Author's Note: Hello readers, sorry for taking so long on this, but back by popular demand is the sequel o "Checkmarks". Thanks so much to my new beta, SoulfulSam, for the feedback and help! Reviews are crack, give me my fix! :D

The Worst Hangover Ever

Sam groaned in pain as he awoke a sharp throbbing in his head seemingly right behind his eyes and made it impossible to think straight. He rolled over and came face to face with a stunning bleach blonde passed out beside him, his faux white-blonde hair half sticking up in a million angles, half matted to his face with sweat. The room itself was dark, something Sam would have been thankful for if it wasn't for the massive hangover he was currently threatening to make him vomit. Other than that, it was bland; a bed, dark-colored walls, a closet and a door. The only thing that gave away the events of last night was the musky scent of sex and a harsher scent of booze.

Sam slid out of bed and stumbled about, pulling on articles of clothing that belonged to him before slipping outside and to his car, which was parked at the end of the boy's driveway. The keys that were safe within his pocket were then withdrawn so he could enter his car and leave, heading for the nearest diner.

"Rough night?" The waitress with curly auburn-red hair and shocking blue eyes asked softly as she seated Sam, her southern accent making her seem sweet and homey.

"You have no idea," Sam muttered in response.

"You want a menu or just some coffee?"

Sam's stomach lurched at the thought of food. "Just coffee," he grumbled and buried his face in his hands, the scents of food, people and crisp autumn air stinging his nose and worsening his headache. He should have bought a coffee maker forever ago; it would save him a lot of trips to the local diners and made his cramped apartment look a little more homey, maybe even more lived in.

"Here's your coffee, sugar," the waitress said and set the steaming mug of dark liquid before the hung-over male.

Sam looked up and saw that her employee tag, the name reading "Ashleigh" in black letters against a red background. "Thanks Ashleigh," he muttered and began sipping the scalding liquid, damn near willing the strong black coffee to clear his head.

"Sam?"

Sam's heart stopped instantly, his blood turned to ice, and he prayed to whatever deity would listen that the owner of that perfectly-familiar voice was not who he thought it was.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked up and met the eyes of his brother, his ex-lover whom he had not seen in over nine long months. Dean looked like he always did; tired. His eyes bore the clear signs of exhaustion: faint purple bags and a slight glaze that meant the eldest Winchester boy just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Dean…" was the only response that Sam could summon as his mind had gone totally blank.

Dean took a seat across from his younger brother, pleasant surprise written across his face with the undertones on concern. "How've you been, Sam?"

Sam shrugged and looked back at his coffee for several moments before actually taking a big gulp to finish the rest of the bitter liquid before returning the still-warm mug to the table. "I've been fine," he grunted in response, old resentment as well as hurt resurfacing more and more by the second.

Dean's lips turned downward in a faint frown, one of many facial expressions that were permanently engraved in Sam's memory despite the fact he'd tried hard to forget them.

"Is that a hickey on your neck?" Dean asked suddenly, the surprise in his voice both amusing and enraging Sam.

"So what if it is?" He spat back defensively. He was insulted. What, did Dean think Sam would sit around forever and just miss his brother all the time? Well he was wrong, very fucking wrong. Sam didn't miss Dean's kisses, he didn't miss the way Dean would moan his name as he came, filling Sam up, he didn't miss the way Dean's unique smell, a mixture of car oil, leather and a musk, would wake him every morning. He didn't miss Dean's laugh or smile and he definitely didn't miss the tender moments they used to share. After all, Sam was just an easy lay to Dean when Dean was so much more to him and Dean had broken his heart. Why would Sam miss that?

"Sammy, you there?"

Dean's voice drew Sam out of his thoughts, his gaze returning to his brother once more. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you'd help me out with a hunt." Dean asked, feeling concerned but trying to hide it. If he wasn't scared Sam would punch him in the face, he would have told his baby brother that he looked like shit. He'd lost a lot of weight and looked like he lived in the dark, his once sun-kissed skin now somewhere between slightly-pale and pasty, not to mention how he was acting.

"Dean, I stopped hunting a month after I left you," Sam wearily responded. The anger had melted away, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

Dean frowned faintly but pushed on, determined. "Well, it's not like you ever really forget. Come on man, just help me with some research, let me borrow your laptop. Please?"

Sam sighed and wished he could tell Dean 'no' but, alas, he had never been able to do that; after all, it was what got him into his current mess in the first place. "Fine," Sam agreed reluctantly before laying a five on the table and heading out to his car, head still throbbing but not as badly as it was prior to his coffee. Dean followed in his little brother's wake.