I Call Him Sammy

Author's Notes:

Last Chapter of I Call Him Sammy, it's sequel will be called We Hunt Demons (Coming Soon).

Dean sang softly to himself as he pulled his car into the Roadhouse's dirt parking lot. Dean found himself singing more often on this hunting trip than any other he could remember. The trip had taken much longer than he had anticipated. It had been two long weeks since he left his father's journal in Sammy Harvelle's capable hands.

They'd talked on the phone, sent some text messages but never about anything serious. Dean mainly called for information about his hunt, information that he'd didn't really need. The truth was he enjoyed talking to Sam. The two were similar. Dean could tell him anything about his hunt and Sam would listen. Sam believed him because Sam knew what was in the dark.

He also loved teasing Sam too. He could still remember that beautiful blush on Sammy's face the night he left. And as long as Sam had the diary they had something to talk about, to connect them.

Believe it or not, Dean Winchester was shy. For some reason flirting with scantily dressed women or drop dead gorgeous chicks wasn't a problem for him. He didn't flirt with guys so he'd never had a problem. Sammy messed all that up. Dean couldn't stop himself from kissing Sam senseless that night two weeks ago. Dean didn't even like guys yet Sam invaded all his thoughts and sometimes his dreams.

His father would be ashamed of his more losing control over his emotions but Dean figured since his Dad wasn't around, who cared. But the fact that his Dad wasn't around to scold him made Dean sadder than even he could have imagined. But couldn't help feeling slightly relived at the same time mainly because he got to make his own choices and mistakes when on a hunt.

It was the dark morning hours on a Tuesday and there were no other cars parked in the parking lot. That would have struck Dean as odd but he noticed the closed sign on the door. He shrugged and turned off his baby. He broke into the Roadhouse quite easily. It was dark inside so Dean moved slowly.

When he heard and saw no one he turned around and figured he'd try the house. That was until someone grabbed him from behind. Immediately, Dean elbowed his attacker in the chest and pushed them to the ground using his body weight.

He looked at the person below him who was obviously a male. His head was to the side if he was unconscious Dean couldn't be 100 sure. Dean placed his hand on the guys chin and pulled his face towards him.

"Sam?"

Dean almost laughed Sam started to come to. Before Dean could get a smart ass comment out, Sam grabbed Dean shoulders and rolled the two of them around so he was on top. Dean figured the kid had come to and still didn't know it was him. So he laid there under Sammy till put two and two together.

"Dean?"

The half confusion, half flushed embarrassment was written all over Sam's face. It was cute, Dean knew that for sure.

Finally Dean broke the awkward silence something, "Sammy, if you wanted to be on top all you had to do was ask."

He listened to Sam groan in annoyance as he got off the floor and offered Dean a hand up.

"Dean, you scared the crap out of me." He whined.

"Aw, I'm sorry babe." Dean continued to smirk knowing full well Sam's face most probably bordering on dark red.

"Can he get some lights in here?" Dean muttered.

Sam grunted and walked to the door switching on the light system. He let himself look confused as Sam filched under the lighting.

"That's better."

Dean took a moment to look at Sam. He looked different than when Dean left. He was the same except the fact that he looked like he made slept in a few days. But Dean noticed something in his eyes had changed drastically.

"Sam, you look like hell." Dean said in a twisted attempt to see what was wrong.

"Ha, Ha." Sam rolled his eyes at Dean and for some reason the comforted him. Sam made his way to the bar. "What a drink?" he asked not only sounding slurred but using the wrong words. "Want a drink?" Sam quickly corrected.

"Sure, why not?" Dean replied. He took the beer Sam offered him and didn't bother to ask or look at what it was. His eyes were on Sam. The eerie silence surrounding him was getting unsettling.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" Dean finally asked deciding the more hands on approached was needed.

"Nothing, Dean. Really, it's nothing." Sam muttered before basically chugging his beer.

"Yeah, it really seems like nothing." Dean shot back.

"You wouldn't understand." Sam sighed.

"I've been told I've quite understanding by very many women around the United States of America and-"

"Just SHUT UP!" Sam screamed throwing his beer bottle across the room, "You have no idea how fucked up you father is, do you?"

Dean did not move a muscle. He'd punched men in the face for saying less about his father. His hero. He watched as Sam pulled out his father's journal and threw it at him sending pieces of papers flying.

"Take it back." Sam muttered as he started slumping and fell behind the bar. "Take it back…" Normal Dean would have grabbed the journal and left the idiot behind the bar in their drunken state. But it wasn't some idiot, it was Sam. He walked around the bar and saw Sam sprawled out on the ground. There were at least six or seven empty beer bottles at his feet. Well, that explained a lot and nothing. Sam was drunk but why?

"Hey, Sammy." Dean started, shaking the semi conscious giant. "We need to get you into bed." He explained.

Dean smiled and Sam looked at him with a goofy looking grin painted on his face. The kid was the strangest drunk Dean had ever met.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" he slurred.

Dean couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Come on, Sammy. My intentions are honorable, I promise."

Sam giggled before hiccupping. "Sorry," he murmured. "I d-don't usually get…this smashed."

"I can tell."

Dean wrapped Sam's arm around his shoulder and forced him to stand up.

"Now, where can I take you to lie down?" Dean inquired.

"Guest room…down that hall."

Dean watched Sam point to the wall and decided he meant the hall beside that wall. Dean slowly and carefully helped Sam move into the empty room. He lowered him onto the bed and sat next to him. As soon as Sam hit the bed he was asleep, Dean could tell by the soft snoring coming from him.

"Hell, Sammy. What did you read in that journal that screwed you up?" Dean whispered, as he brushed the hair out of Sam's face. "I guess I have to wait till morning to find out." Sam groaned as Dean pushed him over till there was a small space for him. Dean laid himself down and sighed heavily. Sam Harvelle was way too much trouble. That's the last thought he had before he felt arms surround and hold him like he was a teddy bear.

"Great." He muttered. The position wasn't as awkward as he thought it would be. So he decided it was better just to go to sleep and worry about it in the morning.--

The first thing Sam thought when he awoke the next morning was, 'Damn, my head hurts.' His second thought was confusion as he realized he was in the guest room of the Roadhouse. Then it hit him, the journal, the beer, and Dean. Oh, how he wanted to roll over and disappear after what he remembered from last night.

"Good morning, princess!" he heard Dean's chipper voice yell from the room next door. He watched the hunter walk in with a tray of food. "I made you breakfast, sweetie."

"You what?" Sam found himself answering in disbelief.

"Actually, you mother found out I was here, put a gun to head, and after some long negotiations decided to let me live my pathetic life and forced me to bring you breakfast." Dean smiled at him. "Orange juice?"

Sam tried to return a smile but could only concentrate on the throbbing of his head. He had to apologize now before Dean thought he was a total and complete jerk.

"Dean, I'm so sorry about—"

"Sam."

Sam shut his mouth and looked at Dean ready for him to be angry. Dean set the tray down on the nightstand next to him. He half expected Dean to slap or punch him for what he said about his father last night. Sam didn't let his eyes meet Dean's. Sam filched when he felt Dean's hand on his chin. Dean forced him to meet his eyes.

"Sam, I'm not angry with you." Dean finally said.

Sam could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He could be such a girl sometimes. Well, and he was having a killer hangover. Dean removed his hand and looked away.

"So…breakfast?"

Sam looked at his mother's cooking that usually made him smile with delight and felt his stomach churn. He pushed him way passed Dean to the small bathroom to throw up.

"I knew you were a lightweight!" He heard Dean yell at. Sam was starting to hate that smart ass.

But what Sam really hated was throwing up, it was tiring and embarrassing. He felt his body slipping to the floor. When he finished he just sat there. Wow, he had probably just freaked Dean out and he was never coming back. The last two weeks he had been waiting for Dean to come back and he picked last night to get smashed.

"Ugh." He groaned in frustration.

Sam felt his body tense up as a hand was placed on his back.

"Here, Sammy. Drink this."

Sam looked at Dean and the orange juice in Dean's hand. He really didn't want to drink it especially when the taste of vomit was still in his mouth. But he relented and started drinking the juice slowly. He started suddenly and looked to Dean.

"This isn't orange juice."

Dean smiled not looking at least bit guilty for lying to Sam.

"No, it's my homemade cure for hangovers." Dean explained.

Sam's eyes widened in shock as he recognized the tastes, "There's alcohol in it!"

"Just enough to settle your stomach." Dean explained.

"Dean!"

Dean rolled his eyes and flushed the toilet.

"Let's get out of here." He muttered as he helped Sam to his feet. "Feel better?"

"Tons." Sam sarcastically replied drinking the rest of the "orange juice".

Sam didn't question Dean as he led him into the bar. When Sam finally assured Dean he wasn't going to fall out of his chair they started to talk.

"Now, Sammy. What did you read in my father's journal?"

"Things." Sam felt himself muttering. He glanced at the journal, still on the bar from last night. He could feel Dean waiting for him to continue.

"He faced things that no one should have to face." Sam finished.

Sam looked at Dean, who was wearing no emotions unlike Sam who felt like he could cry at any moment.

"Most of the information is clear cut but some of it is heavily coded." Sam started. "The beginning of the book was simple to decode. I-I…"

Sam cursed himself for letting tears come to his eyes.

"It's my fault your mother died." He felt himself whisper.

Sam heard Dean get up but couldn't look at him. Dean was pacing around the room.

"Sam." Dean finally started. "It's not your fault."

Sam looked at Dean in disbelief. "How can you say that?" he inquired, "The demon was after me because my parents were after it. Your family was innocent. You could have led a normal life with your mother if it wasn't for me. It killed your mother to get to me." Sam felt knew his voiced was almost a choked sob, "I-I...I'm sorry."

Sam expected Dean to say something as he sat there in tears. He started to feel scared that Dean did hate him.

"Sam, I'm only going to say this once. It's not your fault." Dean started, "And there's nothing either of us can do about it now."

Sam felt Dean's hand on his knee. "Ok?"

Sam looked into Dean's understanding eyes. They were so similar. They had both lost parents to the same demon. They had been raised with a fear most people will never know. Sam simply nodded.

"Good." Dean removed his hand, "Now, from what you read in the journal can you give me a location where my father may be?"

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and turned his chair towards the bar. He opened the journal and pointed to the bottom corner of one the pages.

Dean leaned over his body so close to Sam's and read it out loud.

"Dean, 33-111. Coordinates?" Dean's voice sounded excited and anxious.

"Yes, but Dean—"

"Thanks, Sammy. I'm going—"

"Dean…" Sam tried to interject. Dean was halfway to the door when Sam shouted, "He's not there, Dean!"

Dean stopped in his tracks, but didn't respond.

"I did some research on the place. He's not there."

"Sam, you don't understand." Dean walked back over to him and pointed to the coordinates. "If that's where he needs me to go then that's where I'm going."

"Exactly." Sam felt himself sounding angry. John Winchester had trained a soldier. Sam read all about it in his journal. From the time Dean was old enough pack a punch he was trained to obey. Sam found himself hating John Winchester just a bit more. "He knows you'll go there. But he isn't there."

"Well then where the hell is he?" Dean slammed his hand on the bar.

Sam felt sorry for him. He couldn't imagine the childhood Dean had had. Sam may have lost his father when he was young but the years he was alive were filled with so much joy.

"Dean. I don't think he wants you to find him." Sam finally dared to finish. Sam gasped as Dean grabbed him by his shirt and threw him against the bar.

"You don't know him like me…"

"Dean, trust me." Sam found himself whimpering. Dean released him and Sam cringed a bit as he felt a pain where his back and the bar had connected.

"He wants you to hunt. That's why he left you the journal. It has everything you need to know that you may not already." He explained.

"This is crap." He heard Dean mutter. "Dad, you…"

Sam took the moment to insert, "You need to go hunting and I'm coming with you."

Dean looked at Sam and they stood there silently. Sam gave him a gentle smile that Dean returned. When he broke out in laughter Sam's smile quickly became a frown.

"Sammy, you hunting?"

"Hey," Sam frowned, "I've hunted before."

"Really?" Dean asked with a half shocked, half amused look on his face.

"Yeah, the night my dad died Mom stopped."

Dean's smiled quickly disappear at the mention of Sam's father.

"When I got back from college it was going to take more than bartending to keep me here." Sam continued pretending not to notice Dean's reaction to his father. "So I took on hunts near home. People came to my mother for help and she wouldn't so I did."

Dean stood there silently; Sam wasn't quite sure what he was thinking.

"Look, I'm smart. I've read this journal backwards and forwards except the coded stuff. I can help."

"Ellen, would kill me if I—"

"You're scared of my mom." Sam choked out. He started to laugh but stopped when he realized Dean didn't find it so funny.

"She can be scary." Sam added. He looked at Dean, he looked so worn out. "Dean, I can help you. If I get in the way you can just dump me right back here."

"Fine."

Sam smiled, "Really?"

"Yeah, stop smiling like I just brought Christmas early." Dean snapped.

Sam continued smiling knowing Dean wasn't really angry.

"So we have a lot of work to do." Sam stated. "I'd better go talk to my mom." Sam said with a slightly ashamed blush on his cheeks.

He followed Dean out of the Roadhouse and looked towards the Harvelle's small home.

"No need."

Sam looked at Dean who opened his trunk where a duffel bag sat on top a flap that probably held weapons. Sam's dad had had a similar system. Sam started at the bag a moment before realizing it was his bag. The bag he always left packed in case he needed to leave for a hunt.

"I already talked to your mother." Dean explained, shutting the trunk. "Man, Sam, you're so slow."

Sam smiled as Dean hopped into his beautiful Impala. Dean Winchester was so full of surprises. Sam started towards the passenger door. As he opened it he stopped and looked back at the Roadhouse. He knew he'd see it again.

Then he took a moment to look back at the house. His mother stood on the porch when she got there he wasn't sure. He remembered when he father left on a hunt, they never hugged goodbye. His mother and him would stand on the porch and wave goodbye. They always save the hug till he was home. Sam smiled at his mother and she tried to he could tell. Even from that distance Sam could tell she was upset.

"Hey princess, we haven't got all day. We got some ghostbusting to do!" he heard Dean shout.

Sam waved to his mother like he had seen his father do so many times. He got in the Impala and he looked at Dean as he turned on the car and started driving.

'I can help, mom.' He thought to himself as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, 'I'm a hunter.'

Sam smiled; a nice quiet drive was what he needed after that horrible hangover.

Suddenly, the loud sounds of ACDC thumped and Dean's voice yelling, "Going down, party time, my friends are gonna be there too!"

Sam groaned. This was going to be a long car ride.

"I'm on a highway to hell!"

A really, really long car ride.

fine