm here?" Sam asked, now acting like he was sixteen.

"No. Why? Want me to tell them?" Ellen teased. Sam tensed up and he picked at his food anxiously. Ellen reached over and grabbed his hand. "Don't worry about it. You and your friend came in, you two got in a fight, he left you, and I thought I'd bring you home safely. I would have called your brother but I don't have his number."

Sam was even more confused. "How drunk was I that I don't remember any of that?"

"You weren't," Ellen answered. "You were just so upset you didn't know what two plus two is."

Now Sam felt embarrassed. He didn't like people seeing him like that, but lately, it felt like being emotional was all he was ever doing.

Sam snapped out of his thoughts to Ellen kicking Jo out of the kitchen. He listened as she stomped upstairs and slammed the door to her bedroom shut.

Ellen reached back across the table and took Sam's hand again. She rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. It felt nice. "Sam, I know it's been a while since I've last seen you, but how are you doing?"

She spoke in a low, calm voice and Sam knew she wasn't fucking around. "What do you know?"

"Mary told me you moved back because your girl died. It's all over the news. I'm so sorry."

Sam looked down at the floor and nodded slowly. He licked his lips and took a deep breath to try to fight the tears. "Thanks," he mumbled.

Ellen let go of Sam's hand and grabbed her coffee. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Sam. You started a screaming match in my bar last night. I had to stop customers from calling the cops."

"I'm sorry."

Ellen tsked. "Are you taking care of yourself, Sam?"

Sam slammed his hands on the table. "Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm okay!? How many times do I have to tell them that I am!?"

"You can tell them as many times as you want, but they'll only stop asking once they see that you are okay."

Sam scrunched his face. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I see a lot of people come through my bar. Most of them grieving some sort of loss they can't get over and they think alcohol and fighting are the only things that are going to solve their problems. And some of those people either wind up in jail or dead."

Sam couldn't help the feeling of his eyes getting wet. Everything Ellen was telling him was hitting him hard. And sure, it was no different than anything anyone else had been telling him, but the way Ellen talked felt too real. "You have a lot of people who love you, Sam," she continued. "No one wants to see this turn into you going down a dark path."

"So what do I do?" Sam asked desperately.

Ellen pulled a business card out of her jeans pocket. "This is who I saw after my Bill passed." She slid the card across the table in front of him. "She was a godsend."

Sam took the card and ran his fingers along the edges. Dr. Tabitha Molly. Grief counselor and therapist.

"Thank you," Sam said, tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

"Come here, honey," Ellen said, opening her arms. Sam leaned over the chair and went in for the hug. Ellen gave him a tight squeeze and gave him a pat on the back. "My door is always open if you need it. Just don't go starting any more fights in my bar."

Sam let out a small laugh. "I promise."

"SAM!" Dean yelled, running in through the front door to the house. Brady was right behind him. "SAM! Are you here!?"

"Dean Michael Winchester!" Mary scolded, coming into the living room from the kitchen. "What the hell are you doing screaming in my house?"

"Is Sam here?" Dean pleaded.

"No, he's supposed to be with you," Mary answered confused. "Isn't he with you?"

Dean brushed her off, running up the stairs to Sam's room. He opened the door and flipped on the light. There was no sign of Sam anywhere.

"Dean, what is going on?" Mary asked, trying to keep her cool. "If your father wakes up-"

"Sam's missing."

Mary was caught off guard. "What do you mean he's missing? What happened?"

"Ask this guy!" Dean said, angrily gesturing to Brady, now awkwardly standing at the top of the stairs.

"Dean, I told you, Sam's wandered off before. He'll come back," Brady explained for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Yeah, why don't you take that explanation and shove it up your ass," Dean muttered, shoving past him and going back downstairs, just in time to see Sam mosey on through the door and latch it behind him.

"Dean? What are you doing- ugh!" Sam grunted on impact from Dean rushing into him and pulling him into a hug.

"Please don't ever disappear like that again," Dean whispered in his ear.

Sam's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "I didn't?" he said, his inflection sounding like a question.

Dean shoved Sam off of him. "Then where the hell were you?"

"Across the street?" Sam tried to explain, pointing out the window. "I watched you pull up. Dean, what's going on?"

"Sam!" Mary said, coming over for her hug. "Are you alright?"

Sam gently pushed her away, getting annoyed at his family's overreacting. "I'm fine! After the bar, I went home with Jo," he semi-lied.

"JO!?" Mary and Dean asked at the same time. "Wait, since when are you two friends again?" Dean added.

Sam just shrugged his shoulders, making his way towards the stairs. He wanted nothing more than to shower and go back to sleep in his own bed. But when he walked into his room, he found Brady sitting at his desk.

"Hey," Brady said gently, standing up upon Sam entering.

Oh great.

Brady licked his lips nervously. "Listen, Sam, I'm sorry about last night."

"Are you?" Sam snapped, that anger from the day before rising again. "I thought you came to hang out, not participate in my family's intervention."

"It was a little bit of both, honestly," Brady tried to reason. "We're all just so worried about you Sam. And things are only going to get worse since Jess' family keeps pushing for an investigation. And you're the future lawyer in our group so you know how messy murder cases and trials are."

Sam sat down on the edge of his bed and rested his head in his hands. Brady rocked back and forth on his feet.

"I really shouldn't have let you leave last night." Brady continued. "It's just that when we fight, you are so hard to get through to and I thought you'd make your way back to Dean's. We didn't even know until we woke up this morning and you weren't there."

Sam continued to sit on the bed, trying his best to disassociate. Anything to not be here right now.

"Come on dude, please say something."

"You should go."

"What?"

Sam removed his hands and looked Brady in the eye. "You coming here was a big fucking mistake and you should really go."

"Sam-"

"GO."

Brady straightened his shoulders. "Fine. I'll have Dean drop me at the airport and switch my flight."

Sam continued staring Brady down until he turned around and left. He listened to his footsteps go down the stairs, followed by quiet voices, the front door opening and closing, and Dean's car start and pull out of the drive.

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out Dr. Molly's business card. He ran his fingers along the edges, reading the phone number over and over in his head.

"Sammy?" Mary asked gently. Sam didn't even notice her standing in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

All Sam could do was shake his head. He started sobbing and Mary quickly sat next to him on the bed, grabbing one of his hands and rubbing his back.

"I think I need help, Mom," he said in between cries.

"Okay. Whatever you want, we'll do."

Sam handed her the business card.

PRESENT...

"Come on, Sam, please?"

"He's not here," Dean heard his dad say as he walked up the steps.

Dean turned around so fast, he got whiplash. "Now where the hell is he?"

John sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Mom and I took him to the hospital while you took Brady to the airport."

"You did what!?" Dean asked, his eyes popping out of his head.

"He asked us to," John answered calmly. "We called a therapist and she recommended it. We met her down there and it sounds like it could really help him."

Dean's head started spinning. Sure, Sam was moody and dramatic at times, but this? This was next level and it terrified Dean. He tried to swallow the fear and panic back down his throat, but he felt like he was going to lose.

Next thing Dean knew, he was resting his forehead on his dad's shoulder as John wrapped an arm around him for support. Dean couldn't even remember the last time his dad had hugged him.

"We're not going to lose him too, are we?" Not my little brother...

"No. We're not going to lose him."

Chapter Text

Sam sat at a table in the corner, far away from the other patients. After a rough first night and morning group therapy session, it was "recreation time"; whatever the hell that meant. Some patients went outside to the courtyard and some opted to stay inside in some sort of sad game room. There was fooseball and ping pong on one side of the room. On the other side were shelves with books and board games. Everyone was scattered around, sort of doing their own thing, leaving Sam all to his own at a table in the corner.

"Need an opponent?" a girl asked, walking over to where Sam was sitting. He gave her a confused look. She pointed to the box containing a checker set sitting in front of him. Sam blushed, not even noticing that that had been there this entire time. "Or are you one of those people with a split personality disorder?"

Sam half-laughed at the objectionable joke. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the other chair.

The girl sat down, dumped out the box's contents and started setting up the board game. Sam couldn't help but notice the big bandages on her forearms.

She seemed to have caught him staring. "Involuntary 51/50 hold," she explained. She rolled up one of her sleeves to show Sam how high the bandage went. "I'm bipolar and had a bad depressive episode. Neighbor called the cops on me and now I'm here."

Sam nodded in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

The girl shrugged. "It's whatever. It's not my first and it won't be my last."

Sam helped her line up all the chips on the board.

"What about you?" she asked politely. Sam winced as he tried to find a way to answer. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me." She made the first move. "Honestly, I just saw you sitting over here by yourself and thought I'd start a conversation. I can tell you're new here."

Sam played the next one. "My girlfriend died. And I had to drop out of college and move home. I'm just having trouble adjusting to the change."

She took her turn. "I'm sorry."

Sam took his. "Thanks."

She jumped Sam's piece. "Wanna talk about her?"

Sam moved a new chip. "No."

She moved hers. "You know they'll make you talk about her in here, right? Might as well anyway."

Sam scoffed. "It's not like they can cut into my brain and force it out of me."

"Ooooo dark!" She slid her piece onto his side of the board. "King me."

Sam smiled, happily obliging. "I'm Sam."

The girl smiled back. "Meg."

When 7pm rolled around, it was visiting hour. One of the nurses knocked on Sam's door and walked him out to the visiting room for families. It felt weirdly like prison; just tables in a big conference room with families sitting at each one. The nurse kindly gestured to a table in the middle of the room where Mary and John sat waiting. "Sammy," Mary whispered, standing to greet him. Sam immediately went in for the hug, feeling like he had missed her his whole life when it had only been one day.

"Hi Mom," he whispered back. Mary released herself from the hug first, running her thumbs across his face. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"Hey Bud, you doing okay here?" John asked, helping his wife and son have a seat at the table.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"Are you making friends?" Mary asked.

Sam scoffed. "Mom it's not summer camp."

"Well, I'm sure you're talking to someone!" Mary commended. "Please don't tell me you're locked in your room all day by yourself."

I already do that anyway. "I'm fine," Sam said, faking a smile. "I promise."

Sam looked over at the empty chair on the other side of the table and frowned. Mary and John followed his line of sight and looked at each other once they realized. Mary took Sam's hand and squeezed it. "They only let in two visitors at a time," she explained gently, "but we promised Dean he could come see you tomorrow if you want."

Sam shifted in his chair. "He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to," he said, trying to dismiss the idea.

"Oh, but he does!" Mary continued. "He misses you and he's really worried about you."

"He is?" Sam was surprised. That doesn't sound like Dean...

"He's your big brother. He just wants to know that you're okay."

Sam smiled again, this time genuinely. "I'm okay."

Mary and John stayed the whole hour.

After visiting hour, Sam ran into Meg again. She was waiting for him in his room, holding two cups of Jello and two plastic spoons. "You wouldn't believe how easy it is to sneak these," she said, holding one up towards Sam. He happily took it, rolling it around in his hands and sitting next to her on the bed. "How was visiting hour?"

Sam shrugged. "It was alright. My parents came."

"Must be nice," Meg said. Sam couldn't help but feel like it was a backhanded comment towards herself.

Sam felt like he had to keep talking to fill the awkward energy in the room. "Yeah. I guess my brother might come tomorrow."

Meg didn't say anything. She pulled the top off her jello and started eating it.

"Do you have anyone come to visit?" Sam found himself asking.

Meg shrugged. "I had a boyfriend once. Then he realized how crazy I am and left."

"You're not crazy," Sam defended. "Bipolar disorder is a mental illness that can be treated, right?"

"Well! Look who is conscientious!" Meg joked. Sam rolled his eyes. "Were you a psych major or something, college boy?"

"Criminal justice."

"Close enough."

Sam looked down at the jello in his hands. He peeled off the top, sticking his spoon in and mashing it around rather than eating it. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Because your girlfriend died?" Meg asked with a mouthful of jello.

"What if I said I keep seeing dreams of her dying? About the night she was murdered?"

Meg hummed. She scooted closer to Sam on the bed. "Did you kill her?"

Yes. "No."

Meg scooted even closer. Sam could smell the cherry jello on her breath. "I think whoever killed her is the crazy one," she said in a low voice. "Not you."

Sam was aware of how close she was, and yet he did nothing to stop it. "I miss her."

Meg tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. "You wouldn't if you were crazy." She started to slowly lean in. Her lips were an inch away from Sam's when he jumped from the bed.

"You should go," he said, clearing his throat and heading towards the door to the room. "It's almost lights out and I'm pretty sure you could get in trouble for being in here."

Meg didn't argue. She stood up and walked over to him. "Goodnight Sam. Thanks for joining me for a snack."

And then she left the room.

Chapter Text

Dean is lying on his bed, reading an issue of Sports Illustrated his mom didn't know he had. The sounds of Sam coming home, running into his room, and slamming his bedroom door shut ruining his plans.

"Why are girls so fucking stupid!?" he hears Sam scream, the sound traveling down the Jack and Jill bathroom, followed immediately by Sam's radio blasting whatever junk emo band he was currently obsessed with.

"Keep it down, brat!"

"Shut the fuck up, Dean!"

Tossing the forbidden magazine behind his bed, Dean immediately crossed through the bathroom into Sam's room, finding him on his bed.  "What the hell did you say to me?"

"Get out!" Sam jumped up, trying to push Dean back through the door, but Dean was determined to stand his ground.

"You don't get to talk to me like that, you bitch!"

"You're the bitch, bitch! Now just leave me alone!"

Sam gave one more hard shove, giving Dean the incentive to tackle him on the ground; which is easy to do when you're the captain of the boys' varsity wrestling team and your little brother is half your size.

Sam wiggled his way free, escaping to the hallway. He pushed himself up, only for Dean to come over the top of him and push him back down.

Sam let out a blood-curdling scream.

"Dean?"

Dean moaned into his pillow. "What time is it?"

"Seven," Lisa answered. Sitting on the bed next to him, she ran a finger down Dean's shirt. "You were making a lot of noises in your sleep," she teased playfully. "What were you dreaming about?"

Unable to take the hint in his semi-conscious state, Dean answered: "The time Sam broke his arm."

Lisa blushed in embarrassment. "Oh. You mean the time he jumped off the garage as Batman on Halloween?"

"No. The time I pushed him down in the hallway." Dean admitted. "It was when we were in high school. He told a girl in his class he had a crush on her and she blabbed about it to everybody. He was getting picked on for weeks and would take it out on me and one day I was sick of it. So I pushed him on the ground and he landed on his arm wrong."

Lisa made a face. "You told me he broke it at soccer practice."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, cause I didn't want you to think I was a dick."

"So, why do you think you were dreaming about that?"

"Because I feel guilty," Dean answered quietly. "I was such an asshole to him growing up. We hated each other but I never wanted anything bad to happen to him, you know? And now he's in the hospital and I feel like it's my fault for not being a better brother to him."

Lisa laid down on the bed next to him, curling her arms around his. She wiped Dean's face with one of her hands. Dean didn't even notice he started crying. "So start being a better brother to him."

"Alright!" Dean said, throwing open the front door and carrying in a bunch of bags. "I got the groceries, his prescription, and-" Dean stopped in his tracks when he saw Sam sitting at the kitchen table by himself, pouting. "What are you doing here? I thought they were getting you later."

Sam sighed. "The doctors released me this morning."

Dean set the bags down on the counter and started unloading groceries. "Soooo where are Mom and Dad?"

"Getting lunch," Sam explained. "They dropped me off so I could shower and rest." Sam stood up from the table and walked behind the kitchen counter. He pointed to a lockbox. "Did you know about this?"

Dean turned around, spotting the lockbox on the counter. "No. The hell is it?"

Sam stomped his foot in annoyance. "Mom asked Dad to lock up everything in the house that I could use to hurt myself for 'safe keeping'." Sam held up his hands and made air quotes. "No knives, no pills. I have to wait for them to come home so I can take fucking Tylenol."

"Well, that's-" Dean had to bite his tongue from saying the wrong thing. Truth is, his parents probably were in the right to lock everything up. "I mean... you're not, uh... you're not doing any of that, are you? Or planning to?"

Sam scoffed. "Fuck no!" he screamed, sounding hurt.

Dean immediately felt bad for asking. "Sam-"

"You know, I was so excited to finally come back home and have things go back to normal but if everything is going to be like this, I will go fucking crazy!" Sam rambled.

Fuck the groceries. Dean crossed over to Sam, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Hey," he said quietly, "I'm sure it's only for a little bit, okay? Mom said the doctors are still playing with your new meds so I'm sure this is all part of the adjustment period. Once things start to settle, I'm sure Mom and Dad will back off and they'll get rid of the lockboxes."

Sam started to pout again. He looked like he was six, after Mom had scolded him and said he was not having ice cream for dinner.

"Want me to take a look at it?" Dean asked, half joking. "See if I can't crack this case open?"

Sam snorted. "Don't break it."

"I'm not gonna break it!" Dean said, waving him off. "Let's see... four-digit combo... 1983." Jiggle. "1979." Jiggle. "1975." Jiggle jiggle.

Sam smiled in amusement. "Do you really think they're stupid enough to use something we would know?"

Dean shushed him. "1234." Jiggle. "Alright, we're going all the way back. 0001." Jiggle jiggle.

Sam started laughing. Genuinely. He forgot all about how he's supposed to be pissed at the lockbox.

Dean smiled to himself. Asshole big brothers don't make little brothers laugh now, do they?

"What are you two doing?"

Both boys turned around, hands behind their backs, biting their lips; like two little kids getting caught in the act.

"Nothing!"

Mary shook her head. "You better step away from that before your father sees you trying to break in."

"Sam needed Tylenol!" Dean argued, trying to justify his part. "I was just trying to be a good big brother and get it for him!"

"Mm hmm," Mary hummed. She walked over to the lockbox, turning it away from the boys and shielding the code from their eyes. She opened it, grabbing the bottle of Tylenol and handing it to Sam. He opened the bottle, shook out two pills, and handed it back to his mom. Mary tossed the bottle back in the lockbox, snapping it shut and relocking it. "I promise this won't be forever," she assured her youngest. "It's a random set of numbers. You'll never be able to guess."

"Do I get to know?" Dean asked, trying to fight back the biggest grin.

"No."

"HA!"

"WHAT!?"

Later that night, Sam came down for a snack. Turns out the groceries Dean picked up were all of Sam's favorites. He excitedly helped himself to the bagels, popping one in the toaster. He grabbed the container of peanut butter down from the pantry... only to realize he didn't have a knife to spread it with.

Sam sheepishly shuffled into the living room, spotting his parents sitting on the couch watching tv.

"Yes, Sam?" his mom asked.

Sam felt dumb, rocking back and forth on his feet. "I'm making toast," he announced like he was three, "and I need a knife."

Mary turned towards John. "Your turn."

John groaned as he stood up off the couch and followed Sam into the kitchen. John unlocked the lockbox and handed a butterknife to Sam. Sam quickly spread the peanut butter on his bagel, washed the knife, and handed it back to his dad. He was about to go back upstairs when John suddenly wrapped his arms around his shoulders and squeezed tightly. Sam let it happen, gently putting his hands on his dad's back.

"It's good to have you home," John whispered. He quickly released, running his hand down his face and returning to the living room. "By the way, I hate that fucking box as much as you do so I don't even want to hear it!"

Sam smiled. He picked up his bagel and went back to his room. Maybe this won't be so bad.

Chapter Text

"Shit, shit, shit!" Sam said, running down the stairs towards the garage. "My shirt's still in the dryer!"

"Take your time," Dean said sarcastically, leaning against the staircase. "It's not like we had to be at the shop ten minutes ago."

Sam scowled at Dean as he ran past him. Poor Sam's alarm clock didn't go off this morning, causing him to sleep in and wake up to a very annoyed Dean standing over his bed. Not a good start for his first day back at work.

"You're still here?" Mary asked, passing through on her way to the kitchen.

Dean pointed at the garage door. "Your other son just ran by in his underwear, so yes, I'm still here."

Mary sighed as Dean rolled his eyes and started chugging his coffee. "Please be nice to him. The doctor gave him some new sleeping pills but I don't think they're working."

Dean scoffed. "Really? Sure didn't look like it this morning," he mumbled.

"I got up at two and his light was still on," Mary confessed. "If he did get sleep, it's not much."

"Well, he better be rested because we have back-to-back bookings on the calendar today."

Sam reappeared in the foyer, frantically trying to button up his polo.

"Oh good, he found his shirt and pants!" Dean continued to tease.

"Mom, where are my shoes?" Sam asked, ignoring his older brother.

"Um, I'm hoping in your closet where they should be?" Mary offered in a tone that came across as for-22-years-I've-been-telling-you-to-put-them-there-so-if-they're-not-there-that's-your-own-damn-fault.

Groaning at the helpful advice from his family, Sam ran back up the stairs to his room. The first day back at work is supposed to be a fresh start and here Sam was, still fucking everything up as usual.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"Ready!" Sam yelled, running back down the stairs. Dean was already waiting outside by the car.

"About fucking time!"

Dean wasn't kidding when he said the day was going to be packed. It felt like every fifteen minutes someone new was walking in through the door. Dean had everyone working so the guys were constantly flipping out cars. Thankfully, the busy day was enough of a distraction to keep Sam from his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, dropping a set of keys on the counter.

"I'm fine."

"Sorry your first day back is so fucking crazy. If you need to dip out early, I can stand in."

Sam rubbed at his temples. "I'm good. I just need to shake this impending headache."

Dean walked off towards the staff room, returning with a bottle of Tylenol. "Here. I keep it in my locker. Combo is 11-13-05." Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Just because Mom and Dad believe in a stupid lockbox doesn't mean I do. I trust you won't pull any of that stupid shit here, right?"

Sam smirked and took the bottle from his brother. "Thanks." He unscrewed the cap and poured two out, handing the bottle back to Dean.

"Keep it. Maybe you can hide it under your pillow or something. Just don't tell them I'm corrupting you or something."

At least someone's trusting me.

Sam shoved the small bottle into his hoodie pocket.

When Dean dropped Sam off after work, Sam was exhausted. He had never interacted with that many people in his life. Dean had plans with Lisa so he just left him on the curb.

Sam noticed the car wasn't in the driveway like usual. Hoping his parents weren't home so he could be alone for a while, he unlocked the front door and went inside. Sure enough, the house was quiet, filling Sam with so much relief. His head was still pulsing from earlier. Stupid Tylenol. Sam just wanted to take a hot shower and go to bed.

Click!

Boing!

Thunk!

"Ow!" Sam said, his hand reaching up to his forehead. "What the fuck?"

"Hehehe," John chuckled, stepping out from his hiding spot behind the wall leading to the kitchen, holding a Nerf gun.

Rage filled Sam as soon as he saw his father. "What the hell was that for!?"

John shrugged, tossing the Nerf gun onto one of the decorative chairs in the living room. "Found it out in the garage. Must belong to Ben." John continued to talk, not recognizing his son's distress. "Probably a Christmas gift that got left behind."

Sam continued to stand in the entryway, rubbing his forehead. It was like the toy had somehow amplified his pain levels and boy, were they skyrocketing.

"Aw, come on Sam, it's a damn foam bullet," John commented, finally noticing Sam's behavior. "It's not actually going to kill you."

"It's... not... that..." Sam could barely get the words out. He let out a cry and fell onto his knees.

"Sam!" John yelled, crossing over to him and kneeling in front of him. "Sam, talk to me."

"Hurts... A lot..." Sam's vision went blurry. He scrunched his eyelids shut as hard as he could.

John grabbed Sam's head, giving it a quick look over much to Sam's dismay. "I'm not seeing anything. You got another headache?"

Sam gave the smallest nod ever, followed by another cry. Tears were rolling down his face from the pain and Sam felt like he could barely move.

"Samuel, I need you to open your eyes." Samuel. A name only reserved for the serious stuff.

Sam cracked his eyelids open, hardly enough to let any light come through. He started to panic when he was seeing spots. A whimpered "Daddy" escaped from his lips.

"I can't believe it."

"I've been telling you for weeks, Mary, there's nothing going on here." Mary looked up at Bobby, sitting across from her at a table at a coffee shop. "And as much as I want to, I can't keep going on these wild goose chases you keep sending me on."

"Maybe you're right," Mary sighed. "I've been out of this game for almost twenty years. I don't know why I can't accept an answer as simple as murder."

Bobby reached across and grabbed her hand. "I know you loved that girl for Sam, and I wish I could find an answer for you, but everything kept coming up as shit. Even the serial killer angle the media is trying to push is bull."

"Well, I appreciate you trying."

Bobby gave her a small smile. "Of course. You can take the girl out of hunting..."

"...but you can't take the hunting out of the girl."

They clinked their paper coffee cups together and each took a sip.

"You ever consider getting back into it again?"

Mary laughed. "Are you!?" she teased.

Bobby waved her off. "I remember you used to go out when the boys were babies. You would always be worried about leaving them alone with John. Now they're grown."

Mary shook her head. "I just couldn't live with myself if I did bring something back home to harm them." Her cell phone in her purse started to ring. "Excuse me," she said, pulling it out and checking the caller ID. It was John. She answered. "I swear I'll be home s- Wait, what?"

Bobby watched as his friend started to go into panicked Mom mode. "What happened?" he asked, already rising from his chair.

Mary hung up the phone and threw it back in her purse. "John's taking Sam to the hospital."

"I'll drive."

Chapter Text

"Well, this is humiliating," Sam announced, stretched across the too-small hospital bed, tucked away behind a too-thin curtain in the emergency room.

"Sam, you were in so much pain you were crying," John reminded him from the uncomfortable chair sitting in the corner.

"AND you couldn't see anything!" Mary felt the need to add, pacing back and forth in front of the curtain. "Do you how scary it was to hear about that over the phone?"

Sam sighed. He slowly sat up on the bed and crossed his legs. "I'm just saying you're both overreacting. It's ridiculous. I'm perfectly fine now! Can we just go?"

"No." Mary said adamantly. "We are staying here and letting the doctor check you out."

Sam looked past her to his dad. John could only look at him sympathetically and nod.

Fuck me.

Sam laid back down on the bed. He heard the doctor's voice through the curtain talking to one of the medical assistants. "Sam!" his voice boomed as he pulled back the curtain. Appropriate for a potential head injury... "Great news. Your scans are clean and if you're no longer in pain, I say we get you out of here."

Sam excitedly sat up on the bed again, already grabbing his shoes and getting ready to put them back on. "Wait a second doctor-" goddammit Mom "-how can it be nothing? He was in a lot of pain."

"Well, he's not showing any signs of a stroke or aneurysm," Doctor What's His Name calmly explained. "And he hasn't had any recent head trauma. Sometimes a bad migraine is just a bad migraine. I can prescribe some medication to help get them under control and some of the good stuff for the next time it does act up. Might be more effective than Tylenol."

Hell yeah.

"Yeah, but he said he couldn't see?" Mary continued to press.

"Some people can experience what we call aura migraines. Usually, their vision goes blurry or they'll see spots right before the pain strikes them. It's pretty common."

"How common is common? He's been having these for a while now and they seem to be getting worse."

Here we go.

"Mary," John tried to reason, "come on, the doc said he's fine-"

"He is not fine!"

The doctor quickly scribbled something down in his notepad, ripping off the sheet and handing it to Mary. "Tell you what. This is my direct office line. If Sam's migraines worsen or the new medicine doesn't work, we can schedule an appointment to be seen right away. But for now, there isn't anything I can do without admitting Sam."

Please no. No more hospitals.

Mary seemed content taking the note paper from the doctor. She cleaned herself up, now feeling slightly embarrassed for her reaction.

Told you.

John and Mary went out to the parking lot to bring the car around while Sam went to the restroom.

"Why were you with Singer?" John asked rather sternly, alone with his wife.

"We were together at the coffee shop when you called me about Sam. I was so shaken up that he offered to drive me."

John huffed. "You told me you were meeting a girlfriend."

"I did," Mary lied. "We ran into him. She had to leave. I stayed and chatted with him for a bit."

John huffed again, unlocking the doors to the station wagon.

"What?" Mary asked, annoyed with her husband.

"Really? You? Shaken up?"

That was the best nap Sam had ever taken. He should go to the hospital more often.

Sam rubbed his eyes with his knuckles as he strolled downstairs. It was definitely late at this point. Sam hadn't looked at the clock yet, but he could easily guess 10 or 11pm. The only lights on in the house were the lamps in the living room where Mary sat reading.

"Hi honey," she greeted. "Are you feeling better?"

Sam nodded as he yawned.

"Are you hungry?"

Another nod.

Mary set her book down and went into the kitchen, Sam following closely behind her. She got out Tupperware containing spaghetti ingredients from the fridge. She dumped the noodles and sauce into a bowl and popped it into the microwave. Sam sat down on one of the barstools waiting patiently. Mary crossed over to the lockbox on the counter, spinning the dial for the code, and opening the box. She picked up several bottles and set them on the counter in front of Sam.

Sam stared at the yellow bottles mocking him. Not even three months ago Sam was a normal 22-year-old college student with lots of friends, the love of his life, and a bright future. Now here he is: no friends, no love of his life, and no future. Just him and his now three pills he has to take daily to function.

The microwave beeped. Mary placed the bowl in front of Sam, along with his new antidepressant, sleeping pill, and now migraine medication. "Eat something before you take those," Mary warned. "Wouldn't want your stomach to get upset later."

Sam silently dug into his spaghetti with a fork, putting on the show to please his mother.

Mary smiled sweetly at her son. She took a deep breath before asking "So, what should we do for dinner tomorrow? I'm thinking burgers but your dad has suggested steaks."

Sam wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "What's the occasion?" he snarkily asked, his voice sounding rough. He took another bite.

"Your brother's birthday dinner."

Sam nearly choked on a spaghetti noodle. He dropped the fork into his bowl. No. No it couldn't be. That would mean-

Sam kept coughing aggressively. Mary ran around to him, rubbing his back and encouraging him to try to catch his breath.

"Sammy?"

"Wrong pipe," Sam wheezed, letting out a final cough and clearing his throat. Once the oxygen returned to his brain, he noticed Mary holding out a glass of water towards him. Sam downed half of it, letting the cool liquid act as a processing agent for information.

Is it really January 24th already? How could he forget? Or not notice? Or-

"I hadn't gotten him anything," Sam mumbled out loud.

"That's okay," Mary said, still standing close to her son, "I'm sure Dean will be happy you're just there and not away at school again."

School. Like last year. When Jess had been so excited to turn 21. A new club had opened near campus; a bit flashy for Sam but Jess was really excited to check it out. Sam played designated driver while everyone continued to buy Jess drink after drink. He was so caught up in getting Jess back to the apartment in one piece and holding her hair back the next day that he didn't call Dean until way later. But Dean wasn't mad. If anything, he understood how crazy girls get about turning 21 and even laughed at some of the things Sam told him over the phone. Sam promised he wouldn't forget and make it up to him the next year.

How could I forget?

Chapter Text

"Hang on with me one more minute, honey."

The bathroom door is kicked in. The scream that Jess makes is a scream no human should ever hear.

She's just barely able to slip out past him under his six-foot frame. He whips around to grab at her waist, causing Jess to stumble and fall. She begins to crawl away across the bedroom floor. He leaps on top of her, flipping her over aggressively. Jess started to fight back but he had her pinned within seconds. Using his body weight against hers, he reaches into his back pocket to pull a knife.

It's Brady.

The rush of panic Sam felt when he opened his eyes. It had been weeks since he had had this nightmare. He thought it had passed.

No, no, no I can't do this today.

"Sam!" he heard his mom call down the hallway. "Are you awake? I need my shopping assistant!"

Sam let out a nervous laugh as he rubbed at his face; the nightmare slowly disappearing from his memory, but the panic still residing.

"Sammy?" Mary called again, unlatching his door and cracking it open. "Are you up?"

"I'll be down in a minute," he mumbled attempting to play it cool and downplay his distress.

"Okay, I'll be ready when you are," Mary said with a smile, latching the door behind her as she left.

Let's get this over with.

Dean was team burgers and beer for dinner. Sam lazily pushed the cart while his mom casually shopped, tossing various burger toppings and ingredients into the cart.

"I miss this," she said, grabbing a couple of tomatoes and placing them in a plastic bag.

"Grocery shopping?"

Mary laughed. "No, doing things with you!" She put the bag of tomatoes in the cart. "When you were little, you always wanted to tag along whenever I had to run errands."

Sam snorted. "I literally went grocery shopping with you last time!" Last time meaning two months ago, but who's counting?

Mary smiled sweetly at him. "Do you think we should do bacon cheeseburgers?"

Everyone came over to the house around six. Dean and Lisa were in the kitchen helping John and Mary while Ben and Sam sat on the couch watching reruns of a show Ben likes.

"So what is this?" Sam asked.

"The Suite Life of Zack and Cody."

"And what is it about?"

Ben shifted into serious mode. "It's about these two brothers named Zack and Cody and they're twins and they live at the Tipton Hotel and they're friends with everyone who works there."

Sam watched in amusement as one of the boys tried to convince the other to pretend to be a girl and participate in a beauty pageant. "Why do they live at a hotel?"

"Because their mom works there as a singer."

"Huh."

"It's pretty good."

"If you say so."

There was a knock on the door. Sam got up from the couch to answer it, confused about who else would be coming. On the other side stood Jo and Ellen, holding a bottle of tequila.

"Hey, Sam!" Ellen greeted. "This where the party's at?"

Sam laughed nervously. "Yeah, did my mom invite you for dinner?"

"She sure did!" Ellen said, stepping inside the door and holding up the bottle of tequila. "She asked me to bring the good stuff from the bar."

"Mom! Ellen and Jo are here!" Sam called over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

Mary came running into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. "Come on in! John just fired up the grill."

The women disappeared into the kitchen, chatting amongst themselves, leaving Sam and Jo alone in the doorway.

"I didn't know you were coming tonight," Sam admitted sheepishly.

Jo scoffed. "Believe me, I didn't want to."

"Look," Sam said quietly, "I don't want to ruin this for Dean so can we just play nice for one night?"

Jo took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine. For Dean."

"Hey! I'm Lisa," the brunette said, holding her hand out to Jo. Jo didn't take it. Lisa played it off by pointing to the couch. "That's our son, Ben. Benjamin, come say hi please."

Ben began to protest, not wanting to stop watching his show. "But-"

Lisa wasn't having any of it. "Now, Benjamin Winchester."

Ben turned off the television, dragging his feet over to Sam and Jo. "Hi."

Sam snorted at the look of disgust on Jo's face. She never was a fan of kids. "Hi."

"Go help your dad," Lisa told Ben, turned him around and giving a gentle shove towards the kitchen. She turned back to Jo. "Can I get you a drink? The boys have beer but Mary said she has other stuff."

Sam physically felt his heart drop to his stomach. Lisa didn't know so it's not her fault. How could his mom think this would be okay? To invite Jo to a party where there was alcohol all over the place? Sure, John was also sober, but he's proved he could control himself since his diagnosis. Jo's been in and out of rehab since high school and-

"Actually, I don't drink."

The breath of relief that came out of Sam.

Lisa looked stunned but not surprised. "Oh. Well, John and Ben are drinking sodas. Could I get you one of those?"

"Coke could be great," Jo said with a fake smile. Lisa smiled back and exited for the kitchen. Jo's expression changed once she had left the room. "God, Sam, my family owns a bar. I can control myself, you know."

"I-I didn't even s-say anything."

"Tell that to your face."

Sam watched as Jo walked through the house to the backyard, continuing to fake being nice to his family.

A knot started to grow in his stomach and make his way up his throat. He swallowed it back down.

Just gotta get through the night. Just focus on the party. In a few hours, everyone will go home and you won't have to worry about this for another year.

Dean sat in one of the patio chairs in the backyard, casually sipping on another beer. Lisa came over to join him, sitting on his lap. "Are you having a good birthday?" she asked with a sultry tone.

Dean moaned quietly. "Best one yet."

Lisa teased him with a kiss. "Wait til you see the gift I got for you back at the apartment," she whispered.

Dean smirked. "You realize my entire family is inside right? Imagine my parents bringing out candles and singing and we're making out on the chair."

Lisa smirked back. "Oh relax. I only wanted to tease you. I'm sure your parents put two and two together when we asked them to watch Ben tonight anyway."

Dean put his arm around Lisa as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Thanks for helping my mom put this together tonight."

"I'm glad everyone's having a good time. It was nice to meet Ellen and Jo, even if I think she has issues." Dean snorted, taking another sip of beer. "Who are they again?"

"They live across the street. Sam and Jo used to be best friends growing up."

Lisa's head popped up. "Used to?"

"Remember when I told you there was a girl Sam had a crush on? That's her."

"Well, she is cute. Did they ever date?"

"No. Her dad died right before they started high school. She didn't take it well. Started sneaking alcohol and god knows what else. Sam tried to be her friend but it was too hard for him to see her like that, you know? Jo finished high school by the skin of her teeth and Sam graduated with honors and his scholarship. They got into a big blowout fight one night and that was the end of that."

"That's horrible."

"Yeah, well..." Dean trailed off before finishing the rest of his beer. He noticed Lisa had a strange look on her face. "What?"

Lisa shrugged and looked away from him. "Just realizing how little of a relationship we actually had in high school. I mean, I had no idea Sam and Jo were friends. And I've spent more time at your parents' house this week than I ever did during our senior year."

Dean sighed. "Come on, Lis, you know how much of an asshole I was. I'm not that type of guy anymore."

Lisa ran her finger across his chest. "I know. Just makes me wonder sometimes."

Dean took her hand in his. "You don't have to wonder anymore. We're gonna get our own place and you and Ben are officially moving in and I could not be more happy." He took a look around the backyard, noticing that they were still the only two outside. "Speaking of, where the hell is everyone? Shouldn't we be eating cake right now?"

Suddenly, Ben threw open the sliding door to the backyard and ran over to his parents. "Dad! Uncle Sam is crying again."

"What?" Dean asked. Lisa quickly stood up so Dean could go inside and see. He ran past Ellen and Jo in the kitchen and up the stairs to Sam's room, finding him and their parents. "What happened now?"

John came out to the hallway to meet him. "Apparently, today is also Jess' birthday," John said to his son quietly.

That did it. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Dean shoved past his dad into Sam's room. "One day! I can't have one fucking day!"

"Dean." Mary warned. But Dean was too amped up.

"Sam, I am sorry that your girlfriend died, but ever since you came home, the rest of us can't go two seconds without things turning into The Sam Show! And I can't take it anymore!"

"Dean!" John bellowed. "That is enough!"

Dean began to pace between the bedroom and the hallway. "You know what, go fuck yourself Sam. Take your meds and get over it."

John grabbed Dean's arm, yanking him down the hallway. "Get out of my house."

"Gladly!"

Dean snatched his arm free, turned around sharply, and walked back down the stairs.

(1) Missed call from Sam

(1) Message from Sam

(2) Messages from Sam

(2) Missed calls from Sam

(3) Messages from Sam

(3) Missed calls from Sam

(4) Messages from Sam

Dean finally shut his phone off.

Chapter Text

Sam sat on the front porch staring at his phone. He kept calling and texting Dean to explain but Dean wasn't answering. Eventually, the phone stopped ringing and went straight to voicemail. Sam hoped it was from the battery dying and not Dean intentionally turning it off.

"Want one?" Sam looked up in the direction of the voice and saw Jo holding out a package of cigarettes. "You look like you need it."

Sam's voice hitched in his throat. "No thanks."

Jo sat on the step next to him, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Sam watched as she put it to her lips and took a long drag.

"Isn't that, like, against your sobriety?"

Jo choked on the smoke as she started to laugh. "Only if these were laced with something."

"But you're replacing one addiction with another?"

"Maybe. But it's healthier than getting blacked out."

Sam looked down at his phone again as Jo took another drag.

"Expecting a call?"

Sam took a deep breath and sighed. "Dean."

"Yeah. Super fucked up what he said to you. Asshole."

Sam snorted at her comment. "Can't argue with you there. But he's right."

"No, he's not. Your girlfriend was just fucking murdered. You're allowed to lose your shit as much as you feel like it."

Sam's stomach felt warm when Jo took his side. Sure, he had his family, but they all spent their time playing peacemakers. Having someone standing up for him felt nice for a change.

"Just don't start sneaking drinks or pills."

Sam let out a laugh. "Scout's honor."

Jo watched him as she continued to work on her cigarette. "Speaking of sobriety... I kind of need to tell you something."

Sam's curiosity piqued. He looked over at her, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Stupidass 12-step plan says I need to make amends to those I've wronged."

"Jo, you don't have to-"

"Stop. I do."

Sam looked at her concerned. A breeze blew past them, causing bits of snow to fall around them. Sam tried not to think of what happened with their friendship all those years ago. Sam and Jo used to be best friends. They were in the same classes, they both played soccer and baseball, and they seemed to connect on a lot of similar interests growing up. Inevitably, Sam developed a crush on Jo, never wanting to tell her. When Jo's dad died in a car accident, Jo started to go off the deep end, drinking and popping pills, almost flunking out of high school. Sam tried to help her as much as he could... then one day before their senior year, it all came crashing down. They didn't talk for the whole year and Sam eventually left for California, leaving Jo behind.

"I'm taking my sobriety seriously this time, Sam," Jo continued to confess. "I'm in the program, I'm going to therapy, I'm doing all the shit I'm supposed to be doing."

Sam listened to her intently. "What changed? I mean, why now?"

"Your dad." Another long drag. "I was off and on with this abusive son of a bitch and he broke my arm. I needed surgery to get rods. I lied to the doctor to get a legit oxy prescription. One night I took too much and Mom found me..."

Sam turned his head away, looking down the end of the street, allowing Jo the privacy to collect herself. Jo sniffled, pulling up the neckline of her sweatshirt to dab at her eyes. She took two more cigarette drags.

"Your family visited us at the hospital. My mom threatened that this would be the last time and she was shipping my ass to rehab whether I wanted to or not. Your mom went with her to talk to the doctors. Your dad stayed with me. I'd rather not repeat what he said but it scared me to hell. They helped me pack and off to a 90-day rehab retreat I went."

Sam turned and looked back at her. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Because we're not friends, Sam!"

"We can be!"

"No, we can't."

"You think because you broke my heart when we were seventeen that I never want anything to do with you again? Is that it? You thought you lost me over a stupid childhood crush?"

"I thought I lost you because of all the cruel shit I did to you."

Sam licked his lips nervously, the cold air instantly drying them again. "Jo, I never took any of that shit seriously. I knew you were hurting. That's why I kept trying to help you."

"So why did you stop?"

"Because you didn't want it. And eventually, I had to start putting myself first."

The air around them started to feel heavy. Like they were locked in a room together and someone shut off the oxygen supply. Sam watched as Jo threw her cigarette on the ground, squishing it gently with her boot.

After a few minutes, Sam broke the silence. "I wouldn't mind being friends again," he said quietly. "In fact, I kind of need it right now."

"Me too."

Mary sat on the couch with her hot chocolate, peeking through the blinds in the living room window.

"Now who are you spying on?" John asked, coming to join her with his own hot chocolate.

Mary shushed him immediately. "Jo's out there talking to Sam."

"About what?"

"I don't know." John sat down on the couch behind his wife, trying to sneak a peek over her shoulder. "I can't tell if his face is red from the wind or from something else."

John was confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, you didn't know either!?" Mary tried not to sound too excited to share the news. "Apparently, Sam had quite the crush on Jo when they were younger."

"Our Sam? I don't believe you."

"It's true! Dean told me."

"Oh, well, if Dean said," John taunted.

"Shut up! He's coming back in!"

The two of them pretended to sit casually on the couch with their drinks as their son came back inside and locked the door behind him.

"Hi honey," Mary greeted. "Was that Jo outside with you?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, none the wiser to his parents' odd behavior. "She wanted to see how I was doing."

"Well, that's awfully nice of her," Mary commented.

"Yeah," Sam said, releasing a breath of air he didn't realize he was holding. His cheeks started to turn bright pink again. "AA is having her make amends with people so we're gonna try to be friends again."

Mary and John exchanged a look, both trying not to smile. "That's great news, bud," John said.

Sam's face suddenly turned sad, looking down at the phone still in his hand. How it didn't manage to permanently freeze to him outside he'll never know. "Dean's not answering." Mary and John exchanged another look, their demeanor changing to match Sam's. "Do you think he's right? Am I making everything about me?"

"We can't answer that for you," Mary said. "We want you to be able to grieve as you need to but we also can see where Dean is coming from."

Sam kicked the area rug in the doorway. "I just hate when he's mad at me."

"Just give him some space," John suggested. "You can call him again tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay."

"There's hot chocolate if you want any," Mary informed him. Sam's face lit up a little bit. He awkwardly shuffled into the kitchen. "I told you!" Mary said once he left the room, smacking her husband's knee.

"Ow! What'd you have to take it out on me for!?"

Sam rolled his eyes to himself, hearing them over in the next room. Parents.

Chapter Text

Wake up. Take your meds. Go to work. Come home. Take more meds. Go to sleep.

Sam had a bit of an epiphany that night. He was done overthinking things and wondered what else he could do to speed up the grieving process.

Wake up. Take your meds. Go to work. Come home. Take more meds. Go to sleep.

The police called the landline, leaving a message for a callback. There were no leads in Jess' murder investigation and her parents were fighting to keep her case open. They wanted to know if Sam had anything for them. He had nothing.

Wake up. Take your meds. Go to work. Call your therapist. Take more meds. Go to sleep.

John offered to take him to work that day. The boys avoided each other for as long as they could. John wanted to lock them both in a closet until they either made up or killed each other. Mary offered an alternative; inviting Dean over for tea and talking it out. They both begged their parents for neither route so a compromise was made: they both return to the auto shop and work it out together themselves.

Dean was leaning over the front counter, scribbling things down in a folder. Sam expected him to still be pissed, but Dean's face remained neutral. Sam scrambled out of the car, remembering to grab the Tupperware container he brought with him.

"Dean." John greeted, throwing open the door to the shop. "Got something for me?"

Dean finished scribbling his notes, closing the folder, and sliding it across the counter. "Here. Copies of all the reports for the month."

John nodded in contentment, picking up the folder and sliding it under his arm. He gestured back and forth between his sons. "You two gonna be alright?"

Sam wanted nothing more than to disappear at that moment.

"We'll be fine."

Sam's head perked up, looking immediately at his brother, who was absentmindedly clicking away at something on the computer.

John grunted in response, clapping his hand on Sam's shoulder as he walked out the door. Sam looked over his shoulder to see his dad start the car and drive away.

"What's in the box?"

Sam looked back over. Dean continued to mess around on the computer. Sam walked over to the counter and set the Tupperware down. "An olive branch," he said innocently.

Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother trying to be cute. He popped the lid off and snorted. "Cookies? You fucking made Mom bake cookies?"

"Wh- I made them!" Sam cried out. "She just... helped me a little."

"Yeah, right. Did she let you lick the spoon too?"

Sam couldn't help but smile at the little tease. "I mean, if you don't want them..." He reached out to take the Tupperware back. Dean playfully smacked his hand away and snatched the Tupperware back.

"My cookies."

Sam snorted. He started to make his way towards the staff room, turning sharply in the doorway.

"Dean-"

"Sam-"

A pause, both of them waiting for the other to speak first. Dean rapt his knuckles on the counter and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I blew up like that."

Sam shrugged. "I'm sorry I cried on your birthday."

And that was it. A mutual understanding. Neither of them needed to say anything else.

Dean was on his back under a Honda doing his millionth oil change. The other mechanic was out on his lunch break so it was just Dean, humming along to the radio in the corner as he worked.

"It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the-" someone kicked his boot, "Hey!"

"Mrs. Williams is here. Says the light came back on her dash." Sam announced.

"Son of a bitch," Dean said, rolling out on the scooter. He stood up and grabbed one of the shop rags hanging off the hood, wiping his hands. "Make Nathan take a look when he gets back. Maybe she keeps coming in because she doesn't like me."

"Or maybe she keeps coming in because she does," Sam teased, unable to hide his smirk.

Dean smacked him with the shop rag.

"Ow! Okay, that one actually hurt."

"Good."

The boys walked in through the door to the lobby. Dean went through his usual speech with Mrs. Williams, noticing Sam was right: she was a bit more flirty than usual. Sam couldn't help himself but laugh at her reaction when Dean said he would let one of his other guys take a look, just in case he was missing something.

"You know, I'm surprised you don't flirt back," Sam said once Mrs. Williams had left.

"Sam, she could be our grandma!"

Sam had never laughed so hard in his life.

Closing time was fairly simple. Sam took out the trash, straightened up the magazines, turned off the television, cashed out the drawer, and shut down the computer. He and Dean were always the last two to leave. Sam watched through the window to the garage, watching Dean finish putting tools away and lock up all the roll doors.

The bell to the lobby rang, which Sam thought was weird because he swore he locked that door after the last customer.

"We're closed," he said casually over his shoulder.

"Sam!?"

Sam spun around quickly. "Meg?"

Meg laughed. "How funny! Of all the mechanic shops in town..."

It's really not that funny. There are lots of mechanic shops in town.

Sam felt like he suddenly lost his footing, heavily leaning on the ledge of the window. "Wh- what are you doing here?"

"A friend loaned me his car but the tire pressure is too low. The internet said you do that here."

"Not really. The pump is around the side. Anyone can use it." Sam awkwardly explained.

"Could you show me?"

Is she trying to flirt with me? "I'm not a mech-"

"Sam! Let's rock and roll!" Dean exclaimed, walking into the lobby. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Meg. "Sorry, but we're closed for the night."

"No worries. I'm a friend."

Dean didn't think anything of it. Until he looked over at his little brother who looked like he was about to hurl. "Regardless, we are still closed. If you need us to look at your car, bring it back tomorrow."

Sam could see Meg wanted to challenge Dean. He was just grateful Dean was here to stand in between them. Something else was said, and then Meg walked out the door. The next several minutes were a blur. Sam didn't remember leaving the shop. He just knew Dean was nudging his arm and they were parked outside the house.

"Sam? You with me?" Sam nodded and Dean let out a sigh. "Dude, don't scare me like that! I thought I was going to have to take your catatonic ass inside."

"Sorry."

Dean put the car in the park and shut the headlights off, sensing there was going to be some sort of moment here. "A friend, huh?"

Sam nodded.

"What's her name?"

"Meg." Sam's voice was almost robotic. It chilled Dean that there was no emotion. "We were in the hospital together."

That explains that. "Did something happen between you two?"

She tried to kiss me. "No, I just didn't think I would see her again."

Dean wanted to ask more questions. A knock on the passenger window startled both of them. Dean rolled it down, revealing John bundled up in a blanket with his arms crossed. "Your mother wants to know if everything is okay and if you're coming inside."

"We're just chit-chatting," Dean explained playfully as Sam suddenly started gathering his belongings. "You know this kid never stops talking."

"Uh huh," John said. "Better come in before your balls freeze off. Snowstorm coming in later."

As John turned around to go back inside, Dean rolled up the window. He was about to ask if Sam was going to be okay but was interrupted by Sam suddenly reaching across the passenger seat, and wrapping him in a hug. "Thank you," Sam whispered in his ear.

"I got you. You know that right?"

Sam released his brother and nodded. Throwing open the car door, Sam booked it inside the house, not wanting to spend one second out in the cold.

Dean smiled as he put the car back in drive and left the neighborhood.

Dean: Hey

Dean: U feeling better?

Dean: Sam?

Sam: Meds work. Go sleep.

Dean: Lol ok

Dean: Night Sam

Chapter Text

Sam buzzed with excitement at the kitchen counter. Today was a big day, for today is the day... the lock boxes go away.

"Well, you're up early," Mary said, coming down the stairs and flipping on the overhead light.

Sam grinned like a little kid on Christmas. He nervously rubbed his hands up and down his arms. "Well... yeah."

Mary turned on the coffee pot, put in a fresh filter, and scooped some grounds. "Ah, I see what's happening now." She went to the lock box on the counter, entered the code, and removed the lock before handing the whole thing to Sam. "Bet you're glad to be done with this thing."

Sam flipped open the lid, grabbed his medicine bottles, and lined them up on the counter. "I'm more excited that I don't have to ask to use a knife or scissors anymore."

Mary took the box back from him, throwing the knives back into the drawer. "Trust me, we're excited about that too."

Dean woke up to the feeling of someone on top of him. He opened his eyes to find Lisa sitting on his chest, gently kissing his neck.

"Good morning," she teased.

"Good morning indeed."

She continued to kiss him, slowly making her way down-

There was an urgent knock on the door. "I have to go!"

Lisa hopped off Dean. "Come in!"

Ben ran across the bedroom into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

"We need to get a new apartment," Lisa reacted immediately.

Dean groaned. "It was a good morning."

Lisa threw the covers off herself, grabbed her nighttime robe, and slipped it on. "He cannot keep sleeping on the futon in the living room," she said.

"Come on, Lis, he's seven!" Dean argued. "Nothing is cooler than sleeping on a futon!"

"And when he hits puberty and wants his own space?"

Dean shrugged. "Then he can have the bedroom and we'll take the futon," he suggested, using a playful tone in his voice.

Lisa stood up and walked over to the doorway leaving the bedroom. "I'm serious, Dean. New apartment."

Dean heard the toilet flush and the bathroom sink turn on. He watched his son emerge from the bathroom and run out of the bedroom asking his mom what was for breakfast.

"Fine. New apartment."

Sam clicked on a couple of buttons on the computer screen. The cash drawer slid out and Sam counted out change. He handed over the money and the receipt to the customer at the counter, smiling and wishing them a good day.

And then he did it fifty bajillion more times.

During a break in between customers, he caught his brother going into one of the restrooms off the lobby. Which he realized has also happened fifty bajillion times today...

"Are you okay?" he asked cautiously when Dean exited the restroom.

"Fine," Dean answered nonchalantly. "Why do you care?"

Sam stuttered. "I just couldn't help but notice that's the third time in like thirty minutes that you've gone in there."

"Too much coffee," was Dean's response. "Side note, did you know cell phones have cameras in them now?"

Sam snorted. "Duh. Everyone was always sending embarrassing shots after parties and stuff."

"You and Jess ever uh... exchange any?"

"Well, yeah, but what does that-" Sam caught Dean's facial expression change to something much more mischievous. "Ew! Gross! Dean! That's what you're doing!?"

Dean just cackled.

"I miss who I was ten seconds ago," Sam said with disappointment. "For the record, Jess and I never did that."

Dean had enough fun. "Can I ask you about something?"

"So help me, Dean, if it has anything to do with taking a picture of your pe-"

"No! No, we're done with that. Promise."

Sam was still trying to figure out how to recover from this conversation, but he could see his brother was distressed about something. "Then what's up?"

Dean sighed, running his hand down his face. "Lisa thinks we need a new apartment."

Sam pondered about it. "I mean, I could see where she's coming from. I know it was only for a short time but if you two are getting serious again, maybe you should consider it."

Dean hung his head. "I was worried you would say that."

A lightbulb clicked on in Sam's head. "You don't think you can afford a bigger apartment."

Dean softly banged his fist on the counter. "No."

Sam knew this was a sensitive subject for his brother. He was aware of the money struggles Dean had in the past. "I'm sorry man, I didn't realize that was still an issue."

"I mean, I make enough here to cover our current rent." Dean started to pace around the lobby, mindlessly ranting. "Whatever money Lisa makes waitressing goes towards bills. We split groceries and her tips are gas money."

"Didn't she get an inheritance from her dad?"

"She and I agreed that was strictly for Ben."

"Well, yeah, but it's for you two as well. Maybe it can help cover you for a bit until you figure out what to do."

Dean groaned, sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby. "Can you have a heart attack at 27?"

Sam snorted again. "With your diet, probably."

Dean's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and his emotions immediately perked up. "Speaking of..."

Sam shut his eyes and covered his ears. "LALALALALA NOPE I'M NOT SEEING ANYTHING I'M NOT HEARING ANYTHING!"

Dean jumped off the chair, excusing himself back into the restroom.

Sam laid in his bed, thinking about Jess. The conversation he had with Dean earlier had him thinking. No, not about that part. Just that it had been so long since he had even seen a picture of Jess. All he had left of her was her belongings in the box in his closet. He hadn't even considered that he might have other ways of remembering her.

Sam opened his laptop, the fan blades sounding like a helicopter taking off. The last time he opened it was to work on a paper for his Crime and Punishment class midterm. Muscle memory allowed him to log onto his social media. He had dozens of messages from people he friended. A few commented on his posts and wall. He clicked on Jess' profile: her whole page now a dedicated memorial. Sam recognized a lot of the accounts. People tagging her in their grievences. He found an album Becca had shared of fun times their friend group had. He clicked through it, smiling to himself at the memories. He landed on one of Jess in a blue dress. She had the biggest smile, eyes closed, nose pinched. It was a backyard summer pool party, though you never would have known by the way she styled her hair and wore makeup.

Sam reached for his phone, searching up a name in his contact list and drafting up a text.

Hey. Saw ur pics on Jess' wall. Could u email me the one of her at Jason's?

He had barely hit send before he got a response. Yeah of course! :)

Sam opened a new screen and logged onto his lawboy email account. There was one waiting from Becca with an attachment.

Sam saved the photo and then searched for places with photo development near him.

Chapter Text

Ben focused hard on the valentines he was making for his class. Mary thought it was cute, watching him find the perfect one for each classmate, sticking his tongue out as he scribbled the name on the "TO:" line. She remembered helping her sons make valentines for their classmates. Where did the time go?

"Thanks for watching Ben, Mom," Dean said, walking into the kitchen to grab two water bottles. "Lisa will get him after her shift."

"Of course. Where are you and Sam going again?"

"Singles mixer at Ellen's bar." Mary gave her son a warning look, which Dean calmly shook off. "I know, I know. Ellen's down a barback and I offered to help. Plus Sam needs the socialization."

Mary stood up from the table and joined her son in the kitchen. "You know how your brother is right now," she said in a low voice, "so please do not talk him into doing too much tonight."

"Scouts honor," Dean promised, holding his hand up in a salute. "Sam will do nothing more than talk to a pretty girl. Or two pretty girls."

Mary pursed her lips. Given how Sam had reacted to every other holiday lately, she did not approve of him going out for Valentine's Day. No matter how many times Dean promised to keep an eye out for him, she just had a bad feeling about tonight.

"Okay, how's this?" Sam said, coming down the stairs in new jeans and a button-up. It was his third outfit change of the evening. "Does this get your approval?"

"Hell yeah!" Dean said smiling. He went over to the table and kissed Ben on the forehead. "We'll be back late. Listen to Grandma."

Before Sam could object, Dean ushered him towards the front door. "Dude, are you wearing cologne?"

"Was I not supposed to?" Sam began to panic.

"Nope, too late now!" Dean closed the front door behind them.

Mary chuckled. They'll be fine she told herself. She made a cup of tea and sat back at the table where Ben was making valentines. She couldn't help but notice that he was putting a little extra effort on one specific valentine. "That's pretty," she said as Ben glued ribbon around the edge. "Who's that one for?"

Ben's face went white, then red. "No one."

Ah yes. We've been here before. "Is that for your teacher?"

Ben scoffed. "No."

Memories of having the same conversation with her own boys forced her to smile. "Is it for a girl?"

Ben continued to look away, embarrassed. "No?" he said nervously.

Mary took a sip of her tea to hide her excitement and further embarrass him. She watched as Ben quickly scribbled his name on it and brushed it off to the pile with the others. "Well, I'm sure whoever it's for will like it very much."

Sam sat on a stool by the bar. Dean was behind helping Ellen and the other bartender as they mixed drinks. Jo stayed walking around bussing tables and closing out tabs when available.

"If you're gonna sit and people watch, you can help buss tables," she half-teased as she walked by him to go toss dirty dishes in the kitchen.

"Sorry, Jo, Sam is here to make new friends," Dean told her. He leaned on the counter and faced his brother. "Go make friends."

"Dean-"

"Sam, you have been home for four months. The only socialization you do is related to work."

"That's not true! I have you and Jo."

Jo rejoined them at the counter, exchanging a look with Dean. "Sam, he's right. We're friends again which means I can legally tell you you need more friends."

"I'll make new friends when you make new friends," Sam challenged.

"Alright, both of you," Ellen said, interjecting herself, "Sam is perfectly capable of making his own decisions. If he's more comfortable sitting at the bar, let him!"

Sam couldn't help but grin. "Thank you, Ellen."

Jo and Dean laughed it off, leaving Sam and Ellen alone. Ellen topped off Sam's Coke in his glass. No more drinking alcohol on mediations for Sammy. "They're not wrong you know. I can fight them off but it is a mixer for a reason, Sam."

"But what if I just wanted to come and hang out and annoy you all tonight?"

Ellen laughed. "If you're going to do that, I'm putting you to work." Ellen casually tossed a bottle of spray and a rag onto the counter. Sam stood up from his stool and started spraying the counter and wiping it clean. He happened to look up at the same moment the door opened and Meg walked in. She caught him looking and gave him a friendly wave. Sam awkwardly waved back.

"You know her?" Ellen asked.

"Um, yeah, kind of." Sam laughed to cover up feeling uncomfortable.

Ellen didn't have to encourage him to talk to her. Meg came straight over. Ellen took away the spray bottle and rag, leaving the two of them alone.

"Sam!" Meg greeted. "What are the odds we keep running into each other?"

"Are you following me?" Sam tried to joke, but it came across as accusatory.

"Would it be so bad if I was?" Meg teased, pretending she didn't notice his tone. She hopped up on the stool next to Sam. "Whatcha drinking?"

"Coke."

Meg flagged down Dean behind the counter. "Hella stupid right? Not being allowed to drink on medication? It sucks so much."

"And yet, you chose to come to a bar." Sam quipped.

"Well, so did you."

"It belongs to a family friend."

"And they're making you sit here alone all night?" Meg asked with judgment. "Some friend."

"Meg!" Dean said, his disapproving tone hard to miss. "To what do we do the honor?"

"I'll have whatever he's drinking," she said playfully. Dean reluctantly reached under the counter for a glass and poured her a Coke. Meg spun around on her stool and pretended to take in the scene of couples talking all around the bar.

"Are you okay?" Dean whispered when she wasn't paying attention. He remembered the last time Sam had seen Meg.

Sam nodded quickly and took a giant gulp of his soda. Meg spun back around and accepted her drink from Dean. She watched Dean as he walked away to the other side of the counter to help another customer.

"So, Sam, do you have a valentine?"

"No," Sam answered bluntly. "Do you?"

Meg smiled. "I wish, but unfortunately, I don't think he knows."

Sam didn't like hearing that. He readjusted himself uncomfortably on the barstool, clearing his throat. "Maybe you should tell him."

"It might be better if I don't."

Is she flirting? Is that flirting? She better not be flirting.

Meg grabbed her stool and dragged it over closer to Sam, her knees barely grazing his.

Oh, she's flirting.

Jo kept an eye on Sam while Dean took the garbage out to the dumpster. Something about this girl Sam was talking to rubbed her the wrong way. Sam looked uncomfortable as hell, but Sam always looked uncomfortable talking to girls. She was trying to find an excuse to go over there to interrupt them but failed to think of something that wasn't going to be obvious.

"I didn't know Sam's type was skanky," she commented as her mom walked by.

"Joanna Beth!" Ellen scolded.

"Look at her mom!" Jo argued. "She's practically sitting on his lap. Mary would flip her shit if she knew he was talking to her."

Ellen rolled her eyes. "You and Dean are killing me. Sam is a big boy. If he didn't want to talk to her, he could tell her off himself."

Jo bit her tongue, not liking that response. Dean returned from the dumpster. "God, what now?"

"Do we stop that?" Jo asked quickly. Too quickly. "We should stop that right?"

Dean sighed. He filled Jo in on everything earlier that evening when Meg first showed up. "I don't like her either, Jo, but unless Sam flags us down for help, we're not stepping in." Jo continued to stare at the two of them. Dean continued talking. "I mean, we can't exactly encourage him to make friends and then scare away the one friend he makes."

"Even if we don't like her?

Dean's suspicions heightened. "Joooo?" he asked, dragging her name out. "Are we perhaps jeal-"

"NO!" Jo snapped.

Dean let out a big laugh and smiled hard. "You like my brother," he teased in a sing-song voice.

Thank god the lighting in the bar is dark and Dean can't see how pink her face is really turning. "Please, I have more respect than that."

"Meaning?"

"We just started trying to be friends again. And his girlfriend was just brutally murdered," Jo explained. "I know not to overstep and ruin that unlike some bitches."

There was a loud commotion coming from the direction of the bar where Sam and Meg were sitting. Some of the other patrons turned to watch. Sam had fallen off his barstool and stumbled behind the counter while Meg continued to sit there dumbfounded. She leaned over the counter trying to talk to Sam, who continued to try to crawl away.

"What happened!?" Jo and Dean asked at the same time while rushing over.

"We were talking and he fell off the stool," Meg explained.

The voice in Dean's head told him that wasn't the full story. That and the fact that Sam was huddled in a ball behind the bar counter. "I think it's time for you to go, Meg."

"Nothing happened Dean."

"Do you want to go or do you need a police escort?" Jo threatened.

Meg dramatically grabbed her belongings. Dean was surprised she didn't spit in their faces on the way out. Luckily the lookie-loos lost interest once she had left.

Dean crouched down next to his brother. "Sam, are you okay?"

Sam was tense, his eyes squeezed shut and breathing hard. Dean and Jo couldn't help but notice how hard he was trying to cover his crotch with his arms, twisting his hips away from them. Jo quickly excused herself, feeling for her friend's shame and embarrassment.

"Just stay here and wait it out," Dean said sympathetically. Sam nodded in agreement not caring if he was in the way or not. Dean jumped up and immediately started clearing the area where Sam and Meg were sitting. Cleaning up the crime scene. After several minutes, Sam began to relax, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes. Dean returned to him. "Are you okay to stand?" he asked. Sam nodded and Dean helped him up off the floor, leading him towards the door to take him home.

Sam walked into the house, determined to take the hottest shower ever and go to bed. He'd scrub off all his skin if it meant getting rid of Meg touching him. Dean insisted on going in with him, but he didn't want to take the risk of their parents asking questions. Sam tiptoed up the stairs making sure to avoid the ones that creak. He peeked his head around the corner and felt relief seeing his parents' bedroom door closed and the light off.

After Sam showered and threw on his baggiest sweatpants, he collapsed on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling until his exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep.

Dean entered the apartment quietly. He yanked off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair at the dining table. Ben's valentines were still sitting out as they continued to dry. Dean looked through a couple of them, smiling at the innocence behind some paper and stickers.

"Hey," Lisa said, closing the bedroom door behind her. She snuck up behind Dean and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I missed you tonight."

"Who is Sarah and why is her valentine the biggest?"

Lisa laughed so hard that she snorted. "Your mom and I think that someone has their first crush."

"What!?" Dean asked. "He's seven."

"He's also your son," Lisa said, confused by her boyfriend's reaction. "It's just a schoolyard crush, Dean," Lisa tried to assure him. "He'll get over it."

Dean continued to act frazzled by the news.

"Did something happen tonight? Did a girl get hurt at the bar?"

"Why?" Dean scoffed. "Because only girls can be assaulted?"

Lisa only grew more confused. "Um, no of course not, but I don't see what that has to do with our seven-year-old."

Dean ran his hands down his face trying to ground himself. "Ben knows no one is allowed to... you know-" Dean made a vague gesture around his waist "-touch him there?"

Lisa couldn't help but feel offended. "Yes, of course, and he knows to tell us about it right away. But Dean, you're scaring me."

Dean began anxiously pacing around the apartment. He fidgeted with Ben's bedding on the futon, straightening out the blanket and pillows. "It happened to Sam tonight," he whispered. "A girl touched him and he did not want her to." Lisa stayed silent while Dean continued messing around the apartment. "I mean, it's not like he was-" Dean couldn't bring himself to say the word.

Lisa understood what he was getting at. "It's still not okay," she said, expressing her sympathy. "Doesn't matter who you are."

Dean nodded in agreement. Nothing else needed to be said. He went into the bedroom, Lisa following behind him. Ben was spread out across their bed, knocked out. Dean carefully scooped him out and carried him out to the futon. Lisa tucked him in and shut off the lights behind them.

Chapter Text

Sam sat at the counter, stirring a billion sugar packets in his mug. Dean was running late today. Turns out apartment hunting is more work than you would think. Sam remembered when Jess found their one-bedroom near Stanford. One of her nursing program friends was moving in with her boyfriend and needed someone to take over the lease, and Sam and Jess had talked about taking that next step anyway. Maybe it was because they both knew it was only temporary, but they weren't picky when the opportunity came. Sam would live in a box under a bridge if it meant being with Jess.

Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but you get the idea.

"Your brother still isn't here?" Mary asked, walking past the kitchen with a laundry basket. "Hope you get through all the inventory today."

Sam looked at the digital clock on the stove. It was barely past 10am. "We'll be fine. I'm just glad Dad's letting us fly solo for once," Sam admitted, ripping another packet of sugar open. "I hate listening to Dad nitpick Dean about everything."

"Oh, you know your father," Mary dismissed. "He's just nervous about retirement and leaving the shop to Dean full time."

"Shop's still standing. I think Dean's fine." Sam argued.

"You want some coffee with that sugar?" Mary teased, noticing the real reason her son was starting to act a little on edge.

Sam's phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Dean. "I'm not finishing it. Dean's outside."

"Okay, have fun!" she said as Sam grabbed his coat and walked out the front door.

Sam could hear the loud thumps of the bass from the car just standing on the front porch. He watched as Dean re-enacted a drum solo on the steering wheel through the passenger window. This is gonna be a long day. Sam climbed inside the car, quickly turning down the radio's volume. "Rough morning?" he asked.

"Dude, don't even get me started." Dean zoomed down the street. "Lisa hates our current complex so we drove around all day to different ones looking at two bedrooms. Everywhere we went, she found something she didn't like. It's downstairs, the laundry room is too far, there's no dishwasher," Dean ranted, using a higher range of his voice to mimic Lisa. "Honestly, I don't care where we live, but my god, if we don't agree on something soon, I'm going to lose my mind."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you should care."

Dean's eyes popped out of his head. "WHAT!?" The car next to them honked and Dean quickly swerved back into the lane.

Ignoring his brother's questionable driving, Sam continued: "It's your home too. And you're raising a family, Dean. Maybe you should care!"

"Who the hell are you and what have you done with my brother?"

"Sure, make jokes, but maybe Lisa just needs to know that you're taking this next step as seriously as she is."

"God, you're such a girl," Dean muttered. "And now Ben is all excited because Lisa promised he can finally have his 'big boy room' and he's already making plans on what he wants to do."

Sam snorted.

"What?"

"Big boy room."

Dean reached across the front seat to smack Sam, swerving back into the other lane on accident. The driver honked again.

"That dude is going to report you for drunk driving."

"I wish he would."

Deciding to give Dean much-needed space to chill out, Sam stayed inside the shop while Dean was out in the garage. He could hear the bass of whatever rock station Dean was blasting through the Impala speakers. Sam was glad the work Dean was doing to the car to clean it up for their parents was coming along nicely, but so help him, if he was out there tinkering with it instead of doing the inventory order again, Sam was going to strangle him.

Once Sam finished making his shopping list for inside the shop and the storage cabinet, he decided to start working on deposits. Considering he was the only one who handled the money, Sam thought he was in for an easy afternoon comparing receipts and balancing the extra change bags.

Until the amounts weren't equal to each other.

Sam counted all the numbers twice. Three times. Four times. How does $100 just up and disappear?

"Alright, I'm beat," Dean announced, coming into the shop. "Here's my grocery list, shopper boy." Dean tossed a small notebook onto the counter. His eyes finally caught Sam deep in concentration with money all over the lobby floor. "What type of party are you having in here?"

"It just doesn't make sense," Sam mumbled.

"Did we make so much money that you can't even count that high?" Dean teased, kneeling on the ground next to his brother.

"We're off."

"By how much?"

"$100."

"Oh, that's not bad."

"Not bad!?" Sam said, his voice naturally rising in frustration. "Not being off by anything would be ideal, you know."

Dean waved him off. "You are getting too worked up over $100, Sam."

"Dad's gonna have a cow," Sam said, behaving like a child who just knocked over an expensive lamp.

"So don't tell him!" Dean stood back up, walking behind the counter to finish combining inventory lists since his brother is a bit occupied.

"But Dean-"

"Sam, seriously, it's gotta be around here somewhere. I'm sure it'll turn back up."

Sam squinted at his brother. Why is he being so unreasonably calm about this? He tried again, "But Dean, I-"

"Look, maybe you gave someone a refund and forgot to write it down or something, alright?" Dean seemed to push the suggestion onto him, like he wanted Sam to go along with the story. "Seriously, $100 compared to what we typically make is nothing. Now clean it up, I'm tired and starving."

Dean ended the conversation by pinning the inventory lists on the To-Do board and returning to the garage. Sam did not miss the subtle door slam behind him.

Sighing and surrendering, Sam started collecting the cash on the floor, putting the mostly completed deposit and cash bags back in the safe to take to the bank on Monday.

Dean dropped Sam off at the house per usual. Sam suggested he come in for dinner if he needed a break from Lisa, but Dean argued that he was already on thin ice and Lisa was expecting him home.

"You're home early," John announced, startling his son as he walked in through the door. "Did you boys get through everything?"

Don't tell Dad. "Sure did, sir. I'll make an order on Monday."

John peered over the edge of the newspaper he was reading on the couch. "Why're you making that face?"

Sam purposefully shifted his facial muscles, trying to remain neutral. "I'm not making a face."

"You two dicked around all day and didn't get shit done, did you?" John angrily rolled up the newspaper and slammed it down on the coffee table. "Dammit Dean, the one time I'm not there-"

"No, no, no, we did!" Sam pleaded, jumping into panic mode. "I swear! We did everything without you."

"Then what is it?" John asked, now more annoyed than anything. "And don't lie to me, Samuel."

Motherfucker. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. "The money in the safe is wrong."

"What do you mean the money in the safe is wrong?"

Sam reverted to that guilty little kid knocking over expensive lamps. "We're missing $100." He continued to ramble on when John face shifted to disappointment. "But I swear, I'm gonna find what happened to it and replace it."

"What did Dean say?" John asked without any emotion in his tone.

Oh shit. "I didn't tell him," Sam lied, surprising himself with how easily it rolled off his tongue.

"Why not?"

"Because it's my job?" Sam asked, slightly confused. What did it matter if he told Dean or not? "I'm the one who handles all the money."

"Yes, but Dean is the one in charge!" John yelled, causing Sam to flinch with the sudden burst of tension in the room. "You need to report these things to him."

Fuck that. "Dean's not my boss! I don't have to run everything by him all the time!" Sam screamed back.

"What is going on down here?" Mary asked, running down the stairs and entering the living room. "I wouldn't be surprised if Ellen could hear you two across the street."

"It's nothing you need to worry about," John mumbled gruffly, regathering the newspaper and stomping out of the room.

"Sammy, what happened?" Mary asked, noticing her son still visibly upset.

Scared little kid rides again. "I think Dean's in really big trouble," he whispered.