Ashes of Another Life (Sam/Dean, NC-17) (1/5)

[lostt1]

Dean made his way down the now familiar streets, listening to the crunch of pavement beneath his boots. The sidewalks were nearly empty, a few people straggling home after late night study sessions and parties at the bars. Dean hated leaving his car behind but it made him too recognizable. He didn't want to take the chance that he'd be found out.

"No, Jess. I can't."

Dean dropped back deep into the shadows, instantly recognizing the voice. He watched as his younger brother drew closer, a tall, gorgeous blonde hanging off his arm. Dean had to admit that he was impressed. Sam had apparently scored himself a real looker.

"Oh come on, Sam, you promised," the girl, Jess, whined.

Sam and Jess stopped outside an apartment building and Sam wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Dean took his time looking his brother over, cataloging the changes, realizing suddenly that this was the closest he'd been to Sam in over three years.

Dean could tell that Sam had gotten even taller over the past year, which wasn't really fair. Dean was the older brother and wasn't short by any standard, but Sam had at least two inches on him, if not more. His hair was longer, definitely shaggier, hiding his face. But his brother seemed happier somehow. He seemed more relaxed, as if he were finally comfortable in his own skin.

Dean dropped back further into the shadows. He felt a bit guilty about spying on Sam, eavesdropping on him and his girl. But only a bit. He reminded himself that he was just checking on Sam, needing to be sure he was ok. They hadn't talked since the night before his little brother left for school. Dean hated to admit it, but he'd never forgive himself if something ever happened to Sam. Especially with how things were left between them. So he had to check, just to be sure.

Jess buried her face in Sam's neck. "Sam, come on. It's just one night."

Sam frowned and fumbled in his pocket for something, keeping his other arm wrapped securely around her waist. He pulled out a key. "Jess, you know I love my brother. It's just-"

Dean pressed closer to the wall.

"It's just what?" Jess pouted, pulling back to stare up at Sam. "You said he's in town this weekend. Don't you want me to meet him?"

Dean frowned. How did Sam know he was in town?

Sam sighed and turned to the door, fitting the key in the lock. "I just don't want to share you," he grumbled. Jess laughed and pushed past Sam as he held the door open for her. "But if it means that much to you-"

Dean stepped out of the shadows as the door closed behind his brother. He watched the dark windows until one light went on, illuminating the curvy silhouette of Sam's girlfriend. Dean took note of the address, vowing to do a check on the building later. His brother may have left hunting behind but Dean hoped the lessons he'd learned growing up had stuck with him.

He frowned as he recalled what Sam had said. How exactly did his brother know he was in town? Did he know about every visit? And if he did, why didn't he call?

Dean stared up at the window for a moment longer before heading off back down the street. He wasn't going to get any answers tonight unless he faced Sam head on and he just wasn't ready to do that yet. Dean glanced at a bar down the street and toyed with the idea of hustling some pool before deciding against it. That could wait until tomorrow. As it was, he had a full day of research ahead of him. Once that was out of the way, he'd let himself relax.

One more night in Palo Alto wouldn't kill him.

xxxxxx

The Pale Ale was like every other bar Dean frequented: it was dark, slightly dirty, and the alcohol flowed freely. This bar had one advantage that some of the others didn't, though. It's clientele.

Dean had been hustling since he was young and it was something he was good at. He took his time scoping out the competition. He watched how each person held the cue, the way he positioned his body, and how he lined up a shot. It was easy to tell who had actual skill and who had more ego than talent. And if there was one thing Dean excelled at, it was stroking someone's ego and then walking away with his money.

The students that piled into the Pale Ale were wealthier than others, tossing money around with great ease. Dean was slouched in a booth at the back of the room, watching his next target move about the pool table when the doors opened and his little brother walked in.

Dean swallowed and slammed his bottle down on the table as Sam made his way to the bar. Dean watched his brother greet a group of guys at one of the tables before hollering at the bartender for a round. Jess slid up behind him and smiled at the guys, nodding her head in the direction of an empty table. Sam laughed at something she said and turned to follow her. He slid into the booth next to Jess and two guys sat opposite them.

Dean figured it was just his luck that Sam took the seat facing his direction. He took a long pull from his bottle of beer, his eyes never leaving Sam's face. The bartender, a gorgeous redhead Dean had flirted with earlier, headed over to Sam's table with a tray of beers. She set the tray down and leaned in, wrapping slender arms around Sam's neck and whispered something into his ear. Sam burst out laughing, his head dropping back, mouth wide open. Dean smiled to himself at the sound. He hadn't heard his brother laugh like that in a very long time. The sound reminded him of happier times.

Dean signaled the waitress for another beer and glanced back at the pool tables. His potential mark was still there, joking with his buddies as he leaned across the table to take his shot. Dean noted the designer clothes and figured he'd probably make a couple hundred off the guy, easy.

Dean felt eyes on him and turned to find Sam watching him. His brother quickly averted his eyes but not before Dean noticed the shy smile playing on his lips. Dean felt a momentary burst of panic bubbling inside but quickly pushed it down. Sam had already seen him. Running now would just be cowardly. And Dean wasn't a coward.

Dean felt his eyes drawn to his brother. He felt the hot flare of jealousy as the guy across from Sam leaned in close and said something to him. Sam grinned and nodded in Dean's direction, slanting his eyes as he did so. Definitely saw me. Dean thought to himself. The guy nudged Sam and Sam shook his head. Sam reached across his table and shoved the guy's shoulder while smiling down into his beer.

"Here you go, sugar." The waitress set the bottle of beer down in front of him. She wiped her hands on her short denim skirt and gave Dean a sultry smile. "Anything else I can do for you?"

Dean raked his gaze over her from head to toe, taking in her long auburn hair, tight, midriff baring shirt, and high heels and gave her a knowing grin. Had she asked that question twenty minutes before, he'd have taken her out back and slid into her so fast and hard, she'd be spinning. But that was twenty minutes ago.

He tilted his head in Sam's direction. "He come here a lot?"

The waitress glanced over her shoulder at Sam's table. "Who? Sam?" When Dean nodded, she shrugged. "Sure. He and Jess come in once or twice a week."

"Do you know the other two guys?" Dean looked up long enough to catch Sam staring at him again before quickly turning away.

She frowned. "The one on the left is William. He and Sam are pretty much inseparable. Don't know the other one. Maybe he's-" A look of disappointment washed over her face. "Oh."

Dean stared at her. "He's what?"

She smiled again, brushing off his question. "Just that I don't know him." She turned back to the bar, leaving Dean frowning at her retreating figure.

"I'd be careful around April. Can't be too sure where she's been."

"Well, you know me-" Dean responded automatically, turning to stare in familiar hazel eyes.

Sam grinned, dimples flashing. "Actually, I don't," He held his hand out in front of him, "but that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to. I’m Sam."

Dean stared at Sam, mind whirling. "Wait, what?"

Sam chuckled. "I said, 'hi, I'm Sam.'" He pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair. "Usually that's followed by a 'hi, I'm-"

Dean heard the slight tremor in Sam's voice and realized his little brother was nervous. He decided to just play along for now. If Sam wanted to pretend they were strangers, he could definitely handle that. He grinned up at Sam, amused. "Hi. I'm Dean."

"Dean." Sam rolled his name off his tongue, as if testing it out. Sam looked at Dean, his gaze carefully raking over him. Dean, for his part, tried not to squirm at the attention.

"God, this sounds like a line, but do I know you?"

Dean wanted to laugh at Sam and tell him the joke was already growing stale but something stopped him. He looked into Sam's eyes and saw nothing but honest curiosity staring back at him.

"Maybe?"

Sam pursed his lips, a look Dean knew meant that he was thinking about something. It was the same look he wore when he researched or studied for an exam.

"Do you go to school here?"

Dean was growing more and more confused with every sentence Sam uttered. He kept looking for Sam's tell, a twitch of his lips or crinkle around his eyes, something that would tell him Sam was joking. Something was off about the situation. Why was Sam acting like he didn't know him?

"No. I'm just passing through."

"Oh." Sam's face fell a little. He leaned against the table. "You sure I don't know you?"

Exasperated, Dean ran a hand over his face. "Seriously, Sam, did you hit your head recently?"

Sam gave him a funny look. "Um....no?"

"Then what is going on here?"

Sam sighed, shoulders slumped. "Look. I'm really no good at this. I told my friend over there that I thought you looked familiar. She convinced me to come over and at least introduce myself. But I suck at flirting and apparently I can't even hold a normal conversation so I'm going to go back over there and drown myself in my beer."

He turned to leave and Dean's hand immediately shot out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. "Hang on there. Look, I'm sorry, it's just...wait, did you say flirting?"

Sam ducked his head, face bright red. "Yeah."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. There was no way he and Sam were related if Sam called that flirting.

"You're right, then. You really do suck at it."

Sam looked startled but then a slow grin spread across his face. He glanced down at his wrist, still wrapped in Dean's tight grip.

"Well, maybe you could give me a few pointers."

Dean dropped his hand and stared up at Sam. He had this feeling, a tight clench in his gut that told him he needed to figure out what was going on with his brother. He sighed and motioned to the open booth across from him.

"Might as well take a seat," he muttered. "You're giving me a neckache just looking up at you. How tall are you now, anyway?"

Sam slid into the booth and grinned, dimples on display. "Six-four."

Dean shook his head. "Not fair, man. How the hell did that happen?"

Sam shrugged, his smile growing wider. "Good genetics, I guess."

Now that Sam was up close, Dean took a few moments to look his brother over. Despite the passing years, Sam seemed younger somehow. His movements were less tense, more fluid. He had tiny lines forming around his eyes and mouth, evidence of time spent laughing. He just seemed more at ease in his own skin. Life as a hunter had always been rough on Sam. But now he had this air of innocence surrounding him, something they had both lost a long time ago but Sam seemed to have rediscovered.

Sam frowned as Dean stared. "What? Do I have something-"

Dean shook himself from his thoughts. "You're really happy here, aren't you?"

"Here? As in here here?" Sam tilted his head to the side, obviously confused.

"Here as in Palo Alto. Stanford. You know-" Dean waved his hand at their surroundings.

"Yeah, I am." Sam shrugged. He signaled the waitress, April, for another drink and turned back to Dean. "How long you in town for?"

"Don't know yet." Dean's eyes scanned Sam's face for any sign of recognition. For something, anything, that could explain this bizarre turn of events.

"You here for work?" Sam asked.

Dean took a swig from his bottle and shrugged. "Something like that."

Sam frowned. "Look, I can take a hint. You don't have to talk to me out of pity or anything. I obviously made a mistake here. It was nice to meet-"

He was halfway out of the booth when Dean started to panic. There was no way he was letting Sam out of his sight when things were still so weird between them. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was seriously wrong here.

"Sit."

Startled, Sam sat back down and eyed Dean warily. He reminded Dean of this puppy they had found outside of Wilmington when they were kids. He figured he needed to change the direction of the conversation. He grinned at Sam around the mouth of his bottle. "Seriously, did you say flirting?"

Sam blushed and looked down and Dean wanted to kick himself. That wasn't exactly the direction he had wanted to go. But then again, now that the question was out there, he really wanted to know the answer.

"Maybe."

Dean smirked. "And you chose me out of everyone here? Why?"

Sam shrugged, still staring down at the tabletop. "Because I've been dreaming about you my whole life."

His voice was so soft, Dean almost didn't hear him over the noise of the bar.

"Ok, see, that right there just proves you have absolutely no skill when it comes to flirting. That line? Was pretty lame."

Sam glanced up, startled, eyes wide. Dean was surprised by the various emotions that flickered across his face before he settled on one. Sam's lips quirked up in a half smile, his eyes dark. Once upon a time, Dean had been an expert on reading Sam. But the look in Sam's eyes at that moment was foreign to him. Sam's gaze burned into him. He licked his lips and watched as Sam's eyes followed the movement.

"Can't really blame me." Sam leaned in closer, as if sharing a secret. "I learned everything from my big brother."

Dean didn't know how to react to that. On one hand, Sam was obviously getting tired of the 'we're complete strangers' game - and Dean planned on kicking his ass for taking his joke too far - but on the other hand-

"I don’t use cheesy lines like that!"

Sam's eyes lit up with amusement and Dean realized he wasn't going to give up the pretense just yet. Dean took a deep breath, reigning in his exasperation.

"I'm sure you don't. Probably never-"

"Well that explains a lot." April set down a fresh bottle of beer in front of Sam, causing both guys to look up at her. She turned to Dean.

"Everyone was beginning to think Sam here was a monk. Never showed any interest in anyone we tried to set him up with before."

Dean raised an eyebrow as April's eyes raked over him. She smirked. "I think I can see why now."

She turned and walked away, giving Sam a little wave as she went.

Dean cocked his head to the side. "Did I miss something?"

Sam shrugged, peeling the label off of his beer. "She's just bitter. I turned her down last year and she's been on my case ever since." He grew quiet for a minute and then stared at Dean. "I date, by the way."

Dean tried not to laugh. "Never said you didn't."

Sam frowned at the table, eyebrows drawn together. He looked like there was something else that he wanted to say, but he just gave Dean a small smile. "Like I said, she's just bitter."

"Whatever you say, Sammy." Dean settled back into the booth and stared at the man across from him. "So what's with the girl you came in with?"

"Jess?" Sam glanced over his shoulder at his table, smiling as Jess laughed at something one of the guys said. He turned back to Dean, his eyes soft. "She's the best." His eyes met Dean's. "But we're just friends."

"Just friends?" Dean shook his head. Sam was something else. Of course he was just friends with the hot blonde. "Tell me something about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

Dean tapped his hand against the table, his ring clinking against the flat surface. "I don't know. You're obviously a student. So what classes are you taking?"

Sam grinned at Dean, his eyes lighting up. He began telling Dean all about this great American history class he was in. Or Dean at least assumed it was great. He tuned out the words almost immediately, happy to let the warm, smooth sound of Sam's voice wash over him. Despite Sam's strange behavior, this was familiar territory. As he listened to the rise and fall of Sam's deep timbre, Dean was surprised to realize how much he had missed just talking with his brother. He decided to make sure Sam kept talking to him from that point on.

The conversation flowed smooth and easy between them, each asking questions and answering in turn, but Dean noticed that neither one of them moved beyond the superficial questions, never asked anything that would help them to know the other. It felt a lot like talking to one of his nameless, faceless prospects, never digging too deep because he knew it wouldn't go anywhere beyond that night. Dean frowned. This wasn't just another nameless person. This was Sam. Yet Dean felt like he didn't really know his brother at all.

Dean didn't know how long they talked before Jess interrupted them with an apologetic smile, one of the other guys in tow. Dean gave the guy a quick once over before dismissing him completely.

The guy slapped a hand down on Sam's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He grinned at Dean before glancing down at Sam.

"We need to get out of here. It's getting pretty late and I have to leave early so I can stop by home to see Mom before I leave. You ready?"

Sam looked around. "Where's William?"

Jess heaved a heavy sigh and huffed. "You know Will. He took off with some girl. We'll probably see him again when he surfaces sometime next week."

Sam grinned and the guy shook his head. "Sam? Come on, man. Let's get out of here."

Sam pursed his lips in a pout and looked up at the other guy with wide eyes. The guy just laughed and shook his head.

"No way, man, the puppy dog eyes are not going to work on me. You're coming with me because I'm driving. Don't think I forgot what happened last time."

Dean watched as the two of them had a silent conversation, the steady back and forth gestures making no sense at all. The guy cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow, and Sam sighed. Jess laughed and Dean could only stare, completely lost.

Sam glared up at his friends before turning his attention back to Dean, face immediately relaxing into an easy grin. "Guys, this is Dean."

Jess waved and Dean smiled in response before nodding at the other guy.

"Dean, this gorgeous girl is Jess." Sam pointed at Jess before tilting his head back to smile at the other guy. "And this irritating pain in the ass is Jason. My brother."

xxxxxx

Dean paced the length of his motel room. He stopped next to the window and ran a hand across his face as he stared at the table, the dark wood contrasting with the white card sitting on top of it. Dean moved closer, close enough to read the words written across the card in loopy cursive.

Sam Speros. 555-2648.

Speros. Not Winchester.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd been replaying the night's events over and over in his head for hours and the ending never changed.

Sam Speros.

What the hell was going on?

Dean could still feel Jess's warm breath against his neck as she leaned in to whisper in his ear just before they left.

If you're going to be in town, give him a call. Sam's worth the effort.

Her small hand slipped the card into the pocket of his jacket just before she walked over to his brother. Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulders and grinned at Dean before walking out of his life once again.

Dean sat down on the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He pinched the bridge of his nose and wished his head would stop spinning. Something was obviously wrong at Stanford and he'd never figure out what it was if he couldn't get his emotions under control. He needed to have a level head to look at every possible reason for Sam being...not Sam.

This is Jason. My brother.

Dean closed his eyes and drew up the memory of Jason. The guy was shorter than Dean, probably just under six feet tall. Blond hair, blue eyes, narrow nose. He didn't look anything like Sam. There was no way they could be brothers. Sam was his.

Dean glanced up and frowned, mind and body tired from the late hour. He needed answers but he knew he wasn't going to get them by staring a hole into the table.

With a heavy sigh, Dean stood up and moved to the table, staring down at the white card. He pulled out his phone and dialed before he could talk himself out of it again.

Dean groaned when the ringing ended and a machine picked up. He listened as Jess's voice told him that she and Sam were unavailable and to leave a name and number so they could call him back. Sam's voice could be heard saying something in the background and Jess's laugh was cut off by the beep of the machine.

Dean sucked in a breath, not sure what to say. "Um...hi. This is Dean. From the Pale Ale. I just wanted to see if Sam was-"

"Dean?"

Dean huffed out his breath as Sam's warm, sleepy voice sounded in his ear. He glanced over at the clock on the wall.

4:39.

"Shit, Sam. I'm sorry. I didn't realize how late it was. Well, actually, it's early."

Dean smiled as Sam gave a tired chuckle. "It's fine, man."

Dean waited to see if Sam was going to say anything else, but there was nothing but silence between them. He figured he should suck it up and say something since he was the one who called. "I just wanted to-" He paused, not sure how to say what was on his mind. This was all unfamiliar to him. Dean was the guy women hooked up with, knowing full well that he wouldn't call them in the morning. Cassie had been his one exception. And just look how well that one had worked out for him. But this was Sam and as far as Sam was concerned, Dean was a stranger, some random guy he met in a bar.

They weren't brothers. They weren't anything.

Something must have happened after he went to sleep last night, something that caused him to wake up in this alternate universe. There was no other explanation.

"Dean?" Sam interrupted Dean's racing mind. "Did you want something?"

"Uh yeah." Dean took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you'd want to get together sometime, maybe get something to eat."

He could do this. Dean may be a 'love 'em and leave 'em' type of guy, but he could ask his brother to have dinner. Not a date, of course. Just two guys eating together. And maybe he could get some of the answers he craved.

"And I thought I was the awkward one." Sam muttered into the phone.

Dean smiled to himself. He heard Sam sigh and could picture him running a hand through sleep-tousled hair.

"I have my moments."

Sam laughed, a deep rumble over the line. "Sure, we could do that. You planning to stick around until Monday night, at least?"

Dean thought about the job that had brought him to the area. It was an easy fix, a simple banishing of a restless spirit. He could do it in his sleep. But really, there was no rush. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll be here."

"Good." Sam went quiet and Dean briefly wondered if he'd fallen asleep again.

"Sam?"

"Sorry," Sam mumbled. "I was just trying to remember my schedule on Mondays."

Dean smirked. "Well you've been in classes for how many weeks? Must be hard to remember which is which."

"Shut up, man. You just woke me up. Forgive me if I'm a little slow here."

Dean frowned. That was another way this Sam differed from the one he'd grown up with. The Sam he knew had a fully functional brain within seconds of waking up. Their dad had always required them to be ready at a moment's notice, no matter what time of day or night it was. Being prepared for anything was second only to breathing.

Sam coughed, bringing Dean's focus back to him.

"My last lecture lets out about four thirty. There's this diner just off Edwards. It's about a block from my place and has great burgers. Want to meet me there around five?"

"Yeah, I can do that." Dean listened as Sam rattled off directions. He figured it wouldn't be a good idea to admit to Sam that he already knew where he lived just yet. Brother or not, he didn't want Sam to know he'd been keeping an eye on him. When Sam stopped talking, Dean said he'd find it fine and told Sam to get some sleep.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Sam didn't say anything immediately and Dean frowned again, wondering what was running through Sam's head. If Sam honestly didn't remember Dean, then what was he expecting would happen?

"Uh, never mind. It was nothing. I'll just see you there."

"See ya, Sammy." Dean flipped his phone closed and tossed it onto his bed. He glanced over at the second, empty bed and sighed. Three years since Sam left and he still got two beds every time, pretending that any moment Sam would walk through the door and toss himself across the room in a fit of teenage rebellion. He never thought there would come a time when Sam wouldn't return to the hunt, fighting by his side. But then again, he never expected there would come a time when Sam didn't know him.

The years without Sam were long and empty. He'd always hoped-

Well, it didn't matter what he'd hoped, did it?

Dean sat down on the bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He fell backwards, letting his head bounce on the firm mattress. The night hadn't turned out anything like he'd hoped it would.

He glanced over at his phone and wondered if he should call his father. Maybe his dad would have some idea what had happened. Maybe he could fix this.

Dean stretched his fingers out, intending to grab the phone, but something stopped him. He let his hand fall to the mattress, his emotions at war. On one hand, he knew he should tell his father that something was wrong with Sam. But on the other hand...maybe he could fix it. What if he got Dad involved and it turned out to be nothing?

No. It would be best to handle this on his own. He just hoped he could figure out what was going on soon so everything could go back to normal. Or at least something close to it.

xxxxxx

"God, man, I'm so sorry." Sam tossed his beat up backpack into the booth across from Dean and slid in after it. "Professor Parker wouldn't stop talking and we didn't get out of there until four forty."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Don't people have other classes to get to?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. That's the last lecture period until the evening classes. And the professor just loves to hear himself talk."

Dean smirked as Sam grumbled something under his breath about stupid old men who resented students for their youth.

Sam glanced up, cheeks pink. "Sorry. He just does this a lot. It's irritating."

Dean shrugged. "No problem." He motioned to the menu. "Hope you don't mind but I went ahead and ordered. Wasn't sure if you were going to show or not."

What Dean wasn't about to tell him was that he was five minutes away from taking off down the street and banging on the door to Sam's apartment, forcing him to talk. His heart was still beating a little fast, thoughts of everything that could happen to Sam barely pushed into the back of his mind. It wasn't his fault that he immediately assumed the worst when Sam didn't show up on time. It was a hazard of the job.

"That's fine." Sam glanced over at the counter and waved at the waitress, a woman in her mid-thirties with her hair wrapped in a tight bun on top of her head and tired lines around her eyes. "Hey Leslie! Can I get my usual?"

The waitress gave Sam a small smile. "Sure thing, Sam. Chocolate or vanilla?"

Sam laughed. "Neither. Surprise me with something different today. I'm feeling a little adventurous." He turned to Dean and tilted his head to the side. "I have to admit I was surprised to hear from you."

Dean took a drink of his water. "Oh yeah, why's that?"

Sam's ears turned a faint pink and Dean resisted the urge to smirk. "Well, I know I made a stunning first impression, what with my babbling and all."

"Let's just say you left me wanting to know more."

The waitress arrived at the table and set down a strawberry milkshake in front of Sam, giving him a small smile as she reached out a hand to ruffle his hair. "I'll be back with your food in just a few minutes."

"Thanks," Sam grinned, unwrapping a straw as the waitress moved back behind the counter. He glanced up at Dean with a wide smile. "So what do you want to know? I'm an open book."

Dean shrugged, trying to decide how to fish for answers. He'd had lots of practice over the years, interviewing grieving relatives and oblivious bystanders, but he never thought he'd have to use his skills on his own brother.

"I don't know. How long have you been going to Stanford?" Dean already knew this answer but he figured it would be best to ease his way into the conversation.

"I'm a junior. Well, actually, I'm a senior now." Sam sipped at his shake and made a face. "Wow. That's really strawberry."

"Explains the pink." Dean quirked an eyebrow and Sam just rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I've only been here three years but I took summer classes back home to get my Gen Ed requirements out of the way. This summer I decided to stick around and get a few more classes out of the way. I could probably graduate this fall if I wanted to. I'll have enough credits." Sam paused. "Huh. It's hard to believe it has been three years already. It seems like yesterday I was trying to get registered for my freshman year. Man, that was a complete nightmare."

Dean frowned. "Why? What happened?"

He'd been to enough high schools to know how upperclassmen picked on the new guys. He wondered if college was the same way.

"Just a weird mix-up." Sam shrugged. "I earned a full-ride, but when I got here, there were some problems with the paperwork. They had the wrong name, but my grandma was with me and she helped me get it all straightened out. I was so scared they were going to make me turn around and go home but Grandma Mae was incredible. She worked with the Dean of Admissions until everything was fixed. And now here I am."

"What name did they have?" Dean had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"Sam Winchester."

"Huh." Dean took another drink and sat back in the booth, watching Sam with cautious eyes. "Weird."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, tell me about it." He grabbed a spoon from the table and stirred his shake before scooping up a mouthful. "You know, I don't even know your last name," he said around the utensil.

Dean wondered if he should tell Sam the truth but figured there were already enough lies between them. "Um, it's Winchester actually."

Sam grinned and licked his spoon. "No kidding! That's a strange coincidence."

Dean bit his lip, the desire to just blurt out that it wasn't a coincidence bubbling up in his chest. "Crazy."

He thought about what Sam said. "Your Grandma Mae?"

"Yeah. She didn't want me to move in all by myself and my parents were stuck helping Jason move into a new apartment that weekend, so she came with me."

"Here you boys go." Leslie returned to the table with two plates piled high with food. She set them down on the table. "Anything else I can get you two?"

"I'm good." Sam glanced at Dean and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"Same here." Leslie walked off and Dean wasted no time, picking up his burger and devouring half of it in a couple of bites. He glanced up and caught Sam watching him with an amused smile. "What?"

"Just never seen anyone eat with such...enthusiasm."

"What can I say?" Dean shrugged, licking a stray glob of ketchup off his finger. "I'm a man who loves food."

"Obviously." Sam snorted, taking a bite of his own burger.

Dean popped a fry in his mouth. "So Sam, where's home?"

"Half Moon Bay." Sam replied with a small smile. "It's this sleepy little beach town about forty minutes north of here. Lived there all my life. Until I came here, that is."

Dean's lips tilted downward in a frown. He wondered just how long Sam's 'whole life' really was.

"Is your whole family there?"

"My parents are." Sam took another bite and glanced out the window at people passing by on the sidewalks. He turned back to Dean. "My brother Jason, you met him the other night. Anyway, he lives up at Lake Tahoe. He got a job at this big, fancy resort up there. And my sister Lisa moved down to San Francisco last year. She and her fiancé have this little bakery there."

"Big family," Dean muttered. He was a bit floored that there was an entire family. He'd been prepared to deal with the brother but now there were more. He wondered if Sam was sucked into a cult while he wasn't looking.

"Yeah, they're great." Sam pushed his empty plate away and focused once more on his melting shake. "How about you? Do you have a big family?"

Dean swallowed the last of his burger. "Nah. It's just me, my dad, and my little..." He stopped. It felt too weird to mention Sam when Sam was sitting right across from him. "Just me and my dad."

If Sam noticed his little slip up, he didn't say anything. "So what happened to your mom?"

Dean felt the flare of pain that always accompanied any mention of their mother. It must have showed on his face because Sam's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, that was totally out of line. You don't have to-"

Dean waved his hand. "No, it's fine. I just don’t talk about it much." He looked Sam directly in the eye, hoping that maybe he could jog his memory. "My mom was killed when I was four. House fire."

Sam gave him a sympathetic look, eyes wide, mouth turned down. "Oh man, that sucks. I'm sorry."

Dean sighed. He hadn't been hoping for much but it still hurt that Sam didn't seem to remember anything about their life together.

"Forget about it. It was years ago."

Dean chest ached with the knowledge that Sam was now a stranger to him. The guy sitting across from him was not the same guy who packed his bags and got on that bus three years ago. He looked like Sam but he wasn't the brother Dean had known better than anyone else. It was as if Sam was truly gone. Dean sucked in a painful breath, not knowing where to go from here. He needed to do research, needed to figure out what had happened to his little brother. He wanted his Sam back.

But more than anything else, he just wanted to get away.

Dean wiped his mouth on the napkin before tossing it down on the table. "Sam, it's been fun. But I really need to go."

Sam watched as Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You leaving town?"

Dean hated hearing the sadness in Sam's voice. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I have another job to do in Indiana. I need to get going if I want to make it there on time."

"Oh." Sam grew quiet, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He glanced up at Dean. "What kind of work do you do?"

Dean chewed his lip, mind racing. He was normally quick on his feet, able to come up with a lie on a moment's notice. But nothing about this situation was normal. "Um, I do freelance work. I travel a lot, go wherever the work takes me."

"That sounds pretty cool." Sam gave Dean a shy smile, cheeks flushed. "So you planning on working back this way anytime soon?"

Dean shrugged, trying to ignore the way Sam chewed on his lower lip as he dropped his gaze. "Can't say for sure, man."

Sam sighed. "Well, if you do, can I see you again?"

Dean hesitated. Being with Sam was hard because it wasn't his Sam. This Sam was a puzzle, a mystery he needed to solve.

But even now, Dean couldn't say no. "Sure. If I'm in town."

Sam raised his eyes again and grinned. Dean frowned, remembering the awkward conversation at the bar. He suddenly realized what it felt like to be one of the women he hit on. Sam may not be as aggressive as Dean, but the intent was still there.

Dean shifted, suddenly uncomfortable under the weight of Sam's gaze. This little crush of Sam's had the potential for disaster if Dean didn't put a stop to it now.

"Sam. We're just friends, you know. Nothing more."

"Friends is a start." Sam shrugged, his eyes lighting up. His lips quirked up in a half-smile. "I can work with that."

xxxxxx

Dean slammed his book shut and rubbed a hand across his tired eyes. He'd been staring at the tiny font for so long the words were beginning to run together. He'd been through every text he could find in this small town and still hadn't found anything that would help him get Sam back.

"He good?"

"Yeah Dad, he's good."

The guilt twisted in his gut as the lie tripped off his tongue. He shifted the phone to the other ear and stood up, pushing the chair back away from the table.

"Good."

There was an empty silence and Dean waited patiently, knowing John wasn't done.

"You finish up with those zombies yet?"

Dean sighed. "Almost. Should be done tonight." He paused, debating how much he should tell his father. "I think I'm going to head west after this. Got wind of something in California, thought I'd check it out."

Dean held his breath, waiting for questions that never came.

"I'm heading up to Pennsylvania in the morning. Three babysitters have turned up missing in the past month. Could be nothing."

Dean shook his head. His dad wouldn't be making the trip for nothing. "You think it's something, though?"

John's voice was low, familiar. "All three homes reported issues with their phone lines just days before the disappearances. Sounds like something." He coughed, the sound muffled on the other line. "You be careful, Dean."

"You too." Dean replied, but he was met with silence, his father already gone. He flipped the phone closed and put it in his pocket, his body thrumming with tension.

Frustrated, Dean grabbed up the text and flung it across the room. He could just hear Sam sniping at him about the mistreatment of books and his eyes began to sting.

He stalked across the room, tossing an angry glance at the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table. He still had another couple of hours before he could track down the zombie that had been plaguing the town of Riverton for the past few weeks. And right now, he was itching for a fight.

Life wasn't fair. Dean was there to get rid of a zombie. He loved zombie hunts. But instead of the usual giddiness that accompanied a hunt for the undead, Dean only felt a deep sense of melancholy.

He missed the Sam he once knew, his brother, his partner. He missed the annoying, bitchy comments Sam always made about Dean's eating habits. He missed the way Sam whined every time their father made them run another lap around the motel. He missed the way Sam sulked in the corner like a petulant child when he didn't get his way.

Mostly, he just missed Sam.

He talked to the new, different Sam every day since he left Stanford. But it wasn't the same. Once upon a time, he knew everything there was to know about his little brother. Now, though, he was constantly left guessing.

Dean glared at the books on the table, wishing for answers they didn't hold. He sighed and vowed to rid Riverton of its zombie problem once and for all that night. Three weeks and five hunts after he left, he was ready to get back to his brother, ready to get some answers to the questions rolling around in his mind.

It was time to go back to Stanford. Back to Sam.

xxxxxx

The campus was alive with activity, students rushing to and from classes. Dean slouched low on the bench and watched as two girls walked past, arguing about who had a greater impact on American literature, William Faulkner or Jack Kerouac. He shifted his gaze and scanned the surrounding campus, looking for a familiar head of shaggy brown hair. Dean felt a little out of place on the campus. He was always more comfortable in dingy bars than surrounded by the bright sun and old buildings reeking of knowledge.

Dean wondered if he should have let Sam know he was coming but it was too late now. At least he had a good idea what Sam's schedule was like from their phone conversations over the past couple of weeks. If Dean was right, Sam should be finishing up his art appreciation class with Jess.

As if right on cue, Dean glanced towards the art building to see Sam and Jess making their way down the steps. Sam was talking to another guy, his hands waving around, as if attempting to emphasize whatever point he was trying to make. The other guy said something and made a gesture with his hands, causing Sam to laugh. Dean watched them and smiled. Even from a distance Sam's smiles were contagious.

Sam stopped walking and looked over at the bench where Dean was sitting. When their eyes met, Sam's smile grew wider. He said something to his friends and jogged over to Dean.

Dean stood up and Sam threw his arms around his shoulders in a giant hug. "Hey man! You didn't tell me you were going to be in town."

Dean shrugged and patted Sam awkwardly on the back. "Didn't really know until today. Figured I'd stop by since I was in the area."

Sam pulled back and grinned. "I'm glad you did." He shifted his backpack on his shoulder. "So where you staying?"

Dean frowned. "Not sure yet. I literally just got to town." He smirked at Sam. "Decided to come straight here to see your ugly mug."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You can always stay with Jess and me." He flushed and chewed his lower lip. "I mean, it's not much, but our couch is pretty comfortable and it's free."

Dean stared at Sam, not exactly sure how to respond. He thought about his options. Staying in a motel would be less uncomfortable but if he stayed with Sam, he'd have access to his apartment, giving him the chance to search it for anything unusual while Sam slept. It was a no-brainer.

"That would be great. You sure Jess won't mind?"

"Nah. It was her idea." Sam slanted him a look as they began to walk across the campus and grinned. "Honestly, I think she just wants her phone back. Which reminds me. My parents got me a new cell phone to replace the one I lost so remind me to give you that number."

Dean laughed and leaned slightly to the right, bumping Sam's shoulder with his.

"You know you're a girl when it comes to the phone, right?"

Sam frowned but his eyes were bright. "Hey! It takes two to have a conversation."

Dean shrugged. "Or it takes one to sit and listen while the other yammers on about anything and everything." He smirked as Sam gaped at him. "Like I said. A girl."

"Jerk," Sam muttered with a smile.

"Bitch." The reaction was instantaneous. Dean looked at Sam the moment the word was out of his mouth, hoping to see something click. But Sam just shook his head, still grinning.

"You parked around here?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I parked over near your place." He frowned, hating that he had to leave his car behind. "Parking here is a disaster."

Sam laughed. "That's why we found a place close enough to walk. I don't even own a car."

"Yeah well-" Dean sighed. "It still sucks."

Sam glanced over at him as they walked. "You hungry?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really. You?"

'Nah." Sam pulled his backpack up onto his shoulder before it slipped off and scratched the back of his neck. "We can get your stuff and go back to my place. Maybe play some video games or something?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam played video games? He'd always thought they were a frivolous waste of time before. The differences between his Sam and this Sam were becoming clearer every day.

"Sure. As long as I can kill something."

Sam smiled. "I think that can be arranged. But I have to warn you. I fully plan to kick your ass."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I can assure you that I am an expert when it comes to killing. You are going down."

Sam snorted. "Bring it on, man. Bring it on."

xxxxxx

Dinner with Sam and Jess was a casual affair. Dean sat at the table in their tiny little kitchen and watched as they danced around each other, their moves smooth and graceful, obviously comfortable with one another.

"Dean, you like pasta don't you?" Jess turned to look at him as she stirred a pot full of noodles.

"Sure." Dean shrugged. "Who doesn't?"

Sam laughed. "Well that's good considering it's the only thing Jess knows how to make."

Jess huffed and grabbed a dish towel and used it to swat at Sam's legs. He jumped out of the way and tossed a grin in Dean's direction. Jess just rolled her eyes. "At least I didn't burn a pot of water like someone I know."

Sam shrugged, still chuckling. "It was one time. I've evolved since then."

"Some evolution," Jess muttered, turning off the flame and picking up the pot. She moved to the sink and turned the pot upside down, the noodles falling into the colander. A huge burst of steam rushed up, surrounding her face. She leaned forward, attempting to look around the wide mass of Sam's shoulders. "How's the salad coming, Chef Boyyou'redead?"

"I can handle a salad, you know." Sam finished ripping lettuce into a giant bowl and wiped his hands on his jeans.

Jess reached up and wrapped slender fingers around Sam's neck and pulled him down, placing a kiss on his cheek. "I know, baby. And you do it so well."

Dean watched the two of them with a look of amusement. It was hard to believe they weren't actually together. They acted like every bickering married couple Dean had ever come across. Not that he had much experience with happy couples, but this is how he assumed they would act.

"So how long have you two known each other?"

Sam finished adding ingredients to the salad and tossed them all together. He glanced over at Jess with a soft smile. "I met Jess during Sophomore year. We ran into each other in the library one day and just started talking."

Jess snorted as she mixed chicken and alfredo sauce with the pasta. "You mean you ran me over."

"Details, details," Sam grumbled, but Dean could tell he was fighting a smile. He brought the salad over to the table and slumped down into one of the chairs. He glanced at Dean and shrugged. "Ok, yeah. I pretty much ran her over."

Jess set the pasta on the table and moved back over to the cabinets, reaching up to grab the plates. Her voice was muffled behind the cabinet door. "How many books were you carrying, anyway?"

"Only ten or so." Sam reached over, his long arm stretched across the room and Jess handed him the plates as she pulled out the silverware. "I was doing this paper for one of my electives, this class on paranormal studies. There was a lot of stuff to cover."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Learn anything?"

Sam frowned a bit, lines forming on his forehead. "Yeah, I did." He paused and scrunched up his nose even more. "I must've heard a lot of ghost stories growing up, though, because I already knew a lot of the stuff we covered."

"Ghost stories, huh?" Dean figured Sam remembering things, even on a vague level, couldn't be a coincidence. Maybe his Sammy was still in there somewhere.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we covered all the usual urban legends like Bloody Mary and the Hookman. And then we covered myths and legends from other cultures. It was actually pretty interesting."

Jess set down the silverware on the table and reached over, running her hand through the hair on the back of Sam's neck. "But back to the point, that's how we met. And it was love at first sight."

Sam grinned. "On her part, of course."

"Yes, on my part." Jess sighed and rolled her eyes. "Sam was fairly oblivious to attention even back then. In fact, he's never shown interest in anyone until-"

"And then Jess and I tried the dating thing, didn't we?" Sam interrupted. He started scooping pasta onto his plate and didn't look up, but Dean could see the faint red high on his cheeks.

Jess motioned for Dean to help himself and gave Sam a strange look. "Yeah, we did. But it didn't work out."

"Why's that?" Dean was honestly curious. Jess was gorgeous and she seemed to be perfect for Sam. Why couldn't they make it work?

"We just decided we made better friends and broke it off. It was a mutual thing." Sam shrugged. "The fact that I realized I was gay probably didn't help."

Dean swallowed suddenly, salad getting caught in his windpipe. He coughed, trying to cover up his reaction. "Yeah, I guess that would be a problem."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You can't pretend you didn't know."

Dean took a drink of his beer, his eyes still watering slightly. "Well, I mean. No?"

Sam smiled and shook his head.

"Did the whole flirting thing completely escape your attention? I figured I was being pretty obvious. And you did make it a point to tell me we're just friends."

Dean sighed. He had known. But it was still weird to have Sam say it so bluntly.

Sam frowned. "It doesn't bother you, does it?"

Dean shook his head. "No, it doesn't." And that was the truth. He didn't care if Sam was gay. He was still his little brother. Sort of.

"Good." Sam smiled, but it was smaller than the usual blinding grin Dean was growing accustomed to. "So let's eat, shall we?"

Dean gave Sam a crooked grin as he dug in, pleasantly surprised at how nice it was to have a home-cooked meal. He felt himself truly relax for the first time since running across Sam at the bar all those weeks ago.

He still needed answers, but at least he had Sam in his life. Right now, he'd take what he could get.

xxxxxx

A soft shuffling woke Dean from uneasy sleep the following morning. He grumbled as he turned over on the couch, opening sleep heavy eyes wide enough to see Sam pulling on a pair of tennis shoes by the front door.

Sam glanced up and caught Dean watching him. "Oh shit, man. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you. Just go back to sleep."

Dean shook off the fuzziness attacking his brain and sat up, setting his feet down on the floor. "Where you going?"

"Just out for a run." Sam motioned to the door. "I try to go every morning."

"Give me a minute to change and I'll go with you."

Sam's eyes widened, obviously surprised. "Really?"

Dean shrugged and stood up, moving over to his duffel. "Sure. I could use the exercise."

"Ok. You can use the bath-"

Dean finished pulling off his t-shirt and turned to find Sam staring down at the floor, his blush evident in the pale morning light.

Friends. Just friends.

He just shook his head and pulled on a clean shirt and pulled on a pair of track pants over his boxers. His beat up tennis shoes were in the bottom of his bag where he'd tossed them after his last run.

Sam led the way down the stairs and onto the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. Together, they stretched their legs and took off. Dean let Sam set the pace, adjusting his stride to match.

The morning was cool, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Dean took his time to check out his surroundings, not used to seeing them so empty. There were a few people milling about, early risers starting their days. But Sam took them down a side road and suddenly, it was like they were the only two people around.

Dean was tired but it felt good to be outside, working up a sweat. He had stayed up late the night before, waiting until he was sure Sam had fallen asleep before searching the apartment for anything suspicious. Finding nothing, he finally fell into an uneasy sleep, plagued by nightmares of a world without Sam.

Dean listened to the steady rhythm of their shoes against the pavement, the slow and heavy breathing as they made their way down the quiet streets. He glanced over at Sam, saw the high color in his cheeks from the workout. This felt comfortable, familiar. When they were younger, Sam had always grumbled about going through the paces when their father ordered them. Figures he'd grow up to run for the fun of it.

Sam looked over and caught Dean's eyes. "What?"

Dean shook his head and pushed on. "So how did you know you were gay?"

Sam shot Dean a surprised glance. "It wasn't one thing, really. I was into girls when I first got here. Or at least I thought I was."

Dean frowned. "So what changed?"

Sam shrugged. "In the beginning, I was just telling myself I wanted to date girls because that was what was expected. I pretty much wanted to be Jason when I grew up, so I tried to follow in his footsteps."

Dean's lips drew into a tight line at the mention of Sam's 'brother.'

"But I never felt completely comfortable with any of the girls I dated." Sam paused, concentrating on the steady in and out of his breathing. "And then the dreams started up again."

"What dreams?" Dean stared at Sam's profile, almost tripping over the uneven sidewalk when he wasn't paying attention.

Sam grinned as Dean steadied himself and they continued on. "Just these dreams. Always the same guy. I've had them since I was a kid. But I just felt...well, nothing I felt for any girl could compare."

"So you decided you were gay because of some dream guy that doesn't exist?" Dean rolled his eyes. Only Sam.

Sam shook his head. "No. I've done things with guys. Definitely more interested in them. But this guy, somehow I always knew he existed somewhere."

Dean's mind got tripped up on the 'guys' part of Sam's little confession. He pushed down the flare of jealousy - seriously, where did that come from? - and tilted his head. "So you were having sex dreams about someone you don't know but you figure you're going to meet someday." He snorted. "You really are a girl. Waiting for your prince charming and everything. Do you have a dress picked out for your wedding already?"

Sam sighed. "Not sex dreams."

"Ok."

Sam turned down another road and Dean followed, both of them silent. Sam glanced over and gave him a small smile. "Besides, I know the guy exists. I've already met him."

"You did?"

Sam looked at him, eyebrows raised, as if expecting him to know the answer. Dean frowned, mind flashing back to the night when he first 'met' this Sam.

"Because I've been dreaming about you my whole life."

"Oh." Dean frowned, his heart skipping a beat. "That cheesy line you used-"

"Was a pretty cheesy line." Sam interrupted. He slowed down before coming to a complete stop. He was breathing hard and Dean noticed he wouldn't meet his eyes. "But it was true."

"Huh." Dean wasn't sure what to say to that. "So if they weren't sex dreams-"

Sam scuffed the toe of his shoe against the concrete. He finally glanced up and looked at Dean, shrugging.

"They were actually pretty boring. Just things like eating meals together or watching tv curled up on ratty old couches. But it was more about how they made me feel."

"And how was that?"

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's question. "It's ok if you're freaked out. I shouldn't have said anything."

Dean shook his head, watching as Sam ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "Not crazy." Dean finally said, choosing his words carefully. He smirked. "Maybe a little insane, though."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You are definitely not dream guy material."

"Whatever sweetheart," Dean drawled, leering in Sam's direction. "You know you want me."

"Yeah, I really do."

Sam's voice was so quiet, Dean almost didn't hear him. Almost. His words made something tighten in his chest. Whatever he was feeling would pass. It had to. He swallowed and shifted his weight, cocking his head to the side. "Ready to head back?"

Sam gave him a small smile, grateful for the change of subject. "Race you." His grin grew. "I'll totally win, too."

"Dream on."

Sam glanced at him with a funny little smile before taking off, his long legs eating up the pavement. Dean watched him for a few moments before finally giving chase. No way was he letting Sam win this one.

"No fair, you fucking cheater!"

xxxxxx

Dean spent a week on Sam's couch before taking off to Arizona for a small job. During their time together he and Sam fell into a routine. They went running every morning before Sam left for class. While Sam was away, Dean used Sam's student ID and sequestered himself in the library, reading everything he could find on memory replacement, alternate universes, cults, and more. If it had the slightest similarity to his current situation, he researched it. And after a week of boring, tedious research, Dean had nothing to show for it except for pages and pages of useless information. The closest he came to an explanation was a djinn, a freakin' genie. Dean couldn't recall running into anything remotely like a djinn on one of his hunts, but what if he did? Was this his wish? Or maybe it was Sam's. There was nothing else to explain Sam's current lack of memories regarding his real family. And nothing on how to get them back.

Dean found himself looking forward to the evenings when Sam and Jess got home from school. More often than not, Sam brought home take-out from one of the various eateries nearby. The three of them would lounge around and watch bad movies all night long. The nights Jess had to work were usually spent playing video games and talking.

Sam told Dean everything that was going on in his life. He talked about his classes and the girl in his Psychology class that was always trying to get in his pants. He told Dean about the night that William got him drunk and he woke up on the floor of one of the sororities wearing only his boxers and covered in shaving cream. And he talked about his 'family' and what it was like for him growing up. Dean paid close attention to the family stories. At first it was because he was trying to solve the mystery of what happened. But then it became more about Sam and his smiles than learning the truth.

This Sam went to the same school for more than one year straight. He had the same group of friends from elementary school through high school. He played soccer and ran track. This Sam went on family vacations to Disney World and celebrated birthdays at the beach with cake and ice cream.

This Sam did not spend his nights worrying if his father or brother would make it home alive. He didn't have to constantly fight to be allowed to stay home and do his homework. Eating out for this Sam was a luxury growing up, not a necessity.

This Sam was happy. He was well-adjusted and popular. He was sarcastic and flirty and funny and easy-going.

Dean couldn't keep his eyes off of him. Or his mouth shut.

By the time Dean realized he was starting to open up too much, he knew he had to get away. It was too easy to slip up around Sam, too easy to say something that would give away the truth. Sam was breaking down the few defenses Dean had left. But he still one defense remaining.

Dean fled.

Unfortunately, Arizona wasn't far enough away.

"Hey Dean. I know it's late and I...I just wanted to hear your voice. But you're probably sleeping or out actually having a life. Anyway, I'll call you tomorrow. Night man."

Dean pressed end and went to delete the voicemail but stopped, his finger hovering over the button. Sam's voice had been low and husky and Dean could see his eyes, heavy with sleep. He could see Sam's lips shape the words as the syllables became drawn out with exhaustion. He could see all of this as if Sam were standing right in front of him and Dean knew he was in trouble.

Over the past few weeks, Sam had become more than his brother. He'd become his best friend. Dean was finding it easier and easier to see Sam as the man he'd become and not as the little boy he'd helped raise. And that scared him. Dean didn't want to lose his Sam but he was steadily slipping away. Dean dug his heels in and held on with everything he had, but he feared that soon, it wouldn't be enough.

He flipped the phone shut and glanced around the bar, hoping to find someone to keep his mind off of Sam. There were a couple co-eds sitting in a booth to his left. One kept tossing him sideways glances and Dean knew all he had to do was say the word. He stood up, fully intending to make his way over to their table, but found himself at the other end of the bar instead.

Dean could still hear the low purr of Sam's voice in his ear and he shivered.

He had to wonder, who exactly was he to Sam if he wasn't his brother. One more question to add to the many. But Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know the answers any more.

Tall, dark, shaggy brown hair, bright blue eyes. Close enough. He slanted his eyes to the right, catching the guy's profile.

"Buy you a drink?"

Part 2