Title: Circles

By: Williamson Scott

Rated: T- heavy language

A/N: Okay, I started working on this particular fic in the early parts of Season One. However, as with life, things happened and it sort of disappeared, but no matter how hard you try to escape it, irony bites you in the behind. So, here is the little piece madness as the title suggests. I hope you enjoy!

Somehow I know fate has a twisted, sick sense of humor. Why else would every damn day always seem to be stuck in some godforsaken repeat. I get up in the morning, I drive fast and far, and then my brother and I fight some unnatural thing hell bent on giving us an early ticket to the afterlife. It's the SSDD. Same Shit Different Day Saga, I swear.

I stupidly thought this morning was a start to something different, something new. Something I could finally say was normal. Boy, was I fucking wrong. SSDD struck again. The fates, I hate them, would damn them to all eternity in the Underworld if that was an option. But unfortunately, it wasn't. I still remember thinking to myself, as I watched the sun peak over the mountain range, that a nice, quiet day and drive with my kid brother would be on the day's menu. I thought that the circle would be bigger this time, instead of being stuck in a 24 hour clock wise motion. I thought that this would be one day my brother and I would be able to escape this fucked up existence we had been thrust into... just one day. Whoever said the shortest distance between two points was a straight line is an idiot. I've made the discovery of a lifetime. Any distance was short when you're stuck in a fucking circle of weirdness, consuming madness and never-ending nightmares.

Yeah, it's the never-ending nightmare that has the shortest destination plan. Just ask Sammy. Hell, just ask me. Dean, the human shield of no pain, no friends, no life. Yeah, just ask me. I'll tell you about the circle of hell as it started once again this morning. Sam and I had stopped at a non-descript rest area off I-40 in Vega, Texas. It really hit home how ironic and cruel the hands of fate could be to someone who laughed into the face of danger and death. It was finally understood by me that life would always have a way of finding me. Life would always show me how precious and short it can be... and it did.

It was about 5:20 AM, Saturday, November 5, 2005. Sam and I had been driving for over 12 hours, not with any particular destination in mind. We had left St. Louis behind, thankfully. I don't think I would have enjoyed staying there much longer.

Anyway, we had pulled into this little rest area with a well lit parking lot and vending machines screaming my name.

"Hey, Sam," I nudged his arm and waited for his bleary eyes to open. Apparently, his eyes were defying logic this fine, misty morning. "Hey, shit for brains." This time the nudge was a well placed smack up side his head.

The responding action was priceless. The kid reacted in typical hunter mode. Before his eyes even opened, his hand had grasped the 9mm hid strategically underneath the seat of the car and was up and poised for firing. Thankfully, I had expected this reaction and quickly relieved my brother of his weapon.

"What the..." Sam's eyes finally followed his brain's neurons, opened, and quickly latched onto mine with a glare worthy of John Winchester.

"Morning, Sunshine." I put the safety back on the gun and replaced it under the seat. "Now that you're up, go grab us something out of the vending machines and some coffee, while I drain the lizard." I tossed him a handful of change and didn't even wait for an acknowledgment.

I swung the door open and all but ran to the nearest head. Those two cups of coffee after Midnight had finally caught up with me. Ah, relief.

I had finished with my business and was headed out of the bathroom door when a sound not foreign to my ears, assaulted me. Gunfire. What the hell?

I pushed the door all the way open and quickly assessed the area for danger. When my gaze caught the scene in front of me, I wanted to turn and run back into the bathroom.

Over the years, I have become accustomed and even apathetic to certain scenarios, but this was one I would only get over when my death had occurred. There was Sammy, being held hostage by a ragtag bastard brandishing a snub nose .38.

I don't know what struck me as odd first. One, the guy was at least 6 inches shorter than Sam or two, there was no one else in the area but me and a State Trooper.

I reacted normally as if this was some pissed off spirit out to ruin the Winchester hunting record.

"Hey, asshole, let him go." I stepped forward, now only about 4 feet from them. I don't why I didn't notice this earlier, but the guy wasn't focused on me, but the State Trooper who was pointing a 9mm Glock at the perp's head.

The snub nose swung toward me and I was now staring into a gun barrel and my brother's questioning and frightened eyes beyond that. I raised an eyebrow and shrugged my shoulders.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place jumped into my mind. I couldn't pull out my silver plated nine and add to the hand or when this all went down, a nice song and dance to the cop would have to be played. So, I did something I rarely, if ever, did in my lifetime... I stepped back and put my brother's life in someone else's hands.

I'll never do that again. I can't believe I was so fucking stupid. I knew there was only one person in this world or the next for that matter, that could take care of Sammy and that was me.

I'm just lucky I saw a bad situation going to hell in time to stop it. The State Trooper wasn't doing too bad of talking the whack job into giving up, but the unfortunate happened two seconds before the perp dropped his weapon.

The sound of blaring sirens of back up police entered the equation. The gunman's eyes registered the threat and sent a message to the lax fingers encircling the gun. The .38 became embedded into Sam's temple once more.

The cop gave a quick glance at the cars pulling in to the parking area and then back to the suspect. I saw his grip tighten on his gun handle and knew I had only a few seconds, if that, to get Sam out of this.

"Hey, buddy." I stepped in between the gunman and the cop, using myself as a shield. "Hey, brainless, we need to talk."

The guy blinked a couple of times in confusion before his face reflected anger. I never faltered as I stepped up within a foot of the guy and Sam. I could see the strain on Sammy's face. The bastard had him hunched over backwards, cutting off any attempt he could have had to break from this guy.

So, he's not a complete idiot.

"Look, you have something I want, and I can give you something you need." I reach into my pocket and pull out the Impala's keys. I thrust my head toward where the car is parked, thankfully on the opposite side of the cops. "You give me my kid brother, I'll give you the car and a chance to escape from these guys."

I make sure to keep my eyes averted from Sam's. I can feel the heat from his gaze searing into my skull as it is.

I know what he's thinking and frankly, don't give a rat's damn. I said it once and I'll say it again, I'll do anything to protect Sammy. Anything.

"Here." I push the keys toward the guy's gun hand. I watch and wait. I can see he's thinking very hard and then his gun eases away from Sam's head. He slowly releases his hold on Sam's shirt collar and moves him to the side.

It's at this point I forget exactly what happened. I vaguely recall dropping the Impala's keys and reaching out with both my hands. But the rest, a blur.

When reality returned, Sam was there saying my name over and over again. I finally came to my senses enough to tell him to shut the hell up. It's then I recognize the cop from earlier directly in front of me.

He didn't look very happy, but I didn't care. I quickly reached out and grabbed Sam's jacket, pulling him to me. "Don't ever do that again." I then force him away from me.

It took a few hours of promising to never interfere in a police situation again before they let Sam and me go. It was probably because it took me that long to sound sincere enough. My lying can be somewhat lacking when I'm pissed off.

It's now 10:41 AM and I-40 is stretching out before us. I've ignored the buzzing of Sam for the past 50 miles, but I feel him revving up seconds prior to the eruption.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?"

Doing, doing... well hell Sammy, what I always do.

I took my eyes off the road for a moment and glanced at the infuriated scowl of the youngest Winchester. Yep, full circle once more.

I turn back to the highway and simply reply.

"SSDD."

The End.

October 2006