Summary: This is a slight crossover with BVTS however mainly in the Supernatural universe. Mostly a story of two people in need finding each other.

I own nothing of Supernatural or BTVS

Six months had passed since Sam had walked away from them to go to college. Six long months without his baby brother, whom he had watched over and protected for nearly eighteen years. He had done everything his father asked so that Sam could grow up as innocent and as happy as he could. He knew that his brother hated their lifestyle. He knew he despised having to fight the things that went bump in the night, that he couldn't just be normal. He also knew college wasn't going to be 'just four years' like he'd argued to their father. He knew Sammy wanted out for good, and this was his ticket to normal. But he had let him go, had stayed silent when Sam and their father got into it. He had not taken sides and even supported Sam enough to drive him to the bus stop and hand him some extra money. Had his little brother said thanks, or even goodbye? No. He'd just told him to understand why he had to leave and that he couldn't be a perfect little soldier like he was.

It took four months of ignored phone calls for Dean to realize Sam had cut him out of his new life completely.

Three months had passed since their Father had walked away from him. He hadn't even bothered to leave a note. One morning Dean woke up and the man was gone. After years of following his orders, doing everything the man asked him to do, staying by his side in his suicidal quest for vengeance, giving up what dreams he held close to his heart, the man abandoned him. Much like Sam he ignored Dean's calls, only occasionally sending a text message with coordinates, a silent order for his 'little soldier'.

People had always commented how Dean had more brawn than brains, but he got their messages loud and clear. They didn't want him. They didn't need him. After everything he had done to help his family, to try and keep it together, they threw it back in his face like trash.

What had he done wrong? Had he not given enough to them? Had he not practically raised Sam while their dad went out hunting the supernatural? Had he not followed his father's orders well enough to prove he could be counted on in the fight? Had he not kept the two from killing each other in many of their numerous arguments, arguments that cut at his own soul little by little until he thought he'd break completely?

No. He knew he had supported them both far more than many would bother. He had put his life on hold so they could use him for their needs. But who supported him? Who gave him comfort when he needed it?

No one.

Dulled green eyes stared listlessly at the grungy carpet in front of him. He couldn't even remember where he was anymore. Just another dingy hotel room in some random city. He'd stopped here after the last hunt, a typical salt and burn. Luckily the spirit hadn't been too malicious, he didn't need more bruises. He hurt enough on the inside to hurt on the outside too.

Taking a swig from the bottle in his hands he barely felt the burn of the dark liquid. He'd long passed the point of feeling the liquor. Yet still he hadn't reached that sweet state of oblivion he longed for. The only time he could forget that his family, his blood had deserted him. Because he was worthless.

His eyes landed heavily on his Desert Eagle, which sat innocently on the bed. He had cleaned his weapons the day before but couldn't bother to put them in their place. Not like anyone was coming in, and he certainly hadn't gone out on his own. In fact he couldn't even remember the last time he ate properly. Then again did it matter? No one cared. He could die and no one would ever know.

He paused on that thought, eyes focusing further on the gun.

Could he do it? Take his own life? Not like he had much of one. Traveling city to city, finding the next monster to kill, never being thanked for his hard work and the coup-de-gras, his own family didn't even want him. Probably wouldn't even know or care what happened to him. But it would make the pain stop.

Just as he built up his resolve to grab the gun and take that final shot a knock sounded on his door, startling him.

Frowning he wondered who it could be. He'd paid for the room up until Friday, so it likely wasn't the manager. He had the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, so the maid also presented an unlikely choice. And he hadn't committed any crimes or problems in this little town that he remembered anyway.

At the continued knocking he finally pulled himself out of his stupor and stumbled his way to the door. Not caring about his rumpled clothes and scruffy appearance.

Nearly flinging the door open he sent a half-hearted glare at the person on the other side.

"What?"

"Are you Dean Winchester?" The rather prime woman stated calmly.

Dean looked her over, absently noting her good looks, pressed suit and all together business like attitude. Normally he'd find her hot and might have considered hitting on her, but he hadn't felt such urges in a long time. Longer than even he cared to admit.

"Yeah."

"Excellent. You are a hard man to find Mr. Winchester." She flashed him a smile and barged past him like she owned the place. If she noticed the mess or the weapons sitting in plain sight she didn't comment. Instead she turned to him, face set in determination. "I need to speak to you on a very important matter."

"Really?" Dean snarked, feeling annoyed at this woman. "And what is so important?"

Her answer was not one he had expected.

"Why, your son of course."