A/N: This isn't the entire forth chapter. I don't really plan on posting on ffn anymore, but since people keep putting this story on alert, I feel it would be wrong not to tell you guys where you can find this story, and all my other stories, from now on.

Also, this story took a turn I did not foresee, and because of that, I'm rewriting it now, from the beginning.

I will be posting the new chapters, as well as my other stories on my lj: http: / sams1ra.livejournal (dot)com. Hope to see you guys there!

Chapter Four

2008

Sam aligned his next shot, glimpsing at his brother before taking the shot. Forth 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 sunk 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 kinda hoping for her friend. Oh, well. It's been a while, and they have 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 on, 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 finished their hunt the night before, they were taking some time for themselves and they were completely ignoring the huge pink elephant in the room.

Dean was running out of time, demons were gunning for them, a war was 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. He cupped some lukewarm water, gargled and spit it out to get rid of the acrid taste in his mouth.

Sam got out of the bathroom. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the empty, still made bed next to his.

Nine months, and he 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 there's another deal to be made, or a way to sweeten the deal, a loophole, something. Just because Sam hadn't found one yet, doesn't mean it's not…

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, to not having Dean around anymore. He was going to have to remember to get rooms with a single bed after… No, screw that. Sam might be a selfish bastard, but there's no way he was gonna 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 by, 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, supplying his donation 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 a piece of crap, but at least he wasn't vomiting anymore, and he didn't feel like smashing his own head with a mullet just to ease the pain.

Groaning, Sam squinted at the other bed. It was 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 didn't 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.

Getting dressed, Sam went out in search of breakfast.

The room was still empty by the time Sam came back from his 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'd parked it last night. Laney confirmed the car was there after closing time, she said she just assumed it belonged to someone too drunk to drive, said these things happen.

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 started looking for the brunette's friend from the previous night. Problem is, he barely remembered last night, the brunette's friend, or the brunette's name. That? Complicated things a little…

TBC (on LJ)