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The blond-haired little boy looked down lovingly at the young baby in the cot, his small hand tracing a light caress on its chubby cheek.
Ever since his little brother was born, Dean had been enthralled by Sammy's antics, his gurgles, and especially his toothless smiles which little Dean was convinced the baby reserved for him alone.
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"Isn't Sammy afraid when we leave him all by himself in here?" Dean asked his father who'd scooped him up in his arms, ready to whisk him off to bed.
"Don't worry, Bud, Mom and I can hear every little squeak he makes and we'll be in as soon as he cries," John replied consolingly.
Dean nodded, but he remained unconvinced.
Tomorrow he'd ask his mother if he could sleep in Sammy's room so that he could watch out for him. After all, in a few months time he'd be five, old enough to take care of his little brother.
He snuggled down under his covers, content with the decision he'd just taken. He was sure his mom would agree, she knew how much he loved Sammy.
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Little Dean's thoughts were beyond prophetic for he wasn't to know that in a few hours his entire world would be turned upside down and shattered into a myriad of pieces, the shards waiting in line to pierce his heart and body as he grew to manhood.
Nor could he have imagined that the life and upbringing of his baby brother would be squarely placed on his small shoulders, shoulders, however, which would be strong enough to bear the weight of whatever was to come, for both of them.
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At five minutes past two o'clock on the morning of the second of November, nineteen eighty-three when his father placed Sammy in his skinny arms and told him to take his brother outside and watch out for him, John had unknowingly set in motion a relationship between his boys that would outlast Life, Death, Heaven, Hell and the Apocalypse itself.
Dean's eyes met with those of his baby brother and he knew he'd never allow any harm to come to the warm little bundle in his arms that stared up at him so trustingly.
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John sat on the hood of his car watching the firemen wrestle with the flames.
He was a simple man who loved his wife, his sons, his job and the life he led, but now he didn't know what to feel.
He'd just been witness to Mary burning like a flaming torch on the ceiling. What he'd seen was impossible, and he knew he'd never rest until he solved the enigma of her death.
For a second he completely forgot about the two children nestled in his arms, as the first dark tendrils of obsession infiltrated his mind and heart.
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Twenty-two years later.
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Sam had tried to avoid the whole idea of the Halloween party. He hated Halloween because he knew exactly what lay behind it, and if the party-goers and "trick and treat kids" ever found out its real meaning, they'd be running away in horror from any kind of celebration of the event.
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He sighed. Well they didn't know, and as he certainly wasn't going to be the one to burst their bubble, he'd go along with it, but he irremovably drew the line at dressing up.
He perked up as Jessica approached, her nurse's costume suited her down to a tee, enhancing her already considerable beauty. He still couldn't understand what she saw in him but he wasn't going to rain down on his good luck.
As the night progressed, Sam's boredom intensified and he continued to curse the stupid Halloween party, his mind dwelling on a much more rewarding way of passing the time, namely curled up in bed with Jess, their naked bodies pressed one to the other, giving and receiving pleasure, but he'd make up for that later, his erotic fantasies conjuring up scenarios to give his girl even greater satisfaction.
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None of these considerations were visible on Sam's face however as he pretended to enjoy the party.
Scanning the room while Jess was chatting with her friends, his gaze posed for an instant on his own friend Brady. Inexplicably, Sam thought he'd caught a fleeting expression of hate in the other kid's eyes, but he shook it off, putting it down to his imagination playing up.
As if to confute Sam's impression, Brady made his way over to the table, a hearty grin on his face as he twirled the tail on his red demon costume to the beat of the music, provoking a fit of laughter in the onlookers at his ridiculous antics.
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Dean parked the Impala outside his brother's lodgings. He knew exactly where Sam lived, even if hadn't seen him in three years.
Three long years.
He'd missed his baby brother terribly. If someone had amputated an arm or leg it couldn't have been any more painful for Dean, and yet a part of him was happy and proud that his little brother had found the courage to stand up to John and to get away from the dangers of the hunting life. With a full ride to Stanford, no less!
The elder Winchester had dedicated these three years to the hunt, at first working in tandem with his father then carrying out the occasional job on his own.
Recently, however, John had gone AWOL and Dean had never felt so alone and vulnerable, so he'd come to Sammy,
After all, John was his father too, and Sam was well aware of the dangers of their life.
Maybe Sam would be worried if he knew of John's disappearance.
Waiting until dark, Dean let himself into the small flat, preferring to speak to his brother without being seen by the other students.
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Sam's keen hearing awoke him from the light sleep he'd just fallen into after the fiery passion he and Jess had shared, and he quickly got to his feet, afraid not of an ordinary intruder, but of some supernatural entity.
Oh, he took as many precautions as he could to protect the flat but there were just some he wouldn't have been able to explain away to Jess, so he hadn't been able to activate them all.
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He saw a dark shadow move through the sitting room and he bided his time, before intercepting the dark shadow. As Sam struggled, his instinct averted him that this person wasn't here to hurt him and that there was something very familiar about his scent and body.
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When Sam eventually looked into his brother's smiling eyes, all he wanted to do was cry, the love and need for Dean that he'd pushed down into the depths of his soul in order to survive without him, was traitorously coming to the surface.
They pulled each other to their feet. Eyes that had not shared a glance in three long years, drinking in the sight and wonder of their sibling, both lost in a dimension of their own.
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The spell was broken only when Jess emerged, concerned by the noises she'd heard.
Dean was the first to react as he smilingly looked her over, mentally complimenting his little brother for his good taste but she held his attention for only a moment. He was here for Sam!
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After the shock of finally meeting Sam's mysterious brother, Jessica studied him curiously.
He was every bit as handsome as Sam, but with a cocky swaggering bad-boy attitude coupled with a menacing aura of danger that Sam didn't possess, and as she watched them standing one in front of the other, she could practically see the bursts of energy that crackled between them.
Just what kind of brothers were they, she found herself thinking.
Unaware of Jess' musings, Dean had turned back to Sam and to the reason for his visit, their father's disappearance.
Sam had instinctively taken his place beside Jess, more as a defiant move than anything else because the moment he'd held his brother in his arms his heart had flipped over, and all that he'd deemed important here at Stanford no longer seemed so significant.
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Alone outside, Dean explained the problem, leaving Sam surprised to hear that his sibling had been hunting on his own. Hunting was a dangerous business at the best of times but with no back-up, that danger racked up exponentially.
What had John been thinking of, deserting Dean like that?
As he mused on his dad's actions, the irony was not lost on Sam. He too had left Dean on his own and Sam felt the first waves of guilt wash over him. He'd been here, safe at Stanford while Dean was in continual danger, and so he just didn't have the heart to deny his brother when he asked for help in tracing their dad.
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Jess watched preoccupied as Sam packed his duffel.
Did she imagine it, or was that some sort of wicked-looking curved knife she'd see him furtively shove into the bag? Just what was going on?
"I'll be back for the interview on Monday," Sam assured her when she reminded him worriedly about it, but Jess sensed that something had changed and that Sam's attention had shifted from her to his dangerous big brother.
She had a bad feeling that this night marked the end of everything she'd known and the beginning of something else.
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When Sam took his place in the front seat of the Impala next to his brother, he knew he'd come home and however hard he fought against it, having every intention of going back to Stanford and to Jess, he'd be denying the very reason of his existence.
He tried to cover up his pleasure at being on the road again, free and unfettered, with the person he loved and cared for most at his side and he couldn't stop the insidious thought that infiltrated his mind, insisting he'd made a terrible mistake in running away to Stanford, and that the world was righted only now, back at Dean's side.
The Impala roared into the darkness, Dean's strong hands guiding her towards the future.
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They'd done it; him and Dean! They'd eliminated the Woman in White.
Sam had gone with his instinct when he'd driven the Impala into the old rickety house that had once been Constance's home.
She'd repeated over and over that she 'could never go home', so that's where Sam had taken her.
Out of the corner of his eye he'd caught sight of Dean's confused expression when the car roared forward, smashing through the wall of the decrepit house.
At first Constance had turned on the brothers but when she'd seen the ghosts of her drowned children she soon forgotten about the Winchesters, all her attention taken up by their familiar voices.
The brothers watched shocked as the three spirits merged and slipped down through the floorboards, slithering off to some unknown destination.
Afterwards, Sam had basked in his big brother's praise for his spot-on intuition, feeling really alive for the first time in well …in three years.
Just a minute! What the hell was he thinking, Sam asked himself? He'd gone to Stanford to get away from this life and here he was enjoying the thrill and the adrenaline surge of a successful hunt.
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However, now that he thought on it, this was the first time he and Dean had actually carried out a hunt on their own.
When they were younger, Sam had been left behind in the Impala or in their current motel room while John took Dean with him, with Sam condemned to doing research.
He glanced surreptitiously over at Dean as he backed the Impala out of the debris. His brother's face was set in a smile.
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Sam sensed that the rhythm of the past years at Stanford was at an end and his certainties no longer as unshakeable as before.
Now that he had Dean back in his life there was no way he was going to let him go.
This situation had been all John's fault, well nearly, for Sam could admit now that he'd demonstrated the same stubbornness he'd criticized in his father.
However if John had been a little more understanding and a little less obsessed with finding the cause of his wife's death, Sam could have gone to Stanford with the support of his family instead of having to cut himself off.
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"So, Sam, where do those coordinates lead?" Dean's voice asked, bringing Sam out of his reverie,
"Um, some nature reserve, Black Water Ridge. Right in the middle of nowhere," Sam replied as he checked his findings. " It's about six or seven hours from here."
"Okay then, bro. Let's see if my Baby can shorten that time a little," Dean replied, energized by Sam's presence.
"I can't, Dean. I have to get back to Stanford for the interview Monday morning," Sam countered, feeling like crap at having to deny his brother.
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Sam could see the disappointment blossom in Dean's face though he covered quickly.
"Right, the interview!" was all he said, and they drove on in stilted silence until the familiar lodgings at Stanford came into view.
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"Dean, I…"
"It's all right, Sammy. I get it," Dean soothed, the thought of hitting the road alone again after these brief but awesome days passed with his baby brother, was twisting his heart into a pretzel, but he put a brave face on it and did what he'd done best all his life, make things as easy as he could for the little brother he adored.
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Dean hardly listened as Sam mumbled about calling and keeping in touch. He had to go now or he'd make a fool of himself by crying or doing something equally embarrassing, so he put the Impala into drive and roared off.
Though Dean hadn't actually met with Sam the past three years, he'd watched him like some crazy stalker him from afar the many times he'd come to California to check on him, and now he wondered just how long it would be until he saw his baby brother again.
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Sam's heart had taken on the same pretzel-like twist as his big brother's, his eyes misting up as he watched Dean driving off, but he'd made his bed and now he'd just have to lie on it!
He tried to compose himself before going up to Jess.
His tangled-up family life was his problem, and just as he'd shared nothing but a few breadcrumbs of it with Jess until now, Sam still didn't see any reason for explaining anything more, though Dean had pointed out that if Sam was really serious about the girl maybe he should enlighten her about the supernatural and just what she might be getting into.
No, Sam affirmed to himself, Jess would never be drawn into that world. He'd make sure of that
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He let himself in, smiling as he bit down on one of the cookies she'd left out for him. He could hear the shower running and he threw himself down on the bed, anticipating her arrival and the feel of her soft body next to his.
At first he didn't pay any attention to the wet drops that began to trickle onto his face, but their persistence made him look up.
He'd been only a baby when his mother died but he knew the details of her death as if he'd witnessed it himself. John had described the scene again and again, and Sam was horrified as he realised history was repeating itself here and now.
He screamed Jess' name as he watched the greedy flames envelop her.
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Back in the Impala, Dean tapped annoyed on the dashboard when it started to flicker. "Come on, Baby, don't you make things friggin' worse!" he cursed under his breath.
But the sudden clarity of what was going on washed over him and he turned the Impala round and roared back to Sam's apartment.
"Please, don't let it be happening again, please don't let it be happening again!" Dean repeated over and over like some Tibetan mantra as he sprinted up the stairs to Sam's flat.
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Of course, Winchester luck dictated it to be the exact repetition of what Dean had already lived through, only this time an innocent young woman was burning in agony on the ceiling and his struggling brother was stubbornly trying to join her in the flaming orgy of fire.
Well, there was no way that that was happening, Dean vowed, dragging a yelling Sam out of the building, his little brother fighting him every inch of the way.
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When it was all over, Dean joined Sam next to the Impala's open trunk, and his heart which had already been wounded so many times took another hit. In his sibling's moss-green eyes the beginning of the self-same obsession that had taken possession of his father, causing him to push everything including his children, into second place, was eerily present.
"Let's go Dean. We've got work to do," Sam's unnaturally cold voice proclaimed, and the brothers unknowingly took the first step on an incredible journey that would change their lives forever, form a bond of brotherhood so resilient it could only be bent but never broken, and seal their destiny, whenever it finally caught up with them.
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The End.