Ashes of Another Life (Sam/Dean, NC-17) (3/5)

[lostt1]

Looking back, Dean should have seen it coming. He'd been distracted ever since his conversation with Grandma Mae. Going on a hunt as soon as he returned to Sam's was probably not the smartest idea he ever had.

Things with Sam had been weird since they left the Speros's home. They still talked every night but Dean could tell Sam was holding something from him. Their conversations were light and easy-going but the content was trivial.

Every day Dean was away from Sam, things got a little bit harder. He couldn't shake the feeling that one day the separation between them would be permanent. Dean knew something had to change or he could lose Sam forever. He just wasn't sure what that something was.

Surprisingly, Dean couldn't find it in him to blame Grandma Mae for his current predicament. He knew she had Sam's best interests at heart. She truly loved his brother and Dean couldn't fault her for that. Sam was hard not to love.

Before she left the Speros's the morning following their conversation, Grandma Mae wrapped her arms around Dean's shoulders and whispered into his ear. "Sam Winchester or Sam Speros, he's still Sam. You hold onto him however you can. I believe everything happens for a reason but it's up to you to figure out what that reason is."

Her words haunted Dean, rolling around in his head. He wasn't at the top of his game when he finally reached the small town of Kenwood, Utah. A text from his father had sent him there in search of a black dog. Dean had been avoiding verbal contact with his father lately, still not exactly sure what to tell him about Sam, but he figured the hunt was easy enough.

Several townspeople in Kenwood had reported seeing a hulking figure of a black dog before it appeared to vanish into thin air. Three people had been attacked in the past two weeks and a black dog seemed like the obvious answer.

But sometimes a black dog was just a black dog, nothing supernatural about it.

Dean's focus wasn't fully on the hunt as it should have been. He'd been distracted by thoughts of Sam and didn't notice Cujo until it was too late. Which is how he ended up back in his motel room, stitching up a huge gash in his thigh, a steady stream of curses falling from his lips.

Dean tied off the final stitch and tossed his kit to the side. His head was swimming and he desperately wanted to pull the covers over his head and sleep for hours. But he knew what he needed to do first. He hobbled around the room, wincing as the stitches pulled, and gathered his belongings.

He needed to get back to Sam.

xxxxxx

"So what happened to you?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You going to move out of the way and invite me in or what?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I was thinking about it. But if you're going to be a grouch, there's a nice motel down the street."

"Shut it, bitch," Dean pushed his way past Sam and into the room. His leg was killing him and he felt like he hadn't slept in days. He shifted, trying to take the weight off his bad leg. "You mind if I stay here a few days while this heals up?"

"You going to tell me what happened?" Sam asked with a raise of his eyebrows.

Dean shrugged. "Got attacked by a dog," he finally mumbled, not meeting Sam's eyes.

Sam chuckled. "Did you just say you got attacked by a dog?" Dean looked up and glared back at his brother but Sam wasn't finished. "You mean to tell me that badass Dean Winchester got taken down by a little puppy?"

Dean's mouth flattened into a tight line. "That was no puppy. It was practically five feet tall!" He sighed. "So can I stay or not?"

Sam's lips tilted upwards. "Yeah, that's cool." He grabbed his cell phone off of the coffee table. "I'll just call Jess and tell her to bring home some extra food. Chinese good?"

Dean mumbled his thanks as he slowly lowered himself onto the couch. He was having a hard time bending his right knee thanks to the stitches. Sam left a short message for Jess and tossed the phone aside. He dragged his eyes over Dean, searching for other injuries. Dean resisted the urge to look away from his intense gaze. Sam bit his lip. "You want a beer?"

"Whiskey?"

Sam nodded. "Coming right up."

"Wait? You have whiskey?" Dean tried to cover up his surprise. Sam wasn't much of a drinker and never kept the stuff in the house.

Sam shrugged. "Something told me you'd be stopping by." He reached down and grabbed Dean's bag before heading for the next room.

Dean frowned. "Where are you taking that?"

Sam turned around and gave him an amused smile. "I'm taking it to my room. You're staying there tonight."

Dean's eyes opened wide, slightly panicked. "I'm what? Why?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Relax, Dean, I'm not going to take advantage of you in your weakened state. You're going to sleep there because it'll be more comfortable with that leg."

Dean tried to argue but Sam wasn't hearing it. He disappeared down the hall, leaving a sputtering Dean behind. He returned a few minutes later, two half-full glasses of whiskey in hand.

Dean took the glass Sam offered and brought it up to his nose. After a careful sniff, he took a small sip of the amber liquid. "Wow, you got the good stuff."

Sam shrugged. "I had a-"

"A feeling," Dean interrupted. "Yeah, you said that already."

"Still true."

Dean shifted, uncomfortable in the silence. The room felt tense, a sense of awkwardness between them that wasn't there before their trip, and Dean wanted to wipe it away. He still wasn't sure what was going on with Sam and it bothered him more than he'd like to admit.

Sam took a small drink from his glass and made a face. He glanced over at Dean. "You want a-" he trailed off.

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," Sam shook his head, dismissing the question. "I'm just glad you're here."

Dean shrugged. "Had no place better to be."

Sam snickered and reached for the remote. He turned on the TV and began flipping through the channels before finally settling on an old sitcom. He glanced over at Dean and titled his head to the side. Dean just nodded and settled back onto the couch, happy for the distraction.

The show was winding down when the front door swung open and Jess walked in, a couple of plastic bags in hand. "Honeys! I'm home!"

"Hey, how was class?" Sam glanced up at his roommate with a smile and Dean felt the awkward tension in the room disappear in a flash.

Jess shrugged, setting the bags of food down on the coffee table. "You know, same ole, same ole." She pushed Sam back further on the couch and slipped onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "And how was your day?"

"Not too bad. I'm not really sure what to think of the new professor, but the subject is interesting enough."

"How about you, Dean? What have you been up to since you left?" Jess asked with a smile.

"Got attacked by a dog." Dean shrugged and Sam started laughing into Jess's shoulder. Dean glared at him. It wasn't really that funny. And it hurt like hell. He looked at Jess. "So where's my kiss?"

Sam continued laughing and Jess just rolled her eyes, slapping him on the shoulder. She leaned in and pressed her soft lips against Dean's cheek. She took the moment to whisper in his ear. "I'm glad you're here. Sam's not the same without you around."

Dean frowned and he glanced over at Sam, taking in his wide smile and casual sprawl and wondered what Jess meant. Sam seemed fine to him. Sure, things were a little awkward between them, but they were good. Sam was good.

Jess slipped off of Sam's lap and sat down on the floor. She reached forward and began pulling white containers out of the bags, placing them on the table. "Dinner's served, boys. Dig in."

Sam opened up the first carton and immediately handed it to Dean. Dean inhaled the scent and greedily dug into the food, feeling like he hadn't eaten in forever. He hadn't had Chinese food in a long time, six months at least.

"This is the best sesame chicken I've had in a long time," he moaned around a mouthful, making Sam's mouth twitch upwards in response. "Man, I love this stuff."

Sam took a bite of his sweet and sour pork and focused on a spot on the floor. "I know." His voice was soft, the words barely more than a whisper.

Dean frowned, certain he hadn't had Chinese with Sam since sticking around at Stanford. He sighed and shrugged it off. He took another bite and let out another groan of pleasure.

Sam snorted. "Should we leave you two alone?"

Dean glanced up and found Sam and Jess watching him with twin looks of amusement. "What?" he mumbled around his food.

Sam just shook his head and the three of them fell into their usual routine. By the time they'd polished off half of the food, Dean was feeling pleasantly full and relaxed, the whiskey leaving him languid and warm. He was sprawled across the length of the couch, Sam having transferred to the floor long ago.

"Another drink?" Sam held the bottle up as Jess gathered the garbage.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm good."

Jess sat down in the chair and Sam leaned back against her leg. She idly carded her fingers through his hair, her focus on the cheesy TV movie playing out on the screen.

Sam closed his eyes and yawned, catching Jess's attention. She frowned down at him. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Some." Sam mumbled, his eyes focused on the floor.

"Sam-"

"Just drop it, Jess." Sam hissed. "I'm fine."

Dean watched the exchange from his place on the couch and frowned. He looked a little harder at Sam, noting the signs of exhaustion he'd somehow missed earlier. There were dark smudges under his eyes and their hazel color seemed a bit dull.

Sam yawned again and Jess shot Dean a look, silently pleading with him. For what, he wasn't sure.

"Sam, why don't you go to bed?" Dean suggested, ignoring Sam's irritated glare. "No offense, dude, but you look like you're about ready to fall over. And I'm not really up to carrying your heavy ass down the hall.

Sam sighed. "Can't go to bed yet."

"Why the hell not?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Trying to prove you're a big boy now by staying up with the grown-ups?"

Sam tilted his head to the side, giving him a look that clearly said you're an idiot. He pointed at the couch.

Dean suddenly remembered that Sam had given him his bed. He huffed out an annoyed breath. "Don't be stupid. We can share if you insist on me sleeping in the bed. Not like we haven't done it before."

Sam chewed on his lower lip. "You sure?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure." He motioned toward the hall. "Now go. I'll be there soon." Dean was exhausted but he wanted to talk to Jess first.

"Fine." Sam climbed to his feet, movements slow with exhaustion. "I'll leave your stuff just inside the door."

Dean nodded his acknowledgment and waited until Sam's bedroom door closed behind him with a soft click. He turned to Jess. "What's going on with him?"

Jess tossed a hesitant glance down the hall before transferring to the couch. She sighed. "He's been having nightmares for a few weeks now. Every night, it's the same thing. He wakes up screaming your name."

"He hasn't said anything to me."

Jess shook her head, her long blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. "He didn't exactly tell me, either. But it's hard to keep them a secret when he screams loud enough to wake me up." She kept her voice low so that only Dean could hear her, even though they were alone in the room. "I finally confronted him but he still won't tell me what they're about. I'm really worried about him."

Dean frowned. He hated that Sam was suffering, especially when he wasn't talking about it. "I'll see if I can get him to talk."

Jess shifted, fidgeting under Dean's stare. He could tell there was something else she wanted to say.

He sighed. "Spit it out, Jess." She glanced up at him, startled. "What else?"

Jess bit her lip and took a deep breath. "What's going on with the two of you?"

Dean raised one eyebrow. That was the question of the year. Things between the two of them were...complicated. Dean didn't know if he'd ever get his brother back, not the way he knew him before. But he needed to decide exactly how he wanted Sam in his life. Sam was offering himself up completely and it was everything Dean hadn't known he'd always wanted. Dean didn't know if he was strong enough to withstand Sam's constant advances. He didn't know if he wanted to.

"What do you mean?"

Jess huffed and rolled her eyes. "Are you serious about Sam? I mean-"

Dean snorted. "Are you trying to ask what my intentions are?"

"No." Jess paused. "Well, maybe. It's just...he really likes you. I've never seen him act this way about anyone before. And the way he looks at you...it's like you're his whole world wrapped up in a single package. I just don't want to see him hurt."

"I'm not going to hurt him." Dean just hoped he was telling the truth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Sam. "I-"

Jess waved her hand, dismissing whatever else he was going to say. "Ok, so now that we've gotten that out of the way, I’m going to bed." She stood up and stretched and Dean averted his gaze as her shirt rode up to expose her pale midriff. She gave him a small smile. "For what it's worth, you hurt him and I'll kill you."

Jess leaned down and brushed her lips across his forehead before disappearing down the hall. Dean watched her leave and let her words roll over in his mind. He honestly didn't know what to make of his feelings for Sam. He wanted to protect him, just like he always had. Sam was his little brother. It was his job to keep him safe.

But Jess was right. The way Sam looked at him was anything but brotherly. And Dean found that it was getting harder and harder to ignore. He swallowed, waiting for the guilt to rise up. He shouldn't even be considering these thoughts. It was wrong to want Sam. Just because Sam didn't remember who he was, that didn't mean Dean had forgotten.

A yawn took him by surprise. The night had been long and he knew he should head off to bed. He got to his feet, wincing at the tug of the stitches. He opened Sam's door just enough to grab his bag and quickly went about his business.

By the time he slid underneath the covers next to Sam, his eyelids felt like lead weights. He figured he could sleep for days, no problem.

Sam shifted, curling into Dean's side.

Dean stared at Sam, noticed how young and innocent he seemed tucked away in his giant bed. He reached out and pushed the hair out of his face.

He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into the covers, Sam safe and warm at his side. If this was all he was left with, if he never got the Sam he once knew back, would it be enough?

Sam buried his nose in Dean's neck and Dean felt the tension seep out of his body.

Sam would always be enough.

xxxxxx

Dean woke with a start to a dark room, Sam's warm body pressed up against him. He lay there, silent and still as he tried to figure out what had forced him into consciousness.

Sam whimpered in his sleep and Dean glanced over, saw the lines on Sam's forehead, the quiver in his lip. He knew then, without a doubt, that Sam was having another nightmare. His heart began to race, keeping time with Sam's quick breaths.

Maybe this time he could help. He had to try.

He shifted Sam closer and wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders. Sam let out another low whimper, Dean's name a painful exhale, and Dean's grip tightened. He could feel the tremors coursing through Sam's body as he dreamed.

Dean ran his hand across Sam's back in slow, smooth strokes. "Shhh, Sam. It's alright." Dean pressed his lips to Sam's temple, murmuring words of love and protection into Sam's soft skin.

"I got you."

Dean let out a sigh of relief as Sam's breathing slowed and the tremors stopped. He continued rubbing his hand up and down the length of Sam's spine. It wasn't much, but it was something he could do.

"I'm right here. You're safe."

Sam rolled over, resting his head on Dean's chest, his ear pressed just over Dean's heart.

Dean smiled into Sam's hair as he felt the exhaustion pull him under once more.

I'm not going anywhere, Sammy. You're stuck with me forever.

xxxxxx

The Pale Ale was already crowded as Sam and Dean made their way across the room to an empty table. Dean winced as he took a seat. His leg had almost fully healed, but it still stung as his jeans rubbed up against the tender skin.

Sam glanced over at the bar and catching the bartender’s attention, he motioned for two drinks. The bartender nodded and Sam slid into the booth across from Dean.

Dean’s eyes roamed across the room, taking in everything. There were several loud groups of students surrounding the pool tables, a hot and heavy game already in play. A couple waitresses weaved through the crowd, serving beers to the students, each one eager to get the weekend rolling early. Dean watched as Sam’s eyes scanned the room, giving a wave as he met the gaze of someone he knew.

“A bit crowded tonight,” Dean said, slouching down in his seat and tossing a lazy grin over at a co-ed on his left.

Sam shrugged and followed Dean's line of sight, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, I guess so. Not too unusual for this place.” He sighed and rolled his shoulders. “I never did ask, but do you know how long you’re staying this time?”

Dean frowned at Sam’s weary tone. “Why? You getting tired of me already?”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, it’s not that. I’m just trying to figure things out.” He chewed on his lip. “Not really sure where I stand with you anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam looked around the room, avoiding Dean’s eyes. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean paused. “At least that’s how I feel. You saying we’re not?”

“No, it’s not that,” Sam sighed. “It’s just-“

He was interrupted by the bartender, a short stocky guy with black hair, green eyes, and a bright smile. “Here you go, Sam. Been awhile.”

Sam smiled up at the guy, wide and carefree, and Dean sat up straighter. “Hey Jackson.”

“We’ve missed you around here,” the guy, Jackson, replied. He leaned down and whispered something into Sam’s ear, causing him to laugh. Sam’s smile widened, dimples deepening, and Dean felt a stirring in his gut. He eyed the bartender, trying to get a reading on him. Just how well did he know Sam?

Jackson smacked Sam on the shoulder, his hand lingering longer than necessary, and turned back to the bar.

“Well, I gotta get back to work. It’s a madhouse in here tonight.”

“Alright man, have fun.” Sam grinned.

“Fun, right. You do know that some of us have to work, right? Not all of us have a mommy and daddy who pay for everything.” Jackson rolled his eyes and Sam shrugged, amused. Jackson began to walk towards the bar. He stopped suddenly and glanced back at their table. “If you’ve got the time, Sam, be sure to stop by the bar and say hi before you leave.”

Sam gave him a casual salute. "Will do," he said as he watched the bartender walked away before turning back to Dean.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he took a long pull of his beer, trying to mask the sudden flare of jealousy eating away at his gut. “You were saying?”

Sam frowned. “I was?” Dean resisted the urge to growl and waited until Sam nodded. “Oh yeah, I was. I was just wondering why you always hold things back from me if we’re supposedly such good friends.”

Dean stared at Sam. “What? I tell you things.”

Sam sighed. “You do. But I can tell there’s a lot you’re holding back. And I want to know everything about you, man. You’re my best friend and it’s really bugging me that you don’t seem to trust me.”

Dean glanced around the room. Leave it to Sam to sit on the subject until they were in a crowded room and Dean had to watch his reactions. Typical. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He didn’t know what he could say to Sam. He wasn’t about to tell him the truth.

I’m sorry, Sam. I’m just your brother, your real brother, and I’ve been feeling a little less than brotherly lately.

Yeah, that would go over really well.

Dean sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “There’s nothing to tell, Sam. You know everything about me that you need to know.”

Dean could immediately tell that had been the wrong thing to say as he watched Sam shut down in front of him. His lips drew into a tight line, his eyes dark. Sam glanced over at the bar. Dean could see the tiny lines forming around Sam’s mouth and had to resist the urge to reach over and rub them away.

“I’m going to get another round.”

Dean frowned. “But we haven’t finished the first round yet.” He eyed the half-full bottles still sitting in front of them.

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, well, I feel the need to get good and drunk tonight.”

“Sam-“

“I’ll be right back.”

Dean watched as Sam got up and crossed the room in a few long strides. He leaned across the dark wood bar and waved at Jackson. Jackson smiled and motioned that he’d be right over.

The tension in Sam’s shoulders seemed to seep from his body as he made small talk with Jackson. Sam laughed at something Jackson said and Dean could see the crinkles around his eyes. He watched the two of them with a frown. He hated that Sam was upset, the big brother in him wanting nothing more than to make it better. But he felt like his hands were tied this time. He couldn’t tell Sam the truth, but he’d never really been able to lie to him, either. He wasn’t really sure what he would say if he could, anyway. He didn’t understand how he felt himself. Sam had become his best friend and Dean didn’t want to lose that.

Sam suddenly tossed his head back, mouth wide as he laughed. Jackson grinned and reached over, brushing his hand across Sam’s forearm. Dean bit the inside of his mouth when Sam didn’t pull away. Instead, Sam leaned closer, his face only inches away from the bartender's. And Dean could see the interest reflected in Jackson's eyes, even from this distance. Dean's chest felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe. Sam was his. He was already sharing him with more people than he wanted to.

Dean stood up abruptly, his leg slamming painfully into the table. He growled as he stormed across the room. “Sam-“

Sam turned as Dean drew near, eyes wide and questioning. Before Dean could think, he pressed in, his lips slamming against Sam’s.

Sam moaned at the contact, his back pressed up against the bar behind him. He reached up and wrapped his long fingers around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him in.

Dean took a moment to enjoy the smooth slick-slide of Sam’s lips against his. But then his mind caught up with him and he stepped back as if he had been burnt. This was Sam. His baby brother. What had possessed him to kiss him like that?

Sam stared at him with a dazed, bewildered expression, his lips shiny. “Dean-“

Dean couldn’t stop, couldn’t listen to what Sam was about to say. He’d just kissed his brother. And worse, he liked it. And if given the chance, he’d do it again.

It was that last one that stopped him from reaching out and tugging Sam forward. He couldn’t risk it. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

He had to escape. Without another word, Dean turned around and fled, needing some fresh air to clear his head.

As he pushed his way out the door and into the cool, dark night, Dean had to wonder. When did running become a habit for him?

xxxxxx

"Hey Dean, it's me. Look...about what happened the other night...it doesn't have to mean anything, ok? We can just forget about it. We were both drinking and things just...look, whatever I did, I'm sorry. Call me? Please."

Dean inhaled sharply and pressed the button to save Sam's message, not quite ready to delete it from his inbox just yet. His head was spinning. Dean had kissed Sam and Sam thought he did something wrong. Dean could still hear the crack in Sam's voice as he begged him to call.

Dean held up his phone, his finger hovering over the button. It would be so easy to call Sam, to just pretend nothing had happened. But something had happened and Dean didn't want to just forget it, to push it out of his mind. Sick as it was, he wanted to kiss Sam again, to find out if his lips were as soft as he remembered. To hear that startled, breathy moan escape once more. He wanted Sam. Sam, as in his baby brother Sam. Something between them had shifted and Dean didn't think things could ever go back to the way they had been before. Sam was embedded too deep within him now. And he just wanted. He wanted but he couldn't give in because Sam didn't know the truth.

Dean scrolled through his contact list before finally coming to a stop on the most recent entry. He took a deep breath and pushed 'send.'

The phone rang three times before there was an answer. "Hello?"

"Grandma Mae?"

There was a long pause. "Dean?" Grandma Mae gave a sharp inhalation. "Is Sam ok?"

"Yeah, Sam's fine." Dean ran a hand through his short hair, not sure where this conversation would lead. But he had to find out. "I want Sam to know the truth. He needs to know."

Grandma Mae sighed. "Are you sure that's in Sam's best interest?"

"What? Of course it's in his best interest. He should know his family." Dean scrubbed his face with one hand. He wasn't sure what other reasons he could give the woman without revealing the whole truth.

"He needs to know we're brothers." He paused. "I need him to know."

Dean held his breath as he waited for Mae's response. "I was wondering how long it would be before you finally asked."

Dean exhaled, sensing her resignation. "So you'll do it?"

"On one condition."

"Name it." Dean didn't care what she asked, he'd do it. Anything so that his brother would know the truth.

Grandma Mae sighed. "We tell him together." She paused. "Dean, you need to be prepared, though. This might not go the way you want it to."

Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Sam may not want to have anything to do with either of us once he knows the truth."

"Why would he be mad at me? I didn't do anything!"

"Didn't you?" Grandma Mae's voice was soft, cautious. "You've known he was your brother but didn't say anything."

Dean could feel the tension building beneath his skin. "But I-"

Grandma Mae interrupted. "I'm not saying you were wrong, Dean. In your position, I would have done the same thing. But I'm letting you know that Sam may see it as a betrayal. By both of us."

Dean heard the slight catch in her voice and closed his eyes. She was right. Sam could end up hating them both. Was the risk worth losing his brother, his best friend? He exhaled slowly, already knowing his answer. He'd already come to terms with what a relationship between them would really mean. Sam deserved the chance to do the same. And for that, there needed to be full disclosure.

Mae sighed again. "This won't be easy, but it will be best coming from both of us."

Dean frowned, thoughts shifting to the other members of Sam's family. "But what if he hates you, too?" Dean knew how hard it was for the old woman. As much as he wanted to hate her for stealing his brother away from him, he just couldn't. She truly loved Sam and she was risking her entire family in order to help Dean.

Mae's voice was quiet. "I have faith in Sam." She was silent for a moment and Dean waited. "Sam has always looked for the good in people. He may need time, but I'm certain he'll forgive me in the end. Sam has a good soul."

"Yeah, he does." Dean felt choked up as he thought about ripping the rug from under Sam's feet, exposing his nice normal world for the illusion that it was. He just hoped Sam would understand. Dean knew he was being selfish, that telling Sam was more to ease his own guilty conscience than anything else. But he needed Sam to know the truth. "So when do you want to do this?"

"No sense in waiting." Mae exhaled, her breath whispering across the line. "I'll meet you outside Sam's apartment at six. He should be home from school by then."

Dean sighed. They were really going to do it. They were going to tell Sam the truth. "I'll see you there."

"Dean?" Mae's voice broke in before he could hang up.

"Yeah?"

"Have faith in Sam. He's family. That's a bond that is never truly broken."

"Thanks." Dean sighed and turned off his phone, tossing it onto the mattress.

Have a little faith? If only it were that easy.

xxxxxx

Dean sucked in a breath and knocked on Sam's front door, Mae a warm presence by his side. He could hear a muffled curse from the other side of the wood before the door swung open to reveal Sam.

Sam's forehead wrinkled in open confusion. "Dean? I've been trying to call-" Dean watched as Sam's gaze shifted to the woman at his side. "Grandma? What're you doing here?"

"We need to talk," Dean pushed past Sam and slipped into the living room.

Sam wrapped his arms around his grandmother's shoulders in a tight hug but his eyes never left Dean. "I agree, but-"

Dean flopped down on the couch. "The three of us."

Mae extracted herself from Sam's grasp and moved across the room, settling into the lone chair. "Sit down, Sam."

Sam closed the door, watching his guests with wary eyes. "Seriously, what's going on here?"

"Sit down and we'll explain." Mae nodded in the direction of the couch.

Sam sat down next to Dean, close but not quite touching. He glanced back and forth between Mae and Dean and swallowed, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of their stares.

Mae lifted her hand in a half-hearted wave. "Dean, why don't you start."

Dean exhaled and twisted his hands together. He had no idea what to say. He'd been thinking about it all night, practicing what he'd say. But now that they were here, everything sounded too rehearsed. He glanced up at Sam and saw his wide hazel eyes staring back at him, begging him to say something. "Sam, you're my brother."

The words escaped in a sudden rush and Dean cringed.

It definitely wasn't what Sam had been expecting to hear. "Oh-kay." He drawled, his face showing his disbelief.

Dean sighed and looked over at Mae, giving her a shrug. "You were mind-mojo'd into believing you're someone you're not. You were born a Winchester, man."

Sam snorted and Dean frowned, trying to come up with some other way to explain things. But Sam spoke up before he could continue. "Right. And we're brothers?"

"Exactly."

Mae sighed and leaned forward, touching a bony hand to Sam's knee. "He's telling the truth, Sam."

Sam just shook his head. "What are you talking about?" He stared down at his grandmother's hand before looking up into her eyes.

Mae shifted and pulled back, her hands immediately twisting in the hem of her shirt. She closed her eyes for a moment before meeting Sam's worried gaze. "Sam, do you remember the bus trip here for your first semester at Stanford?" Sam nodded and she continued. "Well, that is when I first met you. You were about to embark on this great adventure but you were terribly sad. You told me you had no family and I just wanted to make things better for you. I wanted you to have the family I thought you didn't have. So I made a wish, not knowing what it would cost you."

As Mae continued with her story, telling Sam about her gift and what it meant, Dean found himself tuning her out. He already knew the details, after all. He watched Sam instead. He could see the maelstrom of emotions flicker across his face at a rapid pace, each one more painful to see than the one just before. Sam pulled away from him, tucking himself into the corner of the couch. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees, attempting to make himself smaller, a coping mechanism Dean recognized from their shared past. Dean wanted to reach out to him, wanted to make things better and protect his brother as he had done all his life, but he didn't know how Sam would react. So he kept his hands to himself and watched helplessly as Sam shut down.

When Mae finished her tale, Sam turned his wide, watery eyes on Dean. "So all this time...you knew? And you didn't tell me? You let me think...you let me-"

Dean winced as Sam's voice cracked, the words heavy with emotion. "I didn't know what was going on. Not at first. I mean, when you came up to me at the bar-"

Dean trailed off as Sam shook his head. "No." Sam's jaw was clenched, the faint tick the only outward sign of his anger. "You knew I was your brother all along."

"Well, yeah." Dean shrugged. "Not something I'm likely to forget."

Sam stared at him and Dean realized that maybe that hadn't been the right thing to say just then. He pressed further into the couch, away from Dean, betrayal in his eyes. "My entire life is apparently a lie and you knew...but you never said anything. Not one word. You let me make a fool of myself time and time again but you never-"

"Sam-" Dean hated the accusations in Sam's eyes, the anger and the betrayal swirling around in their murky depths. He needed to make his brother understand, to see his position is this mess. He dropped his voice low. "If anyone made a fool of themselves, it was me. But I couldn't tell you. There are things you don't know, things you don't remember. And I-"

"So why now?"

Dean stared at Sam, eyes wide, silently pleading for his understanding. "You know why."

Sam shivered at Dean's low growl and when he spoke, his voice was barely more than a broken whisper. "You kissed me."

An awkward cough sounded from the other side of the room and Dean slowly shifted his gaze over to Mae, his face flaming bright red. The old woman ignored him, her attention focused solely on her grandson. "Sam, I'm so sorry. If there was anything I could do..."

Sam looked at her, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Take it back."

Mae gave her head a sad shake. "I can't." Tears slid down her face, tracing paths across her wrinkled skin. She leaned forward, reaching a shaky hand toward Sam but stopped when he flinched away. She pulled her hand back and wrapped her arms around her torso, her position now a mirror of sorts to Sam's. "Please don't tell the family. They don't know. They're all completely innocent in this. This was all my doing."

Sam sucked in a shaky breath and Dean could see the tension tightening the muscles in his brother's shoulders. Sam dropped his forehead onto his knees and spoke to the ground. "So it's all a lie?"

"No." Mae immediately shook her head. "It's not all a lie. We may not be blood but we're family. In all the ways that matter."

"Sam-" Dean wasn't sure what he was going to say but he needed to say something. Something that would let Sam know he was there.

"Can you both just leave?" Sam glanced up, eyes bright and lip quivering. "Please."

"I'll go." Mae's voice was quiet as she stood up and gathered her things. She reached out for Sam but pulled back before making contact. "I hope you can forgive me. And I hope you can forgive Dean. None of this is his fault. He's a victim, just as you are. I'm so sorry, Sam."

Dean watched as Mae left the room, the door shutting with a heavy thud behind her. His body felt heavy, weighted down with all of the emotions swirling inside of him. He shifted on the couch, twisting so his entire torso was facing Sam's direction. "Hey Sammy-"

"Dean-" Sam turned over and buried his nose in the corner of the couch, his knees still pulled into his chest. "Just go."

Dean shook his head. "Look Sam," he started, keeping his voice low. "I didn't tell you earlier because...well, I had my reasons. Really good ones."

Sam didn't roll over to face him, didn't even move. "Please. Go." Sam's voice was thin and shaky and Dean could tell he was barely hanging on. "I just need to be alone right now."

Dean stood up, feeling unbalanced. Even though it went against everything in his nature, he took a small step toward the door.

Hand on the knob, he took in a deep breath before turning to face his brother's back. "I'll be here waiting." Dean shrugged, even though Sam couldn't see him. "You know, when you're ready to talk."

Dean heard Sam sniffle and thought he saw a faint nod of shaggy dark hair. He pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway, feeling as if all the oxygen had just been sucked from the room. He pulled the door closed with a shaky hand and prayed that time and space was all Sam needed.

"See you, Sammy."

Part 4