sams1ra

Title: Picking Up Where We Left Off
Disclaimer: I own nothing supernatural related. Yet…
Rating: R, for language and violence.
Category: Gen.
Pairings: None.
Characters: Dean, Sam, John, OCs, other canon characters.
Spoilers: For all episodes aired in the US. This story is mostly AU for season 3, but some characters and events will be mentioned.

Comments: Are like chocolate. There can never be too much ;)

A/N: Sorry for being late with this update. Much love to my awesome beta tru_faith_lost for making this story better. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Son of A/N: Kripke, I hate you. I really do. You're just lucky you chose to end your episode differently, or I would have had no choice but to send demons after you. And I so wrote this first - I first posted after the end of season 2, so there. *pouts*

Summary: Twenty five years ago, a demon killed Mary Winchester and tainted her son. Six years ago, someone drugged and abducted Dean Winchester. Nine months ago, one of a yellow eyed demon's tainted kids killed Sam Winchester. A few days later, the gates to hell opened, and all hell broke loose. And now, everything's picking up where we left off....

Chapter Five

Bear's Bar, Arizona, 2008

Sam aligned his next shot, glimpsing at his brother before taking it. Fourth ball in the corner pocket. Perfect shot. He smiled smugly at Dean, who ignored him, taking another sip from his third beer. Sam raised his brows. Are they still there? Dean gave a slight nod.

"You gonna play or was that just a lucky shot?" Dean asked and Sam grinned.

"I won the last round."

Dean smirked. "You keep telling yourself that," he said, flashing his million-watt smile. Sam glanced over his shoulder. Yep, they were definitely still watching. Getting closer now, too. He moved around the pool table, aligning his next shot. Took his time doing it, too, secretly watching them from the corner of his eye.

It looked like they finally made up their mind after he sank another ball in. They made their move; one going for Dean, the other heading straight for him. Not the one he'd guess, but still, heading his way.

Sam took a swig from his own beer, glancing at Dean, who was smirking unashamedly at him.

"Wow, you're really good," the leggy brunette said. Sam was kind of hoping for her friend. Oh, well. It'd been a while, and the women had been watching the brothers for the last three games. Sam smiled at her, and she came even closer. "Teach me?" She asked, leaning into his personal space. "Drinks on me," she added. Oh yeah, Dean was smirking now…

Two hours and three tequila shots later, Sam was getting pretty drunk, and the brunette still missed every ball, which meant he had to show her how to properly hold her cue stick again. Sam really didn’t mind. He had a nice buzz going, for the first time in what felt like ages. He didn’t even care when Dean told him not to wait up for him and left the place with the brunette's friend.

Tonight, Sam didn’t worry. Tonight was good. They'd finished their hunt the night before. They were taking some time for themselves and completely ignoring the huge pink elephant in the room.

Dean was running out of time, demons were gunning for them, and there was a war going on; but tonight, none of it mattered. Tonight they were just two brothers having fun. Hell would still be there tomorrow.

"Hey, Sammy, promise me something?"

"Dean…"

"Just… Don’t look, okay?"

Sam frowned, shaking his head. "Wha-?" He sucked in his breath, pupils dilating. "Dean!"

"Sammy, don’t look!" Dean wheezed, trying to muffle a scream as the hell hound ripped into his belly, slashed at his throat.

"Dean!" Sam screamed and jackknifed in bed, sheets twisted around his ankles. "Oh, God," Sam ran a hand over his sweaty face, heart pounding hard. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, to stop shaking. He took another couple of deep breaths, but it didn’t help. Kicking the sheets aside, he made a dash for the bathroom and threw up. Yeah, those last two shots of whiskey were probably a bad idea.

Sam got to his feet and flushed the toilet, still feeling a little queasy. He moved over to the sink on wobbly feet and washed his face, cupping some lukewarm water in his hands. He gargled the water and spit it along with some of the acrid taste in his mouth, before he got out of the bathroom. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the empty, still made bed next to his.

Nine months had passed since he'd learned about Dean's deal, and Sam was still dealing with that five stages of grief crap.

Dean was not going to die. He simply wasn’t. He'd made a deal with a demon, yes, but demons could be killed. There was no way…

Sam sighed.

Maybe another deal can be made, or a way to sweeten the deal, a loophole, something. Just because Sam hadn’t found one yet, didn’t mean there wasn't…

Sam sat down heavily on his bed, staring at the empty bed next to it.

He was going to have to get used to waking up alone again, to not having Dean around anymore. Only this time, there wouldn't be a trickster to take it all back. This time, the year wouldn't reset itself when Dean died. Sam was going to have to remember to get rooms with a single bed after… No, screw that. He might be a selfish bastard, but there was no way Sam was going to let Dean go through with that deal. Not like that. Not without one hell of a fight. Not without doing everything he, they, could do to stop it.

That usually went around in circles for a while. But the only acceptance Sam ever managed to come to, was accepting he had had way too much to drink the night before. Accepting he should never have agreed to play for shots instead of money. He also accepted that hangovers sucked out loud.

A second later, Sam was back in the bathroom, paying tithes to the porcelain god. Maybe he should go ahead and break Dean's deal. He was already in Hell; at least if he were dead, the headache might go away…

Sam woke up again around eleven. He felt like crap, but at least he wasn’t vomiting anymore, and he didn’t feel like smashing his own head with a mallet just to ease the pain.

Groaning, Sam squinted at the other bed. Still empty. Still made.

"Dean?"

Nope. No sign of his brother. Sam scrambled out of bed with a groan, but the room wasn’t spinning anymore, which was good. He looked around for his cell phone and checked for any missed calls.

There were none.

Huh.

Alright, no need to panic, it wasn’t the first time Dean'd spent the night at some chick's place and not come back until late the next day. All Sam had to do was call him and remind him he was a frigging jerk.

Sam walked over to the sink and filled himself a glass of water as he dialed his brother's number. It went straight to voicemail.

Huh.

Jerk.

Still a little sleepy, Sam got dressed and went out in search of a place that served an all day breakfast.

The room was still empty by the time Sam came back from his breakfast and coffee run, and it was nearly noon. A legitimate reason to start bugging his big brother to zip it up and come back. Sam tried Dean's cell again.

He frowned when a woman's voice answered the phone.

"Who is this?" He demanded.

"Uh, my name's Laney, I work at Bear's Bar." Sam's frown deepened.

"What are you doing with my brother's phone?"

"I… I found it in the parking lot last night. I thought it was totally busted, but then you called…" she stuttered and Sam felt his stomach drop.

"Wait, what?" He asked. "What do you mean you found it in the parking lot?"

"Look, man, if I wanted to steal the damn thing, I sure as hell wouldn’t have picked up, now would I?" Laney snapped. "You want the phone? Come get it." And she hung up.

At half past twelve, Sam panicked.

He was standing at the bar's parking lot, staring at his brother's car. It was still there, right where Dean had parked it the night before. Laney confirmed the car had been there after closing time, she said she just assumed it belonged to someone too drunk to drive, said these things happened from time to time.

She didn’t exaggerate the state of Dean's phone, though. It was a miracle the thing still worked.

So yeah, Sam panicked.

When his brain started working again, he looked for the brunette's friend from the previous night. Problem was; he barely remembered last night, the brunette's friend, or the brunette's name. That? Complicated things a little…

The night before…

"Oh, hey, sweetheart, I gotta hit the head first. Why don’t you wait outside and I'll come find you as soon as I'm done?" Dean asked, stroking the girl's cheek and kissing her.

"Be quick," she said, "I won't wait long."

"Oh, sugar, trust me, I'm worth it," Dean murmured in her ear, and she leaned into his touch as he drew back, winked at her, and headed for the head.

He washed his hands after taking care of business, laughed out loud when he passed Sam on his way out and thought of how much his brother reminded him of a lost puppy - a drunken lost puppy at that - and headed outside.

He hesitated for a moment about leaving Sam the keys to the Impala, but Sam had had quite a few drinks himself. Better keep baby brother from his baby if he wanted them both in one piece. Or was it two? Hmm.

The cool night air did little to clear his head. He was still trying to work out if it was one piece or two when he noticed someone following him. He didn’t even get the chance to turn around before they were on him, dragging him towards the back alley and slamming him headfirst into the wall.

Dean cursed as he struggled. Alcohol was definitely a handicap in a fight, especially when the odds were against you. He thrust his head backwards sharply, catching one of his captors in the nose and breaking it. The guy let out a string of curses, nursing his nose, and released his hold on Dean long enough for him to break free.

Dean turned, adrenalin pumping, and took a swing. His arm was caught in a vice-like grip, and he grimaced, choking back a moan as he was slammed back against the wall.

"Trust me, kid, this will go better for you if you don’t put up a fight."

"Sorry, my Dad told me never to trust a stranger," Dean quipped and kicked the guy in the nuts, shoving him away and swinging at his broken-nosed friend.

Broken-Nose managed a lucky punch to Dean's gut. Dean hissed in pain. He was probably far drunker than he'd thought, because that punch nearly brought him to his knees.

"You really shouldn't have done that. We were trying to make it easy for you."

"Yeah, well," Dean said, backing away and out of the alley slowly. And he was definitely way too drunk, because he had his back slammed against the wall again, and damn, it hurt. A grunt escaped his lips.

"Don’t make us hurt you, Junior."

"Hey, I'm all for you not hurting me," Dean said. "So what do you say you'll just let me kick your asses for a bit, and then I'll go away?" The guys shared an amused look.

"He's funny," said one of them to the other, before slamming Dean against the wall again, arm at his throat.

He was moving too fast. Dean didn’t get it, he didn’t drink that much. Which left…

"Christo."

Twin looks of tar-black eyes stared at him, two smirks spreading as realization dawned on him. He was so screwed.

"Oh, crap," Dean muttered.

"Now will you behave?"

"I'm thinking, no," Dean said. And that's when he noticed the needle. And froze.

A memory; muscle memory of a needle prick, and panic. Dean's eyes widened as adrenalin surged through his system, his heart racing, mind screaming to get away getawaygetawaygetaway! "Oh, God," He swallowed hard, eyes glued to the needle as it neared his neck. "Don’t! Let go! Let me go right the hell now!" The words left his mouth before they registered in his brain, his voice breathless and far more scared than he intended it to be.

"Don’t worry, handsome, it'll only hurt for a moment," the guy promised as he plunged the needle into Dean's neck.

Dean cussed, fighting for release, but the two possessed men held him easily in place. Warmth spread around his body. It felt somewhat nice at first, before the heat turned unbearable.

"Your time's up, tiger," one of the men said, his voice nearly swallowed by the pounding of Dean's heart, the rushing of blood in his ears.

Dean blinked hard, but everything was going out of focus. A searing heat spread quickly through his body, his heart pumping so hard it actually hurt. He never even realized his knees buckled, just felt someone grab his coat and pull him back to his feet. Sound faded along with conscious thought. Dean struggled to breathe, to stay conscious, but he didn’t have a chance.

And then everything went dark.

The man holding him up shared a look with his companion.

"That supposed to happen this fast?" He asked.

"Uh… I don’t think so?" The other offered, and they both cursed.

"So, basically, what you're saying is, you just spent the night with the girl, but you don’t know her name?" Laney asked, her bitchface rivaling Sam's bitchiest bitchface. Sam stuttered. Laney put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes. "Jerk," she muttered as she turned back for the bar.

"No, wait!" Sam called out after her, hurrying to catch up when she didn’t slow down. "Look, I never said I spent the night with her, okay? We had a few too many drinks, played some pool, and… It doesn’t even matter anyway, okay? My brother's missing. He didn’t come home last night, his car's still here, and… well, you've seen his phone."

Laney paused, glancing back at him. "Look, please, just… I have to find him, okay? He's all I have. And that girl? The one that was with him? She might know something." Sam had his puppy eyes on full blast now, going for the kill. "So if you know anything, please," he said, looking as sincere as he could, touching Laney's arm, "Please."

Laney hesitated for a moment before she said, "I don't know. There was a group of college kids making a mess last night; I was busy keeping my eye on them." Sam remembered that group. Loud, drunk and stupid. They tried to challenge the brothers to a game or two, but for once, Dean hadn’t felt like hustling. They just wanted an evening to themselves.

"You could ask Fred. He's the bartender. He has an eye out for every girl that walks in the place," Laney offered a moment later.

"Yeah, thanks." Sam nodded and headed for the bar, but Laney stopped him.

"He doesn't come to work till seven. We're only serving food till then." And Sam suddenly needed to throw up all over again.

TBC

Thanks for reading!