A/N: Hello again. This time a longer chapter. Hope you have a great weekend. Thanks for the favorits and reviews! It's always lovely to read what people think.

WARNING: I don't know if I will continue this... and as ever: I am looking for someone to help me finish it - like Sherlock with his skull I need someone to tell me you are out of your mind or on the right path - , but furthermore beta it. English isn't my mother tongue and I hate when a reader has to cringe just reading my story.

But most importantly: ENJOY!

Now...

The Impala was just a background noise accompanied by Dean's Classic Rock Tape No.2 which he proudly presented when they hit the road again. Sam's face contorted into a small smile looking at his brother but as soon as it appeared it vanished again.

The music now filling the car is just another reminder of too much time spent in here with a father obsessed with revenge and filled with pain for losing the love of his life, with a brother that wanted nothing more than to appease his dad, to be the son he thought he should be. In the middle of it Sam's childhood played out and no matter how fast he learned about the things in the shadows, the monsters that are far too real for anyone's restful sleep, he always felt like he didn't belong. He still does sometimes.

Maybe Dean saw it coming back then because if anything his brother has this instinct Sam always lacked. Maybe his second nature told him to stay out of it on this particular evening. Out of the screaming match, out of the pain Sam tried to display with harsh but nethertheless true (at least subjectively) words and John answered with the stern voice of a father over his head with responsibilities for two children far too young for this 'profession'. And because his brother wasn't there to play buffer like he always did back in the days, everything escalated.

The result was predictable - hurtful words when the motel room door with chipped white paint - Sam can still see it in front of his eyes - slammed shut with a resounding 'don't come back' and a stern face behind it that Sam loves and hates at the same time. He remembers the light feeling around his heart because his feelings were out in the open, because in his youth induced way of thinking - with too much testosterone and too little life experience - he was always right he showed John what it meant to mess with Sam Winchester.

He flinches, feels guilty but a bit angry as well. Shouldn't his father have recognized the character of his own son? Shouldn't he have seen that Sam just couldn't be like Dean? That his heart was maybe softer, maybe too naïve or nice or anything that stood against everything in the job manual of a hunter? Even to this day Sam doesn't know and thinks that these thoughts are a waste of time anyway. Funny, though, that he always comes back to them sometimes. Maybe the phone call with his father is to blame - at least at the moment.

His thumb rubs the lighter he holds in his hand absentmindedly. He looks down then, trying to find another occupation. The lighter is standard as far as he knows; the only thing that separates it from other fabricates is the symbol in the middle on both sides of it.

Sam remembers giving it to Dean to fire up the wood of the First Tree. The Pagan god was banished from the grove as dark clouds of smoke mixed with the clear air of spring and with it the prosperity of the village nearby ended as well. Dean explained everything to him after they left the girl whose name he already forgot at the bus station – a story anyone else would think unbelievable but was ordinary for them.

A part of him was disgusted by the villager's plan to sacrifice a girl of their own for their selfish needs and wishes. The thought passes his mind for a moment and he has to control his face – because looking at it objectively he planned to do the same thing to Dean just a few hours ago – leaving him to deal with the shit others were responsible for, not looking back, not taking responsibility. Taking the easy way out, taking the road to fulfill his selfish need to revenge Jess and not caring that in the past six months his brother started to depend on him again, just like he always did and does on him.

And he knows that Dean understands probably better than most people would. Even though Dean himself thinks of Sam as the people person, the man who always gets along with everyone, who everyone believes after only a few words, Dean has something Sam misses: a realistic and honest way (maybe sometimes twisted he thinks with a smile) to interact with people. He doesn't choose his words carefully, he doesn't think twice when lives are on the line. He acts. What probably is a weakness of his is judging too quickly and then sometimes wrong, too. But all in all, he is just a people person like Sam is, only not in the same way. The younger Winchester knows how blessed (in lack of a better word) he is to have a brother like him. A brother he nearly left behind...

The thought weighs heavy on his mind. Sam asks himself if he would have gone back to his rightful place if the strange woman with too much make-up around her eyes, with wild curly dark brown hair hadn't approached him. A part of him wants to righteously shout yes, but the bigger and honest part of him isn't so sure. There are just too many things unsaid, too many things happened in a too short amount of time and just for a second he feels years older than he really is with his 23 years.

He wants to believe in 'Cads' fighting when ended is soon mended' but can't. He probably should speak openly with Dean and maybe he will try – even if his brother isn't one for heart to heart talks. He snorts softly and Dean raises an eyebrow in question.

"You alright, Sammy?" He asks and his hands continue to drum on the steering wheel to Danzig's Mother.

"Sure." Sam replies, hopes to sound honest and open and not as if the drive to a motel to search for a new case gives him too much time to think about too difficult and painful things. His eyes look at the rune on the lighter in his lap again – Algiz – rune of protection and opportunity. Sam once read that in old Norse history the symbol was carved into the heads of spears. Algiz in itself has many different meanings he remembers but looking back at the situation he received it in he thinks that the strange woman from yesterday was concerned. For his safety, the injustice the villagers washed their hands in or the relationship with his brother, Sam isn't sure.

Meeting the two strange women yesterday, he still feels confused about them. Meg and Mya. He hadn't told Dean anything about them fearing that his suspecting nature would only allow phrases like 'forget about them' when he himself wants to figure out as much as he can. As intrigued he felt because of the blonde - Meg, who he has so many similarities with - he is more curious about Mya.

What a strange name, he thinks and glances at the lighter again. He didn't know what possessed him to just follow her; to just listen to her and going along with her demand without discussion or a good reason. He wants to think that he is a good judge of character, maybe sometimes blinded by his own emotions, memories or expectations but all in all relatively good with people. But just abandoning his plans because of a few words of her? There was something about her though… This girl – no, woman - was definitely trustworthy. That he can't explain why is only a reason to feel slightly irritated about.

He is grateful, too that she gave him that one shove he needed to recognize the feelings inside him – the things he instinctively knows: that Dean and he are supposed to stay together, no matter how unnerving his brother's behavior and prejudices sometimes are. Sam was startled though when he found her gone when the three of them left the grove. He doesn't know what he expected - that she stayed behind? Left him a note? Anything? He doesn't know if he will ever see her again and thank her properly. What stayed behind was a nearly overwhelming first impression - he was definitely intrigued - and a lighter that Sam swears to himself to keep with him everywhere.

"You are quiet today. Something the matter?" Dean asks, turning down the volume a bit and throwing his brother a curious and concerned glance. Sam isn't sure what to tell him – and thinks that maybe the truth would be best.

"Yesterday a woman approached me…." He starts, his voice sounding thoughtful even to himself.

"Aha…" Dean begins and Sam rolls his eyes, his mouth pulling into a half annoyed, half amused smile.

"Dean." He just says and throws his brother a glare.

"What?"

"Not like that. I met her at the bus station… she was the one pulling my head out of my arse, I guess." Sam watches with concern filling his chest the shadow that flies across his brother's face. He stays silent and Sam is too aware of the gap between them that seems to grow bigger and bigger with every different point of view they discuss. The rest of the drive they stay silent.

So a woman was responsible for Sam coming back - and just on time. On the one hand Dean was curious to get to know that girl, maybe to thank her, maybe to tell her to keep herself out of things that doesn't concern her. He isn't sure yet - because family business should stay family business, however...

He wanted to call Sam, just before he went to the community college where the professor and the cop overwhelmed him. Dean decided against it, though. His own pride, love for his brother and for his father - strangely enough pulling him in two different directions though they should be one family - and his guilty conscious for pulling his little brother - his responsibility since he was four years old, goddammit and rescued him from the fire - back into a game he never wanted to be apart of kept him from it.

Dean is aware that he isn't the smartest person around. He knows his guns, his mechanics and a lot of things between the moon and earth that no person that wants to sleep peacefully and without a 44 under the pillow should know about. And he is also aware that without that woman's intervention and then Sammy coming back he probably would have been dead.

What still feels like needles under his skin and probably would be so until he dies is his sure belief that Sammy was born to be more. More than his dad, more than him in every aspect. And that was fine with Dean. He has his life planned out, loves the long drives, the difficult cases, the feeling to make a difference in a few lives. Saving some, mourning some, giving some a way out. But Sammy… yeah, Sammy was born to change the world. And he took it from him. Not only that, he probably took Jess from him as well - at least a bit.

So he wanted to call him, tell him that he thinks that his decision to go was right; that after killing the demon he should go back to being normal - whatever that means for people like them. Dean didn't and that will stay on his consciousness as well. Now Sam sits in the passenger seat like he always does since six months ago.

He is grateful of course. Dean may not be the smartest person around, but he is smart enough to know - a knowledge that integrated itself into his bones - that without Sammy many people would have died till now, that he himself would have died long ago.

And in this moment he decides then that he will thank the mysterious woman that brought him back his brother - however she did it.

"Get 'em outta here, Sam!" Dean yells and tries desperately to get the attention of the monster they try to kill. Before Sam can react there are thunderous footsteps on the steps and just like that the small woman from the bus stop appears. Her hair is wild around her head, her face determined and in her hands is a tazer. He stares at her, unable to move, too perplexed by her sudden entrance.

"Do as your brother says, Sammy." She calls, her feet widening for a better stance. Sam is still rooted to the floor and she pushes against his shoulder not too gently.

"Go!" She yells, fire burning in her eyes, stern voice sounding strange coming from her. The noises they make effectively interrupts the fight between Dean and the ghoul which attacks her instantly.

"What…" Sam stutters, wants to ask too many questions in the dangerous situation. The desperate cries of the children is all it takes to focus him on his task, though. Move, for god's sake.

"Who are you!?" Dean shouts, his shotgun drowning the fighting noises mixed with heavy boots splashing into water.

"I am not so sure myself." The woman answers, her own gun used as a barricade between the advancing monstrosity and herself. She jumps to the right, successfully avoiding the next strike but hasn't calculated the strength of the ghoul and in the next moment Dean lies in the corner, taser at the ready. For christ's sake… she thinks as he aims. Of course he aims perfectly, of course he hits the ghoul. Mya wishes that he would have given a fuck about laying in the water as well.

Fuck…, she thinks but calls his name, an emotion within it that she can't and won't think about. What's left is ash and an unconscious Winchester. She runs to him, checks his pulse when his spasm cease.

Fuck…, she thinks again and says so as well. There isn't a pulse to feel and his chest doesn't rise. Her eyes water a bit, but with an angry movement of her hand the moisture is gone and determination fills her.

"I won't allow it." Mya grunts and pulls Dean out of the corner.

"Hurry up, Sam. We have to get him to the hospital!" She calls up the stairs when she hears him entering this godforsaken place again. Her cardiac massage at least brought Dean back from the brink of death, but his pulse is still faint. Mya can't stand being so helpless.

"What happened to him!?" Sam yells and Mya closes her eyes for a second, hoping against hope that he will keep his cool head when it is more than needed.

"Electricity and his own stupidity. We have to get him outta here. Now." She tells Sam in a stern voice, trying to give her best impression of John and failing miserably. The younger Winchester wants to ask more stupid questions - frightened out of his damn mind probably - so Mya moves her pointer finger in a circle to get his fast compliance instead.

I hate this… she thinks with a silent sigh and helps Sam put an arm of his brother over his shoulder.

"Ok, go." Sam says, his eyes a bit deliated but otherwise as clear as always.

When Dean lays in the back of the Impala, Mya moves to the driver's seat without a second thought. The little Winchester doesn't seem to think twice when he enters the car, already turning around when the soft purr of the machine fills the air around them.

Mya allows herself a moment of awe. She is driving the Impala..

"Hey, doc, is he...?" Sam asks, barely holding back how worried he is.

"He's resting." The doctor simply says.

"And?" Sam presses.

"The electrocution triggered a heart attack… pretty massive, I'm afraid. His hearts - it's damaged." The doctor avoids his eyes and Sam looks in the direction they seem to flicker to. In the door to Dean's room stands a woman that seems far taller than she really is with an unapproachable air around her. She does look impressive, he thinks and he associates her calm but remarkable presence with a guard watching over his brother. Turning halfway around again he concentrates on the doctor again.

"How damaged?" Sam says, his voice pressed and with an edge that no one, not even the with staring preoccupied doctor misses.

"We did all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point, but I'd give him a couple of weeks at most,…"

"How many?" Sam asks, his eyes now fixed beyond the doctor's shoulder.

"Maybe a month."

"No, no, there's… got to be something you can do, some kind of treatment."

"We can't work miracles. I really am sorry." Sam doesn't answer and as far as Mya can judge doesn't feel the symphathic clap on the shoulder.

The heart monitor beeps softly in the background when Sam joins the woman at the door to his brother's room.

"I overheard your conversation. And I am… sorry." Mya says without taking her eyes off of Dean, aware that the words in itself taste ashen on her tongue. There is just something about him…

Instead of answering in the way Sam usually does, he just grunts before his heavy and big hand pulls her around to meet his stern and angry eyes.

"That's the second time you just appear outta nowhere and rescue… us." He says, his voice lowered and she is grateful for small favors.

"Shouldn't you be concerned about the diagnosis you just received?" She asks, her eyes avoiding his for a moment.

"I am. But I won't give up and I will find a way. Dean knows it, I won't." Mya nods along - she was aware of that before he announced it. She stays silent and hopes he won't continue with this half-baked interrogation. Luck isn't on her side… again.

"How come you were there and back at the bus stop?" Sam asks, his eyes imploring her to tell him the truth - his puppy dog technic she supposes.

"Right time, right place - at least these one.. uhm… two times?" She says and tries to allivate her voice with a crooked grin that shows more of her emotions and the broken mind than a neutral facade would have. She curses inwardly. And now the show begins… a whisper caresses her neck and she suppresses the shudder.

"I want answers." Sam says, a hint of desperation clouding his face.

"Don't we all…" Mya whispers but turns around to the other Winchester again, letting her eyes take in his sedated form and decides that a few minutes away won't hurt anyone. At least not Dean.

"Follow me." She says and leads the way to the cafeteria. More privacy, she thinks.

The coffee in front of her is her anchor for the moment. The hospital brings out all the bad in her and if anything she is completely aware that a panic attack or any other attack for that matter aren't going to be of use to anyone at the moment.

"So, tell me." Sam says and she likes that he is straight to the point; doesn't use his tricks on her that he probably fine-tuned while on the road with his brother.

"I am Hermione. Mya for short. I prefer that and I am a hunter; just like you I would guess." She says, beginning with something that is simple because everything else will be far too difficult. A sigh leaves her lips.

"Ok. How did you…well.. the grove and now the haunted house, how did you…"

"Know that you will be there?" She finishes for him and takes a scalding gulp from the cup. Sam nods, his transfixing eyes singled in on her.

"I have my sources… and I can't tell you more at the moment because I myself aren't sure about a great many things at the moment. I just know that my… destiny? It is combined with yours, that means with Dean's and yours." She tells him and can't even believe her own words. And Sam seems to share her impression because he snorts in disbelief.

"Destiny? What the heck… you don't seem like someone believing in that; Dean and I don't." He answers.

"Well, that's all I know. Maybe there are forces between heaven and earth, Horatio and all that shit." Mya says with an edge to her voice. Sam's eyes widened in amusement but before he can say anything, the woman before him continues.

"Look, I know as much as you do at the moment. I know that we three are searching for answers, for revenge and that we know that there is more in the darkness than the tooth fairy." Her voice sounds tired and something about her slumped shoulders and overall haggard look lets Sam ease up. She reminds him of his father on a particularly difficult case.

"And I am tired of being alone… and something tells me we are looking for the same thing. So I thought - uhm - maybe we should work together. Just sometimes when you boys need my help." Her mouth opens and closes for a second or two but she stays silent. A heavy breath leaves Sam's lips and he leans back in the uncomfortable plastic chair far too small for his tall build. He watches her, the symbols etched with ink into her skin screaming hunter, the big bruises under her eyes fear and too many sleepless nights.

"Dean won't trust you." Sam says slowly, his eyes never leaving Mya's face. She bites softly on her lip, but a small smile pulls on the corners of them, though. She didn't miss that he excluded himself from that corner.

"He can adapt pretty quickly, I am sure. And one thing, Sammy." She looks into his eyes, a deep brown with amber flecks meeting his eyes.

"I will never hurt you and I will never betray your trust. That I am a hundred percent sure of." Her seriousness surprises and impresses him. When dealing with hunters - though they are all the same - honesty and trust is something rarely found.

And just like that Sam smiles, his hand squeezing hers for a moment. And there is comfort in this one touch, a small fire warming her insides. All of her power is used to suppress tears because it was so long ago that something like that happened. A part of her is astonished, another part deeply grateful.

"Thank you, Sammy." She says, her voice a bit hoarse, her eyes shining and Sam thinks that maybe trusting her from the first moment wasn't a bad decision.

One more brother to go… the voice whispers, but Hermione ignores it.

Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading.