Stanford College, California: Haven't seen you in a while

"Don't think... I did." replied Sam, not even noticing that the hand was most certainly not Jess'.

The car went over a bump on the road and he was shook awake suddenly. He sat up, realising he had fallen asleep in the car. Hopefully, Dean had been busy concentrating on the road to - oh who was he kidding? He looked down as he appeared to be holding something and his eyes widened.

Sam quickly snatched his hand back out of Dean's and wiped it on his jeans in disgust. "Dean what the hell?!" He yelled.

"What?" Dean asked a little defensively, and his hand that Sam had been holding moments before went back to the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road with a newfound interest, "Not my fault you grabbed my hand while you were sleeping."

Dean glanced at the stereo. He had turned it down a bit while Sam was asleep, so as not to wake him up. Now it seemed inapproprietly quiet. He turned it back up before Sam had a chance to reply, AC DC blasting out of the speakers, loud enough drown out whatever Sam's voice if he tried to talk.

Sneaking a glance at Sam, he noticed that his little prank seemed to have gone so far unnoticed. Maybe there was a plus side to this incident after all.

Sam pouted, trying to figure out why he would do such a thing. He looked out the window for a few moments before he realised the reason. "I was dreaming about Jess." Sam nodded, smiling sarcastically. "Great."

He continued rubbing his hand on his jeans, still a bit disgusted that he'd done that. "I didn't do anything else, did I?" he asked, wondering whatever else there was that he had humiliated himself doing.

Dean snorted, lips curving into a amused smile. Sam was still rubbing his hand against his jeans, still too disgusted to notice what was on his face. Thankfully the darkness inside the car should disallow him from seeing what Dean's artwork in the mirror.

"It's touching that you got such deep feelings for her, man," Dean answered after a few minutes, answering Sam's question and coming out of his own internal musings, smirking as he looked over at him, "Real sweet."

Sam's face fell into some kind of terrified and angry expression. "Dean. Was I... sleep talking?" he stared at him, really dreading what the answer was going to be. How many times must he humiliate himself in front of his brother? He probably even had a video on his phone to go with it.

"You'd sure as hell better not have a video." he warned, sternly.

"You were sleeptalking a bit, and no, I didn't get a video" Dean admitted, as Sam's expression instantly cut right into him, making feel all kinds of guilty for taunting him about it. Damn Sam and his puppy dog eyes.

"Could you quit pulling that face at me?" Dean asked, looking away from Sam, eyes back on the empty road ahead, scanning the signs as they whizzed past, hoping their would be a motel to pull into soon. He was starting to feel a little drowsy himself now, and he really did not want to be crashing the car now that he had just got his little brother back due to lack of sleep.

As they rolled into somewhere that was busier, there were more lights lighting up the roads. They shone on the windows of the car making reflections of the inside appear on the glass. As Sam watched the small buildings go past, he saw his own reflection in the windows.

He glanced at his older brother, even more displeased than he was a few moments ago. "Do you have a mirror?" He smiled, knowing that Dean would now try and hold off from him using his puppy expression on him when he found out what was all over his face.

Dean glanced over at Sam, who was pulling one of those realy fake smiles of his. He obviously knew about the face. The lighting was better now, and he could probably see his reflection in the window. Only one thing Dean could try and do now. Deny it all.

"Dude, why would I carry a mirror around with me?" Dean asked, with a slightly uneasy grin, "There aren't any mirrors in here."

Dean could see a sign for a motel, half a mile away. Could this get any worse? he thought, wishing that Sam was asleep again. It was definitely easier that way.

Sam stared at him disbelievingly for a short moment before his arm shot up to the rear-view mirror and made it face his direction. "Dean!" he yelled, seeing the pen marks on his face. "Why would you do that?!"

He tried to smudge the pen off, but it was on there hard. He narrowed his eyes at Dean and gazed pathetically in the mirror. "You used a Sharpe, didn't you?"

The light from the streetlamps was making the black marks stand out clearer now then they had in the dark. They also made Sam's expression impossible to miss, and Sam looked pretty pissed off right now. Definitely not a good sign. Especially considering he was meant to be sharing a motel room with him later.

"I might of," Dean said carefully, biting his lip as if to stop himself from bursting into fits of laughter, "It suits you, and come on. You were just lying there, practically begging for me to do it."

The neon sign for motel was showing up now, the vacancy sign lit up. Dean indicated to turn into it, throwing a glance at Sam's face before doing so, unable to stop the grin from showing up on his face.

Sam got out the car and slammed the door shut. "You really think they're going to give us a room with this?" he pointed as his face. "They're gunna think we're freaks - and, let's say hello to two in the morning." He gave Dean a dark look. "And this is not funny." he hissed, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

Within only a few hours of meeting with his older brother again after two years of not talking to him, he'd already humiliated him multiple times - and this really wasn't going to go down well.

Sam's dramatic door slam clearly announced the beginning of Sam's grouchiness with him, indicating that he had made more then a bit of a mistake drawing on him with the sharpie.

"It is kind of funny," Dean remarked, as he brought the grin down a notch at Sam's dark glare, his tone becoming a bit more civil, "They will give us a room, though it might be best if I go ask and you stay in the car."

Dean eyed Sam's sullen expression, as he got out of the car closing the door with a little less force then his brother, his expression softened slightly, "Come on Sam, don't go off on a mood on me. It was a joke. The sharpie'll come off."

Sam got back in the car, grudgingly and tried to get the pen off his face, but it wouldn't budge. He sighed, angrily. He would have thought Dean would be more serious now that Dad was "missing", but he guessed wrong, of course.

Something caught his eye in the mirror - something was shining in the back seat - a piece of plastic. He looked around and saw that it was the pen - the Sharpe. Sam reached for it and took it. Maybe a better way to forgive Dean would be to get revenge instead.

It was no longer than ten minutes before Dean returned from the motel, keys to their room in hand. The place was cheap and tacky, $60 for the room, two queen sized beds. Pretty bog standard and no different then usual, just how he liked it.

Something seemed a little off as he peered inside the window. Sam was not looking as annoyed as earlier. He seemed to have more or less cooled down, if his facial expression was anything to go by. Obviously his brother had either forgiven him, which was highly unlikely, or was plotting revenge. Not that he didn't deserve it, but these things always seemed to esculate back when they were kids, and it would doubtlessly be no different now. Still, if it got Sam's mind off his annoyance at being essentially dragged away from Stanford, then it could hardly be a bad thing, could it?

Dean opened the door, and jangled the keys in front of Sam's face. "Booked the room," he said, "You coming or what?"

Sam grabbed his bag, not looking forward to what the room was going to be like. The run down buildings seemed like it wasn't exactly the best. When he walked inside he wished he could actually be sleeping back at college - with Jess next to him. But he was too tired to complain.

However he went to the bathroom first and attempted to scrub the pen marks off his face so that no one would see, locking the door so Dean wouldn't bother him.

Dean went straight to the hard, lumpy motel bed. He figured that Sam was probably going to be in there for several hours, trying to get the sharpie off his face, so it was probably safe to sleep. Probably best to avoid eating anything that Sam had been near, and wait for Sam to use the shampoo and toothpaste first. Couldn't be too careful.

It was a few minutes till he finally drifted off, kept awake by the sound of Sam doing whatever it was that he was doing in the bathroom. The need to sleep crept up on him, and he fell asleep with his mouth slightly ajar, sprawled out and still in his clothes.

After just over an hour, Sam came out of the bathroom, not entirely satisfied with the light almost unnoticeable grey on his face but he needed to sleep some more and that hour in the car had hardly done anything. He glanced at Dean lying on one of the beds, still fully clothed and asleep, before setting on the other bed, actually being bothered to slide under the covers.

Sleep didn't come as easy as he thought it would now he was in bed. He lay awake, looking at he ceiling until his eyes couldn't stay open any longer. It was almost morning, now, and he knew he would have to get up soon so that he could call Jess. She would, undoubtedly, be upset with him, but there was no other way. Their dad was missing - and he had to be found.

Dean was sleeping like a log by the time Sam got back from the bathroom, catching up on the time missed by staying awake driving the car to here, and from driving all day before he got Sam. He was woken at around five in the morning by the sound of the motel's dodgy heating system making groaning noises. He cursed at it eternally, wishing briefly that he wasn't such a light sleeper.

He turned over in his bed, eying Sam who was lying on his back, his breathing not that steady pattern found in someone sleeping. Dean frowned, his thoughts still sleep groggy, and not entirely clear. He could usually tell when Sam was not sleeping.

"Are you still awake?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

He didn't reply, still annoyed at Dean and not really wanting to talk to him yet. So what if he was awake? He should have been sleeping anyway... He needed to sleep. So he finally fell back to sleep.

Sam was back... he was lying on his and Jess' bed with his eyes shut. It was dark... like he had just been there the whole night.

Drip, drip, drip.

Three drops of blood fell onto his forehead and his eyes opened slowly. Jess was pinned to the ceiling, just like how his mother had been when she died. Flames burst up from behind her and the room was set alight, on fire. Sam gasped in horror and tried to cry out to her, but he knew it was hopeless. She was dead.

Sam didn't answer him. He was probably giving him the cold shoulder because of earlier. Dean was tempted to needle him into answering, but Sam's breathing slowed down into a more natural one that gave the appearance of sleeping.

He was glad that the kid was finally asleep, he looked like he hadn't been getting much lately, and college definitely looked to be running him to the edge of his tether. Though it had never been any different when they were all hunting together, him, Sam and their dad. Especially with Sam trying to balance homework on top of all the reasearch and hunting. It had never been ideal, though from Dean's point of view it had been worth it, even if Sam had not felt the same way.

Now that he was awake, and a bit more rested, he was not really in much of a mood to go back to sleep. He swivelled his legs around so that they were hanging of the edge of the bed, pushing himself into a sitting position. He focused on Sam, who gave the appearance of sleeping peacefully, causing a smile to curve at his mouth. It had been far too long since he had last seen him.

Sam bolted up in bed, breathing heavily. His eyes darted around the room confirming that he was still in the motel room with Dean, and the thing that had just happened to Jess wasn't real. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back into a messy state and shut his eyes, letting his increased heart rate slowly go down.

That was one vivid nightmare. To see Jess like that had shaken him, badly. If anything like that would happen to her... But no. Sam knew it was just his sleep deprived mind playing tricks on him. It was just a nightmare - just a nightmare.

It wasn't long after Dean watched Sam fall asleep when Sam bolted upright, his breaths coming in quick short gasps, his expression alarmed, horrified. It looked right out of a million scenes in Dean's memory, when Sam had been little, just having found out about what his father hunted, and all the nightmares that seemed to accompany it, that Dean had been forced to soothe him out of. It seemed surreal, it all happening again.

Dean sighed, and got up from his bed, crossing the distance to Sam's, and sitting on the edge of it. "Sam?" he called softly, "You alright there?"

Sam didn't look up but opened his eyes, seeing the messed up bed covers. "Yeah..." he breathed, panting. "Nightmare." he stated in-between breaths.

He tried to brush it off. It was only a nightmare, after all. They had much more pressing matters to be dealing with, and Dean shouldn't have something else to be concerned over. Sam shut his eyes again, only to see what he had just seen and he snapped them back open, hoping that the images would soon get out of his head.

Dean's brow creased in a concerned expression, "You been having these nightmares long?" He couldn't remember Sam having any just before he had left for Standford. He seemed to grow out of them after a while, and Dean was pretty sure he would have noticed if they had resurfaced. Though if it was a development that came about at Stanford then it was essentially an unknown entity.

When Sam's eyes snapped open after shutting, Dean's concern intensified. "You sure you're alright?" he asked again, his expression a worried frown.

"Yeah." Sam actually looked up at Dean's concerned face, seeing the damage he'd done. "It's fine." he nodded. "Just a... stand alone thing." He looked away, unable to stand seeing Dean looking like that any longer. He didn't like Dean unnecessarily worrying about him. It was just a nightmare - it wasn't like it actually happened.

Still, Sam reached out for his cell on the bedside table and looked at the time. Half five. It wouldn't be long until Jess would wake up and see he was gone. He could call her now... just to put his mind at ease. But he didn't really want Dean to hear him and then ask him about the nightmare. Sam decided that knowing Jess was alright - which she probably was - was far more important than keeping secrets, so he stood up from the bed and went over to where the sort of living area was.

Every ring of the phone drove him down into more and more worry. Relax, he thought, if there was a fire then everything, including the phone, would have gone. Jess didn't answer. She must have been still asleep... if she was still even there.

Sam bought the phone down and hung up. "Damn it." he muttered.