A/N - Hello! I had a crazy dream that had the end scene of this chapter in it and I felt the need to write a story around it! As usual, we'll have some hurt Dean (poor guy, I give him no peace at all) and Sam angst. Will also have some Bobby! Thank you for reading and please review!
Disclaimer - Still not mine no matter how much I wish.
At first, Sam wasn't sure what woke him. He just blinked blankly into the darkness above him in confusion. It hadn't been a nightmare for a change and he didn't have that feeling like he'd just heard something. He just felt like something was off. It didn't take too long to figure out what it was. He was cold, freezing actually, even under the covers. The motel wasn't the highest quality, as per usual, so the blankets were just a hair better than see thru, but he had been warm enough before. If he could see much of anything at all, he was sure he could see his breath. Did Dean turn on the air conditioning instead of the heat? It had to be below freezing outside.
He sat up, peering into the darkness, trying to push the fog of sleep away. A cool breeze ran across his face, his head turning automatically to the source. When he saw what it was, the chill on his skin sank deeper, now resting inside his bones. He was suddenly wide awake.
The door to the motel was wide open.
His eyes' next stop was on the bed next to him, only slightly illuminated the by the pale beams of moonlight, seeking out the vague person shaped lump that would be his brother. It wasn't there. In full on alert mode, Sam leaned to the side of the bed, pulling his gun out of his duffel, taking the safety off. It was certainly possible Dean had just stepped out for a moment to get something from the car, or from the vending machine. What wasn't as possible was that Dean would leave the door open.
Sam stood quickly, reaching over to snap on the lamp in between the two beds, noting that Dean's cell was still resting next to his, charging. He examined the room carefully, looking for any signs that his brother may not have left under his own steam. The covers on Dean's bed had been swung to the side just like Dean had simply gotten out of the bed like he would any other time. Sam started edging towards the door, still looking around the room, keeping to the side so he wouldn't be seen if someone was right outside the door. His eyes caught on two things that changed alarm to full on panic; Dean's boots still resting haphazardly at the end of his bed and his Colt 1911 gleaming out at him just inside his duffel bag. There was no way Dean would leave the room by choice without them.
Abandoning caution, Sam rushed to the door, greeted by the hulking shape of the Impala just to the right of the door, the light from inside the room turning the lustrous black paint on her trunk to liquid fire. There were lights outside most of the rooms by the doors, but the one next to theirs was out. Sam couldn't remember if it had been off when they arrived or not. Jogging over to the side of the car, wincing slightly as the gravel of the driveway stabbed into his bare feet, he bent down and peered into the windows, both relieved and concerned that he didn't find Dean inside.
Sam stood, worried eyes casting over the nearly empty parking lot, his hand twisting into his hair. Where the hell was his brother?
"Dean?" he called out. Only silence answered him back.
There was a soda vending machine down by the office, but the area was well lit and Sam could see clearly from the car that his brother was not by it. Drawing in a trembling breath that had more to do with fear and uneasiness than the cold, Sam started towards it, wanting to see if maybe Dean had gone into the office or maybe the laundry room. Very unlikely since it was Sam's turn to do laundry, but possible if his older brother couldn't sleep. He had a thought to go put on shoes and a jacket, but he didn't want to take the chance that those two or three minutes might have been the difference between finding his brother and losing him.
It had been an ordinary night. They had checked into the motel on their way out to another hunt, a haunting in a children's hospital. Dean had been his usual self, drinking beer, eating horrible food, watching even more horrible TV and teasing Sam about whatever took his fancy. Nothing that might explain why he might just get up and walk out of their room without his gun or leaving a note for Sam, so he had to have been taken. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was all he was coming up with.
How someone had managed to sneak up on both of them and then get Dean out of the room without Sam hearing it was really beyond the realm of possibility, but he wasn't sure what else could have happened. Dean had been injured, the witch coven they had cleared out a few days ago hadn't gone quietly, but not so injured that he wouldn't have fought back, made enough noise that Sam would wake up and help. It just didn't make sense.
The laundry room was empty, no signs that Dean had recently been anywhere near it. The office was dark and locked. Sam swallowed down a sob of frustration that was starting to crawl its way up his throat, knowing he had to keep his head clear no matter how hard it was. He had a feeling something was wrong, very wrong, and he knew to trust his instincts.
His gaze was caught by the tall sign of the motel by the road, still lit and casting an eerie reddish glow over the empty pavement. Actually, not so empty after all.
He had found his brother. Dean was just standing there in the road.
The first thing Sam felt was relief that he hadn't been taken after all, but that was quickly followed by a resurgence of apprehension. What was Dean doing just standing in the middle of the road at 2 am in the morning?
"Dean!" he shouted, running full out towards his brother, tucking his gun into the waistband of his flannel sleep pants, no longer noticing the cold or the rocks tearing at his feet. Dean gave no indication that he heard Sam at all. Was Dean sleepwalking all of sudden? What was going on?
Dean was still wearing the gray t shirt he had put on before burying himself under blankets just a couple of hours ago and his black boxer briefs. As Sam got closer to him, he could see the trembling of his limbs, the goosepimples standing out on his exposed, almost strangely translucent flesh. Drawing up next to him now, Sam moved in front of his brother, hands coming up to rest on his biceps, no warmth at all coming from his brother's skin.
"Dean?" he asked quietly, staring down at his brother with concern.
Dean was just looking blankly down the road, his blue tinged lips slightly parted. It's like he wasn't there, like he'd left his body behind. Sam ducked down to try and catch that dead gaze with his, but the vacant green eyes of his brother didn't focus in. Sam shook him gently, desperately trying to bring his brother out of whatever hole he'd fallen into. He'd never seen Dean like this and it was terrifying.
Finally, Dean's eyes shifted slightly, just enough to meet Sam's. There was still nothing of Dean inside them, but Sam would take what he could get at the moment.
"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked him, trying to keep his tone steady and soft. If Dean was sleepwalking, then he'd heard it could be traumatic to wake them up too abruptly.
"Waiting," Dean replied, his voice just as lifeless as his gaze.
"Waiting for what, Dean?" Sam asked, frantically going through the possibilities of what might cause this. It had to be those damn witches. He wasn't aware of any spells or curses getting thrown their way and it wouldn't normally take this long for it to hit, but what else could it be?
Dean glanced over Sam's shoulder to the road stretched out behind him.
"The truck," he said simply.
That was enough to remind Sam of where they were standing and also enough for him to be done with the conversation while standing outside, exposed and with a brother who wasn't himself at the moment. He had to get Dean inside, get him warm and find out what the hell was happening, in that order.
"Okay, well let's wait inside for it, okay?" Sam said, moving to Dean's side and throwing an arm around his brother's quaking shoulders, starting to lead him off the road toward their room. Sam thought he had been cold before, but standing this close to the icicle that was his brother, Sam had to wonder how long Dean had been standing out there. How long did it take for the room to get cold enough to wake Sam? Obviously too long.
Dean's cold and dead limbs came to life then, darting away from Sam before he could restrain him and returning back to the place he'd been standing before.
"I have to wait. 2:08am. I have to wait," Dean said without an ounce of inflection.
Sam glanced down at his watch. 2:06. He glanced down the long back road. He remembered that it had been straight, very few curves. If there was supposed to be a truck here at 2:08, he should be able to see its headlights. There was nothing.
Sam sighed. He was going to try one more time to do this peacefully, then he was going to start exerting some worried brother pressure in the form of strong arms and legs.
"Dean, please. At least come off the road," Sam pleaded, once again standing in front of his brother. Dean just stared through Sam's throat, which was blocking the view to the road behind him.
Lunging forward, Sam tucked his shoulder into Dean's gut. When his brother's body bent over in reflex, he lifted, Dean's feet leaving the ground, his arms dangling down Sam's back. Tucking his arm around the back of Dean's legs, he pivoted and moved off them off the road, his legs and back burning with the strain of carrying his brother's weight. Dean struggled furiously against him, but the cold had weakened him, the blows to his kidney that would have dropped him any other day, glancing off with only a twinge of discomfort. It was worth it, he wasn't going to leave his brother standing in the road where a truck was supposedly about to come through.
Once they were a fair distance away, Sam leaned back over, letting Dean's feet hit the ground. Immediately, Dean turned back to the road, starting to walk towards it in purposeful steps. Sam growled in frustration and shot forward, grabbing his brother around the waist from behind, determined this time to keep him under his control until got them into the room. Dean struggled and kicked, pushing against the restraining arm, digging his heels in to try and push forward.
"Dean, stop! What the hell, man?" Sam shouted, wrenching his head out of the way as Dean tried to head butt him.
All activity stopped as they were washed in headlights from a semi that was just suddenly there, a ghostly figure standing before it in the same place Dean had been, basically evaporating as the grill of the truck slammed into it. Then it was gone like it had never been there. Dean stopped fighting then, Sam falling abruptly on his ass as the counterweight to his tugging stopped pulling in the opposite direction, Dean going with him, thankfully landing with more of his weight on his legs than his vulnerable groin.
Sam just stared up in shock at where the horrible accident had been just a moment before. There was nothing there. Had it been some kind of death echo? What would have happened if Dean had still been standing there? Slowly, he glanced down at his watch. It was 2:08 am.
Dean shifted forward, rolling off of Sam to sit on the ground, knees pulled up to his chin. He looked sad and lost. "I missed it," he whispered in disappointment.
TBC...