Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORY.
A/N: I thought about making this a very long one-shot, but I've been working on it for months and still haven't finished it nor decided on an ending. Therefore, I decided to make it into a chapter story. I'll post updates from what I've written every week for the next couple months. Once I get to where I left off, I'll need your (as a reader) help to finish it. Depending on the responses I get from this will determine how and when I finish it. I hope to be done with it by the end of the summer. I do NOT plan on giving this story a very happy ending, so YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my work and don't forget to review!
The lines mean either time change or POV change.
"You walk out that door, don't you ever come back!" The door slammed shut with a loud bang and shook for a moment before stilling.
Fire raced through Sam's veins, boiling his blood and causing his entire body to quiver with indignation. The sting of his father's words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He never intended to leave this way - with hateful words he knew he would one day regret. He paused for a moment to stare at the door, wondering if he should just go back inside and apologize - staying with the hunting life.
And throw away a future, a scholarship just handed to him?
The thought of never having another chance to leave caused Sam to shudder. His mind made up, Sam turned and walked away, unsuspecting of the importance of that decision.
On the other side of the door, the sound of Sam's retreating footsteps echoed through John's mind. All rational thought left him and he yelled, throwing the empty bottle of whiskey against the wall. He stared at the mess for a moment, not really comprehending the glistening glass shards now lying scattered on the floor. Who did that boy think he was to just walk out on his family? Didn't I raise him better than that? He grabbed another bottle and started drinking again at the table. Rage and alcohol impaired his vision and motor skills as he struggled to open the drink. With a final curse, he wrenched the top off.
Dean heard everything. He heard Sam's confession about receiving a full ride to Stanford and his intention to use it to get a degree. To do something with his life. He heard the war going on through the paper thin motel walls. Though he stayed silent, tears made their way down his face as his only family tore themselves further and further apart. The words coming from his father and brother's lips cut him to the core. He knew he never could have said such terrible things to either of them. When he heard the door slam shut, something changed. The finality about it made Dean flinch. He waited all night for his brother to return. He waited in his bed lying stiff as board, almost forgetting to breathe, so as not to miss his Sammy's return. But he never came back.
The following morning, Sam sent a text telling them he arrived safe in California.
The tension in the air was palpable. Without a moment to delay, John told Dean to pack their bags for their next hunt. Dean, the obedient soldier, gathered his few belongings and placed them in the trunk of the Impala, going through the motions. He kept his face impassive, not wanting his father to catch on to his true emotions. Not that Dean could name them otherwise. The betrayal of what Sam did stung too much.
So, the remaining Winchesters continued on what they did best: they ignored their feelings by drinking and hunting. Though a wordless pact formed between them never to bring up Sam or the fight that occurred that night.
John seemed unaffected by Sam's absence. He acted like the younger Winchester had never existed. He continued on with his life by immersing himself into every hunt, not bothering with emotional trivialities. He ran on fumes, and when he spent himself completely, he drowned himself in the bottom of the bottle.
Dean couldn't do that. Everything reminded him of his brother. So, he called Sam. He rang week after week until the number no longer worked. After months of waiting with no word from his little brother, Dean came to the conclusion that Sam no longer needed him. Perhaps he never had. Maybe it was always Dean that needed Sam. Either way, Sam left him in the cold. Abandoned him to fight the endless war their father enlisted them in. Sam deserted his family to find the normality he always sought after. Even as a kid, Sam strove for ordinary even though he killed werewolves on the weekend. But as soon as the opportunity arose for him to escape, he took it like a homeless druggie takes the money given to him out of pity for his next high.
When Dean still couldn't move on, his father brought up the sensitive subject on one of the car rides to their next hunt.
Stars shimmered in the sky, twinkling down on them blissfully unaware of the fractured world they lit. Black velvet darkness concealed the speeding car, only broken by the headlights on the Impala lighting their way through the night.
John glanced at his son several times, noting the evident angst written all over Dean's face. He knew that the more he ignored the reason for Dean's depression the worse it would get. The father in John was starting to worry that much more of this relentless routine would push Dean off the deep end.
He cleared his throat, but Dean didn't notice. "Dean, it's not your fault," he said shaking his head a little.
Dean didn't bother turning his head. "What are you talking about?"
"Sam."
The name hung tense between them. Neither wanted to have this discussion. Neither dared to admit or administer blame. A jumble of emotions whirled through Dean with that one simple name. Resentment. Sadness. Regret. He ground his jaw, but didn't respond.
John ended up breaking the silence again. "You can't keep-"
He couldn't believe his father brought this up now. "Keep what, dad? Keep worrying? 'Cause in case you haven't noticed, Sam hasn't said one word since he said he got there. I don't know if he's dead or alive or safe or why he left in the first place." Dean had started yelling.
"That's not what I was going to say." John tried to keep his voice steady so as not to infuriate Dean any more. "I'm worried, too. I think about him every night and hope that he's at least happy. I was just gonna say you can't keep beating yourself up over it."
"I'm not beating myself up over anything," Dean answered, sending a harsh look towards his father. More silence.
"I mean-" John paused. "I can't stand seeing you so depressed all the time. I can tell you're- upset. I know because I'm your dad. Knock up job I've been doing of that recently though, eh?" John attempted a joke to lighten the mood. It didn't really work.
"Look. I'm fine, dad." Dean tried to reassure him but knew it wouldn't convince his father otherwise. He hoped his dad would just drop the subject and they could go back to avoiding it again.
John glanced over again. "Just-"
"Do you want me to be mad?" Dean interrupted again. "'Cause I'll get real angry if we don't drop this anytime soon."
"It'd be better than what you are now," John muttered, "Maybe then you'd be a better hunter."
Dean gave John a last look of fury before turning his head to look back out the window. They said nothing more for the rest of the drive, but Dean didn't miss his brother anymore after that. In the months and years that followed, Dean put all the rage he felt into every kill. The bitterness grew like a festering wound. A year after Sam left, Dean drank until he couldn't see straight. That night he made a very conscious promise to never forgive Sam for leaving him. Nothing could make him forget how lonely and abandoned he felt the night Sam left him.
10 Years Later...
Dean woke to the sound of the phone ringing. He grumbled about more time and let his phone go to voicemail.
It rang again. He still didn't answer.
The third time it went off he picked up his phone and hit the end call button. Hopefully, whoever was calling would get the message and leave him alone.
The person didn't attempt to call again and Dean fell back into a restless sleep.
Three hours later, Dean's raging headache wouldn't allow anymore rest, so he got up and took an Advil. He didn't drink too much most nights of the year - he wanted to stay sharp when hunting - but every year on the anniversary of Sam's abandonment he allowed himself to indulge as much as he wanted. When the pounding in his skull subsided enough for him form a single coherent thought he checked his phone.
One voicemail. Probably John.
He and his father had started hunting on their own six years ago and often helped each other out with various cases. Around that time he stopped saying dad and started calling him John. He listened to the voicemail, assuming John was responding to his latest inquiry.
"Dean. It's Sam. I know it's been a long time, but I need you. Please call back and I'll tell you where to meet."
Dean stood in stunned silence holding the phone to his ear for several minutes. His heart pumped double time and a jumble of thoughts crossed his mind. Shapeshifter? Demon? Hallucination? He couldn't be sure. Dean prided himself on his alertness and ability to never get caught off guard. He never could have anticipated this turn of events. He tossed the phone on the bed, so he wouldn't chuck it across the room. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and took several deep breaths. Why, after 11 years, was Sam calling now? Did he even want to know what the hell was going on? Was Sam safe? Was he in danger? Did Dean even care?
After battling with himself for a while, Dean came to the conclusion he would never find out if he didn't take a chance. He dialed the number and called. He hoped it would go to voicemail so he could avoid a confrontation. Maybe it was some kid prank calling him, though he very much doubted that. No kids had his number. He was saved from his tumultuous thoughts when Sam picked up on the second ring.
"Hello?" The voice sounded haggard. Rough. Like he'd swallowed a bunch of sandpaper. Or screamed for twelve hours straight.
"Hello, Sam," Dean replied.
"Dean." The sound of moving and bed springs could be heard. "So good to hear your voice."
Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Get to the point."
"I- uh, need some help."
What on earth could make Sam, who spent the past eleven years running away from his family and the hunting life, so desperate he now came running back? He could only think that either he became bored with the normal life or Sam suspected something supernatural going on and didn't want to - or couldn't - deal with it himself. "With what?" he snapped back.
"Can you meet me at 8243 Windsor Point Avenue in Martinsville, California in three days? I'm in apartment B." Sam asked. Sounded like he had the address memorized. Must be a home address.
Dean wrote down the address and said, "I'll be there in less than two days."
A sigh of relief. "Thanks, man. I really-"
"Yeah, just be ready." Dean hung up before Sam could say anything else.
He closed his eyes and took several more shaky breaths. Sam needed help. He wanted to meet. He sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. A single tear fell and he brushed it off before it could get any farther. Who did Sam think he was to just call him up and demand to meet? He debated whether or not to even go. Going would mean confronting the feelings he had spent eleven years drinking away. Staying meant he would never find out why.
His mind made up Dean stuffed all his belongings into the trunk of the Impala and sped off to reunite with his brother.
A/N: I thought about adding more, but I think I'll leave the chapters a bit shorter just so I have enough time to edit and continue what I have left before I have to post it. What do you think? Do you like what you've seen this far? Are you confused with what's happening? Please leave a review. It doesn't have to be positive, all I ask is for some respect. I have put a lot of time and energy into writing and editing this so please don't just hate on it. I don't currently have a beta for this story, but if you're interested PM me and we can talk. Also, I think I've edited out all grammatical errors, but let me know if you catch something I didn't.
Thank you very much! I look forward to updating this soon!