disclaimer: not this time... i'm just borrowing them for a while... you can have them back later.
a/n: this story is gonna be kind of a long story. right now i have 24 pages of it writen, and this chapter is only 3 of those pages-- not bad huh? the title pretty much explains what the whole story is about, so i'm not going to get into that. i do hope you enjoy it, and any comments would be awesome, though i'm not going to be one of those authors begging and pleading for reviews. enjoy!
"Sammy, if Bo--"
"Don't call me Sammy!" Sam barked, "Honestly Dean, how many times do I have to tell you? A child could figure it out!"
"Sam, you're acting like a child at this moment, now will you just shut up and fricken listen to me!" Dean shot back just as fiercely, "If Bobby said not to go stick our nose into this case, then we don't."
"Since when the hell do you care what Bobby says?" Sam accused, "Since Dad died? Because you sure as hell didn't care what was going on with the man before."
"Sam just cool it, alright?" Dean tried to force his voice calm, "I mean, ever since we got back from Dillinger, you've been acting..."
"What?" the anger was clear in Sam's voice, "Been acting like what Dean? Different? That's because I am--"
"No!" following most of their conversation, Dean didn't let the sentence be finished, "I swear to God Sam, if you pull your whole destiny thing on me one more time I'm going to make sure you have no destiny."
The Winchester brothers had been having conversations like this more frequently as the weeks went on. Something would go wrong, and Sam would blame it on him turning evil. Dean would argue back that it was a mistake that any hunter could make, and that it wouldn't be given more than a moments thought less than a year ago when no such destiny was known. Before John Winchester darkened their world with his words. If there was one thing Dean hated the man for it was for whispering his warning. If there was one thing Dean hated himself for, it was repeating it to Sam.
So many times Sam would become defensive, begging it seemed, to be accused of turning to the dark side. And just as many times Dean would argue back that he wasn't, and further more, he wouldn't let him. Now, however, Dean was getting sick of the argument.
"Sam, you did nothing wrong," Dean's words came out finalized, "The demon got away; it happens."
"Not to me," Sam shook his head, "I should have stopped it."
"Sam, you were flung across the room, and nearly fell three stories out of the window!" Dean argued back, "What the hell could you have done?"
Instead of replying Sam walked hotly out of the hotel room.
"Sam!" Dean tried feebly to call after him to no avail.
Quickly two choices ran through the older brothers head. He could go after Sam, try and straighten him out, and maybe convince him to a game of pool at the local bar. Or he could let him blow off steam in his own way. The anger inside Dean led to the latter, and he went into the shower to try and calm himself down. He loved his brother like any sibling did, but Sam could cause him to wish himself an only child sometimes. Just so he could tell Sam what he really thought.
Dean Winchester was rarely one to take a long shower, but nearly an hour later, as he opened the door; stem pillowing out behind him, he was glad he did. He felt much calmer, and was prepared to apologize to Sam for the harsh words exchanged. What he didn't expect, was a still empty room.
"What time is it?" Dean muttered to himself, walking to his bag with only a pair of sleep pants on.
His suspicions of a late hour were confirmed as he noted the time on his watch as being past midnight. The brothers had an unspoken rule that if either of them was going to be separated from the other for later than midnight, they'd call. A small flicker of worry came to the pit of Dean's stomach as he sat on the bed and reached for his phone. He hesitated a moment over the name 'Sam', wondering if it was wise to call his brother when his mood was far from good. The younger Winchester could have easily lost track of time if he went to the bar or even, Dean smirked, found a girl. Still, the time was late, and the rule was rarely broken unless one of them was in trouble.
The small feeling in the pit of Dean's stomach rose to a full on panic as, after half a dozen rings, he got nothing but Sam's voicemail, "Sammy where the hell are you?"
The sentence was short and simple. Any more and Dean feared he might look over protective; a trait he carried, but scarcely cared to show on his sleeve.
Three more messages were left, and seven times Dean simply hung up, before four in the morning rolled around. Long since had Dean replaced his relaxed sleeping clothes with jeans and a simple shirt, and long since had he dropped the macho brother act. His last message nearly pleading with Sam to just call him back to let him know he was ok. All to no avail. At five, Dean told himself, he would go in search of the missing brother.
"And when I find you," Dean threatened to the empty room, "I'm going to kick your ass."
Unless, he added internally, someone already had.
Time, in Dean's opinion, had never passed slower. He sat on the bed, eying the door, waiting, and even praying that it would open and Sam would walk through it. Sure he'd be pissed as hell, and probably tear Sam a new one, but he'd also have his Sam back in his sight. When the small letters on his phone read 5:01am, Dean got up in a huff. His hands were shaking as he told himself how stupid it was to worry. Sam was a grown man, and had every right to stay out all night; hell, he could do whatever he wanted. But to not answer his phone or say where he was going was the reason that Dean grabbed his car keys and was ready to scour the small town they'd decided to stop in just outside of Dillinger.
Dean slipped on his dark leather jacket, shoved his phone in his pocket, and reached his hand for the doorknob when the door shot open; missing Dean's face by mere centimeters. Without even a glance towards the man who stood stunned by the doorway Sam strode in and dropped a small notebook on the table near a dirty window.
"I found out some stuff that we can look in to today," Sam immediately began, "Apparently there's this lady that's lived in Surrgate for, like, sixty years and knew the Walsh family pretty good and--"
"Wait a second," Dean finally found his voice as he closed the door firmly with a loud 'thud'.
It was then that Sam turned around to face Dean and noticed the mixture of emotions plastered on the elder hunters face. Sam had no more looked at the stunned face then he burst out laughing.
"Gezz Dean, you look like crap."
"Are you fricken kidding me!" Dean yelled out; sure that the neighbors on either side of their room just got a nasty five in the morning wake-up call.
Sam looked blankly at his brother, "What?"
"What?" Dean mocked before raising his voice again, "You scared the crap out of me Sam! Where the hell is your phone?"
"Here," Sam pulled it out of his pocket and looked down at it, "Oh," he grinned, "I guess I forgot to turn it on."
"You--" Dean knew he would be mad if the current circumstances happened, but he didn't think he would be this mad, "How could-- Sam, I swear..."
"Want to try a full sentence there Dean?" Sam joked.
Dean stared at Sam, his eyes flashing more anger than Sam had ever seen before, "Don't ever do that again Sam."
Dean left a speechless Sam in the silenced room as he again retreated for the bathroom. The shower was shorter this time as the adrenaline which had been pulsing through his body slowly faded away, and he became tired and exhausted both physically and emotionally. Stepping out into the less than large sleeping area of the forty-five dollar a night hotel, Dean spotted Sam fast asleep in bed. A small light between the beds was on and Dean quietly got into his bed. For a fleeting moment he considered making a loud noise to rouse his slumbering sibling, but decided against it. Sam would be mad enough at him when he woke him early the next morning to hit the road. With those last thoughts floating through his head, Dean laid down to sleep a well earned slumber.
If Dean had given any thought to what Sam was speaking of when he came in at just past five, or had listened to his words in any way, he may not have slept so well. The older brother might have noticed that not only had Sam disappeared for over five hours, but he'd also started to investigate a new case. The very case that Bobby Singer told them to stay away from.