Fic: the quiet things that no one ever knows

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Title: the quiet things that no one ever knows
Author: faithintheboys
Recipient: 
kinsinger
Rating: T
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to that_september for all the help! Title from a Brand New song. For the prompt: Stanford era – Sam gets amnesia
Summary: He doesn’t know his name for twenty-four hours.



He doesn’t know his name for twenty-four hours.

The only thing the doctor supplies him with is a list of questions to which he doesn’t have the answer to and a promise that he’ll be back quickly. A few nurses poke their heads in, probably to make sure that he hasn’t had an aneurysm or something, but other than that they leave him alone and nameless.

When a doctor finally comes in, different from the one before, she looks haggard and shaken. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s a mess out there.”

He can tell. All day long, gurney’s have been pushed past him with unresponsive patients on top, nurses have run up and down the hallway back and forth from to the little rooms around him. There have been a lot of codes called over the intercom and shouted down the hallways signaling distress and other danger. He tries not to feel to annoyed that no one has come in but the least someone could have done is supply him with a name.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asks and he wonders if she’s been asking that all day.

He shakes his head. “No,” he also adds, just to hear his voice. It’s raspy and it sounds weird and he realizes it’s because he doesn’t recognize it.

“Dr. Harrison said you couldn’t answer any questions earlier. Do you remember anything now?”

“No,” he says again,and this time his voice isn’t as raspy but it sill isn’t familiar.

She nods and makes a note on the clipboard she’s been carrying. She puts it up to her chest and tightens her arms around it. “We think there was a terrorist attack or something on your campus at Stanford.”

She pauses to see if he recognizes that. He doesn’t. She shakes her head. “Why anyone would want to attack Stanford is beyond me but after 9-11….” She shakes her head again and looks at him again for any kind of recognition. Nothing.

“What happened? To the school?”

She looks over her shoulder out the door as a gurney zips past. “We don’t know. A bomb maybe? A lot of people are waking up and not remembering what happened.” She bites her lip and tilts her head thoughtfully to the side. “Not like you though, they all remember who they are.”

She shines a flashlight in his eyes and makes him follow her finger as it moves past his face. He knows she thinks it’s not a normal trauma that caused his amnesia because he doesn’t even have a bump on his head but she calls it retrograde anyway for the sake of giving it a name.

“What’s my name?” he asks finally, as she’s marking something else down on the clipboard and about to walk out the door.

She looks at him with huge eyes and a wobbly expression, shaking her head and starts flipping through her clipboard. “I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s not in our records.”

They keep him there for observation but they’re not really observing anything. Nobody comes in except a few nurses who are on their way to go check the more critical patients. An hour or two later, someone thoughtful has hooked up his TV. Whatever happened to him and all those people is all over the news.

“Officials still have no idea what has happened at Stanford University, but the number of injuries and dead keeps rising.” A blonde haired woman stood huddled into her in front of the quad and then the camera turned to a pale boy with dark hair and wide eyes. When he wasn’t speaking it looked like his teeth were chattering.

“I remember…I remember black smoke. And when I woke up, I was sitting in the library and it looked like a bomb went off.”

Pictures of the library flashed by: it really did look a bomb had gone off. Half of building was completely leveled and the other half was just storage for debris; as the camera glanced away, it looked like bodies were strewn about.

“Firefighters are still trying to put out fires in most of the dorms and some off campus housing. The Red Cross is also setting up aid right off campus.”

He fell asleep after he tried to change the channel and realized they were all pretty much covering the same story.

*****

He wakes up from a nightmare gasping for air. He hears screaming in his ears and feels flames licking their way up his arms, singeing him. His eyes focus on the white walls of the hospital but in the corners and beyond he can see a dark figure, the figure from his dreams.

He shakes it off as consciousness takes hold and presses the button on one of the railings to turn the light above his bed on. The curtains are drawn but he can make out a sliver of light and blue sky beyond it. Despite what happened, the world is moving on. He wishes he could, but he doesn’t even know his name.

The hallway beyond the room is quiet for once. Besides the nightmare, he was woken up during the night by alarms sounding and yelling down the hallways. He doesn’t really want to know what it means but it couldn’t have been good.

A quick survey of the room shows something on the bedside table that wasn’t there before. It’s a journal, brown leather and a little worn. He flips open the pages but nothing is written, every line is blank. There’s a pen next to it. One of the nurses probably put it there because they felt bad for him.

There’s a sign right across from his bed that informs him that his nurse is Theresa, his doctor is Dr. Hamlin and it tells him the date. He writes that date down on the first page in the top right corner and then under it copies what he remembers from his dream.

He doesn’t remember if he ever took psych classes but maybe writing it down could help him out. When he finally does find out who he is, maybe this will be funny as hell to look back at.

He writes down the flames, the figure and the screaming although he can’t really remember whether it was male or female. Under that paragraph he writes: Amnesia, possibly retrograde. Name: unknown. Huge accident at Stanford where I apparently attend. Cause: unknown.

The book feels heavy in his hands after a while and he has nothing else to write, so he turns on the TV. It’s more of the same. They’ve managed to put the fires out but haven’t yet been able to get through all the buildings. One of the dorms collapsed and they’re doing damage control. Still no word on what caused it yet.

“Families from all over are rushing to get to their sons and daughters at Stanford. Already, local hospitals are trying to contact loved ones so they can be reunited.”

And why hasn’t anyone looked for him? Shouldn’t there have been a family member, a girlfriend of even a roommate who was the least bit concerned with his wellbeing?

On the second page of the book he wrote: Reasons Why I’m Alone just because it sounded lonely and depressing and this was all for the benefit of looking back at it when he got his memory back and would be laughing his ass off.

Reasons Why I’m Alone

1. Parents are international spies. They check in every few days under different aliases and because of the accident they haven’t been able to find me yet.

Or the more reasonable:

Parents haven’t been able to find me yet. It’s chaos out there and they took the first flight out that they could to come and find me. Maybe they’re already here; they’re just searching every hospital.

Or the more depressing:

They think I died.

My parents were in the surrounding area and were injured. They’re okay but it’s going to take them a few days to back on their feet.

More out-there:

I’m actually from a foreign country and they haven’t even found out that there was an accident yet.

They’re on a cruise to Antarctica and they don’t get news.

They’re adventurers and are in some jungle in Brazil and will be gone for a few months.

Back to the depressing:

I don’t have parents.

I was a foster child until I could go to college and I got an amazing scholarship here.

I only have a sister and she’s looking for me right now.

I ran away from home to fulfill my dream of being a rock star and only went to Stanford because I got some kind of scholarship.

“Sam.”

He wonders if he’s dreaming. If he is, it’s a break from the last three nightmares he’s woken up from in the middle of the night. His name’s not Sam though. His name is…well, maybe it is Sam.

He opens one eye first and sees Doctor Hamlin. She looks a lot better today; a simple tired expression has replaced the exhausted look on her face. She’s smiling too and there are lines around her eyes.

“You have visitors,” she says and steps out of his line of sight. Behind him, just outside the doorway is an older man, maybe late forties, with brown hair and a hard face dressed in jeans and a long sleeve gray button down shirt. He doesn’t recognize the man at all or the girl with the short blonde hair next to him.

“Sam?” she says quietly, and takes a step forward, her hand covering her mouth.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything.”

The girl looks back at the man, whose mouth is a thin line and expression has not changed. “Dad?” she asks.

The man seems to spring into action, shaking his own head slightly. “It’s alright, Meg. Sam’s been in an accident.” He turned to Sam. “Hey Sammy, I’m your father.”

Doctor Hamlin gives him another smile. “You’re family was on their way to visit you for the weekend. Everything’s so disorganized right now that they couldn’t find you right away.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “I have to go check on a few things, but I’ll be back soon.” She nodded to Meg and his father before walking out.

“My name’s Sam?” Sam what?”

“Burke.” His father’s smile is wide and kind of weird. He realizes suddenly that they don’t look at all alike. “Your name is Sam Burke.”

Maybe it’s just the amnesia speaking but he doesn’t feel like a Sam Burke. “Where’s my mom?”

Meg looks down at her shoes and his father clears his throat. “She died when we were little. You were a baby and I was one. We’re not that far apart.”

Their father clears his throat and they share a look.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asks.

Sam feels his eyebrows rise. “I don’t have to sign anything?”

“Nah, Doc did it all before when you were asleep. You’re dressed, let’s go.”

*****

They slip out, and Sam knows that there’s something wrong with that. He thinks there’s something wrong with them as well but he’s not quite sure what it is. He doesn’t want to think about it though, because he’s found his family and that’s a lot more than some people have.

Their car is a silver Honda and it’s parked a block down the road from the hospital. Sam thinks that if they knew that he was getting released they could have pulled up but he forgets about it quickly when Meg grabs his arm and pulls him to the side. “Dad,” she hisses.

“What?” He turns to look at her, half way down the sidewalk, with his hands in his pockets, just as unaware as anything as Sam is.

“Look,” she says and juts her head down the way toward the car.

Sam looks over her shoulder and sees nothing but a few cars parked around threes. An old black car that looks like it belongs in a car show just pulled in next to theirs, but besides that, there was nothing. “What?” he asks Meg.

She shakes her head and pushes him in front of her. “Nat’l get the car.”

When they finally do get in the car, Sam pulls out the journal and the pen and writes on the next available page: Family definitely could be secret agents. Explains secrets.

They drive all night and into the next day. They’re somewhere in Nevada when he wakes up. He first notices a parking lot and a sign for some motel.

“Get up, we’re moving into a room.” Meg says, opening the passenger door and standing up, a big bag slung over her shoulder.

“How long have we been driving?” Sam asks, getting up and doing the same.

Meg shrugs. “Dad can drive for a while.”

Sam looks up and sees the sun setting over the hotel. “Yeah, I guess he can.”

Their father, Sam can’t really call him Dad yet, walks over to the car, swinging the keys on his hands. “Got us two rooms. Sam you can stay with me.”

“Okay,” he says, picks up another bag of belongings from the hospital and follows them toward two doors straight ahead.

*****

Somewhere in his waking moments he realized that now that he found out something more about his life that the nightmares might stop. He was wrong.

The one that night was the same as the others. Flames and screams not his own. He wakes up twisted in his sheets and with his father sitting up on the bed, hands folded over his chest. “We should talk.”

“Yeah?” Sam says, pushing over the blankets so that his long legs are bare, the hair stands up on them and a rotten egg smell makes him wrinkle his nose.

Meg glances over her shoulder at the adjoining door where Sam can see their father walking around inside. “Dad doesn’t want me to tell you but I think there are some things you should know.”

“Like what?” Sam wipes his face for the last remnants of sleeps.

“Do you have nightmares?” And then she smiles. It’s not a nice smile. “Of course you do. But lately, have you had nightmares?”

Sam nods and Meg’s grin grows wider. “Yeah, welcome to the club kiddo.”

“Let me guess?” Meg says and repositions herself on the next bed so her legs are crossed. “Screaming, fire, flashy images but you know they can’t be good.”

When Sam nods again, Meg’s face goes hard. “I’m sorry this had to happen to you too.”

“What had to happen to me?”

“You have been given a gift, Sam. You’re seeing the future. I have it too. It’s because our mother died and the demon that killed her gave us these powers.”

“Demon? There’s no such thing,” Sam says. He goes to stand up, ready to grab his book and write about how his sister is a crazy person. That’s why he ran away to Stanford.

Meg has his wrist in a tight grip. “Sam, I wouldn’t lie to you. And you knew about demons too, before the accident. Dad and I sent you to Stanford to protect you.”

Sam’s shaking his head and Meg pulls at his arm so he sits on the bed again. The covers are all crumpled and make sitting on them uncomfortable. “The demon attacked the campus. That’s why we’re running now. We have to get away from the demon.”

Dad comes in a minute later and clears his throat. “Check out time, have to get on the road.”

Meg stares into his eyes for a second before grabbing a bag on the side table and walking out the door. As it slams behind them, their father turns to him. “Everything alright, son?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Sam says, and follows him out to the car.

*****

He’s gotten through half the journal when his hand starts to cramp and his eyes start to droop. Having nightmares doesn’t exactly allow for a peaceful sleep and Sam feels comfortable in the backseat. He can’t ignore the familiarity, of being in the car for long hours, windows down, someone nudging into him, playing games to pass the time. It feels like a dream. Maybe he just hopes for his memories back so he creates his own.

He falls asleep right after he tucks the journal under him. He doesn’t think his father or Meg will try to read it but he doesn’t want to leave it exposed; it’s the one thing that he knows for himself and that no one has to tell him. It’s the only thing he has from after the accident.

The flashes come fast and pounding, screams accompany it, although they are more like shouts.

“SAM!” A man’s voice, not his father’s, deeper, familiar.

“Please, Sam.” Another voice, more achingly familiar. A face, a little older than him, green eyes, stubble on the chin, face contorted in pain. “Please.”

“Killers. They lie.” Meg, face looming, contorted in anger. “Don’t listen to them.

“Why Sam, why?” A girl, long blonde hair, pretty face, stomach slashed open.

“NO!” He jumps up, eyes opening inches from the seat in front.

“Sam?”

“Son? “

Dad and Meg have both turned their heads. They’re parked in front of a small white house. A blinking sight says OFFICE in red and another says VACANCY.

“Are you okay/” Meg asks, her eyebrows together to form a blonde line above her eyes.

“Yeah,” Sam says, rubbing at his head. “I’m fine.”

Dad gives him a once over before exiting the car and Meg gets out too. She opens the other back door and climbs in. “Happened again right?”

Sam nods,* leaning back against the seat, shifting so that the journal he forgot was there was no longer making an indent on his leg.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. We’ll get away.”

“Why did I see two people, in my dream? You said there was a demon. You never said there was demons.”

Meg smiles softly. “They’re multiple. What can I say?”

Sam closes his eyes and Meg rubs a hand over his head. “It’ll all work out. Promise.”

*****

Sam goes into the bathroom to wash his face off. It’s not until he splashes the water on him that he realizes he could benefit from a shower. He steps out, grabs his clothes and then goes back into the bathroom and turns the water on as hot as it’ll go, steam already fogging up the mirror.

When he gets out Meg and their father are arguing.

“Why don’t you just put up some neon signs or hell, call all the hunters and tell them we’ve got him!” Meg says, her voice kept low but loud enough that Sam could still here her.

“I’ve got this all planned.”

“So you want them to find us? Or all the other hunters? We’re in goddamn Lawrence. You don’t think he’ll see the trail and know exactly where we’re headed?”

“I’m just heading through.”

Meg snorts. “No, no, you want to get John’s attention. You want him to find us. And what then?”

Their dad chuckles. “Then we’ll kill him.”

Sam finds his journal and writes something about how his family is filled with sociopaths.

He gets to sleep soon after that and doesn’t have any dreams. He actually might have had one about not having any nightmares but it soon turns into one after he hears the screaming.

“Son of a bitch! Sam!”

He wakes to Meg pounding through the door that joins the room together.

“He’s here,” she says and grabs him.

“What?”

“The demon, he’s here, let’s go!” She says and tugs on him and Sam manages to grab the journal before she drags him through the door.

Dad’s getting his boots on, not hurrying like Meg is. “What the hell are you doing?” She nearly screeches.

“He won’t find us.”

They hear gunshot somewhere and shouting. “…Is that...?”

“Latin,” Meg says and Sam swears her eyes flash black. “Hell no, let’s go.”

Dad nods and grabs his own bag that’s on the television stand. There aren’t many things in the room but he grabs everything, the shirt hanging over a chair, a few books and some bottles from the bathroom and throws them in the bag. Meg is at the window the whole time, head going back and forth between their dad and what’s outside.

“Let’s go,” Dad says and grabs Sam’s wrist as Meg throws open the door. Dad pushes him out and jerks his head in the direction of their car on the other side of the parking lot.

Sam thinks he sees that old black car from Stanford but Meg’s pushing him in the car so fast he doesn’t have time to get a good look.

*****

The next time he opens his eyes, they’re in Colorado.

“Why’re we here?” Sam asks as Meg and him sit at a booth in some diner.

“Dad knew a guy here who had a gun that could end this whole thing.”

“A gun?”

“That can kill anything, even demons.”

Sam blows out his breath. “Dad’s going to kill the demon?”

“Well, there’s another way to do it.”

“Another way?”

Meg’s eyes almost sparkle. “See only one person can really end this, can make all the demons disappear.”

“Who?”

Meg stares at him. “You.”

“How so?”

“This gun is a key to a secret place that has this special energy. The energy will wipe out demons and ghosts and all the bad things.”

“Where is it?”

“Wyoming.”

“Why me?”

Meg shrugged. “Don’t know.”

They head back to the hotel where Dad is waiting. He’s sitting on one of the beds, his head slumped and an old gun in his hand.

“Dad?” Meg asks and Dad’s head snaps up. His face is pale, his eyes are bloodshot.

“Are you alright?”

“They killed him,” Dad whispers. “They killed Daniel.”

Meg kneels down to Dad’s side. “Who killed Daniel?”

“The demons. They knew what we were planning.” Dad shakes a little. “He hid it though, hid it good. I knew where to find it.”

Everything is quiet and then Dad looks up at Sam. “I’m sorry son, that you had to learn about this. I thought if anything, you shouldn’t know. Meg told me about your dreams.”

Sam nods and swallows. “This gun,” his dad says, lifting it,“is a key to a power that can wipe out our enemies. I believe in you Sam. Your mother believed in you.”

His father wipes his eyes and stands up, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can do this, Sammy.”

Sam feels a chill go down his spine and he smells the rotten eggs again. A sudden flash of light hit shim so hard that he falls to his knees. He thinks he hears Meg scream his name.

A cemetery, black smoke. “SAM!” The older man, up against a wall, shaking,” Please, Sam, Sammy, no.” Blood on the lips of the younger man. Meg, eyes narrowed, lips set in a thin line. “Liars, killers.”

“Why Sam? Why?” The same blonde girl. Blood dripping down.

When he opens his eyes, someone is gripping his shoulders tight.

He tries to breathe but no air comes in. Meg keeps whispering to him, “It’s okay, Sam, it’s okay.”

“Who is she?”

Meg tilts her head. “Who?”

“The girl in my vision, the girl who’s screaming.”

“Oh,” Meg says and looks down.

“Jess.”

“Who?” Sam asks.

“Your girlfriend, Jessica.”

“No one ever told me…”

Meg looks down. “Dad didn’t think it was a good idea. He thought it would be…too painful.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Jess was taken by the demons. They thought that if you remembered anything, it would be her.”

Sam shakes his head. “Why?”

“They want you to give yourself to them, in exchange for her.”

Sam stands up. “Then I’ll do it!”

“No, Sam!” Meg says and grabs his arm like she’s always doing. “That’s exactly what they want. She…she may be dead for all we know.”

Sam bites down hard and locks his jaw. “I’m sorry,Sam,” Meg whispers. She turns around and walks over to the table that one of her bags is on. She reaches in and hands her a picture frame. “Here.”

There’s a picture of himself and the girl from his dream. She’s beautiful and Sam wishes he remembered her. He could forget his own name, everything else, if he just remembered her.

Dad comes in a second later. “I think the sooner we go, the better.”

Sam puts the picture with his journal and follows them out.

*****

“This place is bound by magic in the silver. We cannot step through, only you and the demons. If you knock a piece out, we’ll be able to help you.”

Dad says and they walk down the road. Meg points to a piece of silver on the ground. “Just knock it loose.”

“How?” Sam asks.

“Concentrate.”

Sam doesn’t know what that means but he stands in front on the track and imagines the piece coming undone, he imagines moving it. He needs to move it, for himself, his family, and his mother, for Jess.

“Awesome.” Meg says and grins and Sam looks down and the piece has moved not by much but it’s enough because Meg dances over the silver.

“We can kill the demon now?” Sam asks, hoping that once the demon is dead, Jess will be safe.

His dad grins. “There will be no dead demons today.” And he waves his arm and suddenly Sam’s flying back and he lands into a tree, the air getting knocked out of him.

“Thanks a lot, Sam.”

Meg starts giggling manically and Sam feels the sudden urge to throw up.

That’s when the men from his dreams and Jess run through.

“SAM!” the younger man screams.

“Uh uh uh, not so fast.” His father says and puts a hand out and suddenly they stop and then go flying each onto their own trees, across from Sam.

“Those are—“

“Not demons, silly.” Meg says and walks over and caresses Sam’s face. The rotten egg smell combined with the headache makes Sam gag. “See, actually, we’re demons.” Her eyes flash black and Sam’s happy that he wasn’t imagining things before. “They—”she points toward the newcomers “—are your actual family.”

The demon pretending to be his dad flashes yellow eyes. “I tricked him,” he says, to the two men and girl, his family. “I made him believe I was his father. How rich is that? How do you feel about that, John?”

“You son-of-a—“

“That’s no way to treat someone who looked after your son!” Yellow Eyes wagged his finger in front of John, his real father. “But I must say we formed quite the bond, didn’t we, Sam?”

Yellow Eyes waves his hand and suddenly Sam’s falling forward. “Stand .” He says.

Sam gets to his knees, unable to stand up because they’re wobbly. “Since you did me a favor. I’ll do you two favors, although you might take one of them as a curse.”

Yellow Eyes waves his hand again and an agonizing pain rips through his head sending him through his knees. “SAM!” Three voices scream together, three people who care about him and suddenly Sam can remember.

“Deeen. Can you say Deeen, Sammy?”

“You’re my little brother. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Good job, kiddo, you read that book all by yourself!”

“My name is Sammy Winchester. I’m five years old and I have the best family in the world.”

“You sure you want to play soccer, kiddo? What about bow hunting?”

“Yeah sure, brat, you can learn how to drive in the Impala.”

“Bitch,”

“Jerk.”

“You walk out that door, don’t come back.”

“I’m Jess Moore.”

“So I was thinking that we could get an apartment together.”

“I love you.”

Sitting in the apartment, Jess making grilled cheese, he’s reading a book, the title and what it was about unimportant now, an explosion near by, some screams, the apartment shakes. He has the need to get up, run toward it, to help.

“I’ll be right back, stay here.”

He’s not a fool, the apartment’s protected, but not by demons, he didn’t think about demons. He gets outside the apartment in time to see the smoke from the campus rise in the air when he blacks out.

“Sam!” More screams. “Sammy?”

His breathing was ragged and the pain in his head made him bow his head to the ground. “How do those memories feel?” Yellow eyes said, getting close to him, breath on his ear.

“Don’t touch him!” a voice (Dean or Dad, he wasn’t sure) said.

Sam wished he could get up, wished he could take a swing at the son-of-a-bitch but he couldn’t even move.

Yellow Eyes grabbed his head. “Now get up. You have to choose which person you want to live.”

Sam wrenched his head out of the demon’s grasp, and Yellow Eyes dragged him up.

The demon shoved a gun in Sam’s hand. “How do you think it will feel, John?” the demon asked. “To be killed with your own gun?”

Dad just stared at him. “Nice replica by the way. Did you mean to get to Manning first? Switch the colt with something else?” Yellow Eyes shook his head. “Not a smart plan.”

The demon smiles. “Now, Sam, you know how this goes. You get to pick one of them to live, the rest to die. Who will it be?”

Sam swung the gun around and pointed it at the demon. “Or how bout I just shoot you?”

Yellow Eyes laughs. “Sorry kiddo, this gun won’t kill me. And if you do pull that trigger, Meg over there will open the devil’s gate a lot faster. See, we only need one demon to get out. That’ll take a few minutes. But if I let it open for more that that, well.” T*he demon grins ruefully. “Hundreds, thousands of demons, will escape. Hell on Earth and all that. So pick whom you want and get it over with. You can get out and far away by the time Meg lets Liltith out.”

Sam grips the gun tight as Meg walks over to a coliseum. She waves a hand and then enters a gun into the side. “Hurry up, Sammy, times a wastin’.”

“Who’s it going to be, Sammy? Personally, I wouldn’t pick John. He’s old and you both know that you get into too many fights to actually really get along. And Dean? Dean’s so broken he could star in a soap opera. They don’t make broken like him anymore. He’s useless. Nearly had a mental breakdown when you went missing. Nah, pick Jess. That way you could finally be normal. Start that family you always wanted. Move away.”

Sam’s hands are sweating and he meets Dad’s eyes. He hasn’t seen his father in almost three years and he feels like a kid again. He wants to say I miss you, I love you, please help me. He can’t bear to look at Dean or Jess. Dad nods at the gun and nods toward the demon.

“Do it,” he mouths and suddenly, Meg’s yelling.

“It doesn’t work! It won’t open!”

Yellow Eyes is launching at Sam, but Sam’s the one with the gun and he fires immediately. The demon falls to the floor, a light exploding in him, and his eyes flash as he dies.

Meg screams, and before Sam can react, he lifts the gun and shoots her too.

This gun was the colt.

“Sam!” Jess is running toward him as the demon’s power wears off and he grabs her for a hug, they break apart as Dean comes, grabs his face, and looks in his eyes.

“Sammy.”

They hug tight for a minute and Sam realizes just how much he missed his brother.

“You did it,” he thinks Dean says.

When they break apart Sam comes face to face with his father. “Dad…” he starts, but John just grabs him and says,

“It’s good to see you, son.”

John doesn’t even know how true that is.

*****

They sit in the Impala, Dean with his head back on the seat and his eyes closed. Dad went to get some coffee at a mart across the street; Sam just thinks he needs a walk. It’s not everyday you find and kill the thing that killed your wife twenty-three years ago and almost die the same day. Jess went into the room to take a shower, Sam followed her inside and they sat down on the same bed and stared at each other.

“So…demons?” she says, smirking at him.

He laughs so hard and his hands start to shake. “I’m sorry,” he says, but she kisses him and it’s her way of saying it’s all right.

Dean never left the front seat of the car. When Sam came back out his head was bent, his forehead on the steering wheel. Sam couldn’t read his expressions that way, but his eyes were cloudy when he opened the Impala’s door.

They’ve been quiet for a few minutes and then Dean turns toward him, his face hard. “You ever go missing like that again, amnesia or not, I’ll kick your ass.”

Sam blinks and Dean shakes his head, a lazy grin appearing on his face. “Jessica’s pretty damn good with a gun.”

“I don’t want to know how you know that.”

“I’m not up for sharing either.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam reaches back with his long arm and his hand locates the journal where he threw it on the floor when they got in the car. It’s dirty and beat up now and Sam runs a hand over it so he can see its cover better.

Dean raises one eyebrow at him. “What’s that?”

“I wrote everything in here the last few days.”

Dean shakes his head. “Girl.”

Sam opens the book. He filled it up more with random thoughts, almost memories, and what he now knows were the demon and Meg’s lies.

The last page of the journal, the last one he wrote about was talking about ending it, the demon, and his amnesia. He had a bad feeling in the car on the way to Wyoming, like deep down he knew they were lying but he didn’t know anything other than what they told him in order to know it wasn’t the truth.

“What did you write there?” Dean asks nodding to where Sam’s got the book folding in front on him, his print too small for Sam to read.

Sam’s eyes catch the last line, and he turns and smiles at his brother.

“We’ve got work to do.”