Hey folks! First SN fic, so please bear with me, I'm just getting my feet wet here! Oh! And I don't own nothing, I'm just playing with them!
He was an hour from Stanford when Dean realized what he was doing. His mind numb with worry and unanswered questions, body shaking from too much caffeine and not enough food, let alone sleep, he parked the car on the side of the road and cut the engine off. The silence of the road surrounded him, broken only by the cooling metal of the car.
His dad was missing.
The thought was enough to send him in a tailspin of epic proportions on a good day, but with the way his last hunt had gone, with the bruises, both physical and emotional, this had the potential to turn into a disaster. Which somewhat explained why he was on his way to Palo Alto. Left with the prospect of running alone after a missing father, with no one to look over, no one to protect scared him. Dean Winchester did not do alone. Not for long anyway. He didn't mind the quiet so much as the fact that it never stayed that way for long. Left by himself, he was reckless, and downright dangerous to himself, a fact that didn't bother him in itself, but he didn't want to leave the people he cared about behind, unprotected.
Especially Sam.
Sam whom he hadn't talked to in almost four years, Sam who more than likely wouldn't answer the phone if Dean called, Sam whom he'd let go, hoping his brother could be happy while shredding himself to pieces.
By letting Sam go, Dean had lost a part of himself, the part that allowed him to sleep, the part of himself that kept him in check, ensuring he didn't go too far and endangered himself too much. He didn't hunt alone often, and rarely by choice, though he was more than capable of doing so. As long as he had someone to look after, someone to protect he was okay, so focused on the task that any reckless plans were usually put aside. His body though, held the myriad of scars he'd gotten in the last years, scars Sam wouldn't know about. Somehow, he'd gotten more of them than in the twenty two years he'd had with his brother by his side.
And though Dean was a master at lying, he was also insightful, and he knew that if he had to go looking for his dad alone, without someone to back him up and keep him in check, the results could well prove disastrous. Which explained why he was sitting in his car, eyes lost, an hour from the town his brother had called home for the last four years.
How he'd gotten the idea that going to see Sam was a good plan, Dean didn't know. He'd been battling with himself ever since his brother had left, torn between staying as close as possible and as far away as he could. As far away as possible out of respect for his brother's need to have a normal life, and out of fear of not being able to let go. He knew he'd always been overprotecting of Sam, and though he hadn't been able to stamp out the urge to look after him, he'd managed to control the more extreme desire to wrap him in cotton wool.
Dean knew he needed help on this one. The risks were high, and the cost was unimaginable if he failed. John was the only thing left to which he could cling, and who knew in what trouble he would find him. The fact that he was parked an hour outside of Palo Alto showed just how desperate he was. Who knew how Sam would welcome him. The last months before his brother's departure from his life hadn't been happy ones for either of them, Sam feeling as thought no one could understand him, as though Dean had sided with John, and Dean feeling torn between wanting his baby brother happy and the fear and pain of losing the person he loved the most. At the end, with Dean unable to go against his father's orders, and Sam's need to be away, who knew how Sam felt about him. The little brother he'd spent his whole life looking after, protecting and raising may very well hate him.
For a moment, Dean thought of just heading up to Jericho, the prospect of what could happen less frightening then the thought of facing his brother's hatred. But the fear of himself and the need to see Sam again won and Dean sighed before starting the car again.
"I hope you're ready Sammy." He murmured quietly. Because I'm sure as hell not.
An hour later…Palo Alto
The too familiar building loomed over him, and Dean stopped, once again doubting his decision to be there. He knew Sam wasn't living alone, having kept tabs on him during the last years. In fact he'd kept close enough tabs that he knew Sam still needed a haircut and that he hadn't lost that overgrown puppy look. He knew about the girlfriend and the fact that his brother the genius, was acing his classes. No, there wasn't much Dean didn't know except how Sam would react to his presence.
Dean mentally gave himself a kick in the ass before he quietly used his lock picks on the apartment door. On silent feet, he made his way inside and wasn't surprised when he felt the punch heading his way. Apparently, Sam had kept in decent shape.