Chapter 1

My eyes snapped open at the sound of a window opening in the other room and someone moving around. I looked over at Jess sleeping peacefully beside me and realized we had an intruder. I grinned mirthlessly—this burglar was going to seriously regret breaking into our apartment. And at least I wasn't waking up due to that damn nightmare for a change.

I got up and moved quietly out into the hallway. A man's shape crossed in front of the beads hanging in the doorway as I approached the main room of the apartment. I wasn't too worried—even though I hadn't kept up with the intensive level of training Dad had always insisted on, I doubted some random thug could match my fighting skills. I slipped into the room behind him and grabbed for his shoulder.

To my surprise, the trespasser spun around and knocked my arm out of the way. I aimed a series of punches and kicks at him, and he blocked or voided each one. I frowned—this guy was a more formidable opponent than I'd expected. His moves so far were mostly defensive, but he seemed to anticipate my shots before I threw them, almost as if he knew—

I grunted as he swept my feet out from under me and pinned me to the floor, one hand holding down my wrist and the other at my throat. A deep voice I hadn't heard in nearly two years said, "Whoa, easy, tiger!"

"Dean?" I exclaimed in astonishment. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"That's 'cause you're outta practice, college boy," he replied with a laugh, then made a surprised noise when I yanked his hand and dug a heel into his back, flipping us over. "Oof! Or not. Okay, get offa me!"

I rolled to my feet and extended a hand to pull him up. "Speaking of out of practice, how pissed would Dad be that you got made so easily? And what the hell are you doing here?"

Dean dusted himself off, and I could barely make out his smirk in the dim light. "You honestly think I didn't want you to hear me, dude? And I'm here 'cause we gotta talk."

He followed me as I walked into the kitchen and turned on the lights. My breath caught as I got my first good look at my brother in a long time. His tawny hair was darker and longer and not as carefully styled as I remembered. His finely drawn features were thinner, his freckled cheeks not as full, his curved lips not as pouty, all of which made him look less boyish while at the same time drawing more attention to his big, long-lashed green eyes. His shoulders seemed broader, though Dad's old leather jacket was still loose on him. As impossible as I thought it could be, he was even more beautiful now, and the stampede in my heart and furnace in my groin reminded me exactly why I'd cut off all contact before.

I coughed to clear my throat and grabbed two beers out of the fridge. "You couldn't use the phone?"

"If I tried to call, would you have bothered to fucking answer?" The recrimination in his glance was sharp enough to cut glass.

Before I could respond, Jess spoke up behind me. "Sam? What's going on? Who are you talking to?"

I turned to face her. "Jess, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica Moore."

"Nice to meetcha, and uh, sorry for waking you up. But I gotta borrow your boyfriend here to talk 'bout some private family business," Dean said after giving her a cursory look and polite smile.

My eyebrows went up. Jess was wearing a pair of very short striped shorts and a cropped Smurfs t-shirt, both of which showed off her long legs, toned stomach, and perky breasts. The brother I'd known before wouldn't have been able to resist reacting to the sight with a leer or lewd comment of some sort. But his face now was impassive, and his eyes—the one area which he could never hide his emotions from me—were sad and a little hurt.

I crossed over to the safety of her side and said, "No. Whatever you want to say, you can say in front of her."

He shrugged. "Okay. Um . . . Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

"So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back sooner or later, like he always does," I answered. "No need to call out the cavalry."

"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days." I could almost hear the exasperated "duh" in his retort.

"Oh." I looked down at my girlfriend. "Jess, you'll have to excuse us. We need to talk outside."

I threw on jeans and a hoodie before leading Dean out of the apartment and down the stairs. As we descended, I asked, "Alright, what's really up? I mean, you can't just break in in the middle of the night and expect me to drop everything to hit the road with you."

"Didn't you hear me back there, Sam? Dad's missing! I need your help to find him."

"Dad's always fucking missing, man!" I snapped. "How many times did he leave us for weeks on end when we were kids, leaving you to take care of me until he finally came staggering back? Usually only to then crawl into a bottle until he could find another hunt!"

"Not like this—he's never been gone for so long without keeping in contact with me. Now are you coming or not?" he demanded while we exited the building.

"I'm not. I swore when I came here that I was done hunting for good," I stated flatly as we crossed the parking lot to where the Impala was parked. "I've never understood Dad's obsession for revenge. He put that in front of everything, including us. The way we grew up—living in crappy motels or abandoned dumps, scrounging for enough money for food and clothes, never staying in the same school for more than a couple of months, learning hand-to-hand combat and weapons and shit when we were just kids—that's no way to live! And despite putting us through all that, he still hasn't found the thing that killed Mom."

"We've saved a lot of people along the way though. So what're you gonna do now—live some normal, apple-pie kinda life? Marry your girl there, pop out 2.5 kids, and live in some fancy house with a white picket fence and a dog? Is that why you ran away?"

"Not normal—safe. And I just went to college, like most kids do. It was Dad who told me if I was going, I should stay gone. So that's what I'm doing."

"It takes two to fucking tango, Sam. It ain't like you made any damn effort to talk to him after that big fight. The two of you are too goddamn alike, with the same stubborn temper and stiff-necked pride! And what 'bout me? I still tried to keep in contact by calling, texting, and dropping by when I could. You were the one who told me to butt outta your fucking life and never come back," he said bitterly.

"Besides, this is different. Dad's in real trouble right now, I can feel it—if he ain't dead already," he continued. "I can't do this alone."

"Yes, you can."

He bit his lip and looked down, his shoulders hunched. "Yeah, well . . . I don't wanna."

I sighed, unable to withstand his obvious unhappiness. "So what was he hunting? And why weren't you with him?"

Dean opened the Impala's trunk and lifted the lid of the secret compartment, propping it open with a sawed-off shotgun. "I was working my own gig—a voodoo thing down in New Orleans."

"Dad let you hunt alone?"

He flinched slightly, a flash of pain shooting across his face. "I've been on my fucking own for over a year now, dude. Dad decided he was better off hunting solo, so he dumped my ass at Bobby's after I got torn up on our last case together. Ah, here's the damn thing!"

As he pulled out a folder and described the case, I studied him. My brother's expression showed only concern for our father and interest in the job, but his eyes as always gave him away—they were lonely and desperate. The Impala and its arsenal were impeccably maintained as always, but the same couldn't be said of his person. He used to be very fastidious and particular about the state and fit of his clothing, even if they came from a thrift store. But now his clothes were worn, stained, and torn, and they hung on him loosely. Despite being only a few inches shorter than I and nearly as broad in the shoulders, he somehow looked fragile, like he'd blow away in a stiff breeze.

He put away the recorder and folder, lowered the shotgun to shut the compartment, and closed the trunk lid, then leaned against the car. "You know, in almost two years, I've never fucking bothered you, never asked you for a goddamn thing—just like you asked."

I sighed. "Okay, I'll come with you and help you find him. But I have to be back here first thing Wednesday morning, alright?"

"What's so important on Wednesday?"

"I have this—this interview . . . for the law school here at Stanford. I've got a really strong chance at getting another full ride if I ace this," I said. "It's my whole future on a plate. So, do we have a deal?"

His face fell, though he turned it aside it in an attempt to hide his reaction. "Sure, Sam. Whatever you want."

"Why don't you come inside and finish your beer? I've got to pack a bag and let Jess know I'll be away for a couple of days," I suggested awkwardly.

I left Dean in the kitchen and went into the bedroom, where I pulled out a small duffle bag and began stuffing clothes inside. Jess watched me with a perplexed look on her face. "Wait, you're leaving? Where are you going? What about the interview, Sam?"

"Don't worry about the interview, babe. I'll be back in two days tops," I explained. "My dad's up deer hunting at this old cabin, and he's probably got Jim, Jack, and José with him. Dean just needs my help to dry him out and drag him home."

"And what about your classes tomorrow and on Tuesday? You've never skipped class before!"

"I'll call my advisor in the morning and explain that there's a family emergency. I'll see if she can contact my professors and get copies of the notes I missed." I started to duck into the bathroom to get my shower things.

"Sam, please stop for a second. Are you sure you're okay?" She put a hand on my arm. "I mean, you won't talk about your family with me ever, and now you're running off after them right before your big day? I—I just don't get it. I assumed you didn't like them, and now this."

"It's not like that, Jess. My dad and I never got along, and he pretty much kicked me out when I decided to come here. But he's still family, and I can't stand by if he's in trouble. And Dean . . . I was never angry at him. He's always been the family peacemaker, and he got caught in the crossfire when everything blew up with Dad. When I chose this life here over what my dad wanted, my brother was one of the things I had to leave behind.

"And now I'm worried about him, even more than Dad. Dad can usually take care of himself, and I figure getting him out of whatever mess he drank himself into won't be hard. But there's definitely something wrong with Dean, and I need to spend some time with him to figure out what it is—he's not the type that opens up easily."

Jess wrapped her arms around me. "I understand—family's important. You be careful though. And make sure your brother brings you back in time!"

"I will. My future is here with you, and nothing's going to change that."