Chapter One
It was dark and cold, his mind numbly registered as he walked along the sidewalk. Of course, being the idiot he sometimes (though few would recommend always) was, he forgot his jacket on his February night walk from the bar. Although the night was a little warmer than freezing, it was perfect. The stars in the Minnesota sky were bright and shimmery and clear. The black background of night illuminating more than usual. Dean smiled as memories raced through his head of him and his brother seeing the exact same thing years ago on the hood of Baby. Almost immediately though, Dean frowned sadly and raced to get home from the bar.
It had been years, years, since he allowed himself to think so freely of his little Sam. It wasn't that he didn't regret leaving his screwed up family, he particularly was guilty of leaving Sam behind. Not giving him a goodbye, not even calling him back as the texts and voicemails came piling in. It was only a year later that a, then, 15 year old Sam left him a single text that finalized that he wouldn't be trying to contact him anymore. That text destroyed Dean and he found himself conflicted about trying to contact his family, even six years later.
Dean suddenly found himself in front of his door to his quaint apartment and rushed in, breathing in the warmth and security of the place. He may have left for a more normal and less angry life, but his place was swarmed in protective symbols, sigils, and objects. He didn't have many friends and those that came over found themselves quite curious, but Dean never shared why he had these strange artifacts and "paintings". After locking his door, he raced to the shower and warmed up, shaking the guilty and longing feeling off of him as he crawled into his bed. Sighing, content with the memory foam and the security of his knife under his pillow, Dean fell into a slumber so deep, he didn't hear his kitchen window click as a shadow crept through hours later.
The man who slipped into the apartment silently made his way through the unfamiliar territory. He had to give it to the owner that it was difficult to enter unperturbed, but this intruder was more skilled than the usual thief. He was raised to be undetectable, silent, and more than deadly. His hazel eyes scanned the dark counters and the open door that lead to a warm bed and body. His feet immediately dragged him to the room and filled his eyes with the sight of the one person he hadn't seen in six years; his brother.
It took Sam a god damn long time to find him, edging on a year. His brother was well hidden, but not well enough for his younger brother to not find him eventually. Sam couldn't help the swell of happiness in his chest as he gazed upon Dean, but immediately squashed it with anger and bitterness. Dean was the one who left him. He left him with Dad and didn't say a word of goodbye. Sam wasn't quite sure why Dean left, but he had a good idea the reason laid with him in the equation.
It was then that Sam shook himself and was determined to do what he needed to do. Dad was missing and it had been longer than he liked it to be. He didn't like the man nor did he feel obligated to him, but he was still his father and somewhat hunting partner. Mostly, he felt he owed it to Dean to find him. Dean loved his father, no matter how awfully John treated Sam. With a deliberate loudness, Sam made his way back to the fridge and clinked together beer bottles, expecting Dean's training to kick in. Dean's ears picked up the noise that was being made in the kitchen, alerting him that there must be an intruder. He sighed, not particularly wanting to kick someone's ass, but made his way up with his knife still under the pillow. He didn't want to kill the bastard, just wanted him to regret choosing this particular apartment. With a somewhat quiet approach and deliberate quickness, Dean took in the massive figure before him and swung. He didn't expect, though, the man having unreal hearing and timing.
Sam managed to spin and grab Dean's fist within his own, shoving the man back quickly and pinned him against the wall. He wasn't done though and let go of Dean's shoulders preparing for the inevitable swings of his older brothers fists. He dodged and spun and threw a couple of his own for a few minutes, wearing his brother out, before he really pinned Dean to the floor. Dean cried out in frustration and tried every release move he knew, before the moon light hit Sam's face. He immediately stilled, recognizing the hazel eyes, although not the emotions behind them.
"Sam?"
"In the flesh," Sam smirked and got off of his brother, eyes hard and calculating.
"H-how…" Dean trailed, expecting Sam to give him a hand up before catching the look in his younger brother eyes. He stood by himself and flipped the kitchen lights on, taking in his massive form. Sam was huge, defined by nothing but olive, tan muscle. His black shirt was loose, but still tight enough to show strict muscle over his chest and abdominal area. He had a dark grey jacket on and loose jeans, along with dark brown hunting boots. Not only this, but Sam was a giant, towering over him in every sense of the word. His brother shrugged his answer, not wanting to go into detail how he found Dean. Dean did a fantastic job going deep, but there was nothing that could stand in Sam's way.
"Why," Dean questioned, eyes narrowing at his younger brother's noncommittal answer. His heart was dancing with happiness though and he soon found himself just plain content that his brother was standing in front of him, even if he didn't recognize this particular cold and harsh Sam.
"I came for the beer," Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing both beers that he had laid out on the counter before catching Dean's flying fist. Dean rolled his eyes in sync with his younger brother, taking the beer that Sam offered him even if it was already 2 in the morning and Dean had work at 8. Sam was here. In front of him. And it must've been for a damn good reason. So, Dean arched an eyebrow and watched as Sam's eyes filled with an even colder degree. "J-Dad's been missing a few days."
"So? He's gone for weeks at a time and you're concerned over a few days?"
Sam took a swig of his beer before regarding his brother. Was he right to come here? Was he right to do this? Then, he thought over the past years he had suffered with John and without Dean and shook himself mentally. No longer concerned, he continued. "Dad's been missing a few days while he was hunting, Dean."
Dean's body turned to stone. His Dad had been missing from a hunting trip? The man was practically indestructible, not allowing anything to get in his way, so how could he have gone missing? He is human, Dean chided himself "Missing?"
"Ya," Sam nodded, watching the emotions pass on Dean's face. Concern. Love. Regret. Guilt. He scoffed at all of them. Dean left them, left him. Why would he possibly feel any of those things? "He was out hunting a rugaroo," Dean paled, "and I haven't heard from him since. Other hunters say the jobs done, and it is, but I can't find him anywhere."
"So, you don't think he's… dead?"
Once again, Sam shrugged his massive shoulders and finished off the beer, way ahead of Dean. "I don't know what to think. Dad's missing. I need help."
"And you came to me," Dean about shrieked and Sam rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. He was content letting his bastard of a father continue to be missing, but he knew Dean wouldn't want it. He did everything for Dean, now-a-days. Killing evil entities around him and keeping him hidden when other hunters got close. Dean got out, even if it cost him his family, but he was going to stay out. Now, Sam was dragging him back in and he hated it with every single bone in his body.
"Yes, I came to you," he stated. " Because you know Dad, too. I've tried it my way, but I need your help."
"I can't," Dean immediately responded and watched as Sam didn't even react to the negation. "I have work, I have a life here. I can't give that all up."
I can't give up my life for you, Sam heard behind his brothers words. The rejection stung, but Sam got over it years ago. At least, he thought he had. "All I'm asking for is a few days. You and Dad got along better than he and I ever did," fists and broken bones and blood shrouded Sam's mind before he continued. "You might know of a few places I don't."
"I don't know about that," Dean responded, his blood cold and hot. His dad was missing and Sammy was here. He didn't know how to handle any of this information and it was making his body buzz. "You were with him for six years without me. You know him a lot better than I do, probably."
Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. Ya, he knew his fathers fists and knuckles and shoes and words better than Dean ever would. But he didn't really know his father. He knew of anger, and of liquor, and of hatred. "Trust me, I don't. Are you going to help me or not? I've got a lead, though a small one, and its close by here."
Dean was a little shocked from hearing Sam's cold indifference to him. Sam was all warmth and the goodness and soul of the family when Dean was with them; now he was just stone and cold. He knew that Sam would inevitably be different being raised the hunters way, but not this different. Dean's soul cried with guilt as he looked at his younger brother and took everything in. He could spare a few days.
"Only a few days, man. I've got to be back by Friday," he complied and watched as his brother stiffly nodded at him.
"Fine. Friday. Pack up," Sam demanded and walked towards the open window, half way through it before looking back at Dean. "We're taking my car."
